Tommy was the first to grasp the consequences.
"Here," he said in a hard business tone, "come back to
that saloon: I've got to get drunk."
"You must please excuse me, boys," said the captain
earnestly. "I daren't taste nothing. If I was to
drink one glass of beer it's my belief I'd have the
apoplexy. The last scrimmage and the blooming triumph
pretty nigh-hand done me."
"Well, then, three cheers for the captain," proposed
Tommy.
But Wicks held up a shaking hand. "Not that either,
boys," he pleaded. "Think of the other buffer, and let
him down easy. If I'm like this, just fancy what
Topelius is. If he heard us singing out, he'd have the
staggers."
As a matter of fact, Topelius accepted his defeat with
a good grace; but the crew of the wrecked LESLIE,
who were in the same employment, and loyal to their
firm, took the thing more bitterly. Rough words and
ugly looks were common. Once even they hooted Captain
Wicks from the saloon verandah; the Currency Lasses
drew out on the other side; for some minutes there had
like to have been a battle in Butaritari; and though
the occasion passed off without blows, it left on
either side an increase of ill-feeling.
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