I shook my head, and finished my dinner in silence, listening the while to the men, who were singing uproariously.
“Your prescription seems to agree with them, Mr Frewen,” said the mate significantly, as we all rose.
“Yes; but wait a wee, as the Scotch folk say.”
“Yes, up by the forecastle,” said the mate. “Put your pistols in your pockets, and we’ll keep watch and listen to the effects of the drug while the men have their meal. Dale, my lad, take Blane at the wheel a portion, while I send the others to have theirs.”
I hastily obeyed, taking a pretty good ration for Barney Blane, who must have been having pretty good sniffs of the savoury food to slacken his appetite, and he grinned hugely as he saw me approach.
“That’s your sort, sir; I was getting hungry.”
“Can you eat and steer too, Barney?” I said.
“Can I eat and steer too?” he cried. “You just set that theer on the binnacle, sir, and come back in ten minutes and see.”
“I will, Barney,” I said, “and bring you some grog too.”
“And I’ll say you’re a real gentleman, Mr Dale, sir, that I will, and drink your health.”