Davy turned out his pockets on to the table. The pockets were many, and were hidden away, back and front and side, in every slack and tight place in his clothes. Gold, silver, and copper came mixed and loose from all of them, and he piled up the money in a little heap before him. When all was out he picked five sovereigns from the haggis of coin and put them back into his waistcoat pocket, while he screwed up one eye into the semblance of a wink, and said to Willie, “That’ll see us over.” Then he called for a sight of the bill, glanced at the total and proceeded to count out the amount of it. This being done, he rolled the money in the paper, screwed it up like a penny worth of lozenges, and sent it down to the landlord with his bes’ respec’s. After that he straightened his chest, stuck his thumbs in the arm-holes of his waistcoat, nodded his head downward at the money remaining on the table and said, “Men, see that? It’s every ha’penny I’m worth in the world, A month ago I came home with a nice warm fortune at me. That’s what’s left, and when it’s gone I’m up the spout.”
The men looked at each other in blank surprise, and began to mutter among themselves, “What game is he agate of now?” “Aw, it’s true.” “True enough, you go bail.” “I wouldn’t trust, he’s been so reckless.” “Twenty thousands, they’re saying.” “Aw, he’s been helped—there’s that Mister Loviboy, a power of money the craythur must have had out of him.” “Well, sarve him right; fools and their money is rightly parted.”
Thus they croaked and crowed, and though Davy was devoting himself to the drink he heard them.
A wild light shot into his eyes, but he only laughed more noisily and talked more incessantly.
“Come, lay down, d’ye hear,” he cried. “Do you think I care for the fortune? I care nothing, not I. I’ve had a bigger loss till that in my time.”
“Lord save us, Capt’n—when?” cried one.
“Never mind when—not long ago, any way,” said Davy.
“And you had heart to start afresh, Cap’n, eh?” cried another.
“Heart, you say? Maybe so, maybe no,” said Davy. “But stow this jaw. Here’s my harvest home, boys, my Melliah, only I am bringing back the tares—who’s game to toss for it? Equal stakes, sudden death!”
The brewer tossed with him and won. Davy brushed the money across the table, and laughed more madly than ever. “I care nothing, not I, say what you like,” he cried again and again, though no one disputed his protestation.