He did not answer, but went outside and called out "Mick."
In came the man who had sold me the bananas.
"Do you want to buy any more 'dead mariner'?" asked the first.
"Has he got all these bottles for sale?" inquired the banana man.
"Certainly," cried I. (Of course, I did not make myself quite so easily understood as might appear from this conversation, but still I managed both to understand and to make myself understood on this occasion.)
"No," cried he; "he did not think he wanted any more just now."
"How much money you think I receive for one bottle?" inquired I.
"Oh, plenty money," cried he, "my word ready; market, any one buys them."
"What do they say?" asked Thorkill of me.