Then he took his stand on the grating right abaft the wheel, and held the tea-tray aloft.
With her cloud of snowy canvas on came the Yankee. Then, as she was passing, a real megaphone roared out the words: 'The Louisiana of Baltimore, U.S.A., bearing up for London, England, en route for the States. What is that?' continued the awful voice. 'Hold your bally old tea-tray higher. Captain Peters, eh? Little girl born at sea. All right, I'll report it. Hope mother and daughter are doing well. Love to the missus. Good-bye, old grampus; bon voyage.'
Next minute the Louisiana was past and away, and the mate dashed the tea-tray on the deck with a rattle and a word that made Lotty jump.
'Hang the fellow!' he cried; 'he couldn't read plain English, and now he's off, and may all the bad weather go with him, for he'll report that Mrs Paterson—— Ha, ha, ha!'
He laughed louder than the west wind as he jumped down.
'Never mind. Come along, Lotty, and we'll have another stroll. Merrily does at sea, little lass.
With a he! and a ho!
How the wild winds blow,
As we go rolling home, brave boys,
As we goes a-rolling home!'
The gale moderated considerably in the first dog-watch, and the sea became smoother. Reefs were shaken out, and as the sun set red in the nor'-west a heavenly starlit night succeeded the stormy day.
Ben went on watch at eight o'clock, and the rest settled around the stove in the cosy octagonal cabin.
They were plain-living people in the Nor'lan' Star, as all true sea-folks are. The skipper smoked in his easy-chair, Mrs Paterson sat knitting in hers, with Lotty on a footstool by her knee, and the red-faced mate between. The steward brought tumblers to these two men-people, so they sipped their grog and then settled to yarning and singing.