‘I have seen but one iron ship, sir,’ said Captain Sutherland.
‘Well,’ continued the lieutenant, ‘it’s so with the baby before birth: the mother may choose her own compass bearings for the child—virtue or vice, as may be. ’Tis the mother has the building of the bairn, look you, Ellice. If she don’t go right whilst the bairn’s putting together, be sorry for the little ’un. He’s booked in irons and a gray suit for a shiny land.’
‘Fudge,’ said the doctor.
The captain, however, seemed impressed by the lieutenant’s opinion, and continued to look at him.
‘Did you ever have charge of an uglier lot, Ellice?’ asked Captain Barrett.
‘I don’t recognise human ugliness,’ answered the doctor. ‘Is the egg bad? That’s it; never mind the look and colour of the shell.’
‘What becomes of a convict when he dies?’ said the lieutenant.
‘What becomes of the ripple when it breaks upon the shore?’ answered Captain Sutherland.
‘Do convicts really stand any chance out in the colonies, do you think?’ said the lieutenant.
‘An excellent chance,’ said the doctor.