Satan’s head appeared at the cabin hatch.
“Sure?”
“The boat’s alongside the Juan full of dagoes, and Sellers and Cleary’s gettin’ in.”
“Where did you stick that bottle of nose-paint?”
“Starboard forward locker.”
“One minute.”
In a minute the head reappeared and an arm holding the rum bottle.
“Now, mind you, I’m drunk,” said Satan, “fightin’ drunk, not to be disturbed on no account. They can call again tomorrow morning.”
He smashed the rum bottle on the deck.
“Leave the pieces lyin’.” He vanished.