“Where are you from?”
“Canton.”
“Canton? Have you got plague aboard?”
“Not bubonic. The men go off quiet and gradual, after being sick a long time. I guess you’d better come aboard, and see for yourself.”
The ladder was put over the side, and soon the doctor had clambered on board.
The men in the boat sat quiet and full of contemplation.
“This is a good time for a smoke,” said the Pilot, filling his pipe and passing his tobacco tin forrard. “And I think, Sartoris, all hands ’d be none the worse for another dose o’ my medicine.” Again his capacious hand went into his more capacious pocket, and the key of the locker was handed to Sartoris.
“Some foolish people are teetotal,” continued Summerhayes, “and would make a man believe as how every blessed drop o’ grog he drinks shortens his life by a day or a week, as the case may be. But give me a glass o’ liquor an’ rob me of a month, rather than the plagues o’ China strike me dead to-morrer. Some folks have no more sense than barn-door fowls.”
A yellow man, more loquacious than his fellows, had attracted the attention of Sartoris.
“Heh! John. What’s the name of your skipper?”