"
"Well, be it so; you must turn flying Yankee, yourself, to-night, Master
Coffin. Man your boat at once, sir, and arm your crew."
The cockswain paused a moment before he proceeded to obey this
unexpected order, and, pointing towards the battery, he inquired, with
infinite phlegm:
"For shore-work, sir? Shall we take the cutlashes and pistols? or shall
we want the pikes?"
"There may be soldiers in our way, with their bayonets," said
Barnstable, musing; "arm as usual, but throw a few long pikes into the
boat; and harkye, Master Coffin, out with your tub and whale-line: for I
see you have rigged yourself anew in that way."
The cockswain, who was moving from the forecastle, turned short at this
new mandate, and with an air of remonstrance, ventured to say:
"Trust an old whaler, Captain Barnstable, who has been used to these
craft all his life. A whale-boat is made to pull with a tub and line in
it, as naturally as a ship is made to sail with ballast, and----"
"Out with it, out with it," interrupted the other, with an impatient
gesture, that his cockswain knew signified a positive determination.
Heaving a sigh at what he deemed his commander's prejudice, Tom applied
himself without further delay to the execution of the orders. Barnstable
laid his hand familiarly on the shoulder of the boy, and led him to the
stern of his little vessel, in profound silence. The canvas hood that
covered the entrance to the cabin was thrown partly aside; and by the
light of the lamp that was burning in the small apartment, it was easy
to overlook, from the deck, what was passing beneath them.
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