She was used to the ordinary 'damn,' but these oaths were so horribly coarse.
Colin, who was asking local questions of the other men appeared to take it all as a matter of course.

The men stopped their work to stare at Lady Bridget.

They wore dirty corduroys hitched up with a strap over flannel shirts that were open at the neck and left their brawny breasts exposed.

There were other loafers in flannel shirts, hitched up trousers and greasy felt or cabbage-tree hats, and there were two or three blacks of the demoralised type seen in coast townships.

Now, one of the bullocks got loose and rushed blindly down the wharf, and Bridget shrieked and clung wildly to her husband's arm until it was headed back again.
Colin laughed at her terror.
'It's all right, Biddy.