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He looked at his hands, and with sudden resolution turned and left her. "Where are you going?" "To fetch a hook. I'll have that view open again before nightfall, or my name's not John Penaluna." I dare say you've never heard tell of my wife's grandfather, Captain John Tackabird or Cap'n Jacka, as he was always called.
"There was to be no 'nigh enough' on this lugger" that was the sort of talk; and oil and rotten-stone for the very gun-swivels. But Jacka knew the fellow, and even admired the great figure and its loud ways. "He's a cap'n, anyhow," he told his wife; "'twon't be 'all fellows to football' while he's in command. And I've seen him handle the Good Intent, under Hockin." Mrs. Tackabird said nothing.
So Bassett was avenged. Yes, a heap of folks have admired that teapot. Hundreds of pounds we must have been offered for it, first and last, since the night my wife's grandfather, Captain John Tackabird or Cap'n Jacka, as he was always called brought it into the family over the back-garden wall, and his funny little wife went for him with the broom-handle.
"Oh," said Jacka, "a scrap of tin will answer just as well every bit." "I can't think, Captain Tackabird, how it comes that you've no more regard for appearances. Just look at the Unity, for instance, and how young Hewitt keeps her." "Born different, I suppose." "Ay, and if you don't look out you'll end different. Patching a boat with tin!" Mr. Job let out a rasping kind of laugh.
Job, nodding down, but bottling up his anger after a fashion. "Look here, Captain Tackabird, you're a servant of the company; and I'll trouble you to stand up and behave respectful when the company's agent pays you a visit of inspection." "Cert'nly, Mr. Job." Jacka scrambled up to his feet as mild as milk. "Beg your pardon, sir, I thought you'd just strolled down to pass the time of day."
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