"And just sposin I won't," answered the drunkard—"only sposin, mind!—just for the sake of argyment, d'ye see?—what then?"
"Irons."
The drunkard folded his arms.
"And might I make so bold, Commander Ardin," he began elaborately, "to ask who'll fight your guns, your Actin Fust in irons; and besides yourself ne'er another officer on the quar'er-deck—only this ere squab."
"I'll fight em myself if needs be. Go below, d'ye hear?"
The Gunner stumbled away, roaring laughter.
"Sail the blurry ship; fight the blurry ship; sink the blurry ship; and go to ell in the blurry ship. That's old Ding-dong."
CHAPTER IV
OLD DING-DONG
"They call you Kit?"