“Well, Mr Hurley,” said the Captain, as the boatswain stroked down his hair, as a mark of respect, when he entered the cabin, “are the cots all finished?”
“All finished, your honour, and slung, except the one for the babby. Had not I better get a piece of duck for that?”
“No, no—number seven will do as well; Mrs C— wants some fearnought, to put down in the entrance hall.”
“Yes, your honour.”
“And some cod-lines laid up for clothes-lines.”
“Yes, your honour.”
“Stop, let me look at my list—‘Knife-tray, meat-screen, leads for window-sashes,’—Ah! have you any hand-leads not on charge?”
“Yes, your honour, four or five.”
“Give them to my steward.—‘Small chair for Ellen—canvas for veranda.’—Oh! here’s something else—have you any painted canvas?”
“Only a waist-hammock-cloth, sir, ready fitted.”