nigger,
too.... Nova Scotiaman, Pictou way ... talks the same lingo as th'
'ilandman ... 'im on th' look-out, there."

"Not the Gaelic, surely?" said I.

"Aye, Gaelic. That's it. They speak that lingo out there, black an'
w'ite. Knowed lots o' niggers wot spoke it ... an' chows too!"

I turned to Collins--a broad, black nigger with thick lips, woolly
hair, white, gleaming teeth--the type! He grinned.

"Oh yass," he said. "Dat's ri'! Dey speak de Gaelic dere--dem
bluenose Scotchmen, an' Ah larn it when Ah wass small boy. Ah doan'
know much now ... forgot it mos' ... but Ah know 'nuff t' ask dat boy
Munro how de wass. _Hoo! Ho!! Hoo!!!_ 'Cia mar tha thu nis,' Ah
says, an' he got so fright', he doan' be seasick no mo'!"

A wondrous cure!

At ten Collins relieved the wheel and we looked for the shift that old
Martin had promised, but there was no sign of it--no lift to the misty
horizon, no lessening in the strength of the squalls, now heavy with a
smashing of bitter sleet. Bunched up against the helm, a mass of
oilskins glistening in the compass light, our 'lucky man' scarce seemed
to be doing anything but cower from the weather. Only the great eyes
of him, peering aloft from under the peak of his sou'wester, showed
that the man was awake; and the ready turns of the helm, that brought a
steering tremor to the weather leaches, marked him a cunning steersman,
whichever way his luck lay.

Six bells struck, the Mate stepped below to the barometers, and a gruff
"Up! up!" (his way of a whisper) accompanied the tapping of the
aneroid. There he found encouragement and soon had the Old Man on
deck, peering with him in the wind's eye at the brightening glare of
Innistrahull Light out in the west.

"Clearing, eh? And the glass risin'," said the Old Man. "Looks like
nor'-west! Round she goes, Mister: we'll lose no more time. Stan' by
t' wear ship!"

"Aye, aye, Sir! Stan' by t' square mainyards, the watch, there!"

Shouting as he left the poop, the Mate mustered his men at the braces.

"Square mainyards! That's th' talk," said old Martin, throwing the
coils down with a swing. "Didn't Ah tell ye it wos a nigger as'd bring
a fair win'!"

"But it ain't fair yet," said I. "Wind's west as ever it was; only th'
Old Man's made up his mind t' run her down th' George's Channel. Might
ha' done that four hours ago!"

"Wot's th' use o' talkin' like that? 'Ow th' 'ell could 'e make up 'is
min' wi' a Rooshia