You was talkin' out of yer head last night, too," chortles Davy. "No one's gonna fancy me. I'm gonna be ugly and no on'es gonna fancyme!" he mimics, mincing about the hammock. "You are such a rum cove, Jacky, for thinkin' such things when yer just about beat t' death! Fancy me? Fancy me? Jacky, no one's gonna fancy us, we're all gonna end up lookin' like Snag!"

"Which is how a salty dog sailor's supposed to look," says Willy with a firm nod.

"And you're halfway there, Jack-o!" crows Tink.

Ah, the sweet comfort of friends.

L.A. Meyer

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Randall looks at me with fire in his eye, but he nods and decides to smile at my banter. He gets to his feet, bows low, and says, "I believe I saw my sister's fat friend Pickering down below. Shall we all go to dinner and hear more tales of your adventures?"
Hey, Ezra ain't fat, he's... well... sleek is what he is. Sleek, like a well-fed seal. Or, hey, maybe even a silkie...

L.A. Meyer

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Now, you just forget about Jaimy, 'cause he's sure forgot about you, the snob. Now let's me and you go and get married and have a fine toss in the hay and then we'll talk about other things." Davy looks out across the crowd. "Let's us lovers find a preacher." He points at a tall man in black coat. "Sir! You there! Are you a preacher? Well, who cares, you'll do, now just say the words, now...

L.A. Meyer

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We're allowed to do anything in this world until someone says we aren't allowed and that someone can back it up. -Jacky Faber

L.A. Meyer

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