“Where’s their velocipedes?” Mr. Christian asked as we stood back to gaze down on the inert man and woman.
I stared at my chief officer. “Their velocipedes?”
“Aye.” He gestured toward the woman. “She’s wearing bloomers, so she must have been riding a velocipede.”
I glanced at the woman, wanting to point out the obvious. But I was captain now, and I had a duty to my crew. “Those are trousers, Mr. Christian, not cycling bloomers.”
“But . . . she’s a lady.” A puzzled frown pulled his eyebrows together.
“There’s more to a lady than a pair of titties,” Mr. Piper offered as he eyed the woman.
“Mr. Piper,” I said, goaded into admonishing him.
He gave an odd little half shrug. “I’m just sayin’ that a woman ain’t necessarily a lady.”
“I do not have argument with your sentiment, just your me
