The first mate was content to remain out of the proceedings for the present. Murphy and Hennesey went aloft, performed their part, and came down; then, when the two falls of the halyards were led to the two capstans, Murphy, with his hand in his pocket and his heart in his mouth, went among them.
"I want," he said, sourly, "twilve good min, but I don't know that I can git them. Ye're a lot o' bog-trotters that don't know enough to heave on a capstan."
"The hill we don't!" uttered a Galway man close to him.
"We l'arned thot in Checa-a-go."
"Ye mane," said Murphy, "that the Limerick boys tried to l'arn, but they couldn't. The wark's too hard."
"Fwat's too ha-a-rd?" answered the Galway. "Ye domned murderer, fwat's too hard? D'y' think we can't wurruk?"
"D'ye think ye can wark?" said Murphy. "Thin git at that capstan, you Galway min. And git busy, quick, or I'll give the job to the Limerick boys. They're passably good min, I think."
"To hill wi' thim! Hurrah, here, b'ys. C'm'an and pull the mon's rope. Who says we can't wurruk?"
They joyously and enthusiastically surrounded the forecastle capstan, shipped the brakes, and began to heave, with black looks at the envious Limericks, to whom Murphy now addressed himself.
"Are yez lookin' for wark?" he demanded.