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Updated: June 11, 2025
"Then up pulls E. G. W. and the buggy. In the buggy was a young woman, and a man. "'Here we are, says Scraggs, in the tone of one who has done his painful duty. 'Check the outfit one girl and one splicer have you kept holt of Aleck? "'Yes, I says. 'We've got him come in, folks. I was crazy to hear how he'd pulled it off.
There was only one "splicer" on board, a fine-looking old tar, who was in the bunt of the fore-topsail. He was probably the only sailor in the ship, before the mast.
"This ought to bring mamma in twenty-four hours. The telegraph office is shut now, but we'll wake Mr Splicer up early, and have mamma under weigh by midday. Good-night, Railsford keep the pot boiling, my good fellow I'll look round early." He was gone, and Railsford with sinking heart set himself to the task before him. He long remembered that night.
There was only one ``splicer'' on board, a fine-looking old tar, who was in the bunt of the fore topsail. He was probably the only thorough marline-spike seaman in the ship, before the mast.
It was an envelope slipped behind the bookcase, containing a bill from Splicer, the London cricket-bat-maker, dated a year ago. At the foot the tradesman had written, "Hon. sir, sorry we could not get bat in time to send home, so forward to you direct to Grandcourt School, by rail." "There we are," said the doctor, putting the document in his pocket.
"They do say," said I mockingly, "as how Swift Nicks is a good hand at splicing fishing-rods." "I never 'eerd tell of that'n," said the stolid ostler. "Are you really Swift Nicks, sir?" asked the lad, looking steadily at me with frank, innocent eyes. "No more than you are Jonathan Wild or Prester John, my son," I answered. "Then who are you?" he persisted. "I'm a poor splicer of fishing-rods.
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