"I'm with you up to the armpits," added Graines, as another of the four handed him a bottle.
One sniff at the neck of the bottle was enough to satisfy Christy, who was a practical temperance man of the very strictest kind, and he had never drank a glass of anything intoxicating in all his life. The bottle contained "apple-jack," or apple-brandy, the vilest fluid that ever passed a tippler's gullet. He felt obliged to keep up his character, taken for the occasion, and he retained the mouth of the bottle at his lips long enough to answer the requirement of the moment; but he did not open them, or permit a drop of the nauseous and fiery liquor to pollute his tongue. It was necessary for him to consider that he was struggling for the salvation of his beloved country to enable him even to go through the form of "taking a drink."
Graines was less scrupulous on the question of temperance, and he took a swallow of the apple-jack; but that was enough for him, for he had never tasted anything outside of the medicine-chest which was half as noxious. If he had been compelled to keep up the drinking, he would have realized that his punishment was more than he could bear. Fortunately the tipplers had no tumblers, so that the guests were not compelled to pour out the fluid and drink it off. All drank directly from the bottles, so that the two officers could easily conceal in the semi-darkness the extent of their indulgence.
"Who be you, strangers?" asked the man who had acted thus far as spokesman of the party.
"My name is Tom Bulger, born and brought up in the island of Great Abaco, and this feller is my friend and shipmate, Sam Riley," replied Christy, twisting and torturing his speech as much as was necessary. "Now who be you fellers?"
"Born and fetched up in Mobile: my name is Bird Riley; and I reckon t'other feller is a first cousin of mine, for he's got the same name, and he's almost as handsome as I am. Where was you born, Sam?"
"About ten miles up the Alabama, where my father was the overseer on a plantation before the war," replied Graines as promptly as though he had been telling the truth.
"Then you must be one of my cousins, for I done got about two hundred and fifty on 'em in the State of Alabammy. Give us your fin, Sam."
Bird Riley and Sam shook hands in due and proper form, and the relationship appeared to be fully established. The names of the three other revellers were given, but the spokesman was disposed to do all the talking, though he occasionally appealed to his companions to approve of what he said. It was evident that he was the leading spirit of the party, and that he controlled them. He was rather a bright fellow, while the others were somewhat heavy and stupid in their understanding. The bottles were again handed to the guests, both of whom went through the form of drinking without taking a drop of the vile stuff.
"What be you uns doin' here?" asked Bird Riley, after the ceremony with the bottle had been finished.