human
Well, cook my gizzard, he exclaimed presently, through his nose, and after another good look at me and along the decks and up aloft,
gpt
All alone,
human
Broach me every barrel aboard if ever I see sich a vessel, he cried, his astonishment rising with the searching glances he directed aloft and alow.
gpt
How old be she?
human
She was cast away in seventeen hundred and fifty-three,
gpt
Well, I'm durned. She's froze hard, sirree; I reckon she'll want a hot sun to thaw her. Split me, mister, if she ain't worth sailing home as a show-box.