"Confound all California and its manners and customs," said Ladd.
But the manners and customs of Shanghai Smith at any rate saved Hunt and Gawthrop from eight hours of the finest education in the world. It was noon, and the Hampshire's crowd was at dinner when Gawthrop showed signs of animation.
"Ah, humph!" said Gawthrop, and without opening his eyes he reached out and pressed the head of a small bolt with his thumb.
"What's the josser doin' of?" asked Tom, the cockney who had sighed over the fact that there was no chance of getting intoxicated until they reached London.
"Johnson, give me some tea," said Gawthrop. He believed that his man had answered the electric bell. But there was a Johnson, or more properly a Johanssen, among the crew.
"Here, Dutchy, give him some tea."
Gawthrop opened his eyes and yawned. He shut his eyes again, but did not shut his mouth in time to prevent Bill Yardley, who was the joker of the crowd, dropping a piece of soaked biscuit into it. Gawthrop spluttered, coughed violently, and sat up. As he did so he of course hit his head a smart crack on the deck above him. He sat up again on his elbow, and stared about him stupidly.
"'Ere, come out, matey, and 'ave yer grub," cried the kindly crew with one voice.
"You've 'ad a rare good caulk," said Tom encouragingly.
"Eh, eh, what?" asked Gawthrop. He blinked at the men, and with a fallen jaw wagged his head from side to side.