THE MOON OF THE CARIBBEES     13
Paddy—Ye'll be lucky if any of thim looks at ye,
ye squint-eyed runt.
Cocky—[Angrily.] Ho, yus? You ain't no
bleedin' beauty prize yeself, me man. A 'airy ape,
I calls yer.
Paddy—{Walking toward him—truculently.]
Whot's thot?    Say ut again if ye dare.
Cocky—[His hand on his sheath knife—snarl-
ing.] 'Airy ape! That's wot I says! [Paddy
tries to reach him but the others keep them apart.]
Big Fbank—[Pushing Paddy back.] Vot's the
matter mit you, Paddy. Don't you hear vat Dris-
coll say—no fighting?
Paddy—[Grumblingly.] I don't take no back
talk from that deck-scrubbin' shrimp.
Cocky—Blarsted coal-puncher! [Driscoi/l ap-
pears wearing a broad grin of satisfaction. The
fight is immediately forgotten by the crowd who
gather around him with exclamations of eager curi-
osity. How is it, Drisc? Any luck? Vot she
bring, Drisc?    Where's the gels? etc.]
Dkiscoll—[With an apprehensive glance back
at the bridge.] Not so loud, for the love av hivin!
[The clamor dies down.] Yis, she has ut wid her.
She'll be here in a minute wid a pint bottle or two
for each wan av ye—three shillin's a bottle. So
don't be impashunt.
Cocky—[Indignantly.] Three bob! The bloody
cow!