human
No changee for changee, Ah Moy answered.
gpt
You wanchee him, all right, can do.
human
How fashion can do? Kwaque demanded, who to his beche-de-mer English was already adding pidgin English.
gpt
Suppose 'm me fella no got 'm what you fella likee?
human
No fashion changee, Ah Moy reiterated.
gpt
You wanchee, you likee he stop along you fella all right, my word.
human
Cocky, who had been birthed in the jungle roof of the island of Santo, in the New Hebrides, who had been netted by a two-legged black man-eater and sold for six sticks of tobacco and a shingle hatchet to a Scotch trader dying of malaria, and in turn had been traded from hand to hand, for four shillings to a blackbirder, for a turtle-shell comb made by an English coal-passer after an old Spanish design, for the appraised value of six shillings and sixpence in a poker game in the firemen's forecastle, for a second-hand accordion worth at least twenty shillings, and on for eighteen shillings cash to a little old withered Chinaman--so did pass Cocky, as mortal or as immortal as any brave sparkle of life on the planet, from the possession of one, Ah Moy, a sea-cock who, forty years before, had slain his young wife in Macao for cause and fled away to sea, to Kwaque, a leprous Black Papuan who was slave to one, Dag Daughtry, himself a servant of other men to whom he humbly admitted
gpt
Yes, sir, and
human
No, sir, and
gpt
Thank you, sir.