Beadle's Dime Novels No. 87: On the Deep — page 9: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

WEARING MOURNING. 11 erphan, occasionally opening his mouth as though about to speak, and then shutting it in an emphatic manner. Pro- foundly affected—wrought up to the very highest pitch of expectation, the skipper at length, could contain himself no longer. 7 > “Out with it,’ he whispered, eagerly. “Ay, ay, Block, now is your time—out with it.” | 7 “Mark my words, then,” responded the mate, “ and mark me well, Captain Capstap. Never, when them kind is a-wor- rying, should they be introduced upon. Conseqtiences the most awful might resolve from it. Trying to smother her affections, she’d break the heart of her!” “Why, blast me |—no—you don’t say! God bless the poor thing!’ cried the captain, anxiously. “ And Block,” he added, placing a hand upon the other’s wrist, “ it’s lucky you're here. I won't give in to any man where seamanship’s consarned, but woman’s cad Snake ay, woman’s your “forty (forte) Block!” | The mate bowed with the air of a man to whom compli- ments of this description were quite familiar. He took the captain’s proffered arm, and the two begun to pace the detk, treading very softly, that they might not disturb the young girl. ~“[m struck with the idea,” whispered the skipper, “ that we ought to contrive in some way—by our dress for a ‘sample’—— toe show our sympathy for this poor orphan. These cheeked shirts are hardly the thing. What would be the most proper dress, Block ?” “Something black,’ responded the mate, emphatically, “we must dress in black—every man of us officers. Black's the badger of mourning—black coats, black vests, black pants and hats. And we must wear our hats Captain Capstan, so as to have every thing in symphony.” “That's all well err Block, except about the hats. Blow me if I hardly think—— “Ay!” interrupted the mate, “that’s the most impervious p'int of all. We must wear them hats at the table, Capstan, or all the rest goes for nothing. Your hair is gray, mine is red, and the second mate’s is brown, which would be an awful dissembling of gay colors to show to a lass that’s just lost her Comiclbooks.conmm