“Let’s see,” said Tweedie meditatively—“we’ll say five gallons of black varnish at one shilling and threepence a gallon—” “No, no,” said the scribe; “I used gas tar at threepence a gallon.” “Five gallons black varnish, one shilling and threepence a gallon, six-and-threepence,” said Tweedie, raising his voice a little; “have you got that down?” After a prolonged struggle with his feelings the other said he had. “Twenty-eight pounds black paint at twopence a pound,” continued Tweedie. “Nay, nay,” said the skipper; “I allus saves the soot out of the galley for that.” The other captain took his cigar from his lips and gazed severely at his guest. “Am I dealing with a chimney-sweep or a ship’s captain?” he inquired plaintively; “it would simplify matters a bit if I knew.” “Go on, Captain Tweedie,” said the other, turning a fine purple colour; “how much did you say it was?” “Twenty-eight twos equals fifty-six; that’s four-and-ninepence,” continued Tweedie, his face relaxing to receive the cigar again; “and twenty-eight pounds white lead at twenty-eight shillings a hundredweight—” “Three penn’orth o’ whiting’s good enough for me, matey,” said Captain Fazackerly, making a stand. “See here,” said Tweedie, “who’s making out this disbursement sheet, you or me?” “You are,” said the other. “Very good then,” said his friend; “now don’t you interrupt. I don’t mind telling you, you must never use rubbish o’ that sort in a disbursement sheet. It looks bad for the firm. If any other owners saw that in your old man’s sheet he’d never hear the end of it, and he’d never forgive you. That’ll be—what did I say? Seven shillings. And now we come to the voyage. Ye had a tug to give ye a pluck out to the bar?” “No; we went out with a fair wind,” said Captain Fazackerly, toying with his pen. “Ye lie; ye had a tug out to the bar,” repeated Tweedie wearily. “Did ye share the towing?” “Why, no, I tell ’e—” “That’ll be three pounds then,” said Tweedie. “If ye’d shared it it would have been two pound ten. You should always study your owner in these matters, cap’n. Now, what about bad weather? Any repairs to the sails?” “Ay, we had a lot o’ damage,” said Fazackerly, laying down his pen; “it took us days to repair ’em. Cost us four pounds. We had to put into Holyhead for shelter.” “Four pounds!” said Tweedie, his voice rising almost to a scream. “Ay, all that,” said Fazackerly very solemnly. “Look here,” said Tweedie in a choked voice. “Blown away fore lower topsail, fore-staysail, and carried away lifts to staysail. To sailmaker for above, eleven pounds eighteen shillings and ten-pence. Then ye say ye put into Holyhead for shelter. Well, here in entering harbour we’ll say loss of port anchor and thirty fathoms of chain cable—” “Man alive,” said the overwrought skipper, hitting the table heavily with his fist, “the old anchor’s there for him to see.”