“Come below, an’ wet your whistle. Bring your men too,” said Dick. “This is a new hand?” pointing to Ned.
“Ay, he’s noo, is Ned Spivin, but he can drink.”
“Come down, then, all of ’ee.”
Now, Ned Spivin was one of those yielding good-natured youths who find it impossible to resist what may be styled good-fellowship. If you had tried to force Ned Spivin, to order him, or to frighten him into any course, he would have laughed in your face and fought you if necessary; but if you tempted Ned to do evil by kindly tones and looks, he was powerless to resist.
“You’re right, skipper, I can drink—sometimes.” They all went below, leaving Billy on deck “to look after the boat,” as his father said, though, being made fast, the boat required no looking after.
Immediately the party in the little cabin had a glass round. Ere long it occurred to them that they might have another glass. Of course they did not require to be reminded of their pipes, and as nearly all the crew was in the little cabin, besides the visitors, the fumes from pipes and glasses soon brought the atmosphere to a condition that would have failed to support any but the strongest kind of human life. It supported these men well enough, however, for they soon began to use their tongues and brains in a manner that might have surprised a dispassionate observer.
It is, perhaps, needless to say that they interlarded their conversation with fearful oaths, to which of course we can do no more than make passing reference.
By degrees the conversation degenerated into disputation, for it is the manner of some men, when “in liquor,” to become intensely pugnacious as well as owlishly philosophical. The subject-matter of dispute may be varied, but the result is nearly always the same—a series of amazing convolutions of the brain, which is supposed to be profound reasoning, waxing hotter and hotter as the utterances grow thicker and thicker, and the tones louder and louder, until the culminating point is reached when the point which could not be proved by the mind is hammered home with the fist.
To little Billy, who had been left in sole charge of the deck, and whose little mind had been strangely impressed on board the mission-ship, the words and sounds, to say nothing of the fumes, which proceeded from the cabin furnished much food for meditation. The babel of tongues soon became incessant, for three, if not four or five, of the speakers had become so impressed with the importance of their opinions, and so anxious to give their mates the benefit, that they all spoke at once. This of course necessitated much loud talking and gesticulation by all of them, which greatly helped, no doubt, to make their meaning clear. At least it did not render it less clear. As the din and riot increased so did the tendency to add fuel to the fire by deeper drinking, which resulted in fiercer quarrelling.
At last one of the contending voices shouted so loud that the others for a few moments gave way, and the words became audible to the little listener on deck. The voice belonged to Gunter.