“Here’s a salute to you, Captain,” cried Kurzbold. “I drink wine with you.”
“Not till we return from a successful expedition,” said Roland.
“Oh, nonsense!” hiccoughed Kurzbold. “Don’t think that your office places you so high above us that it is infra dig. to drink with your comrades.”
To this diatribe Roland made no reply, and the sixteen, seeing the attitude of their leader, hesitated to raise flagon to lip. The diplomatic Ebearhard seized a measure of wine and approached Roland.
“Drink with us, Commander,” he said aloud; and then in a whisper, “Greusel and I think you should.”
“Thank you, comrade,” said Roland, taking the flagon from him. “And now, brethren, I give you a toast.”
“Good, good, good!” cried Kurzbold, with drunken hilarity. “Here’s to the success of the expedition. That’s the toast, I make no doubt, eh, Captain?”
“The sentiment is included in the toast I shall offer you. Drink to the health of Joseph Greusel, whom I have this morning appointed my lieutenant. If we all conduct ourselves as honorably and capably as he, our project is bound to prosper.”
Greusel, who was seated at a table, allowed his head to sink into his hands. Here was his advice scouted, and a direct challenge flung in the face of the company. He believed now that, after all, Roland had resolved to return to Frankfort, money or no money. If he intended to proceed to the Rhine, then even worse might happen, for it was plain he was bent on rule or ruin. Instantly the challenge was accepted. Kurzbold stood up, swaying uncertainly, compelled to maintain his upright position by grasping the top of the table at which he had been seated.
“Stop there, stop there!” he cried. “No man drinks to that toast just yet. Patience, patience! all things in their order. If we claim the power to elect our captain, by the cock-crowned Cross of the old bridge we have a right to name the lieutenant! This is a question for the companionship to decide, and a usurpation on the part of Roland.”