“Why, no, I tell’e——”
“That’ll be three pounds then,” said Tweedie.
“If ye’d shared it it would have been two pound ten. You should always study your owner in these matters, cap’n. Now, what about bad weather? Any repairs to the sails?”
“Ay, we had a lot o’ damage,” said Fazackerly, laying down his pen; “it took us days to repair ’em. Cost us four pounds. We had to put into Holyhead for shelter.”
“Four pounds,” said Tweedie, his voice rising almost to a scream.
“Ay, all that,” said Fazackerly very solemnly.
“Look here,” said Tweedie in a choked voice. “Blown away fore lower topsail, forestaysail, and carried away lifts to staysail. To sailmaker for above, eleven pounds eighteen shillings and ten-pence. Then ye say ye put into Holyhead for shelter. Well, here in entering harbor we’ll say loss of port anchor and thirty fathoms of chain cable——”
“Man alive,” said the overwrought skipper, hitting the table heavily with his fist, “the old anchor’s there for him to see.”
“To divers recovering same, and placing on deck, two pound ten,” continued Tweedie, raising his voice. “Did you do any damage going into dock at Limerick?”
“More than we’ve done for years,” said Fazackerly, and shaking his head, entered into voluminous details; “total, seven pounds.”