"Well, perhaps we can do on three tots a day," he answered, after deliberating.
"And you engage that the steward will be protected against any violence while serving out the men's allowance?"
"Mates!" he suddenly called out to the men who were standing by to sheet home the top-gallant sails; "will three tots o' grog a day keep you alive?"
"Are we to have it all at once?" one of them answered.
"No," I replied; "three times a day."
"Now then, my lads, let's know your minds," cried the boatswain.
A young ordinary seaman answered—"Three ain't enough." But one of the older hands turned upon him, exclaiming, "Why, you bit of a snuffler! where will you stow all that rum? Don't go answerin' for your betters, my young scaramouch, or maybe you'll be findin' yourself brought up with a round turn. That'll do!" he called out to us.
"Right you are!" replied the carpenter.
"Sheet home!" I cried, as the sails fell from the top-gallant yards, anxious to clinch this matter of the grog.
And so it rested.