"I've heered them called the weaker sex," said the purser's yeoman, who was fond of literature of the dime novel variety. "I guess that's becus they can't make sailor-men out'n 'em."
"Wall, naow," drawled the Jack-o'-the-dust, a studious New Englander, given to historic research as he could manage it, "there hev been wimmin sailor-men. I've read abaout 'em. There was two pyrates once an' they was wimmin. An' they was the wust kind of pyrates, too."
"That's nateral," said the autocrat of the forecastle; "it stands ter reason that a woman'd be a bad sailor an' she'd also make a bad pirate."
"They wus good pyrates," continued the down-easter.
"Good pirates? There ain't no sech thing," chimed in another sailor, filling the responsible position of captain of the hold.
"I mean they wus bludthirsty feemale villains, an' they done the pyrate bisness up jest's fine's if they'd a-bin men."
"I had an amazin' experience with wimmin onct," said the old bo's'n's mate, reflectively.
"I should say you had," broke in a young midshipman; "I've heard you speak of your 'ol' woman' hundreds of times, and all the trouble you've caused her."
"I don't mean her, Mr. Bobstay. God rest her soul; she's dead, sir; an', as fer the kids, my darter's married an' the boys is God knows where. I brung 'em up ter be good sailor-men, though, an' wherever they is, I guess they're a-doin' of their dooty. This was another kind of a feemale. You see, lads an' young gentlemen all, in the Med't'ranean in 1800 I was bo's'n's mate, an', like this yere ship, we didn't kerry no bo's'n on the little hooker Grampus, the luckiest barkie that ever carried the American flag. She was schooner rigged w'en I was on her. Then they turned her inter a brig, an' now they're thinkin' o' makin' a full-rigged ship of her. They've done everything they kin to spile her. She's the slowest old tub afloat now, I'm telled, but let anything British take arter her an' she jest naterally takes a bone in her teeth an' rips away. Lordie, to think of that little ship a-doin' all the things she's done! Wall, where was I, mates?"
"You wa'n't now'ere. You was gittin' ready to go som'er's, tho', I guess," said the quartermaster.