“You sent for me, sir?” said the purser, arriving short of breath on the quarterdeck.
“Yes, Mr. Lomax. The hands have been hauling in the weather main brace.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Now we’ll splice it.”
“Sir?”
“You heard me. We’ll splice the main brace. A tot of rum to every man. Aye, and to every boy.”
“Sir?”
“You heard me. A tot of rum, I said. Do I have to give my orders twice? A tot of rum for every man. I’ll give you five minutes, Mr. Lomax, and not a second longer.”
The captain pulled out his watch and looked at it significantly.
“Aye aye, sir,” said Lomax, which was all he could say. Yet he still stood for a second or two, looking first at the captain and then at the watch, until the big nose began to lift in his direction and the shaggy eyebrows began to come together. Then he turned and fled; if the unbelievable order had to be obeyed five minutes would not be long in which to collect his party together, unlock the spirit room, and bring up the spirits. The conversation between captain and purser could hardly have been overheard by more than half a dozen persons, but every hand had witnessed it, and the men were looking at each other unbelievingly, some with grins on their faces which Bush longed to wipe off.