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Begorrah, all he hed, sure, wor a spud-net, same as ye titched yer sicond 'lowance ov grog t'other day wid, Misther Joblins; an' this wor stuck atop ov wun ov the min's oilskins thet he'd hoong oot fur to dhry in the fore rigging. Thet wor the spirrit I sayd."

"Take hold on that `spud-net' there," said Harris, pointing to the net in which the potatoes had been boiled for the mess, the other fellows near turning their backs so that Joblins couldn't see them laugh as he proceeded to carry out the joker's suggestion. "Ah, ye've got it all right, then?

"Tell us," inquired Joblins, the `green hand, you may recollect, who went on deck to fetch his second lot of grog with a spud-net and who, though he had been made a bit sharper since then by the chaff and jokes of his messmates, was still not by any means bright, "did yer ever see one o' them ghostesses?" "Hev Oi ivver sane wun?" repeated Mick, in a tone of intense scorn.

Joblins, however, was reluctant to give up the chance of getting an additional supply without a struggle for it, so, he would not accept this rebuff. "They sez below, sir," explained he, still holding out the spud-net straight in front of him, "as how I wer to tell yer, sir, as I wur a noo hand, an' yer would give I a second 'lowance." "Oh, you're a new hand are you?"