“I ’ave,” ses Dixon. “A jolly good ship. No more hardships for me this time. I’ve got a berth as captain.”
“Wot?” ses ’is wife. “Captain? You!”
“Yes,” ses Dixon, smiling at her. “You can sail with me if you like.”
“Thankee,” ses Mrs. Dixon, “I’m quite comfortable where I am.”
“Do you mean to say you’ve got a master’s berth?” ses Charlie, staring at ’im.
“I do,” ses Dixon; “master and owner.”
Charlie coughed. “Wot’s the name of the ship?” he asks, winking at the others.
“The BLUE LION,” ses Dixon, in a voice that made ’em all start. “I’m shipping a new crew and I pay off the old one to-night. You first, my lad.”
“Pay off,” ses Charlie, leaning back in ’is chair and staring at ’im in a puzzled way. “Blue Lion?”
“Yes,” ses Dixon, in the same loud voice. “When I came ’ome the other day I thought p’r’aps I’d let bygones be bygones, and I laid low for a bit to see whether any of you deserved it. I went to sea to get hardened—and I got hard. I’ve fought men that would eat you at a meal. I’ve ’ad more blows in a week than you’ve ’ad in a lifetime, you fat-faced land-lubber.”