human
There she wallered, went on the narrator of maritime disaster,
gpt
I guess it must ha' been, Abe, Milt Baker put in hastily.
human
Gimme a piece o' that Brown Mule chewin' tobacker.
gpt
I'll _sell_ it to ye, Milt,
human
That's what I mean,
gpt
For fourteen days while the _Posy Lass_ was drivin' off shore before an easterly gale, Cap'n Am'zon an' two others, lashed to the stump o' the fo'mast, _ex_-isted in a smother of foam an' spume, with the waves picklin' 'em ev'ry few minutes. And five raw potaters was all they had to eat in all that endurin' time!
human
Five potatoes? Lawford Tapp cried.
gpt
For three men? And for fourteen days? Good-_night_!
human
Young man, he said tartly,
gpt
Yes, sir! proceeded Cap'n Abe who seldom lost the thread of one of his stories,
human
One o' the potaters?