The Widow’s Bandboxby Harrett Beecher Stowe
Format of Original Source: Short Story
Recommended Adaptation Length:
Candidate for Adaptation? Not Reviewed
I tell ye what, boys, ef ye want to find an easy life, don’t ye never go to sea. I tell ye, life on shipboard ain’t what it looks to be on shore. I hadn’t been aboard more’n three hours afore I was the sickest critter that ever ye did see; and I tell you, I didn’t get no kind o’ compassion. Cap’ns and mates they allers thinks boys hain’t no kind o’ business to have no bowels nor nothin’, and they put it on ’em sick or well. It’s jest a kick here, and a cuff there, and a twitch by the ear in t’other place; one a shovin’ on ’em this way, and another hittin’ on ’em a clip, and all growlin’ from mornin’ to night. I believe the way my ears got so long was bein’ hauled out o’ my berth by ’em: that ‘are’s a sailor’s regular way o’ wakin’ up a boy.
Wal, by time I got to the Penobscot country, all I wanted to know was how to get back agin. That ‘are’s jest the way folks go all their lives, boys. It’s all fuss, fuss, and stew, stew, till ye get somewhere; and then it’s fuss, fuss, and stew, stew, to get back agin; jump here and scratch yer eyes out, and jump there and scratch ’em in agin,–that ‘are’s life.
VIEW SOURCE DOCUMENT
BACK TO LISTINGS