Two of these three men at the third table were Barney and Jake; their companion was clearly the proprietor of the place.
Old Spicer selected the next table to that occupied by the trio, and placed himself where he could both see and hear what was going on among his nearest neighbors. His comrades quickly took the other seats.
The proprietor and his two friends at once ceased speaking, and regarded the quartet of sailors with looks of suspicion and surprise.
"Where's that sleepy boy we saw in the cabin, and who ordered us into this devil's hold?" demanded Old Spicer. "Is he going to keep us waiting all night for our grog?"
The proprietor slowly arose to his feet.
"You want grog, do you?" he asked, drawing near their table.
"That's just what we want," answered Old Spicer, emphatically—"rum, mind ye, cap'n, genuine St. Croix rum."
"That's it, shipmate," exclaimed Rouse; "no belly-wash for us."
"It's rum all around, is it?" asked the proprietor, eying each one of the party in turn.
"It is that," answered Rouse. "And say, skipper, you may as well bring a bottle."