“She’ll be married to a sugar-planter before you’ve cut your wisdom teeth!” bawled the engineer from his bedroom.

“Will she?” retorted Dennis, and half-laughing, half-sentimentally, he sang on louder than before,

“Were she no longer true,
Eileen aroon! 
What should her lover do? 
Eileen aroon! 
Fly with his broken chain,
Far o’er the bounding main,
Never to love again,
Eileen aroon!”

Willie made no reply.  He evidently meant to secure what sleep there was to be had, and as Dennis did not seem in the mood for discussing our prospects as seamen, I turned into my hammock and pulled it well round my ears to keep out bats, night-moths, and the like.

It was thus that I failed at first to hear when Dennis began to talk to somebody out of the window.  But when I lifted my head I could hear what he said, and from the context I gathered that the other speaker was no less than Alister, who, having taken his sleep early in the night, was now refreshing himself by a stroll at dawn.  That they were squabbling with unusual vehemence was too patent, and I was at once inclined to lay the blame on Dennis, who ought, I felt, to have been brimming over with generous sympathy, considering how comfortable we had been, and poor Alister had not.  But I soon discovered that the matter was no personal one, being neither more nor less than an indignant discussion as to whether the air which Dennis was singing was “Scotch” or “Irish.”  As I only caught the Irish side of the argument, I am not qualified to pronounce any opinion.

“Of course facts are facts, no one denies that.  And it’s likely enough your grandmother sang ‘Robin Adair’ to it, and your great-grandmother too, rest her soul!  But it would take an uncommonly great-grandmother of mine to have sung it when it was new, for it’s one of the oldest of old Irish airs.”

* * * * *

“Stole it of course! as they did plenty more in those times—­cattle and what not.  I’d forgive them the theft, if they hadn’t spoilt the tune with a nasty jerk or two that murders the tender grace of it intirely.”

* * * * *

“Alister, me boy!  You’re not going?  Ye’re not cross, are ye?  Faith, I’d give my life for ye, but I can’t give ye Eileen aroon.  Come in and have some swizzle!  We’re in the height of luxury here, and hospitality as well, and you’ll be as welcome as daylight.”

* * * * *

“Up so late?  Up so early you mean!  Ah, don’t put on that air of incorruptible morality.  Wait now till I get in on the one side of my hammock and out at the other, and I’ll look as early-rising-proud as yourself.  Alister!  Alister dear!—­”

Through all this the engineer made no sign, and it struck me how wise he was, so I pulled the hammock round me again and fell asleep; not for long, I fancy, for those intolerable sandflies woke me once more before Dennis had turned in.