Annyhow, whin ye're young an' romantic, what's it mather what ye ate ?" He went off and Robertson began to talk about _Ardrigh_.

He was naively proud of the boat and his engines, and narrated hard runs in bad weather to land the livestock in time for important markets.

Sometimes the hollow channel-seas that buried the plunging forecastle filled the decks and icy cataracts came down the stokehold gratings.

Sometimes the cattle pens broke and mangled bullocks rolled about in the water and wreckage.
Robertson had a talent for narrative and Barbara felt something of the terror and lure of the sea.

She liked the _Ardrigh's_ rather grimy crew, their cheerfulness and rude good-humor.