"It's an odd thing, but, if a man's disposed to be queer, you've only got to talk about that to finish him.

Why talking about fried bacon should be so bad for 'em I don't know." "Imagination," said Tredgold, smoking away placidly.
Brisket smiled and then, nursing his knee, scowled fiercely at the helmsman, who was also on the broad grin.
"Of course, it wants proper telling," he continued, turning to Stobell.
"Did you notice his eyes when I spoke of it bubbling and spluttering over the galley fire ?" "I did," replied Mr.Stobell, laying his pipe carefully on the deck.
"Some people tell you to tie the pork to a bit o' string after frying it," said Brisket, "but that's what I call overdoing it.

I think it's quite enough to describe its cooking, don't you ?" "Plenty," said Stobell.

"Have one o' my matches," he said, proffering his box to Tredgold, who was about to relight his cigar with a fusee.
"Thanks, I prefer this," said Tredgold.
Mr.Stobell put his box in his pocket again and, sitting lumpily in his chair, gazed in a brooding fashion at the side.
"Talking about pork," began Brisket, "reminds me--" "What! ain't you got over that joke yet ?" inquired Mr.Stobell, glaring at him.

"Poor Chalk can't help his feelings." "No, no," said the captain, staring back.
"People can't help being sea-sick," said Stobell, fiercely.
"Certainly not, sir," agreed the captain.
"There's no disgrace in it," continued Mr.Stobell, with unusual fluency, "and nothing funny about it that I can see." "Certainly not, sir," said the perplexed captain again.