I should not wonder if you had your orders to-morrow; but you cannot sail with this wind, if you are to cruize to the westward; Captain Walsh thinks you will certainly have a cruiz…

With a frown, Rye studies my face. He disengages my arm in order to take my hand in both of his and squeeze it tight. "Why don't you go back and confront him, sweetheart? I'll go w…

By God! That chicken has no head!

[…] having made a cross cut, so as to ascertain the depth of the fat upon the chest, exclaimed, in a sort of rapture, “Three inches of white fat on the brisket!—prime—prime, as I a…