'They isn't none o' you goin' ashore yet,' says he.

"'Why not?' says they.

"'They isn't none o' you goin' ashore,' says he, 'afore a constable
comes aboard.'

"'What you wantin' a constable for?' says they.

"'They isn't none o' you goin' ashore afore this schooner's searched,'
says he. 'My silver watch is stole.'

"'Stole!' says they.

"'Ay,' says he; 'somebody's took my silver watch.'"

Tumm paused.

"Tumm," the skipper of the _Quick as Wink_ demanded, "what become o'
that there little maid from Chain Tickle?"

"Well," Tumm drawled, "the maid from Chain Tickle had her baby in
jail....

* * * * *

"You see," Tumm ran along, in haste to be gone from this tragedy, "Sam
Small _was_ small--almighty small an' mean. A gray-faced ol'
skinflint--an' knowed for such: knowed from Chidley t' Cape Race an'
the Newf'un'land Grand Banks as the meanest wolf the Almighty ever
made the mistake o' lettin' loose in a kindly world--knowed for the
same in every tap-room o' the St. John's waterside, from the Royal
George t' the Anchor an' Chain--a lean, lanky, hunch-shouldered,
ghastly ol' codger in Jews' slops an' misfits, with a long white
beard, a scrawny neck, lean chops, an' squintin' little eyes, as green
an' cold as an iceberg in gray weather. Honest or dishonest?--ecod!
what matter? They's nothin' so wicked as meanness. But the law hadn't
cotched un: for the law winks with both eyes. 'I'm too old for crime
now, an' too rich,' says he; 'but I've worked hard, accordin' t' the
law o' life, as she was teached me, an' I've took chances in my time.
When I traveled the outports in my youth,' says he, 'I sold liquor for
green paint an' slep' with the constable; an' the socks o' the outport
fishermen, Tumm,' says he, 'holds many a half-dollar I coined in my
Whoopin' Harbor days.' He'd no piety t' save his soul. 'No church for
me,' says he; 'you see, I'm no admirer o' the handiwork o' God. Git,
keep, an' have,' says he; 'that's the religion o' my youth, an' I'll
never despite the teachin' o' them years.' Havin' no bowels o'
compassion, he'd waxed rich in his old age. 'Oh,' says he, 'I'm savin'
along, Tumm--I'm jus' savin' along so-so for a little job I got t'
do.' Savin' along? He'd two schooners fishin' the Labrador in the
season, a share in a hundred-ton banker, stock in a south coast
whale-factory, God knows how much yellow gold in the bank, an' a round
interest in the swiler _Royal Bloodhoun