An Old Tar's Twister
A Breeze on Lake Erie.
Yes, to be sartin, I remember the breeze in the fall of '44. I were mate on one of them 'ere pocket edision brigs belongin' to Detroit then. We was workin' up Lake Erie and had just got breast of the O w'en wind, which were sou'west come a howlin' and a snortin' in an angry manner. I didn't ketch us a blinkin', fur we seed ut a cinub' long afore it struck us, and w'en it ariv' we were ready for it.
I prided myself that I hed seed it blow in the Injun Oshun, but thet 'ere breeze jest took the rags off any thing I hed ever run a foul on. The wind picked up as tho' it wus sand and hurled it frightful fur to see, and if we hadn't a dodged it we'd a bin a wet lot as corpusses a waitin' for Gabriel to sound his fog horn. Speakin' if a horn jogs my mem'ry thet four fingers of Jamaycay, a half dosen drops of hot water, two or three spice, a lump of butter es big es a small walnut, three lumps of sugar and a little lemin' rubbed on to the edge of the glass air not bad to take this our of the day.
But to git back to the breeze I were a tellin' you about we'n my mind were diverted. It hedn't blowed long w'en we founded that the brig hed cum to a ded stop and lookin' over the side we diskivered that she were on the bottom and there were not a drop of water to be seed where the lake hed bin. We wus on the bottom five hours afore Detroit river spilled water enuff inter the holler to float us. W'le the brig were a restin' sum of the boys was off on a voyage of diskivery, but they gin it up arter a short cruise, owin' to the ded bodies they run across. The lower part of the lake on a high old bender at the time, and Buffalo was washed clean up to Main street. It were an airy old breeze, and w'ile it lasted a feller hed to git a prevention stay onter his Sou'wester to keep his ha'r on.