‘It’s bit of a cub-dowd!’ he exclaimed. ‘My wife wouldn’t like to hear of it. I cad fadcy her,’ he said, directing his moist eyes at the moon, ‘saying, “Bardey, ’ow could yer as a public bad?” By adswer would be exceedingly sipple: “Biriab, it was id bid-ocead, ad there’s dot a codger abugst the whole blazi’g boili’g of the fagots whose opidiod of be as a public bad I value at that!”’ He snapped his immense muscular fingers with the report of the explosion of a cap of a musket-nipple. ‘I’d rather have a shant o’ gatter (pot of beer) to blow an inch of tripe of nosey-nick-nacker with than a caskful of that devil’s fire on tap below,’ exclaimed one of the men. ‘It’s gammy for the head--gammy--gammy.’ He pulled off his cap and sent it with a kick flying overboard, and, putting his hands to his brow, groaned, swinging his head from side to side. He then blindly reeled over to a hencoop, fell against it, kneeling, and stretched his length. A third fellow, who had stood looking at the moon for some minutes in silence, with a drunken, imbecile grin, began to cry. He snuffled and whimpered and exclaimed in broken, tipsy tones, ‘What ’ud my poor mother think? Ho, yes, she brought me up in the straight ways, and this is what it’s come to. Never was there a better scholard nor me nor vun more promising till I fell in with a sneaksman. It was all along of a footman----’ Here he blubbered and could not go on. ‘’Ark at Sipsod shedding tears!’ exclaimed Abram. ‘What’s ’e got to cry about? Let the people he robbed cry. Bates, cub-dowd a’d ’ave a drink.’ The convict named Simpson shuffled to the companion-hatch, with some trouble got his leg over the coaming, and then fell down the steps. ‘I’ve had all that I can stand up under, Mr. Abram,’ answered Bates, ‘thanking you kindly.’ ‘I wish you’d sing another song, Mr. Abram; I never heard so powerful and manly a voice,’ said I, hoping by this to get him below, where a few more drams would finish him. ‘I studied busic udder the great Jo’d Brahub,’ he answered, wagging his head with his indescribable leering smirk, that was deepened and made more repulsive, if possible, by the drink he had swallowed; the moon shone very clear, and expressions on the face were easily read. ‘If I car’t si’g, who cad? By lay was Hi-taliad opera, but the ri’g answered by purpose better.’ This he spoke in the most gentlemanly manner his tipsiness would suffer. Mr. Bates saw my meaning. ‘I’ll go with you below, sir, and drink your health, and hope to have the pleasure of hearing you sing another song.’ ‘Cub along,’ said the prize-fighter, and both men went down the steps.