With no great show of alacrity, Mr. Solomon crossed to a cupboard and was about to bring out a bottle of red wine, when Calamity stopped him.
"Damn you!" he cried. "I'm not going to drink that purple purgative; save it for your fellow Sheenies. Come, out with that bottle of rum, you old skinflint!"
Mr. Solomon made a chuckling noise in his throat, and, replacing the red fluid, brought forth a square bottle and two glasses. He was about to dole out a modest measure, when Calamity took the bottle from him and more than half filled one of the glasses.
"Now help yourself, partner," he said, handing back the bottle.
The other carefully poured out about a teaspoonful of the spirit, deluged it with water, and then held up his glass.
"Long life and success to Calamity and Co!" cried the Captain, and tossed off the raw spirit with no more ado than if it had been milk.
"Calamity and Co!" echoed Mr. Solomon in a thin, shrill voice.