Fullalove watched him with an eye like a rattlesnake, but kept quiet. He
saw interference would only demoralise him worse: for it is more ignoble
to black boots clandestinely, than bravely; men ditto.
He relieved his heart with idioms. "Darn the critter, he's fixed my flint
eternally. Now I cave. I swan to man. I may just hang up my fiddle; for
this darkie's too hard a row to hoe."
It was but a momentary dejection. The Mixture was _(inter alia)_ a
Theorist and an Anglo-Saxon; two indomitables. He concluded to temporise
with the Brush, and breed it out.
"I'm bound to cross the obsequious cuss with the catawamptiousest gal in
Guinea, and one that never saw a blacking bottle, not even in a dream."
_Majora canamus._
Being now about a hundred miles south of the Mauritius, in fine weather
with a light breeze, Dodd's marine barometer began to fall steadily; and
by the afternoon the declension had become so remarkable, that he felt
uneasy, and, somewhat to the surprise of the crew,--for there was now
scarce a breath of air,--furled his slight sails, treble reefed his
topsails, had his top-gallant and royal yards and gaff topsail bent on
deck, got his flying jib-boom in, &c.
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