MacHassan Ah

Waist-held in the chains and soused in the fifty-foot-high spray, Joe Byng eyed his sounding lead that swung like a pendulum below him, and named it sacrilege.
"This 'ere navy ain't a navy no more," he muttered. "This 'ere's a school- gal promenade, 'and-in-'and, an' mind not to get your little trotters wet, that's what this is, so 'elp me two able seamen an' a red marine!"
From the moment that the lookout, lashed to the windlass drum up forward, had spied the little craft away to leeward and...