Striker, putting himself forward as the spokesman of the off-watch, replies:
“Hadn’t ye better sit down, master mate? The subjeck we’re goin’ to discuss may take a start o’ time an’ it’s as cheap sittin’ as standin’. Maybe ye won’t mind joinin’ us in a drink?”
Saying this, the ex-convict clutches at the bottle pours some rum into his pannikin, and offers it to Padilla.
The Spaniard accepting, drinks; and passing the cup to Velarde, sits down.
The latter imitating him as to the drink, takes seat by his side; Old Tarry and Slush having already disposed of themselves.
“Now,” pursues the second mate, “let’s hear what it’s all about.”
“Theer be two not yit among us,” says Striker. “In coorse, one’s at the wheel.”
“Yes; Gomez is there,” responds Padilla.
“Where be Hernandez?”
“I don’t know. Likely, along with him.”