"To tell you the truth," quickly answered the questioned sailor, who generally professed to be in a bad temper, "I don't imagine it here."
"It's for the sake of talking, Gripper; it's evident that the snow towns Dr. Clawbonny admires so don't contain the least public where a poor sailor can get a half-pint of brandy."
"That's sure enough, Bolton; and you may as well add that there's nothing worth drinking here. It's a nice idea to deprive men of their grog when they are in the Northern Seas."
"But you know," said Garry, "that the doctor told us it was to prevent us getting the scurvy. It's the only way to make us go far."
"But I don't want to go far, Garry; it's pretty well to have come this far without trying to go where the devil is determined we shan't."
"Well, we shan't go, that's all," replied Pen. "I declare I've almost forgotten the taste of gin."
"But remember what the doctor says," replied Bolton.
"It's all very fine for them to talk. It remains to be seen if it isn't an excuse for being skinny with the drink."
"Pen may be right, after all," said Gripper.
"His nose is too red for that," answered Bolton. "Pen needn't grumble if it loses a little of its colour in the voyage."