Bound East for Cardiff

Yank    This sailor life ain’t much to cry about leavin’—just one ship after another, hard work, small pay, and bum grub; and when we git into port, just a drunk endin’ up in a fight, and all your money gone, and then ship away again.  Never meetin’ no nice people;  never gittin outa sailor town and never seein’ none of it;  without no one to care whether you’re alive or dead. [With a bitter smile] There ain’t much in all that that’d make yuh sorry to lose it, Drisc.

Driscoll [Gloomy]    It’s a hell av a life, the sea.