MARY. There! The bills of lading are signed, and all my accounts are straight, so we are ready to begin again. But here we are, still fast at New Orleans, when we ought to have got away three days ago. For some reason or other I can’t get the cargo that was promised, and so I have had to fill up with watermelons. Heavy, unprofitable things! (_Writes._) I wish I could hear from William. Poor fellow! The doctor at home said he must take a sea-voyage; and he has gone off with his father to the Grand Banks, fishing. I wish I could see him! (_Enter_ PHUS, R., _bringing a large watermelon_.) PHUS. Wattermillions is bos’; dey’s bos’ an’ cool. MARY. Why, Phus, what do you want of that watermelon? PHUS. It’s such a golly big one; and den it’s marked so peart. MARY. Why! there’s hundreds of them on board just as good. PHUS. O no! mis’, dere ain’t. Dis one hab de little Voudoo mark dat show dey’s sweet; an’ I wanted de baby to stick his little toof in it, an’ suck de juice. Oh, Lors! (_Smacks his lips and sings._) “Some are pa’shel to de appel, oddahs clamor fo’ de plum; Some fin’ ’joyment in de cherry, oddahs make de peaches hum; Some git fas’ned to de onion, oddahs lub de arti-choke; But my taste an’ wattahmillion er’ bound by a pleasant joke. “Hit er meller, hit er juicy, Hit er coolin’, hit er sweet! Hit er painless ter de stummick— Yo’ kin eat, an’ eat, an’ eat!” I helped you bring ’em on board, didn’t I, mis’? MARY. Yes, Phus; you’re always handy. I wish you could be the mate, in Patsy’s place, and help me steer the boat. PHUS. Lor’ bress you, mis’! I couldn’t do dat. I should steer for all de snags in de riber; an’ git twisted all up in de bay-yous, an’ run inter all de san’bars. MARY. Have you found anybody yet to take Patsy’s place, if he leaves? PHUS. No, mis’. All de boys dey say as dey won’t be de mate to no woman. Dey say you has no licens’, an’ can’t be de cap’n. An’ Mass’ Rumberg, he cum an’ take away de Keyhole’s Bride. MARY. Oh, Phus! is that what they say? Then that is the reason that I could not get the cargo that was promised here; and when they knew, too, that I had been running the boat these three months all alone! PHUS. When de cap’n cum hum? MARY. Not until December, Phus. PHUS. Whar’s he, mis’, now? MARY. Away out to sea, on a ship; not a steamboat—a sailing vessel. The doctor said it would cure him if he took a sea-voyage. PHUS. Is de sea bigger dan de Missip’ or de Gulf Mex’? MARY. Oh, yes, Phus! a good deal bigger, and wider, too. You can’t see across. PHUS. O, sho! MARY (_rising and walking about_). And the waves are so high! and white on the top! and they come booming in on the rocks! and the breeze! Oh! the breeze is so sweet, so salt, so fresh! It is enough to do your soul good to smell it.