Guy, who had not had a square meal for a week, was delighted to find himself seated at a well-filled table once more. He fell to work in good earnest and made ample amends for his long fast. There were two drawbacks to the full enjoyment of the meal, and one was, he could not drink anything. Forgetting himself on several occasions he raised his cup of coffee to his lips, but being checked by a look or a sly nudge from Flint, always put it down untasted. The other drawback was the company in which he found himself.
The sailors knew little of the etiquette of the table, and cared less. They were merry and quarrelsome by turns, pounded on the table with their fists until the dishes jumped up and performed jigs and somersaults in the air, and talked, laughed, and swore at the top of their voices. The landlord seemed accustomed to all this, and never interfered with his guests except when it was necessary to keep them from coming to a free fight.
The sailors left the table one after the other, as their appetites were satisfied, and returned to the public room, whither they were followed by Flint and Guy, the former leading the way. As they were passing along the hall that led to the bar-room, the sailor suddenly paused, looked steadily at something before him for a moment, and then drew back.
“It’s come, and sooner than I thought for,” said he, in an excited whisper.
“What has come?” asked Guy.
“Stick your head out of that door and see for yourself. Be careful to keep out of sight of the landlord.”
Guy advanced cautiously toward the door, wondering what it could be that had so excited his companion, and Flint followed close to his heels, rolling up his sleeves and making other preparations indicative of a desire or intention to fight somebody.
CHAPTER XII.
IN THE COURT-ROOM.
