‘An exquisite Burgundy,’ he cried. ‘Try it, Mr. Dugdale.’
It was indeed a very choice sound wine. The lieutenant half filled a pannikin for Colledge, who emptied it with a sigh of enjoyment. ‘What would my father give for such stuff as this!’ said he.
The lieutenant found a wine-glass, which he carefully cleansed with the liquor, and then filling it, he asked Miss Temple to drink to the confusion of all pirates. She laughed, and declined.
‘Oh, you must sip it, if you please,’ cried Colledge, ‘if only to heighten the romance of this adventure. Think of the additional colour your story will get out of this incident of drinking perdition to the corsairs in wine of their own!’
She was about to answer, when the hull rolled heavily. The lieutenant slipped; the wine-glass fell to the deck, and was shivered; Colledge, grasping me to steady himself, threw me off my balance, and the pair of us went rolling to the bottles. The young fellow scrambled on to his legs with a loud laugh.
‘I believe this vessel is tipsy,’ said he.
‘Do you mark the increase in the weight of the swell?’ I exclaimed as I regained my legs.
The roll of the vessel the other way had been severe, and now she was dipping her sides regularly with an oscillation extravagant enough to render standing very inconvenient.
‘We must be off, I think,’ said the lieutenant.
‘Miss Temple hasn’t drunk confusion to the pirates,’ exclaimed Colledge with the persistency of brains flushed with wine.