“Shiver my main-brace! a wooden leg ain't sich a bad article arter all,” rejoined the captain; “specially when a seaman falls overboard. With a life-buoy o' that nater rove on to his starn-sheets, he's sartin to keep one leg above water, says you.”
“No doubt of that, even if he goes down by the head,” assented Don, laughing. “But, I say, captain, what's in the keg—spirits?”
“Avast there!” replied the captain, half shutting one eye and contemplating the keg with the other, “that 'ere keg, lads, has stuff in its hold what's a sight better'n spurts. Gunpowder, lads, that's what it is; and spike my guns if we don't broach the same to the health of old Salambo when we falls in with him. What say you, lads?
“We always be ready,
Steady, lads, steady;
We'll fight an' we'll conquer agin an' agin.”
“I hope we shan't have to do that, captain,” said Jack gravely. “But powder or no powder, we'll pay the beggar out, anyhow.”
“Right, lad; so we'll just take the keg along with us in case of emargencies like. Shiver my compass, there's no telling aforehand what this 'ere wenture may lead to.”
To whatever the venture was destined to lead, preparations for its successful inception went on apace, and by nightfall all was in readiness. The captain declaring that he “couldn't abide the ways o' them 'ere jabbering nigger swabs when afloat,” the only addition to their numbers was a single trusty servant of the old sailor's, who was taken along rather with a view to the cutter's safety when they should be ashore than because his assistance was required in sailing her.
Don having despatched an overland messenger with a letter to his father, explaining their absence and proposed undertaking, as the full moon rose out of the eastern sea the cutter was launched.