“Not here,” said Benson shortly.
“So I discover,” said the captain. “The customs of refined society are in abeyance here. Next time I come, I'll bring a jug.”
“If there is a next time,” said Benson angrily. “That poor old man you led to his death was my friend—”
“You needn't rub that in,” said Gibbs, his cheeks paling. “Do you suppose I'd have let him drown if I'd known what was going on? I didn't know it until months afterward. Don't speak of that again, I won't have it!”
The two men glared at each other, but Gibbs was the first to recover his temper; the ruddy tint came back to his cheeks.
“Well, since we can't drink, suppose we talk about the tavern and distillery. Do you think you can find a purchaser for them?” he asked.
“Yes.”
The captain spread his coat tails before the fire and beamed on Benson. He seemed in no haste to take his leave.
“I don't admire your manners, Jake, but I do respect your business ability. I suppose some correspondence will be necessary with Mrs. Gibbs touching these matters?”
“Yes.”