“You’re a funny devil, aren’t you? Now then, Brandyface, you’ll give me an answer.”
At this moment Iles came up, from his old haunts, in the ’tween-decks, carrying his demijohn of carefully saved spirits.
“What have you got there, Iles?” said the captain quickly.
“My whack of rum.”
“Take your cap off, or I’ll knock it off. What did you say?”
“My whack of rum, Captain Cammock, sir.”
“Yes. You’d better remember that. Put down that demijohn.”
“Please, sir. It’s mine, sir.”
He laid down the demijohn, fingering his cap.
“Steward, whack that rum out to all hands at eight bells. Allow it to the man Iles in the savings book.”