On one of these occasions, just after prayers, Mr. Bitts, to Derval's great surprise, approached under the lee of the long-boat, amidship, and said, "Come, youngster—here is a glass of grog for you—just a thimble-full; the sun is over the fore-yard long ago."
Derval shrank from the beverage, which was proffered in a tumbler, but seeing Mr. Bitts' hand in his pocket wherein the colt was coiled, he drank it off, though nearly choked by the effort, and after that, his perceptions of everything were very vague indeed.
The ship seemed to be sailing round and round upon an axis; he tried to speak, but the difficulty of articulation became great, and the half-uttered nonsense he talked hung upon his lips; he felt alternately maudlin and defiant, especially with young Harry Bowline, who greeted him with shouts of laughter, yet good-naturedly endeavoured to get him below, and a struggle ensued between them.
"What is the matter there, forward?" cried the Captain, in surprise, from the quarterdeck.
"Mr. Hampton taken suddenly ill, sir," replied Mr. Bitts with a gratified grin.
"Strang, see what is the matter."
The young Scots doctor went amidships, and returned laughing, to report that which was really the case, "Young Hampton as screwed as an owl!"
"The deuce he is!" exclaimed the Captain with great annoyance; "how came this to pass?"
"The grog as Mr. Bitts gave him has been too strong for him, sir," said Joe Grummet, who took in the whole situation and resented it accordingly; "riglar thumb-grog it must have been, to my mind."
Bitts furtively darted a vicious glance at the boatswain, who received it with perfect equanimity.