"She was a fine ship, Murray," the master lamented, staring with tragic eyes at the Nebraska's spars.
"She was a tin washtub, and rusted like a sieve," jeered O'Neil.
"But think of me losing her on a still night!"
"I'm not sure yet that it wasn't a jellyfish that swam through her."
"Humph! I suppose her cargo will be a total loss. Two hundred thousand dollars—"
"Insured for three hundred, no doubt. I'll warrant the company will thank you."
"It's kind of you to cheer me up," said Brennan, a little less gloomily, "especially after the way I abandoned you to drown, but the missus won't allow me in the house at all when she hears I left you in pickle. Thank God the girl didn't die, anyway! I've got that to be thankful for. Curtis Gordon would have broken me—"
"Gordon?"
"Sure! Man dear, don't you know who you went bathing with? She's the daughter of that widow Gerard, and the most prominent passenger aboard, outside of your blessed self. Ain't that luck! If I was a Jap I'd split myself open with a bread-knife."
"But, fortunately, you're a sensible 'harp' of old Ireland. I'll see that the papers get the right story, 'o buck up."