"Well," said Johnson, "I mayn't be no sailor, but I can
dance!"
And his late partner, with an almost pathetic
conviction, added, "My foot is as light as a feather."
Seeing how the wind set, you may be sure I added a few
words of praise before I carried Johnson alone into the
passage: to whom, thus mollified, I told so much as I
judged needful of our situation, and begged him, if he
would not take the job himself, to find me a smart man.
"Me!" he cried; "I couldn't no more do it than I could
try to go to hell!"
"I thought you were a mate?" said I.
"So I am a mate," giggled Johnson, "and you don't catch
me shipping noways else. But I'll tell you what: I
believe I can get you Arty Nares. You seen Arty;
first-rate navigator, and a son of a gun for style."
And he proceeded to explain to me that Mr. Nares, who
had the promise of a fine barque in six months, after
things had quieted down, was in the meantime living
very private, and would be pleased to have a change of
air.
I called out Pinkerton and told him. "Nares!" he
cried, as soon as I had come to the name, "I would jump
at the chance of a man that had had Nares's trousers
on! Why, Loudon, he's the smartest deep-water mate out
of San Francisco, and draws his dividends regular in
service and out.
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