“Ye lie,” said Tweedie sternly, “you did! To repairs to side-lamps, ten shillings. Now then, did you paint her this trip?”
“I did,” said the other, looking at the last entry in a fascinated fashion.
“Let’s see,” said Tweedie meditatively—“we’ll say five gallons of black varnish at one shilling and threepence a gallon—”
“No, no,” said the scribe; “I used gas tar at threepence a gallon.”
“Five gallons black varnish, one shilling and threepence a gallon, six-and-threepence,” said Tweedie, raising his voice a little; “have you got that down?”
After a prolonged struggle with his feelings the other said he had.
“Twenty-eight pounds black paint at twopence a pound,” continued Tweedie.
“Nay, nay,” said the skipper; “I allus saves the soot out of the galley for that.”
The other captain took his cigar from his lips and gazed severely at his guest.
“Am I dealing with a chimney-sweep or a ship’s captain?” he inquired plaintively; “it would simplify matters a bit if I knew.”