“Yes,” drawled Smith.
“Well, never mind. Let’s go on with my story. It was either in the year ninety-three or ninety-four that I was in the Channel fleet: we were then abreast of Torbay—”
“Here be the hot water, sir,” cried Jem, putting the kettle down on the deck.
“Very well, boy. By-the-bye, has the jar of butter come on board?”
“Yes, but it broke all down the middle. I tied him up with a ropeyarn.”
“Who broke it, sir?”
“Coxswain says as how he didn’t.”
“But who did, sir.”
“Coxswain handed it up to Bill Jones, and he says as how he didn’t.”
“But who did, sir.”