At this, Aileen, who had been quivering with restrained merriment, burst into a ripple of laughter, loud and long, and an echo from beneath showed there were amused auditors at the hatchway. The mate grew purple with wrath. Seizing Mrs O’Flaherty by the shoulder he fairly screamed, “You old hag, you know all about it; show me the thief.” The woman rose to her feet, her long grey hair hanging damp and limp in straggling locks. With a twinkle in her eye she composedly regarded the mate and dropping him a curtsey, said, she could “not refuse so purlite a gintlemin. Thravellin in furrin parts is as good for manners as a boardin-school eddication, Mrs Finegan.” With an oath the mate shouted, “Show me the thief.” “It’s that same I’m going to do,” she replied, “Come afther me,” and she put her foot on the ladder that led into the hold. The mate shrank back as if shot. “Are you not acomin?” asked Mrs O’Flaherty. “Indade its proud we will all be to see yer bewtiful face below for ye have never been down to see us yet.” “He’s bashful,” interjected Mrs Doolan, rising, “come wid me, if ye plaze, Mr Mate, an I’ll interjuce you.” The mate was glaring with a look in which fear mingled with baffled rage. The crones noted his state of mind and enjoyed it. “Can ye tell me, Mrs O’Flaherty, where that fine parfume is comin from?” “Is it the sint aff the mate, yer smellin?” remarked Mrs Finegan, who had relit her pipe and was looking on with a solemn face. “Sure it’s camfire, an he shmells av it like an ould maid’s chist o’ drawers.” “Beggin yer pardon, Mrs Finegan,” retorted Mrs O’Flaherty, “it’s a docthur he be, an he is comin down to see thim sick wid the favor.” With a volley of curses the mate turned away. As he went towards the poop he was followed by a chorus of cries from the old women, Wunna ye come an git the thafe? How did ye like hot say wather for tay? Remimber, an send us our tay reglar afther this, not forgittin the shuggar. There’s a favor patient wants to see ye, sir. When he disappeared I said to Aileen “none but Irishwomen could have so settled a bully.” “And no other,” she laughingly replied, “have captured a cup of tea so neatly.” Towards noon the fog cleared, and the ship made some progress under a light breeze. There was no death today, but there are more cases of fever. The boatswain told me that the sight of the sun today showed we were 600 miles from Newfoundland. Saw the topsails of a full-rigged ship at the edge of the horizon before sunset.