Captain San Benavides, a word with you." "South a bit," repeated the skipper.

"Call me at two bells in the second dog." He was turning to leave the bridge with the Brazilians when a cheery voice came from a gangway beneath.
"Yah, yah, mine frent--that's the proper lubricant.

I wouldn't give you tuppence a dozen for your bloomin' lager.

Well, just a freshener.
Thanks.

Ik danky shun!" "You spik Tcherman vare goot," was the reply.
"Talk a little of all sorts.