The cautious red-faced Captain in charge of the wireless, who had been celebrating a little on the quiet, had thawed to a genial mood.
“T’ree cheers for Zemperor!” the jovial pilot from the country shouted.
The Captain laughed and joined the chorus. He glanced contemptuously at the giggling girls.
“Say, Cap,” the leader cried, leaning heavily on his shoulder—“my girls gotter see the fireworks—from the top—tip top! I promised ’em I’d take ’em to the very tip top—gotter make good—”
His legs wobbled and his breath was heavy with beer.
The Captain laughed.
“Think you could climb these winding stairs?”
“Surest thing you know.”
The drunken man staggered to the steps, rushed half way up, slipped and fell, sprawling to the floor.