ILE
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a bit. [Grimly.] I ain't never been forced to use
one yit; and trouble I've had by land and by sea
's long as I kin remember, and will have till my dyin'
day, I reckon.
Mate— [Hesitatingly.'] Then you ain't goin'—
to turn back?
Keeney—Turn back! Mr. Slocum, did you ever
hear 'o me pointin' s'uth for home with only a
measly four hundred barrel of ile in the hold?
Mate—[Hastily.] No, sir—but the grub's git-
tin' low.
Keeney—They's enough to last a long time yit,
if they're careful with it; and they's plenty o'
water.
Mate—They say it's not fit to eat—what's left;
and the two years they signed on fur is up to-day.
They might make trouble for you in the courts
when we git home.
Keeney—To hell with 'em! Let them make what
law trouble they kin. I don't give a damn 'bout
the money. I've got to git the ile! [Glancing
sharply at the Mate.] You ain't turnin' no damned
sea lawyer, be you, Mr. Slocum?
Mate—[Flushing.]   Not by a hell of a sight, sir.
Keeney—What do the fools want to go home fur
now? Their share o' the four hundred barrel
wouldn't keep 'em in chewin' terbacco.
Mate—[Slowly.] They wants to git back to
their folks an' things, I s'pose.