he were on her deck, and the accordion pumped and the fiddle squeaked beside him. Tom Platt followed with something about “the rough and tough McGinn, who would pilot the vessel in.” Then they called on Harvey, who felt very flattered, to contribute to the entertainment; but all that he could remember were some pieces of “Skipper Ireson’s Ride” that he had been taught at the camp-school in the Adirondacks. It seemed that they might be appropriate to the time and place, but he had no more than mentioned the title when Disko brought down one foot with a bang, and cried, “Don’t go on, young feller. That’s a mistaken jedgment—one o’ the worst kind, too, becaze it’s catchin’ to the ear.”
“I orter ha’ warned you,” said Dan. “Thet allus fetches Dad.”
“What’s wrong?” said Harvey, surprised and a little angry.
“All you’re goin’ to say,” said Disko. “All dead wrong from start to finish, an’ Whittier he’s to blame. I have no special call to right any Marblehead man, but ’tweren’t no fault o’ Ireson’s. My father he told me the tale time an’ again, an’ this is the way ’twuz.”
“For the wan hundredth time,” put in Long Jack under his breath.
“Ben Ireson he was skipper o’ the Betty , young feller, comin’ home frum the Banks—that was before the war of 1812, but jestice is jestice at all times.
They fund the Active o’ Portland, an’ Gibbons o’ that town he was her skipper; they fund her leakin’ off Cape Cod Light. There was a terr’ble gale on, an’ they was gettin’ the Betty home ’s fast as they could craowd her.