His eyes dwelled upon him with a strange avidity, as though he would read into his soul; and presently the sleeper moved, stirred uneasily, turned suddenly round, and threw him a blinking look. Davis maintained the same dark stare, and Huish looked away again and sat up.
'Lord, I've an 'eadache on me!' said he. 'I believe I was a bit swipey last night. W'ere's that cry-byby 'Errick?'
'Gone,' said the captain.
'Ashore?' cried Huish. 'Oh, I say! I'd 'a gone too.'
'Would you?' said the captain.
'Yes, I would,' replied Huish. 'I like Attwater. 'E's all right; we got on like one o'clock when you were gone. And ain't his sherry in it, rather? It's like Spiers and Ponds' Amontillado! I wish I 'ad a drain of it now.' He sighed.
'Well, you'll never get no more of it—that's one thing,' said Davis, gravely.
''Ere! wot's wrong with you, Dyvis? Coppers 'ot? Well, look at me! I ain't grumpy,' said Huish; 'I'm as plyful as a canary-bird, I am.'
'Yes,' said Davis, 'you're playful; I own that; and you were playful last night, I believe, and a damned fine performance you made of it.'
''Allo!' said Huish. ''Ow's this? Wot performance?'