“Mart! Where’d you come from?”
“Right out of my little tin fish! She’s down the harbor a ways. Got in this morning. I didn’t know the old Dry-an-rot was here. Where’s she lying? How are you? I say, owld de-ah, what’s happened to your sleeve? Blow me, the lad’s been promoted!”
“Mart, shake hands with Mr. Tipper. Tip, you’ve heard me speak of Townsend.”
“Wot cheer, Townsend! As we say in dear old Amurica, put her thar!”
“Glad to know you!” laughed Mart, shaking hands. “You’re one of the Arizona Tippers, of course. Can tell by your accent!”
“Right-o! Born and reared within sight of the jolly old Missouri!”
Tip declared that the occasion demanded food and drink and led the way to his favorite hostelry where, for the better part of two hours, the trio talked thirteen to the dozen and Mart recounted his adventures up north and got his tongue so twisted with Scottish words that Nelson feared for him. “Oh, it’s all right if you like that sort of thing,” declared Mart, “but excuse me! I got so finally that, begging Mr. Tipperary’s pardon, it would have been a grand relief to me if the British Grand Fleet had sunk at its moorings! I was never gladder to see the last of anything than I was to watch Kinnaird Head lose itself in the mist. It’s those horrible mists that make life miserable up that way. And then the sea’s beastly, too, most of the time. And cold! My word, fellows, submerging in Moray is like going into an ice-chest! Still, at that, it was interesting, and we had our thrills. One of ’em came when we took a practice plunge and something went wrong with the tanks and we stayed on the bottom for seven hours before we could get up again. Those little things make life interesting. I never knew until that day how many of us carried Bibles in our old kit bags!”
“And what are you up to now, if I may ask?” inquired Tip.
“You may ask, all right, friend, but don’t expect me to tell you. They sent three of us down here, but we don’t know why, unless it’s to get the icicles out of the balance tanks. We had a weird run of it, too, down that east coast of yours. Do you know that there are exactly nine thousand different currents along there? Well, there are. I heard the Old Man say so, and he ought to know, for he was on duty every minute. He’s ashore now somewhere. I heard him say he was going to get a bath and a shave, but I’ll bet you anything you like he’s filled himself with steak and onions and gone to sleep!”
“Speaking of steak and onions,” murmured Tip wistfully, “let’s eat something else.”