One or two,
according to persistent rumor, had carried out cargoes of New England
rum and brought back shiploads of "black ivory" from the West coast of
Africa. Not a few of them were picturesquely profane. Old Skipper Tom
Bowman had a very original oath, "tender-eyed Satan!" which he must have
had copyrighted, as he was the only one that I ever heard use it. We
boys would sometimes bait him, provoking him to exasperation, that we
might hear it in all its original force and fervor.
[Illustration: Old Salts Are More Picturesque and Companionable Spinning
Yarns about the Stove in a Shoemaker's Shop than when One Is Obliged to
Live, Eat and Sleep with Them]
We knew his habits well. He eked out a scanty sustenance by fishing off
the shore and would frequently come in on the ebb tide and leave his
boat half way up the beach, going home to dinner and returning when the
flood tide had about reached his boat, to bring it up to its moorings.
So one day we dug a "honey pot" by the side of his boat, at the very
spot where we knew he would approach it, covered it over with dry
seaweed and about the time he was due we were lying out of sight, but
within earshot, behind the rocks.
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