“‘Tut, you fool,’ says he, for he had that consaited way wid him, thinkin’ himself cleverer nor any one else—‘tut, you fool,’ says he, ‘that’s France,’ says he.
“‘Tare an ouns,’ says I, ‘do you tell me so? and how do you know it’s France it is, Captain dear?’ says I.
“‘Bekase this is the Bay o’ Bishky we’re in now,’ says he.
“‘Throth, I was thinkin’ so myself,’ says I, ‘by the rowl it has; for I often heerd av it in regard of that same; and, throth, the likes av it I never seen before nor since, and, with the help of God, never will.’
“Well, with that, my heart began to grow light; and when I seen my life was safe, I began to grow twice hungrier nor ever; so says I, ‘Captain jewel, I wish we had a gridiron.’
“‘Why, then,’ says he, ‘thunder an’ turf,’ says he, ‘what puts a gridiron into your head?’
“‘Bekase I’m starvin’ with the hunger,’ says I.
“‘And, sure, bad luck to you,’ says he, ‘you couldn’t eat a gridiron,’ says he, ‘barrin’ you were a pelican O’ the wildherness,’ says he.
“‘Ate a gridiron!’ says I. ‘Och, in throth, I’m not such a gommoch all out as that, anyhow. But, sure, if we had a gridiron we could dress a beefstake,’ says I.
“‘Arrah! but where’s the beefstake?’ says he.