“To divers for recovering same, and placing on deck, two pound ten,” continued Tweedie, raising his voice. “Did you do any damage going into dock at Limerick?” “More than we’ve done for years,” said Fazackerly, and shaking his head, entered into voluminous details; “total, seven pounds.” “Seven pounds!” said the exasperated Tweedie. “Seven pounds for all that, and your insurance don’t begin till twenty-five pounds. Why, damme, you ain’t fit to be trusted out with a ship. I firmly b’lieve if you lost her you’d send in a bill for a suit of clothes, and call it square. Now take this down, and larn a business way o’ doing things. In entering dock, carried away starboard cathead and started starboard chain plates; held survey of damage done: decided to take off channel bends, renew through bolts, straighten plates and replace same; also to renew cathead and caulk ship’s side in wake of plate, six seams, &c. &c. There, now, that looks better. Twenty-seven pounds eighteen and seven-pence halfpenny, and I think, for all that damage, it’s a very reasonable bill. Can you remember anything else?” “You’ve got a better memory than I have,” said his admiring friend. “Wait a bit, though; yes, I had my poor old dog washed overboard.” “Dog!” said the deep-sea man; “we can’t put dogs in a disbursement sheet. ’Tain’t business.” “My old master would have given me another one, though,” grumbled Fazackerly. “I wouldn’t ha’ parted with that dog for anything. He knew as much as you or me, that dog did. I never knew him to bite an officer, but I don’t think there was ever a man came on the ship but what he’d have a bit out of, sooner or later.” “Them sort of dogs do get washed overboard,” said Tweedie impatiently. “Boys he couldn’t abear,” pursued the other, in tones of tender reminiscence; “the mere sight of a boarding-school of ’em out for a walk would give him hydrophoby almost.” “Just so,” said Tweedie. “Ah! there’s cork fenders; ye may pick them up floating down the river, or they may come aboard in the night from a craft alongside; they’re changeable sort o’ things, but in the disbursement sheet they must go, and best quality too, four-and-sixpence each. Anything else?” “There’s the dog,” said Fazackerly persistently. “Copper nails, tenpence,” said Tweedie the dictator. “Haven’t bought any for months,” said the other, but slowly entering it. “Well, it ain’t exactly right,” said Tweedie, shrugging his shoulders, “but you’re so set on him going in.” “Him? Who?” asked Captain Fazackerly, staring. “The dog,” said Tweedie; “if he goes in as copper nails, he won’t be noticed.” “If he goes in as tenpence, I’m a Dutchman,” said the bereaved owner, scoring out the copper nails. “You never knew that dog properly, Tweedie.” “Well, never mind about the dog,” said Tweedie; “let’s cast the sheet. What do you think it comes to?” “’Bout thirty pun’,” hazarded the other.