Murphy went forward to the galley, and soon had pried out a solid, well-preserved brick from under the stove in the galley floor, against the aggrieved protest of the Chinese cook.
"Dry up, ye Chink," said Murphy. "Tell me, though, what's the bill o' fare for the forecastle. Mate three times a day?"
"Meat foul timey one week," answered the Chinaman.
"God help ye, doctor!" said Murphy, kindly. "Kape well widin yer galley, and have a carvin'-knife sharp; or better still, dig out another brick for yersilf. I've troubles o' me own."
Stepping out of the galley, Murphy met Hennesey emerging from the port forecastle door.
"Well, ye rakin's o' Newgate, and what are you doin' here?" he demanded, fiercely. "Ye doped me successfully, Hennesey, and here I am wid our account unsettled. But what brings you here?"
"Kape yer hands off me, John Murphy, and I'll tell ye. The dope in the bottles was too strong for me, but not for thim. When they wakened at daylight they found me among 'em with the tug alongside, and insisted that I drink wid thim 'fore goin' aboard the tug."
"And ye did?"
"I did. They had their fingers at me throat, Murphy. So I drank. I git this for tryin' to help you out in your schemes, John Murphy."
"And I git this for not watchin' you, Tim Hennesey. Gwan aft; the old man 'll make ye a bosun like me; then come forrard and git yerself a brick agin' the time whin they wake up. Our lives are in danger whin they find out they've got to wark a wind-jammer across to the old sod. We'll settle our private account later on."