It cheered up every one wonderfully. Knowles,
with surprising mental agility, shifted his ground. "If we all went sick
what would become of the ship? eh?" He posed the problem and grinned
all round.--"Let 'er go to 'ell," sneered Donkin. "Damn 'er. She ain't
yourn."--"What? Just let her drift?" insisted Knowles in a tone of
unbelief.--"Aye! Drift, an' be blowed," affirmed Donkin with fine
recklessness. The other did not see it--meditated.--"The stores would
run out," he muttered, "and... never get anywhere... and what about
payday?" he added with greater assurance.--"Jack likes a good pay-day,"
exclaimed a listener on the doorstep. "Aye, because then the girls put
one arm round his neck an' t'other in his pocket, and call him ducky.
Don't they, Jack?"--"Jack, you're a terror with the gals."--"He takes
three of 'em in tow to once, like one of 'em Watkinses two-funnel
tugs waddling away with three schooners behind."--"Jack, you're a lame
scamp."--"Jack, tell us about that one with a blue eye and a black eye.
Do."--"There's plenty of girls with one black eye along the Highway
by..."
--"No, that's a speshul one--come, Jack.
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