“They needn’t do it unless they choose.”
“Ah! needn’t they though? That shows all you know. You see the landlord is keeping them here by dosing ’em with something strong—a sailor is always ready to stay where he can get plenty to drink—and by the time it comes dark they’ll be half-seas over. Then the landlord will drug ’em to sleep by putting something in their drinks, and get help and carry them aboard the Santa Maria. By the time they get their senses again they’ll be miles away.”
“But they can’t do duty if they’re drugged,” said Guy.
“No matter. If they can’t do duty to-day they can to-morrow, and the cap’n ’ll take ’em so long as they ain’t dead.”
“Let’s get away from here and go somewhere else,” said Guy in great alarm. “I don’t want to stay with such a man. I’m afraid of him.”
“Well, you needn’t be. All we’ve got to do is to keep clear heads on our shoulders, and we’re all right. Just bear one thing in mind. As long as you stay in this house don’t drink nothing, not even water.”
“Supper!” cried the landlord at this moment. “Walk right into the dining-room, boys. Why, what’s the matter, mates?” he added, glancing from Flint and his companion to the untasted glasses on the floor; “don’t they suit you?”
“No; they’re too stiff and got too much sugar in ’em.”
“Then step right up to the bar and let me mix you another glass. It sha’n’t cost you a cent.”
“Never mind now,” said Flint. “We’ll wait until after supper.”