“‘Lord, Sir, that ain’t it—she is mops and brooms.’
“‘Mops and brooms, I suppose she is, she must have plenty use for them, I reckon, to keep all snug and tidy down there.’
“‘Good gracious, Sir, don’t you understand, she is half seas over.’
“‘True, so we all are, the captain said so to-day at twelve o’clock, I wish we were over altogether. Send her up.’
“‘No, no, Sir, she is more than half shaved.’
“‘The devil! does she shave? I don’t believe she is a woman at all. I see how it is, you have been putting one of the sailors into petticoats.’ And the idea makes even the invalid gall laugh.
“‘No, no, Sir, she is tipsy.’
“‘Then why the plague couldn’t you say so at once. I guess you kinder pride yourself in your slang. Help me to assist this lady down to her friends.’
“Well, when you return on deck, lo and behold, your seat is occupied, and you must go and stand by the rail till one is vacant, when another gall that ain’t ill, but inconveniently well, she is so full of chat, says, ‘Look, look, Sir, dear me, what is that, Sir? a porpoise. Why you don’t, did you ever! well, I never see a porpoise afore in all my born days! are they good to eat, Sir?’
“‘Excellent food for whales, Miss.’