She hathn't got a sound thread to draw, I do believe.

Who is the fool now, Mike?
Though vexed I be to ask it." "Wait a bit, old lobster-pot.

Ah, there now, she breezes! Whistle for a wind, lads, whistle, whistle.

Sure as I'm a sinner, yes! She's laying her course to board the Frenchman on the weather quarter.

With a slant of wind she'll do it, too, if it only holds two minutes.