reminiscently.

"They was, Mr. McAlnwick. 'Twas scandalous--that Chief, too,
trapesin' away out to Scotstoun Hill every evenin' to play cards an'
shilly-shally, while his juniors had loose females aboard the ship.
Well, we put out, made St. John's in sixteen days, and discharged in a
fortn't. 'Twas there the Second an' Fourth began again, but they took
me in. I came on deck one Saturday afternoon, the old man being
ashore, and saw two females, with sealskin muffs and furred spats,
lookin' roun' the poop an' liftin' their skirts over the ropes, for
all the world like real ladies. An' I treated them as such, never
thinkin' what they were, for to me a lady's a lady, an' I know how to
behave to them. But the Second Mate stopped me as I was showin' 'em
over all, and ses he, 'D'yer know what she is, Mr. Honna?' pointin'
to the one with a heliatrope blouse under her jacket."

There is another snicker from Nicholas, and the Mate goes on:

"I would _not_ believe it, Mr. McAlnwick. I've had my weaknesses, I
have some now, or I would not be Mate of this ship. But I've never
insulted my employers by makin' a--a bloomin' _seraglio_ o' the ship,
nor have I ever seen it done without bringin' black luck. Now, wait
till I tell ye. The nex' mornin', being on deck at seven o'clock, I
saw the Second and Fourth racin' up the dock. Their collars were loose
at the back, an' their waistcoats were all out o' gear, an' they'd
made hat-bands o' their ties. Mr. McAlnwick, ye may laugh, but they
were a disgrace to the ship!

"Well, we put out o' St. John, deck-loaded with deals, in a fog, and
we stayed in a fog for three days. We were all among the ice, too, an'
that afternoon I came on deck to relieve Mr. Bruce, the Second Mate.
The old man had her in an ice-lane, goin' full speed. Ses I, 'She's
goin' fast, sir.' 'Oh,' ses he, 'she steers better so.' 'Ay,' ses I,
'but if she hits anything, she will--hit it.' A minute after, he come
up out o' the fog, an' ses he, 'Stop her, Mr. Honna, stop her!' I'd
me hand on the telegraph and me eye on the foc'sle head when she
struck--bang! An' all the canvas caps on the foc'sle ventilators blew
up an' went overboard. We'd hit a cake. The Second Mate ran out of
his berth in his shirt-sleeves, and went for'ard, an' I followed him.
There she was, her nose crunched into a low-lyin' cake not two feet
above the waterline. I kept all my spare gear in the fore-peak, an'
the Second Mate went down to--to reconnoitre