“Now, fill it up with water—so, an’ put in a little brown sugar to give it colour. That’s enough, stir him up. Not bad rum—to look at. I’ll try father wi’ that.”
Accordingly, our little hero went on deck and handed the glass to his father—retreating a step or two, promptly yet quietly, after doing so.
As Zulu had said, David Bright did not waste time in smelling his liquor. He emptied the glass at one gulp, and then gazed at his son with closed lips and gradually widening eyes.
“It’s only sugar and water, daddy,” said Billy, uncertain whether to laugh or look grave.
For a few moments the skipper was speechless. Then his face flushed, and he said in a voice of thunder, “Go below an’ fetch up the keg.”
There was no disobeying that order! The poor boy leaped down the ladder and seized the rum-keg.
“Your ’speriment might have been better after all, Zulu,” he whispered as he passed up again, and stood before his father.
What may have passed in the mind of that father during the brief interval we cannot tell, but he still stood with the empty wine-glass in his hand and a fierce expression on his face.
To Billy’s surprise, however, instead of seizing the keg and filling out a bumper, he said sternly—“See here,” and tossed the wine-glass into the sea. “Now lad,” he added, in a quiet voice, “throw that keg after it.”
The poor boy looked at his sire with wondering eyes, and hesitated.