"Poor beggars!" said the crew; "it must be 'ard on a soft lot of things like them to be on a des'late hisland. Ain't it a wonder Froggies ever goes to sea? But does they belong 'ere, or was they piled hup same's hus?"
Hart found himself alongside a Frenchman with a long red Liberty cap on, and a big pair of ear-rings in his ears.
"Goddam," said the Frenchman.
"That's what we say," cried Hart. "Here, you chaps, he speaks English."
"Hurrah!" said the crowd.
"I spike Engelish," nodded the stranger.
"How'd you come 'ere?" asked the eager chorus.
The Frenchman nodded.
"Goddam!" he said, smiling. "Ship! Por'smout'—London! I spick En'lish."
"Well, then," said Hart desperately, "just dry up with your mixed hogwash, and spit it all out free as to 'ow you came 'ere, and wot the name o' this bally rock is, and who's its in'abitants. Now, give it lip!"