own were sadly frequent. We found that it was etiquette
to call them each captain, but I think some of the Deephaven men took
the title by brevet upon arriving at a proper age.

They sat close together because so many of them were deaf, and when we
were lucky enough to overhear the conversation, it seemed to concern
their adventures at sea, or the freight carried out by the Sea Duck, the
Ocean Rover, or some other Deephaven ship,--the particulars of the
voyage and its disasters and successes being as familiar as the
wanderings of the children of Israel to an old parson. There were
sometimes violent altercations when the captains differed as to the
tonnage of some craft that had been a prey to the winds and waves,
dry-rot, or barnacles fifty years before. The old fellows puffed away at
little black pipes with short stems, and otherwise consumed tobacco in
fabulous quantities. It is needless to say that they gave an immense
deal of attention to the weather. We used to wish we could join this
agreeable company, but we found that the appearance of an outsider
caused a disapproving silence, and that the meeting was evidently not to
be interfered with. Once we were impertinent enough to hide ourselves
for a while just round the corner of the warehouse, but we were afraid
or ashamed to try it again, though the conversation was inconceivably
edifying. Captain Isaac Horn, the eldest and wisest of all, was
discoursing upon some cloth he had purchased once in Bristol, which the
shopkeeper delayed sending until just as they were ready to weigh
anchor.

"I happened to take a look at that cloth," said the captain, in a loud
droning voice, "and as quick as I got sight of it, I spoke onpleasant
of that swindling English fellow, and the crew, they stood back. I was
dreadful high-tempered in them days, mind ye; and I had the gig manned.
We was out in the stream, just ready to sail. 'T was no use waiting any
longer for the wind to change, and we was going north-about. I went
ashore, and when I walks into his shop ye never see a creatur' so
wilted. Ye see the miser'ble sculpin thought I'd never stop to open the
goods, an' it was a chance I did, mind ye! 'Lor,' says he, grinning and
turning the color of a biled lobster, 'I s'posed ye were a standing out
to sea by this time.' 'No,' says I, 'and I've got my men out here on the
quay a landing that cloth o' yourn, and if you don't send just what I
bought and paid for down there to go back in t