An incident sufficiently unpleasant occurred to-day. For nearly an hour Owen, Flaypole, Burke and Jynxstrop had been engaged in close conversation and, although their voices were low, their gestures had betrayed that they were animated by some strong excitement. At the conclusion of the colloquy Owen got up and walked deliberately to the quarter of the raft that has been reserved for the use of the passengers.
"Where are you off to now, Owen?" said the boatswain.
"That's my business," said the man insolently, and pursued his course.
The boatswain was about to stop him, but before he could interfere
Curtis was standing and looking Owen steadily in the face.
"Ah, captain, I've got a word from my mates to say to you," he said, with all the effrontery imaginable.
"Say on, then," said the captain coolly.
"We should like to know about that little keg of brandy. Is it being kept for the porpoises or the officers?"
Finding that he obtained no reply, he went on:
"Look here, captain, what we want is to have our grog served out every morning as usual."
"Then you certainly will not," said the captain.