Here Chips paused and gave me a sidelong look as he refilled his pipe.  Then he lit it and smiled hopefully.

“They ware a quare pair, them mates, Garnett an’ O’Toole,” he said.  “What one wasn’t th’ other was, and wice wersa.  They lay there two months loadin’ on account o’ th’ war having blocked th’ nitrate beds.

“Wan day O’Toole saw an old woman come limpin’ along th’ dock where th’ Starbuck lay.  She hobbled on to th’ gang-plank an’ started aboard, an’ O’Toole began to chaff Garnett.  He waren’t half bad as a joker.

“‘’Pon me whurd, Garnett,’ sez he, ‘I do belave your own mother is comin’ aboard to visit ye—­but no, maybe it’s yer swateheart, fer ye have an uncommon quare taste, ye know.  B’ th’ saints, ye ware always a bold one fer th’ ladies.’

“We ware lying in th’ next berth, not twenty feet away, an’ from where I sat on th’ rail I cud hear thim talk an’ see what was a-goin’ on.

“‘Stave me,’ says old Garnett, solemn like, ’that’s true enough.  Sink her fer a fool, though, to be a-comin’ down here to win back an old windjammer like me—­What? ye mean that old hag driftin’ along the deck?  Blast you for a red-headed shell-back, d’ye s’pose I’d take up wid wimmen av your choice?  No, I never makes a superior officer jealous;’ an’ wid that he takes out his rag an’ mops th’ dent in th’ top av his head where there’s no hair nor nothin’ but grease, an’ he draws out his little pestiverous vial av peppermint salts an’ sniffs.

“‘Faith, an’ ye’ll need to clear yer old head, ye owld raskil, ye’ve been too gay fer onct,’ says O’Toole.

“She ware a tough-lookin’ old gal, an’ her hat brim flopped over her face.  O’Toole met her an’ pointed to Garnett.

“‘If it’s th’ leddy-killer av th’ fleet ye’re afther, there he Stan’s.’

“Th’ old woman looked an’ stopped.

“‘No,’ says she, in a sort o’ jangled tone, ’eets my little gal I looks fer—­she’s aboard here wid th’ capt’in,’

“‘Ye can’t see her,’ says Garnett, ‘an’ ye better get ashore afore I calls one av thim Dago soldiers to carry ye off an’ marry ye.’

“I cud jest get th’ glint av th’ old woman’s eyes, then she bent her head lower.

“‘E—­eets my leetle gal I must see,’ an’ there was somethin’ in her voice that made one pay attention, ‘twas so deep an’ solemn like.  I ware listening an’ a few soldiers av th’ army what was camped in th’ town came up an’ stopped an’ looked on.

“‘She ware a good leetle gal—­an’ I cared for her—­Yes, by God, she ware a good gal,’ said th’ old one, hoarsely.

“I cud see O’Toole turn away his head an’ Garnett sniff hard at his vial.  ‘Twas good, he used to say, fer things in th’ head.  Thin he turned to th’ old woman.

“’Ye better get ashore, old gal, she ain’t aboard here.  We don’t take thim kind on deep water.’

“‘I must see her afore I goes,’ says th’ old woman, an’ her voice ware a whisper that died away, but ware so full av force O’Toole turned to her.