“Ah, that’s a purty little thing from owld Ireland,” returned Jerry MacGowl. “I’d know her anywhere by the cut of her jib. Av she would only spaik, she’d let ye hear the brogue.”
“Since ye know her so well, Paddy, p’raps you can tell us what’s her cargo?” said Jack Shales.
“Of coorse I can—it’s fruit an’ timber,” replied Jerry.
“Fruit and timber!” exclaimed Stanley with a laugh; “I was not aware that such articles were exported from Ireland.”
“Ah, sure they are, yer honour,” replied Jerry. “No doubt the English, with that low spirit of jealousy that’s pecooliar to ’em, would say it was brooms an’ taties, but we calls it fruit and timber!”
“After that, Jerry, I think it is time for me to turn in, so I wish you both a good-night, lads.”
“Good-night, sir, good-night,” replied the men, as Stanley descended to his berth, leaving the watch to spin yarns and perambulate the deck until the bright beams of the floating light should be rendered unnecessary by the brighter beams of the rising sun.