“Yes, sir, reg’lar took aback, I know.”
“I have not known what to do or say. I must have time to think.”
“That’s it, sir. I know you’ve got to make your plans. Bit o’ scheming, because we none on us want one o’ them dirty black warmint’s skewers run through us. You make up your mind what to do, and tell me which rope I’m to pull, and I’ll spit on my hands and haul like a man.”
“Yes, yes, I know you will,” said the doctor. “As to that old beachcomber, sir, shooting aren’t in my way, but ’volvers or no ’volvers, you give the word when you’re ready and I’ll chuck him overboard to get some water to mix with his rum; and I believe that’d be doing a good action.”
“Yes,” said the doctor. “Look here. That man can’t go on drinking strong spirit as he does without soon being quite prostrate.”
Bostock looked at the speaker with an expression of disgust and contempt upon his face.
“I What, sir? Do you think that old rough would ever drink enough rum to make him stupid?”
“Of course.”
“Never, sir. He just about lives on it. Bound to say he’s gone on for a score o’ years. Didn’t you see as he only nibbled a biscuit?”
“Yes, I noticed that,” said Carey, quickly.