Yes, Number One told me off to that for ten minutes; an' I ain't
musical, you might say."
"_'Then come marines, half-dressed, seeking vainly through this "tohu-
bohu_"' (that's one of his names for the _Archimandrite_, Mr. Pyecroft),
'_for a place whence they shall not be dislodged. The captain, heavy with
drink, rolls himself from his hammock. He would have his people fire the
Maxims. They demand which Maxim. That to him is equal. The breech-lock
indispensable is not there. They demand it of one who opens a barrel of
pork, for this Navy feeds at all hours. He refers them to the cook,
yesterday my master_--'"
"Yes, an' Retallick nearly had a fit. What a truthful an' observin' little
Antonio we 'ave!"
"'_It is discovered in the hands of a boy who says, and they do not rebuke
him, that he has found it by hazard_.' I'm afraid I haven't translated
quite correctly, Mr. Pyecroft, but I've done my best."
"Why, it's beautiful--you ought to be a Frenchman--you ought. You don't
want anything o' _me_. You've got it all there."
"Yes, but I like your side of it. For instance. Here's a little thing I
can't quite see the end of. Listen! '_Of the domain which Britannia rules
by sufferance, my gross captain, knew nothing, and his Navigator, if
possible, less. From the bestial recriminations and the indeterminate
chaos of the grand deck, I ascended--always with a whisky-and-soda in my
hands--to a scene truly grotesque.
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