Several hailings passed from one
party to the other, but in a language which none of the company in the
bar-room could understand; and presently they heard the window closed,
and a great noise overhead as if all the furniture were pulled and
hauled about the room. The negro servant was summoned, and shortly
after was seen assisting the veteran to lug the ponderous sea-chest
down stairs.
The landlord was in amazement. "What, you are not going on the water in
such a storm?"
"Storm!" said the other, scornfully, "do you call such a sputter of
weather a storm?"
"You'll get drenched to the skin - You'll catch your death!" said Peechy
Prauw, affectionately.
"Thunder and lightning!" exclaimed the merman, "don't preach about
weather to a man that has cruised in whirlwinds and tornadoes."
The obsequious Peechy was again struck dumb. The voice from the water
was again heard in a tone of impatience; the bystanders stared with
redoubled awe at this man of storms, which seemed to have come up out
of the deep and to be called back to it again. As, with the assistance
of the negro, he slowly bore his ponderous sea-chest towards the shore,
they eyed it with a superstitious feeling; half doubting whether he
were not really about to embark upon it, and launch forth upon the wild
waves.
