The crew’s only revolver span through the air, and hit the water with a tinkling splash.
“Now stand forward the two fools who have been your spokesmen.”
The crowd stood like men petrified.
“Quick, or I’ll make practise into the brown of you!”
The quartermaster in the cardigan jacket stepped out of his own accord, undefiant now, and white. The German was hustled to his side.
“Have you got a coin, quartermaster?”
“No, sir.”
“Have you—sausage?”
“Yes, herr.”
“Then spin it up, and do you, quartermaster, call to him. And mind you call right, because I’m going to shoot the loser, and perhaps you are the least useless of the two. Spin, confound you! Spin, sausage, or by James I’ll shoot you where you stand, and settle it that way!”