"The little cuss has spunk," said he. "I like to see a cove stick up for 'is gal, by cripes I do!"
"So do I," said Bo's'n. "Brayvo, little man, brayvo!"
"My oath," said Bill, "I'd have cut 'is stinkin' throat for 'alf as much if I'd been you, matey!"
"Not me," said Simons. "I'll give 'im a drink for 'is spunk. 'Ere, kiddy, you wish us luck!"
He held out the pannikin. Engelhardt shook his head. He was, in fact, a teetotaler, who had made a covenant with himself, when sailing from old England, to let no stimulant pass his lips until his feet should touch her shores again. The covenant was absolutely private and informal, as between a man and his own body, but no power on earth would have made him break it.
"Come on," said Simons. "By cripes, we take no refusals here!"
"I must ask you to take mine, nevertheless."
"Why?"
"Because I don't drink."