A big guy in a uniform come by and went into the next room. "Is that the captain?" ast the Wife.
"No," I says, "that's the steward."
"And what does he do?" she ast me.
"He hangs round the bar," I says, "and looks after the stews."
"Have they really got a bar?" she says.
"I'll find out for sure if you'll wait here a minute," says I, and led her to a chair where she could watch 'em wrestle.
In the other room I stood next to a Greek that charged ten cents on Sundays and holidays. He was all lit up like the Municipal Pier.
"Enjoyin' the trip?" I ast him.
"Too rough; too rough!" he says, only I don't do the dialect very good.
"I bet you never got that shine at your own stand," says I.