knowed a man like you afore,' says he. 'T' my knowledge, you're the on'y
man in the Labrador fleet would do it. I'm proud,' says he, 't' take the
hand o' the man with nerve enough t' marry Walrus Liz o' Whoopin'
Harbor.'

"The devil got in the eyes o' the cook--a jumpin' little brimstone
devil, ecod!

"'Ay, lad,' says the skipper, 'I'm proud t' know the man that isn't
afeared o' Walrus--'

"'Don't you call her that!' says the cook. 'Don't you do it, skipper!'

"I was lookin' at Liz. She was grinnin' in a holy sort o' way. Never
seed nothin' like that afore--no, lads, not in all my life.

"'An' why not, cook?' says the skipper.

"'It ain't her name,' says the cook.

"'It ain't?' says the skipper. 'But I been sailin' the Labrador for
twenty year,' says he, 'an' I ain't never heared her called nothin' but
Walrus--'

"The devil got into the cook's hands then. I seed his fingers clawin'
the air in a hungry sort o' way. An' it looked t' me like squally
weather for the skipper.

"'Don't you do it no more, skipper,' says the cook. 'I isn't got no
wits,' says he, 'an' I'm feelin' wonderful queer!'