You're a first-rate seaman, no mistake of that; but you're the most disagreeable man I ever sailed with, and your language and your conduct to the crew I cannot stomach. I guess we'll separate.' I didn't care about the berth, you may be sure; but I felt kind of mean, and if he made one kind of stink I thought I could make another. So I said I would go ashore and see how things stood; went, found I was all right, and came aboard again on the top rail. 'Are you getting your traps together, Mr. Nares?' says the old man. 'No,' says I, 'I don't know as we'll separate much before 'Frisco--at least,' I said, 'it's a point for your consideration. I'm very willing to say good-bye to the _Maria_, but I don't know whether you'll care to start me out with three months' wages.' He got his money-box right away. 'My son,' says he, 'I think it cheap at the money.' He had me there." It was a singular tale for a man to tell of himself; above all, in the midst of our discussion; but it was quite in character for Nares. I never made a good hit in our disputes, I never justly resented any act or speech of his, but what I found it long after carefully posted in his day-book and reckoned (here was the man's oddity) to my credit. It was the same with his father, whom he had hated; he would give a sketch of the old fellow, frank and credible, and yet so honestly touched that it was charming. I have never met a man so strangely constituted: to possess a reason of the most equal justice, to have his nerves at the same time quivering with petty spite, and to act upon the nerves and not the reason.