"Ay. That's our name for it. 'Cos why? Explain to the gen'lman, mateys."

With a laugh the men began to chant--
"Salt horse, salt horse, what brought you here?
You've carried turf for many a year.
From Dublin quay to Mallyack
You've carried turf upon your back."

"That's the why and wherefore of it," added Bulger. "Cooks call it salt
beef, same as French mounseers don't like the sound of taters an' calls
'em pummy detair; but we calls it Irish horse, which we know the flavor.
Accordingly, notwithstandin' an' for that reason, if you axe the advice
of an old salt, never you go to sea, matey."

"That's unfortunate," said Desmond, with a smile, "because I expect to
sail next Wednesday morning, high tide at five o'clock."

"Binks and barnacles! Be you a-goin' to sail with us?"

"I hope so."

"Billy come up! You've got business out East, then?"

"Not yet, but I hope to have. I'm going out as supercargo."

"Oh! As supercargo!"

Bulger winked at his companions, and a hoarse titter went the round of
the table.