Wee Laughlin was a large buyer. He—of us all—had come to sea 'same 's he was goin' t' church!' A pier-head jump! So far, he had borrowed and borrowed, but even good-natured Dutch John was learning English, and would say, "Jou come to mein haus, und stay mit me," or "Was für jou nod trink less und buy somet'ings," at each wily approach.
On the day when 'slops' were served out, the Pride of Rue-en' Street was first at the cabin door. As he was fitted and stepped along forward with his purchases, the bo'sun saw him, and called: "Hello! Oilskins an' sea-boots an' new shirts, eh? I see ye're outward bound, young feller!" Laughlin leered and winked cunning-like.
"What d'ye mean by outward bound," asked Munro. "We're all outward bound, an't we?"
"Of course; of course," said Hicks. "All outward bound! But w'en I says it that wye, I mean as Lawklin is a-spendin' of 'is 'dibs,' ... meanin' t' desert w'en we gets out! If 'e don't 'op it as soon as we anchors in 'Frisco Bay, ye kin call me a ruddy Dutchman!"
"Desert? But that's serious?"
"Ho no! Not there it ain't! Desertin' 's as easy as rollin' off a log, ... out there! D'ye think th' queer-fella' is goin' t' pay them prices for 'is kit, if 'e wos goin' t' stop by her in 'Frisco? Not much 'e ain't! An' ye kin tike it as a few more is goin' t' 'op it, or ye wouldn't see so many of 'em aft 'ere for their bloomin' 'sundries'!"
"Wel, wel, now! These prices is not pad, indeed," said Welsh John, who had joined us. "I haf paid more than three shillin' for a knife pefore!"
"Heh! Heh!" The bo'sun laughed. "When a 'Taffy' that's a-buyin' says that, ye may say it's right! ... But, blimy—the boot's on th' other foot w'en it's 'Taffy' as is a-sellin'! Heh! Heh! There wos Old Man Lewis of th' Vanguard, o' Liverpool, that I signed in! Blimy! 'e could tell ye wot 'sea price' is!"
"Good ol' 'sea price,'" said Martin. "Many an' 'appy 'ome, an' garden wit' a flagstaff, is built o' 'sea price'!"
"Right, ol' son! Right," continued the bo'sun. "Old Man Lewis owned a row of 'em, ... down in Fishguard.... I sailed in th' Vanguard out o' Liverpool t' Noo York an' then down south, 'ere—boun' t' Callao. Off th' Falklan's, the Old Man opens out 'is bloomin' slop-chest an' starts dealin'. A pound for blankits wot ye c'd shoot peas through, an' fifteen bob for serge shirts—same kind as th' Sheenies sells a' four an' tanner in th' Mawrsh! Of course, nobody 'ud buy 'em in at that price, though we wos all 'parish rigged'—us bein' 'bout eight months out from 'ome. If we 'ad been intendin' t' leave 'er, like th' queer-fella, there, it 'ud a bin all right, but we 'ad 'bout twenty-five poun' doo each of us, an' we wasn't keen on makin' th' Old Man a n'ansome presint!"