Many the poor feller's crupper
bone he's smashed, with his great thick boots, a-throwin' out his
feet afore him e'enamost out of sight, when he was in full rig
a-swigglin' away at the top of his gait. Well, they cut as many
shines as Uncle Peleg. One frigate they guessed would captivate,
sink, or burn our whole navy. Says a naval one day, to the skipper of
a fishing boat that he took, says he, 'Is it true Commodore Decatur's
sword is made of an old iron hoop?' 'Well,' says the skipper, 'I'm
not quite certified as to that, seein' as I never sot eyes on it; but
I guess if he gets a chance he'll show you the temper of it some of
these days, anyhow.'
"I mind once a British man-o'-war took one of our Boston vessels, and
ordered all hands on board, and sent a party to skuttle her; well,
they skuttled the fowls and the old particular genuine rum, but they
obliviated their arrand and left her. Well, next day another frigate
(for they were as thick as toads arter a rain) comes near her, and
fires a shot for her to bring to. No answer was made, there bein' no
livin' soul on board, and another shot fired, still no answer. 'Why
what on airth is the meanin' of this,' said the Captain; 'why don't
they haul down that damn goose and gridiron?' (That's what he called
our eagle and stars on the flag.) 'Why,' says the first leftenant,
'I guess they are all dead men, that shot frightened them to death.
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