“No, boss. Thirsty. Horrid.”
“Did you finish your bottle of water?”
“No, boss; I couldn’t get the cork in proper, and when I knocked it over while I was asleep the cork came out and all the water ran away.”
“Not amongst my cartridges, I hope, Dan?”
“I dunno, boss. I never see where it run to in the dark. Only know it didn’t run where I wanted it to go. I am thirsty.”
The second mate handed him a pannikin which he had fetched from the cask lashed amidships, and the American’s servant took it and began to drink with avidity.
“Here, you, Lynton,” cried the captain: “who ordered you to do that?”
“Common humanity, sir,” said Brace quickly.
“Then it was like his uncommon impudence to order my officers about, squire,” said the captain gruffly, but without so much of his former fierceness.
“Hah!” ejaculated the drinker, as he drained the tin; “never knowed water was so good before. Thank-ye, mister. Ketch hold.”