"
"Oi am," nodded Hogan, resting his chin on Galton's shoulder as if from
deep affection.
"Oi don't a--ack loike it, you--hic--you couldn't tell it on me, b-but
Oi--Oi--Oi'm drunk, aw roight."
"I theenk Greer ees in the cook's galley," smiled Deschaillon, who
appeared to be rational; then he added coolly: "Eef there ees any
fighting, I weel help you, Meester Madden."
"Cook's galley!" sputtered Mulcher. "'E's drinkin' hit ever' drop, lads;
come on!"
"An' th' grub, too!" added Hogan.
This news completely disorganized the court martial and election
committee. Galton himself forgot his revenge in his thirst. They
started aft pellmell in confused haste to help Greer finish the rum.
Leonard made no objection. They were already drunk. They might as well
dispose of the liquor once for all, and then it would trouble discipline
no more.
When the men and their turmoil had disappeared, Madden remained on deck,
filled with a dull, heavy feeling of lassitude and bitterness. It was
one of those moments when a man's hope is swamped in present
difficulties.
The sun swung slowly down into the western sea, and its reflections made
long blinding streaks in the Sargasso. Its yellow light transformed the
great red dock into an orange structure that rested on the sea as
lightly as the pavilions of the evening clouds.
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