He's my uncle, - dad's own brother, - an' ef there's any bad luck loose on the Banks she'll fetch up ag'in' Uncle Salters, sure.
snapped Uncle Salters, backing water with a splash.
You an' your nervis dyspepsy be drowned in the Whale-hole," roared Uncle Salters, a fat and tubly little man.
He's forkin' them wan by wan," howled Long Jack, as Uncle Salters got to work laboriously; the little man in the other dory counting a line of notches on the gunwale.
An' others," said Uncle Salters, "eats the fat o' the land in sloth, an' mocks their own blood-kin.
Disko Troop, Tom Platt, Long Jack, and Salters went forward on the word.
Dan passed Harvey a pitchfork, and led him to the inboard end of the rough table, where Uncle Salters was drumming impatiently with a knife-haft.
You pitch to dad an' Tom Platt down the hatch, an' take keer Uncle Salters don't cut yer eye out," said Dan, swinging himself into the hold.
Long Jack, a basket at his feet and mittens on his hands, faced Uncle Salters at the table, and Harvey stared at the pitchfork and the tub.
Another wrench and scoop sent the head and offal flying, and the empty fish slid across to Uncle Salters, who snorted fiercely.