He pulled his forelock knowingly.
"Why, from Darby, o' course, sir—not that anybody on the water-front couldn't ha' told me, seein' what a kind-hearted, friendly young gentleman you are. But asking your pardon for the liberty, sir, can I serve you in any way?"
"I don't think so," I told him. "I am seeking a Colonel O'Donnell."
I fancied a flicker of surprise stirred the bluff friendliness mirrored in his face. He stared around the room.
"Never heard o' the gentleman, sir, which ain't surprizin', seein' I was never here before this morning, myself; but I ran into some old shipmates of mine as gave me the run o' the place, and it may be I can find out for you from one o' them. Just you wait here a shake, Master Ormerod, and I'll see what I can do."
This seemed the wisest course, inasmuch as it was apparent there was nobody in the taproom of the quality of Colonel O'Donnell, so I nodded assent; and as Silver stumped away, threading a nimble passage in and out of the crowded tables, I asked Darby what he had been doing. Somewhat to my astonishment, the boy lapsed into sullenness and answered in monosyllables. Only once he revealed a flare of interest, when I remarked:
"That was a sufficiently devilish song you were singing, Darby."
"That it was!" he exclaimed. "Whisht, whiles singing it ye can feel the blood a-dripping from your cutlass."
"And who were the others singing with you?"
The sullen look covered his face like a curtain.