"Faith and phwat's th' matter with her now?" exclaimed Hogan in exasperated wonder.
A silence fell over the boisterous group.
"Out o' coal," hazarded Galton, "that's w'y she harsn't got back no sooner."
"W'ere's 'er sails, then?"
"A tug couldn't do nothin' with sails—she isn't made for sails!"
"It ain't w'ot ye're made for, hit's w'ot ye can git in this blarsted sea!"
"Maybe 'er machin'ry's broke?"
"Maybe they're hall sick?"
"Or dead?"
"Maybe——"