CAPT. M. I should think it would,—and dream of my grandmother. If it chews like sand, it will be heavy enough. HANK. There ain’t no decent vittals for a sick man to eat in these diggings. ’Tain’t half so good as the Nantucket feed, such as my marm used to cook. CAPT. M. Oh, Hank! don’t speak of it! How I should like some fried perch,—some good fresh salt-water perch, with their heads on; and some steamed clams, fresh-dug Nantucket clams, with the shells all gaping at you. I feel as if I could eat a good four-quart tin pan full this minute, shells and all. HANK. I’d like to make you a rippin’ good chowder, sir. Such as we have ter hum. What you want is real, good, hard, fresh cod-fish or haddock, head and all, some white potatoes (none o’ your flat yellow sweets), some onions, some Boston crackers, and a generous rasher of salt strip pork (none o’ your middlings). But I can’t do it. They never heerd of a Boston cracker, and there ain’t a decent piece o’ fresh salt-water fish between here and Nantucket. Only this darned canned stuff; and that’s enough to p’isen a feller. MARY (_to_ WILLIAM, _from the wheel-house_). You’ll have some chowder when you get home, dear; and you’ll eat again of all the old New England food. HANK. Oh, sir! you goin’ hum? CAPT. M. I think of it. MARY (_to_ HANK). Yes, he _is_ going home; and pretty soon, too. HANK. If you do, sir, I hope you’ll take a skip down to Nantucket, and see my folks. Marm ’ll be mighty glad to see you. I’ll write to her, and send her some money, and you can take the letter, sir, right along. And please, sir, fetch me word how the old place looks, and if marm seems comfortable. CAPT. M. Yes, Hank, I’ll take your letter; and if I can’t go to see your mother, I will send it to her by express. HANK. Thank you, sir, thank you; and if you should go to Annisport, and see Miss Leafy Jane, please tell her I hain’t forgot her, and if you can say I’ve been a good feller—and behaved tip-top— CAPT. M. Why, Hank! do you remember that little fly-away? You steady old boy, you. Of course you’ve been a good fellow, and I’ll tell her so,—if I see her,—but why don’t you write to her yourself? HANK. Oh, sir! she might not like it. CAPT. M. That’s so. Well, do as you like, Hank. You can leave the waiter. I will eat all I can of your concoctions. (_Exit_ HANK, R.) CAPT. M. (_turning towards_ MARY). I did not know that there was any love-making in that quarter. MARY. Nor I, neither. [_Disposition of characters at end of act._ CAPT. MILLER _at table_, C., _eating_. MARY _at the wheel_, L.] CURTAIN. ACT IV. _The same as in Act II. Enter_ MARY, L., _with her hands full of papers. She sits down at the table._