On this particular Saturday night Captain Talbot came forward and took a seat in a corner to smoke his long pipe, while the steward brewed him a tumbler of punch with some cinnamon and butter in it, for the skipper had a cold.
"It's long since we've had a yarn from you, sir," remarked the carpenter.
The skipper took a drink, and then let his eyes follow the curling smoke from his pipe for a few seconds before replying.
"Well, Peters," he said, "I've had so many adventures in my time that I hardly ever know which to tell first. Once upon a time I served in a Royal Navy ship on the coast of Africa, and it is just the odour of the 'baccy, boys, that brings this little yarn to my mind."
"Out with it, sir," cried one.
"Yes, out with it, Captain. We'll listen as if it were a sermon, and we were old wives."
"First and foremost," said Talbot, "let me give you a toast--Here's to the loved ones at home!"
"The loved ones at home!" And every glass was raised, and really that toast was like a prayer.
CHAPTER VIII.--CAPTAIN TALBOT SPINS A YARN.
"Why, boys, and you youngsters," said Captain Talbot, "when I look back to those dear old times I feel old myself, and that's a fact. As I said before, we were cruising about the East African coast, making it just as hot for the slaver Arabs as we knew how to. We had a bit of a fight now and then, too, both on shore and afloat.