“Come, Somers, you don’t drink,” added the captain sarcastically.
“No, I thank you; I never drink,” he answered resolutely, as he cast a steady glance of pity and contempt at the bloated crew who had been reveling in his embarrassment.
“You won’t refuse now?”
“Most decidedly.”
“Lieutenant Somers, I took you for a young man of pluck. I’m disappointed. You will pardon me, my dear fellow; but I can’t help regarding your conduct as rather shabby.”
“I never drink, as I have said before, and I do not intend to begin now. If I have been shabby, I hope you will excuse me.”
“Certainly I will excuse you, when you atone for your folly, and drink with me.”
The spectators laughed, and evidently thought the captain had made a point.
“Then I can never atone for my folly, as you call it,” replied Somers, his courage increasing as the trial demanded it.
“What would Lord Raglan have said if I had refused to drink his Sicily Madeira?”