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Cooper, James Fenimore, 1789-1851

"The Pilot"


"There go the chips!" cried Barnstable. "Bravo! Master Coffin, you never
planted iron in the ribs of an English man with more judgment. Let him
have another piece of it; and if he like the sport, we'll play a game of
long bowls with him!"
"Ay, ay, sir," returned the cockswain, who, the instant he witnessed the
effects of his shot, had returned to superintend the reloading of his
gun; "if he holds on half an hour longer, I'll dub him down to our own
size, when we can close, and make an even fight of it."
The drum of the Englishman was now, for the first time, heard rattling
across the waters, and echoing the call to quarters, that had already
proceeded from the Ariel.
"Ay! you have sent him to his guns!" said Barnstable; "we shall now hear
more of it; wake him up, Tom--wake him up."
"We shall start him on end, or put him to sleep altogether, shortly,"
said the deliberate cockswain, who never allowed himself to be at all
hurried, even by his commander. My shot are pretty much like a shoal of
porpoises, and commonly sail in each other's wake. Stand by--heave her
breech forward--so; get out of that, you damned young reprobate, and let
my harpoon alone!"
"What are you at, there, Master Coffin?" cried Barnstable; "are you
tongue-tied?"
"Here's one of the boys skylarking with my harpoon in the lee-scuppers,
and by and by, when I shall want it most, there'll be a no-man's land to
hunt for it in."
"Never mind the boy, Tom; send him aft here to me, and I'll polish his
behavior; give the Englishman some more iron.


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