And Brogger drank. The hot infusion of the Lord knows what did him good. The fumes of fusel oil and the clouds of laudanum rolled away from him.
"I know 'em all," he said—"I know 'em, every one. This is my ship; this is the Enchantress. If it isn't, I'm mad!"
He rose up suddenly and made a bolt for the door, and ran aft. As his evil luck would have it, the very first person he ran against was the new skipper, who looked at him very fiercely.
"Where the devil are you running to?" asked Greig, giving him a push in the chest that sent him reeling.
"I'm Captain Brogger," said Brogger with the most lamentably weak air of dignity. It sat on him like a frock-coat on a gorilla.
"The devil you are?" said Greig. "So you're still drunk. Go for'ard, or I'll cure you so quick!"
But just then Plump came for'ard to the break of the poop.
"Mr. Plump, Mr. Plump," cried Brogger. It has to be owned that the mate started just a trifle at the sound of his voice. "Mr. Plump, I'm Captain Brogger, and who's this?"
"Stop," said Greig, "stop right here. Mr. Plump, do you recognise this man?"
It was impossible to recognise him by anything but his voice, and Plump truly denied that he saw the least resemblance to the dead skipper.