There was a sou'wester brewin' when we made the mouth o' the Mersey,
a bitter cold morn wi' a grey-green sea and a grey-green sky -
Liverpool weather, as they say; an' there we lay choppin', an' the
crew swore. Ye canna keep secrets aboard ship. They thought
McRimmon was mad, too.
"Syne we saw the Grotkau rollin' oot on the top o' flood, deep an'
double deep, wi' her new-painted funnel an' her new-painted boats
an' a'. She looked her name, an', moreover, she coughed like it.
Calder tauld me at Radley's what ailed his engines, but my own ear
would ha' told me twa mile awa', by the beat o' them. Round we
came, plungin' an' squatterin' in her wake, an' the wind cut wi'
good promise o' more to come. By six it blew hard but clear, an'
before the middle watch it was a sou'wester in airnest.
"'She'll edge into Ireland, this gait,' says Bell. I was with him
on the bridge, watchin' the Grotkau's port light. Ye canna see
green so far as red, or we'd ha' kept to leeward. We'd no
passengers to consider, an' (all eyes being on the Grotkau) we fair
walked into a liner rampin' home to Liverpool. Or, to be preceese,
Bell no more than twisted the Kite oot from under her bows, and
there was a little damnin' betwix' the twa bridges.
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