'Old Jim Mason's just the worst-tempered man on the coast. His heart was turned black by a disappointment,' said Thomas.
Old Jim Mason's the worst-tempered man on the coast.
'Love?' said I.
'Why, not exactly love,' he replied; 'it was more in the hovelling line.'
'Is it a good yarn?' I asked. 'If so, I'll stand two drinks; a pint for you and a half-pint for me.'
'It might be worth recording,' said Thomas, taking the time occupied by the harbour clock in striking: twelve to reflect. 'Anyways, pint or no pint, here it is,' and, folding his arms, this intelligent longshoreman' started thus:—
'Some years ago, a gemman and a lady went out for a sail, and, as is not always customary in these 'ere parts,—though we've got some thick heads among us, I can tell you,—they were capsized. The gemman was drowned, the lady and the boatman saved, and the boat was picked up and towed in,—there she lies, "The 'Arbour Bud."