human
Come here, Jack Molloy, he said, leading his friend aside, when he made this discovery.
gpt
You pride yourself on being a true-blue British tar, don't you?
human
I does,
gpt
And you would scorn to serve under the French flag, or the Turkish flag, or the Black flag, or any flag but the Union Jack, wouldn't you?
human
Right you are, mate; them's my sentiments to a tee!
gpt
Well, then, you can't expect _me_ to sail under false colours any more than yourself, continued Miles.
human
I scorn to sail into this port under your straw hat, so I'll strike these colours, bid you good-bye, and make sail for another port where a civilian will be welcome.
gpt
You've took the wind out o' my sails entirely, you have, he replied at last;
human
Never mind, my friend, said Miles quickly.
gpt
I will manage somehow; so good-night, and many thanks to you for the interest you have taken in--
human
Avast, mate! there's no call to go into action in sitch a hurry. This here _Sailors' Welcome_ opens the doors of its bar an' refreshment-room, an' spreads its purvisions before all an' sundry as can afford to pay its moderate demands. It's on'y the after-cabin you're not free to. So you'll have a bit supper wi' me before you set sail on your night cruise.