"Seems to me the crew don't git no fair share," interrupted one of the new hands. "We're lucky to git anything at all," commented the old sea philosopher. "They used to say you throwed the prize money at a ladder. Wot went through was diwided betwixt the cap'n an' th' officers an' petty officers, the cap'n takin' the biggest share. Wot stuck to the rounds was fer the crew. An' if they hadn't tarred the rounds in sum instances I knows of," he went on, mendaciously, "they wouldn't a-got none. Howsomever, this yere explanation is necessary fer to understand this yarn." "I'd like to know wot prize money's got to do with wimmin," remarked Billy Clumpblock. "My lad," said the bo's'n's mate, sapiently, "prize money's got a lot to do with wimmin, as you'll find out, especially if you go ashore with a pocketful of it. It had suthin' to do with the wimmin I'm goin' to tell ye of, anyway. One pleasant day in December, 1803, we was a ratchin' to an' fro in the Med't'ranean on the _Grampus_ a-lookin' out fer Algerian cruisers, w'en we run acrost a ketch." "What's a ketch, Jack?" asked one midshipman. "Well, a ketch--an' the rest on you pay attention, too; if ye just take notice to wotever I says, ye lubbers, you'll soon know a heap about the sea an' other things. Bein' a silent man myself, I don't say much, as ye may hev noticed; therefur, w'en I do say suthin' it's wal'able. A ketch is a wessel wot has one big mast set well aft about midships an' a little one way aft of the fust one. This is to leave a cl'ar space forrard fer a bum [bomb]. They're mostly used fer that, w'ich is w'y they are called bum ketches, ye know. This one, however, had a cargo more dangerous an' onsettlin' than bums would ha' been, fer w'en we ranged alongside an' throwed a shot over her, you never heered sech a screechin' an' yellin' in all yer life. "'Good Lord!' said Cap'n Rattlin out loud, w'ich as he was young an' impulsive like an' not used to controllin' his feelin's like me, he jest spoke right out. 'Good Lord!' he sez, 'wot hev we run inter?' "'It 'pears to me,' spoke up Mr. Parbuckle, actin' as his first luff, w'ich he was only a midshipman an' had no experience wotever with the feemale sex,--but I've allus noticed that it's them as has little experience as knows the most, specially 'bout wimmin,--'it 'pears to me,' he sez, 'that them's wimmin.' "'Wimmin?' roars the cap'n. 'Wot are they a-doin' there? Well,' he sez, 'we'll soon find out,' sez he. With that he shoved the schooner in clus to the ketch an' hailed her. Of course, the conwersation bein' carried on in lingo Franco, w'ich I understands, it was all werry clear to me, an' I told the rest of the fok's'l wot was happ'nin'.