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Tia Picores seemed to be in a thoughtful mood, as she talked aloud and in monologue to the fish lying about in front of her. And those spit-fires would keep at it for the rest of their lives, eh! I kill you or you kill me! Fine! And all over a man! Men! Men! As though there weren't enough hogs in the world to go round! But she would put a stop to it, she would.
"Nay, but I've heard tell that she is wondrous fair." "Hum!" quoth Sir Benedict, "I love not your red-haired spit-fires. Methinks, an Ivo win her, she'll lead him how she will, or be broke in the adventure a malison upon him, be it how it may!"
She is just the craft a seaman loves; easy on her rigging, and lively in a sea. I call her the 'Dolphin, from the manner in which she cuts the water; and, perhaps, because she has as many colours as that fish, you will say Jack must have a name for his ship, you know, and I dislike your cut-throat appellations, your 'Spit-fires' and 'Bloody-murders."
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