The Captain considered on this a moment, and then, fearing mutiny as well as having a thirst, he gave in.
It was his first drink for a long time, and it was excellent beer; the only drawback was the quantity.
“What I can’t see,” said Harman, finishing his portion of the liquid, “is what in the nation you want treatin’ the perisher to two bottles of this stuff; two bottles is too little to take ashore with you as a present, and it’s one too many if you’re just going to offer him a drink after he’s caught.”
The Captain joined issue, and the argument went on till thirst joined with Harman, and the Captain gave in. The second bottle was opened.
And now a strange thing happened. No sooner had the contents of the second bottle vanished than the Captain himself prepared to finish the business.
It was the Irishman coming out.
“There’s no use in one bottle,” said he, “and, for the matter of that, I can get him aboard on the promise of beer. How’s he to know there is none?”
Harman actually protested—feebly enough, it is true—yet he protested, holding out his glass at the same time. There was a Scotch strain in Harman.
When they had finished, they filled the bottles with water and recorked them.