‘Be quiet there, forward,’ said Lovell, hearing the loud talk of Terrence as he held forth thus, rather boisterously to the crew, on the forecastle.
‘Ay ay, your honor,’ said Terrence submissively.
‘Moony, come here,’ said Lovell, half angry at the noise.
‘Ay ay, sir,’ continued the willing Irishman promptly and respectfully obeying the call.
‘What are you grumbling about there, forward, eh?’
‘Only saying my prayers, yer honor, before going into battle. That’s scripture, I belave, sir, ain’t it, Mr. Lovell?’
‘Are you afraid, Terrence?’
‘Afraid, is it, did you say, afraid that I was?’
‘That’s what I asked’
‘Your honor’s joking’