'Begob,' he said, 'I see what you are; you're a fish-dealer.'

It turned out that he was the skipper of a trawler, and we had a
long talk, the two of us and a local man who was going to Dingle
also.

'There was one time a Frenchman below,' said the skipper, 'who got
married here and settled down and worked with the rest of us. One
day we were outside in the trawler, and there was a French boat
anchored a bit of a way off. "Come on," says Charley--that was his
name--" and see can we get some brandy from that boat beyond." "How
would we get brandy," says I, "when we've no fish, or meat, or
cabbages or a thing at all to offer them?" He went down below then
to see what he could get. At that time there were four men only
working the trawler, and in the heavy season there were eight. Well,
up he comes again and eight plates under his arm. "There are eight
plates," says he, "and four will do us; so we'll take out the other
four and make a swap with them for brandy." With that he set the
eight plates on the deck and began walking up and down and looking
on them.

'"The devil mend you," says I. "Will you take them up and come on,
if you're coming?"

'"I will," says he, "surely. I'm choicing out the ones that have
pictures on them, for it's that kind they do set store on?"'

Afterwards we began talking of boats that had been upset during the
winter, and lives that had been lost in the neighbourhood.