“Now, Morgan,” said Long John, very sternly, “you never clapped your eyes on that Black⁠—Black Dog before, did you, now?”

“Not I, sir,” said Morgan, with a salute.

“You didn’t know his name, did you?”

“No, sir.”

“By the powers, Tom Morgan, it’s as good for you!” exclaimed the landlord. “If you had been mixed up with the like of that, you would never have put another foot in my house, you may lay to that. And what was he saying to you?”

“I don’t rightly know, sir,” answered Morgan.

“Do you call that a head on your shoulders, or a blessed deadeye?” cried Long John. “Don’t rightly know, don’t you? Perhaps you don’t happen to rightly know who you was speaking to, perhaps? Come, now, what was he jawing⁠—v’yages, cap’ns, ships? Pipe up! What was it?”