Harman was not an orator, but his profound common sense prevented him from enlarging on the subject and trying to suggest innocent things that Shiner might have meant. Blood was in a condition of mind to snap at anything, but he sat down.
Shiner had said not one word.
“That’s right,” said Harman, in a soothing voice. “And now, Mr. Shiner, if I’m not wrong, it was a hundred dollars a month you were offering the Captain, with a bonus of a thousand when the job’s through. Maybe I’m not mistaken in what I say.”
“Not a bit,” said Shiner, speaking as calmly as though no unpleasant incident had occurred. “Those are the terms, with an advance of a hundred dollars should the Captain engage himself to us.”
“What about the victuals,” said the Captain, seeming to forget his late emotion, “and the drinks?”
“The food will be good,” replied Shiner, “and the best guarantee of that will be the fact that I go with you myself as electrician. I’m not the man to condemn myself to bad food for the sake of a few dollars. The food will be the best you have ever had on board ship, I suspect; but there will be no drinks.”
“No drinks?”
“Not till we are paid off. This business wants cool hands. Tea, coffee, mineral waters you will have as much as you want of; but not one drop of alcohol. I am condemning myself as well as you, so there is no room for grumbling.”
Harman heaved a sigh like the sigh of a porpoise. Blood was silent for a moment. Then he said: “Well, I don’t mind. I’m not set on alcohol. If it’s to be a teetotal ship, maybe it’s all the better; but I reckon you’ll pay wind money all the same.”
“What’s this they allow?” asked Shiner, as though he had forgotten this point.