“Is there, my hearty,—where?”
“Why, in that cask that’s in the water on the other side of your little ship,” replied I. “I can draw you some directly.”
“What! In that cask? Grog floating about in salt-water, that’s too bad. Come here all of you. You’re in earnest, boy—no joking I hope, or you may repent it.”
“I’m not joking,” said I—“there it is.”
The man, followed by all the rest excepting one of the party, waded into the water, and went to the cask of rum.
“Take care,” said I, “the spiles are in.”
“So I see—never fear, my hearty—come now all of us.” So saying, the whole of them laid hold of the cask by the chains, and lifting it up, they carried it clean out of the water, and placed it on the rocks by the side of the pool.
“Hand us the little kid out of the boat, Jim,” said the man; “we’ll soon see if it’s the right stuff.”
He took out the spiles, drew off some of the liquor, and tasting it, swore it was excellent. It was then handed round, and all the men took some.
“We’re in luck to-night; we’re fallen upon our legs,” said the first man. “I say, Jim, put them dried chickens into the pitch-kettle along with some taters out of the bag—they’ll make a good mess; and then with this cask of grog to go to, we shan’t do badly.”