And he began to shout drunkenly the song that Flint had died singing:
"Fifteen men on the Dead Man's Chest—
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle o' rum!
Drink and the devil had done for the rest—
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle o' rum!"
Other men joined in, and as if by magic pannikins of rum appeared. Bones drank several whilst we watched.
"You drink wi' me, bullies!" he hailed his supporters. "An easy skipper is Bill Bones. Rum for all, and to —— wi' discipline!"
They howled joyfully over this, and what I had expected to provide a free fight seemed about to develop into nothing worse than such an orgy of intoxication as occurred almost every night aboard the Walrus. But it did not suit Silver's plans to have all restraint cast off at that point. He stumped forward into the circle of lanthorn light, with Pew, Black Dog, Darby and a dozen others at his back.
"Belay, mates," he cried. "We got a vast task to settle here. Time to carouse afterward."
"There's no time for drinkin' like the time ye ha' the liquor at your elbow," retorted Bones.
"And them's true words," assented Silver heartily. "And 'tis plain to be seen as you're a skipper the lads'll all be blithe for, Bill. But I was just figgerin' as we none o' us has ever asked the pris'ners how long 'twill take to dig up that treasure o' Murray's. So I makes bold to suggest we have 'em up here and put 'em through their paces. 'Tain't no ways right as pris'ners should be as close-mouthed as Flint let 'em be. He was a good messmate, Flint was, but I allus thought them swabs pulled the wool a mite over his eyes, blow me if I didn't."
I could see Bones slowly run his tongue over his lips, blinking his eyes the while. He liked this idea. So did the crew. They were in the humor for baiting whoever were at their mercy.
"Have 'em out," ruled Bones. "Long John's right."