Since the _Scottish Chiefs_, no recruiter had ever even tried to work the coast; and we'd already put the fear of God into the niggers' hearts till the whole coast was quiet as lambs.
When we filled up, we came back to see how the _Martha_ was progressing." "And thinking we was going home with our recruits," Sparrowhawk slipped in.

"Lord lumme, that Miss Lackland ain't never satisfied.

'I'll take 'em on the _Martha_,' says she, 'and you can go back and fill up again.'" "But I told her it couldn't be done," Munster went on.

"I told her the _Martha_ hadn't a license for recruiting.

'Oh,' she said, 'it can't be done, eh ?' and she stood and thought a few minutes." "And I'd seen her think before," cried Sparrowhawk, "and I knew at wunst that the thing was as good as done." Munster lighted his cigarette and resumed.
"'You see that spit,' she says to me, 'with the little ripple breaking around it?
There's a current sets right across it and on it.