The master and the Buffer each took draughts of the raw spirit.
"Now let us drink to our better acquaintance," said the master. "You seem an honest, open-hearted kind of a feller——"
"And to be trusted, too," interrupted Wicks.
"Well—I'm inclined to think you are," said the master, speaking deliberately, as if he were meditating upon some particular idea which then occupied his mind; "and it's very probable—it may be, I mean—that I shall want a little of your advice; for which, remember, I should be happy to pay you well."
"You couldn't apply to a better man," returned the Buffer.
"And here's to you," said the master. "What sort of a fellow is Mossop, that keeps this wharf?"
"He has no eyes, no ears, and no tongue for things that don't consarn him," answered Wicks.
"Just the kind of agent I want," returned the master. "But I shall also require two or three good fellers in a few days,—chaps that ain't over partickler, you understand, how they earn a ten-pound note, so long as it's sure."
"And you want two or three chaps of that kind?" asked the Buffer.
"Yes. I've a good thing in hand," returned the master. "But I shan't say too much now."