“Captain Barepoles—”
“Skipper, lad, I don’t like to be cap’ned.”
“Well, Skipper Barepoles,” said the middy with much solemnity, “I always pay my debts of honour on the spot, and I expect gentlemen who bet with me to do the same.”
Haco grinned. “But I an’t a gentleman,” said he, “an’ I don’t set up for one.”
“Still, as a man of honour you must feel bound—”
“No, lad, not as a man of honour,” interrupted the skipper, “but as a British seaman I’ll hold the debt due; only, not bein’ in the habit o’ carrying the Bank of England in my weskit-pocket, you see, I must ask you to wait till to-morrow mornin’.”
Haco said this with a slightly disappointed look, for he thought the middy rather sharp, and had formed a better opinion of him than his conduct on this occasion seemed to bear out.
“Now, skipper, I’ll tell you what it is. I am not fond of betting, and this bet of mine was taken in jest; in fact my usual bet is ten thousand pounds, sometimes a million! Nevertheless, you have admitted the debt as due, and although I do not mean to claim payment in the usual way, I don’t intend to forego my rights altogether. I’ll only ask you to do me a favour.”
“What may it be, lad?”
“Will you grant it?”