"There's no 'but' about it," interrupted Captain Cai shortly, looking away and resting his gaze on the Hannah Hoo out in the harbour, where she lay on the edge of the deep-water channel among a small crowd of wind-bounders. Her crew had already made some progress in unbending sails, and her stripped spars shone as gold against the westering sunlight. "No 'but' about it, Rogers—unless o' course you're unwillin'."
"What's willin' or unwillin' to a man broken in health as I be?
That's the p'int, Cap'n—here, set opposite to 'ee, staring 'ee in the
face—a hulk, shall we say?—rudder gone, ridin' to a thread o' life—"
"You'll ride to it a many years yet, please God again."
"I take 'e to witness this is not my askin'."
Captain Cai stared. "'Tis my askin', Rogers. I put it as a favour."
"What about your friend? I was thinkin' as maybe he'd take over the job."
"'Bias?" Captain Cai shook his head. "He've no gift in money matters; let be that I don't believe in mixin' friendship in business."
Mr Rogers pondered this for some while in silence. Then he struck a hand-bell beside him, and his summons was answered by a small short-skirted handmaiden who had waited table.
"Pipe's out, my dear," he announced. "An' while you're about it you may mix us another glassful apiece."
"Not for me, thank 'ee," said Captain Cai.
"An' not for him, neither," said the girl. She was but a child, yet she spoke positively, and yet again without disrespect in her manner. "'Tis poison for 'ee," she added, knocking out the ash from her master's churchwarden pipe and refilling it from the tobacco-jar. "You know what the doctor said?"