"By the smell, undoubtedly."
"I tell you what's happened. That fool of a Wilkins has made a mistake in the cask. . . ."
"An' Eli?—oh, Lord!" gasped Mr. Jope.
"They'll have returned Eli to the Victuallin' Yard before this," said Bill gloomily. "I overheard Wilkins sayin' as he was to pass over all stores an' accounts at nine-thirty this mornin'."
"An', once there, who knows where he's got mixed?…He'll go the round o' the Fleet, maybe. Oh, my word, an' the ship that broaches him!"
Bill Adams opened and shut his mouth quickly, like a fish ashore.
"They'll reckon they've got a lucky-bag," he said weakly.
"An' Wilkins paid off with the rest, an' no address, even if he could help—which I doubt."
"Eh? I got a note from Wilkins, as it happens." Bill Adams took off his tarpaulin hat, and extracted a paper from the lining of the crown. "He passed it down to me this mornin' as I pushed off from the ship. Said I was to keep it, an' maybe I'd find it useful. I wondered what he meant at the time, me takin' no particular truck with pursers ashore.…It crossed my mind as I'd heard he meant to get married, and maybe he wanted me to stand best man at the weddin'. W'ich I didn' open the note at the time; not likin' to refuse him, after he'd behaved so well to me."
"Pass it over," commanded Mr. Jope. He took the paper and unfolded it, but either the light was dim within the store, or the handwriting hard to decipher. "Would your Reverence read it out for us?"