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following day. The oyster pirates, a fleet of a dozen sloops, were lying at anchor on what was known as the "Deserted Beds." The Coal Tar Maggie came sloshing into their midst with a light breeze astern, and they crowded on deck to see us. Nicholas and I had caught the spirit of the crazy craft, and we handled her in most lubberly fashion.
"Wot is it?" some one called.
"Name it 'n' ye kin have it!" called another.
"I swan naow, ef it ain't the old Ark itself!" mimicked the Centipede from the deck of the Ghost.
"Hey! Ahoy there, clipper ship!" another wag shouted. "Wot's yer port?"
We took no notice of the joking, but acted, after the manner of greenhorns, as though the Coal Tar Maggie required
