“No, I’m not, my man; but I have an objection to enter a public-house, unless I cannot help it. Have you had a glass this morning?”
The sailor looked puzzled, as if he did not see very clearly what the question had to do with the captain’s difficulty.
“Well, for the matter o’ that, I’ve had three glasses this mornin’.”
“Then I suppose you have no objection to try a glass of my favourite tipple, have you?”
The man smiled, and wiping his mouth with the cuff of his jacket, as if he expected the captain was, then and there, about to hand him a glass of the tipple referred to, said—
“No objection wotsomediver.”
“Then follow me; I’ll take you to the place where I put up sometimes when I’m ashore. It’s not far off.”
Five minutes sufficed to transport them from the dirty little street near the harbour to the back-parlour of the identical coffee-house in which the captain was first introduced to the reader. Here, having whispered something to the waiter, he proceeded to question his companion on the mysterious business for which he had brought him there.
“Couldn’t we have the tipple first?” suggested the sailor.
“It will be here directly. Have you breakfasted?”