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Tom Cringle’s Log (1862) 361: I [...] can’t stand that—sick as a dog.at …a dog (adj.) under sick as…, adj.
Tom Cringle’s Log (1862) 361: I [...] can’t stand that—sick as a dog. Tom Cringle’s Log (1862) 49: Toby!—buccra gentlemen arrive.at backra, adj.
Tom Cringle’s Log (1862) 243: Brown girl for cook – for wife – for nurse, / Buccra lady – poo – no wort a curse.at buckra-lady (n.) under backra, adj.
Tom Cringle’s Log (1862) 105: You know I saved your bacon in that awkward affair.at save someone’s bacon (v.) under bacon, n.1
Tom Cringle’s Log (1862) 137: How is Baldy Steer? gentleman-like or Christian-like, to be after funning and fuddling, while a fellow creature [...] stands before you all but dead.at baldy, n.
Tom Cringle’s Log (1862) 35: Benjamins, and great-coats, and cloaks of all sorts and sizes.at benjamin, n.1
Tom Cringle’s Log (1862) 68: When the old hooker [ship] clipped out of sight, there was not a dry eye in the whole fleet. ‘There she goes, the dear old beauty, [...] There goes the blessed old b---h.’.at bitch, n.1
Tom Cringle’s Log (1862) 203: Where is the end of this yarn, that you are blarneying about?at blarney, v.
Tom Cringle’s Log (1862) 71: After a long look through his starboard blinker (his other skylight had been shut up ever since Aboukir), Captain Deadeye gave orders.at blinkers, n.
Tom Cringle’s Log (1862) 217: Only think, sir, – Bill and Timothy Tailtackle waited on by a black Bungo!at bungo, n.
Tom Cringle’s Log (1862) 193: Was it an honest trick of you to cabbage my young friend [...] as if you had been slavers kidnapping the Bungoes.at cabbage, v.1
Tom Cringle’s Log (1862) 61: Glory! why, I daresay five hundred rank and file, at the fewest, were all cascading at one and the same moment, — a thousand poor fellows turned outside in.at cascade, v.
Tom Cringle’s Log (1834) 216: The little vessel began to yerk at the head seas [...] and to lie over, as if Davy Jones himself had clapperclawed the mast heads.at clapperclaw, v.
Tom Cringle’s Log (1862) 328: The padre [...] was in the act of swigging off his cupful of comfort [i.e. brandy].at comfort, n.
Tom Cringle’s Log (1862) 325: He produced two bottles of brandy [...] and a small silver drinking cup, with him, so we passed the crature round.at creature, the, n.
Tom Cringle’s Log (1862) 263: He gave me a regular cross-buttock, and then between them they diddle me outright.at cross-buttock (n.) under cross, adj.
Tom Cringle’s Log (1862) 77: ‘You John Crow, what is wrong with you?’ ‘Why, de Purser killed, captain, dat all.’.at Jim Crow, n.
Tom Cringle’s Log (1862) 403: Not so weak as deucedly sore.at deucedly, adv.
Tom Cringle’s Log (1862) 193: Old Gasket [...] had figged himself out in full puff.at in full feather under feather, n.
Tom Cringle’s Log (1834) 265: Shall I fill you a cup of coffee, Obed? [...] Why, man, you are off your feed.at off one’s feed (adj.) under feed, n.
Tom Cringle’s Log (1862) 381: I see you have one of your fins in a sling.at fin, n.1
Tom Cringle’s Log (1862) 213: But, d--m me, if it be either gentleman-like or Christian-like, to be after funning and fuddling, while a fellow creature [...] stands before you all but dead.at fuddle, v.
Tom Cringle’s Log (1862) 329: In truth, sir, I thought our surgeon would be of more use than any outlandish gallipot that you could carry back.at gallipot, n.
Tom Cringle’s Log (1862) 62: Most of them were very white and blue in the gills when we sat down, and others of a dingy sort of whitey-brown, while they ogled the viands in a most suspicious manner.at white about/around/in/round the gills (adj.) under gills, n.1
Tom Cringle’s Log (1834) 491: Confound it, Don, give over — do, now, you mad long-legged son of a gun!at give over!, excl.
Tom Cringle’s Log (1862) 3: I thrust a half doubled-up muffin into my gob.at gob, n.1
Tom Cringle’s Log (1862) 60: Captain K—, a round plump little homo.at homo, n.1
Tom Cringle’s Log (1834) 260: While the old woman keelhauled me with a poker on one side, he yerked at me on the other, until at length he gave me a regular cross-buttock.at jerk, v.2
Tom Cringle’s Log (1862) 104: Confound your jiggery, jiggery, sir!at jiggery-pokery, n.
Tom Cringle’s Log (1862) 379: You John Crapeau, and you Jack Spaniard.at Johnny Crapose (n.) under johnny-, pfx
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