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Updated: May 3, 2025
"Don't seem to need much help. The river doos the paddlin'; wish it didn't. No 'casion to send anybody aloft. I'll take a seat in the stern 'n' mind the hellum. Guess that's all they is to be done." "You dum paddywhack," he presently reopened, "what d'ye break yer paddle for?" "I didn't break it," yapped Sweeny indignantly. "It broke itself."
"Give her a look jest before we went up to breakfast," replied the skipper. "She'll hold." Coronado, who stood three feet distant, blew a quiet little whiff of smoke through his thin purple lips, meanwhile dreamily contemplating the speaker. "Git in, you paddywhack," said Glover to Sweeny. "Grab yer paddle. T'other end; that's the talk. Now then. All aboard that's goin'. Shove off."
There were two litters bred in Bostock Spring; two, by Jove! in that little place. Dan," Dan was his second horseman, "I'll ride the young one this morning. You have Paddywhack fresh for me about one." Paddywhack was the old Irish horse which had carried him so long, and has been mentioned before. There was nothing remarkable in all this.
When Glover announced that the boat was ready for launching, Sweeny uttered a yelp of joy, like a dog who sees a prospect of hunting. "Ah, you paddywhack!" growled the skipper. "All this work for you. Punch another hole, 'n' I'll take yer own hide to patch it." "I'll give ye lave," returned Sweeny. "Wan bare skin 's good as another. Only I might want me own back agin for dress-parade."
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