“Yes, they did,” replied Guy.
“You need not have been alarmed. You were my guest, and of course I should have protected you. You see, Smith,” added the landlord, turning to the shipping agent, “the boys had a bit of a blow-out here last night, and one or two of them came to a clinch. It was all over in a minute, and we took a few drinks all around and made it up. It didn’t amount to anything.”
“I think it amounted to a good deal,” said Guy, looking around at the walls where the plastering had been knocked off by the flying glasses. “It frightened me, I tell you. Where is Flint now?”
“Flint?” repeated the landlord interrogatively. “Do you mean the man who came here with you. Oh, he’s up-stairs with the rest, sleeping it off.”
“I’d like to see him,” said Guy.
“Of course you can, if you wish, but I wouldn’t trouble him if I were you. Let him sleep. He’ll be down to supper, and then you can talk to him.”
“By the way,” said Smith suddenly, “Flint has shipped aboard the Morning Light, hasn’t he?”
Smith looked steadily at the landlord as he said this, and the landlord looked steadily at Smith. The two worthies evidently understood one another.
“Yes,” was the landlord’s reply. “He’s signed articles, and got his advance fair and square.”
“There, now,” said the shipping agent, turning to Guy; “are you satisfied? Your mate has shipped aboard my vessel, and if you will come with me I will ship you. You’ll see splendid times up the Mediterranean,” he added, with a sly wink at the landlord.