For it was obvious that the drinking was going to begin. The French captain served the liquor out in a small glass to every one, and presently some of his melancholy disappeared. He gave an order to one of his men who brought two more glasses, one for the English captain, and one for himself.
"I looks towards you," said Jones.
"À votre santé," cried the Frenchman. "Monsieur, vous êtes un homme de coeur quand mêne."
"I don't savvy, but I dessay you means well," said the captain. "Now, if I'd thought to bring along the signal book we might 'ave 'ad quite a talk. But time enough; I dessay afore we're took off I shall patter your lingo like blazes. Shall I cut my man loose there?"
He pointed to Hart, and though two of the Frenchmen, who had black eyes, remonstrated against the deed of mercy, Hart was unlashed and given a drink.
"Here's to you, old cocklywax," said Hart, with a scrape of his leg. "I bears no grudge, not me."
And very soon the French and English skippers were talking to each other at the rate of knots, while Hart sat in a crowd of Frenchmen and told them all about everything.
It was close on sundown when Jones returned to the Potluck. He had to be helped up the side by some of the crew.
"Ain't we under arrest?" they asked. "Does we dare come out?"
Jones hiccupped.