“I wasn’t boozed,” replied the man defensively, “if that’s what you’re driving at. I’d had a glass or two, but I wasn’t abs’lutely oiled!”
“That is not quite what I mean. What I want to find out is, were you thinking at the time of the value of human life, and how necessary it is that it should be preserved at all costs?”
“If you must know, I waddent thinking nothing of the kind. Don’t worry myself about such matters.”
“I see!” said the Mayor, slightly taken aback. “And—forgive my curiosity—but what were your sensations when you brought the child ashore? What was uppermost, so to speak, in your thoughts?”
“I was wondering whether I sh’d catch a nasty cold!”
“No, no!” said the Mayor, reproving the audience. “This worthy fellow is answering my questions to the best of his ability. Tell me, now,” turning again to the man on the platform, “have you performed many gallant actions of this kind in your life before?”
“I ain’t.”
“Never, perhaps, had the opportunity?”
“Plenty of opportunities,” retorted Enderby, “but not fool enough to take advantage of ’em!”
It was so clear he was becoming nettled that the secretary whispered to Mr. Mayor; his Worship proceeded to speak, at some length, on the subject of bravery, making allusions to the boy who stood on the burning deck, to Grace Darling, and to others. Eventually, and to the obvious relief of Enderby, he presented the purse, handed over the medal, and allowed the man to return to the front row. There Enderby and his friends made no attempt to conceal restiveness during the remainder of the speeches. The occupants of seats at the reporters’ table sent a note to the young secretary, reminding him that the recipient had not acknowledged the rewards.