Like as not dey's a watchman on dat wrack.” “Watchman your grandmother,” I says; “there ain't nothing to watch but the texas and the pilot-house; and do you reckon anybody's going to resk his life for a texas and a pilot-house such a night as this, when it's likely to break up and wash off down the river any minute?”  Jim couldn't say nothing to that, so he didn't try. “And besides,” I says, “we might borrow something worth having out of the captain's stateroom.  Seegars, I bet you--and cost five cents apiece, solid cash.  Steamboat captains is always rich, and get sixty dollars a month, and _they_ don't care a cent what a thing costs, you know, long as they want it.  Stick a candle in your pocket; I can't rest, Jim, till we give her a rummaging.  Do you reckon Tom Sawyer would ever go by this thing?  Not for pie, he wouldn't. He'd call it an adventure--that's what he'd call it; and he'd land on that wreck if it was his last act.  And wouldn't he throw style into it?--wouldn't he s