"'"What schooner's that?" axes the master, all abroad like; an' says Job--says he, out o' breath, "Never you mind; I guess you'll let 's have some water, for we wants it mighty keen!" "Well," says the other, shaking his head, "I'm afeared we're short ourselves--anyhow," says he, "we'll give ye a dipper the piece"--and accordingly they fists us along a dozen gulps, hand over hand. "'Twon't do, I guess, mister," says our skipper; "we wants a cask!" Here the master o' the brig shakes his head again, and guv a look to the young long-shore-like chap aft, which sings out as we couldn't have no more for love nor money--an' I see Captin Price commence for to look savitch again, and feel for the handle on his cutlash. "Rather you'd ax iv'ry or gould-dust!" sings out the supper-cargo; "hows'ever," says he, "as ye've tooken sich a fancy to it, short o' water as we is, why a fair exchange ain't no robbery," says he: "you wants water, an' we wants hands; haven't ye a couple o' niggers for to spare us, sir, by way of a barter now?" he says. "Well, mate, I'll be blowed if I ever see a man turn so wicked fur'ous as Job Price turns at this here, an says he, through his teeth, "If ye'd said a nigger's nail-parin', I couldn't done it, so it's no use talkin'." "Oh come, captin," says the young fellow, wonderful angshis-like, "say _one_, jist--it's all on the quiet, ye know. Bless me, captin," says he, "I'd do a deal for a man in a strait, 'tickerly for yerself--an' I think we'd manage with a single hand more. I'll give ye two casks and a bag o' gould dust for _one_ black, and we'll send aboard for him just now, ourselves!" "No!" roars Job Price, walkin' close up to him; "ye've riz me, ye cussed Britisher ye, an' I tell ye we'll _take_ what we wants!" "No jokes though, captin!" says the feller; "what's _one_ to a whole raftful I heerd of ye shipping?" "Go an' ax the sharks, ye beggar!" says the skipper; "here, my lads!" says he, an' makes a grab at the other's throat, when slap comes a jug o' rum in his eye-lights, and the young chap ups fist in quick-sticks, and drops him like a cock, big as he was. By that time, though, in a twinklin' the master was flat on deck, and the brig's crew showed no fight--when, lo an' behold, my boy, up bundles a score o' strapping man-o'-war's-men out of the cabing. One or two on us got a cut about the head, an' my gentleman supper-cargo claps a pistol to my ear from aft, so we knocked under without more to-do. In five minutes' time every man jack of us had a seizing about his wrists and lower pins; and says Job Price, in a giving-up sort o' v'ice, "You're too cust spry for playin' jokes on, I calc'late, squire," he says. "Jokes!" says the young feller, "why, it's no joke--in course you knows me?" "Niver see'd ye atween the eyes afore," says Job, "but don't bear no malice, mister, now." "That's it," says the t'other, lookin' at the schooner again, "no more I does, so jist think a bit;