Suddenly the window of the room overhead was opened, and a loud
halloo uttered by the mysterious stranger. Several hailings passed
from one party to the other, but in a language which none of the
company in the barroom could understand, and presently they heard
the window closed, and a great noise overhead, as if all the
furniture were pulled and hauled about the room. The negro servant
was summoned, and shortly afterwards was seen assisting the veteran
to lug the ponderous sea chest downstairs.
The landlord was in amazement. "What, you are not going on the
water in such a storm?"
"Storm!" said the other scornfully, "do you call such a sputter of
weather a storm?"
"You'll get drenched to the skin; you'll catch your death!" said
Peechy Prauw affectionately.
"Thunder and lightning!" exclaimed the veteran; "don't preach about
weather to a man that has cruised in whirlwinds and tornadoes."
The obsequious Peechy was again struck dumb. The voice from the
water was heard once more in a tone of impatience; the bystanders
stared with redoubled awe at this man of storms, who seemed to have
come up out of the deep, and to be summoned back to it again.
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