Australian Tales - Setis

Captain Gimble smiled complacently, then hastened on shore to clear his
ship at the Custom House, and to get a few extra stores for his passenger.
Early next morning, a steam tug was alongside, and before Mrs.
Moans, in Sydney, was aware of her erratic husband's movements, he
was at sea, rolling along with a fair wind towards Melbourne, and
looking as pleased as an Irish piper.
“Well, this is really delightful!” muttered Mr. Moans, as he paced up
and down the clean flush deck; now and then stopping to give the sailors
a pull up with a sail — as the ship was short-handed — and fancying
what an agreeable promenade he had, and how pleasantly he could walk
up and down, and think about nothing; and thus exercise his legs, rest his
head, and at the same time refresh his lungs with pure saline air. The
“Wild Duck” dashed along in gallant style, passing every other vessel in
company with her, and as the wind increased Mr. Moan's rapture
increased, till he began to wish he was a sailor. Suddenly, however, his
ardour was damped by an intrusive wave, which dashed in at the waist on
one side, and out at the other side, filling his boots in its transit, and
convincing him directly that he could not walk the deck dryshod; indeed,
he soon discovered that no one on board expected to do so, as was
evidenced by “all hands” wearing diggers' long-boots.
“This is rather a moist ship,” said Mr. Moans, walking up to Captain
Gimble. “I wish I had brought my goloshes, — but, lack-a-day! now I
come to remember, I have brought nothing with me but my red nightcap,
and a toothbrush. Of course I did not anticipate taking this voyage, or I
should have attended to my outfit. What shall I do, captain?”
“Never mind,” said the good-natured skipper, smiling at his friend's
concern about his scanty wardrobe. “I will lend you a pair of sea-boots,
and anything else you want; but you had better get on top of deck-house
if you want a walk, for you will find the main-decks all awash, as the sea
gets up.”
“I have found that already,” said Mr. Moans, with a a glance at his wet
legs. “As for a walk on that house, as you call it, — which is not much
bigger than a spring-cart — I think a dance on top of a sentry-box would
be almost as rational, and much safer exercise. I am afraid I shall grow
giddy and tumble overboard, if I get up there; so I will have a quiet
ramble round the cabin table instead. But bless me, captain! I had no idea
that your smart-looking ship was so wet. Your main-deck is a regular
duck-pond.”
“Did you ever see a vessel, deeply laden with coal, that was very dry
on deck?” asked the captain, with a comical look.
“No, I cannot say that I ever did, for the fact is I have never sailed in an
overladen collier before, though I have been in a good many craft since I
first smelt bilge water.”
“Then depend on it you have something to learn, Mr. Moans; and I