A tramping of sea boots was heard in the entry; the door was flung open, and in rolled a ruthless wild crew of mariners enough. They had just landed from their boat, and this was the first house they entered.

THIS IS THE LANGUAGE OF THE HOUSE SPEAKING TO YOU IN PURE SEAMEN TONES

No wonder, then, that they made a straight wake for the whales’s mouth – the bar – where the wrinkled little old Jonah, there officiating, spoon poured them out brimmers all round. One complained of of a bad cold in his head, upon which the old fellow mixed him a pitch-like potion of gin and juice, laid back. Everybody got they cups but they ain’t chipped in. Fill to THIS mark and your charge is but a penny; to THIS a penny more; and so on to the full glass – the Cape Horn measure, which you may gulp down for a shilling.

The liquor soon mounted into their heads, as it generally does even with the arrantest topers newly landed from sea, and they began ballin about most flossaholically.

Sailors come from Falmouth I tell you…