"Yes," said somebody, "but wasn't there something about you having a fight with the bo'sun when he took you forward?"
"There was indeed, there was some kind of scrimmage." Michael looked up with his one eye at the man whose expression in listening was different from that of all the other listeners. "You been over with me before, haven't ye?" he asked him.
"Tell us about the scrap you had with the bo'sun going forward!" shouted another.
"No, indeed," Michael declared. "I'll drop that bit out. I've told the story so often that I don't know myself now which is the right way of it and which is the wrong way."
There was a laugh at this, and Michael smiled.
"Oh, indeed, there was a fight all right," he assured them. "But I've told about it different ways. I sometimes wonder myself now if I came off best."
There were sympathetic murmurs.
"Indade, of course, of course," Mike spoke, lying stretched upon his top bunk, near the door, head on hand, lenient and understanding. "You got over anyhow, and you didn't get put in the clink, and there's much to be thankful for."
"Oh, we're only cattlemen," said a voice.
"Lend us your mouth organ!" cried a youth.