"You're a blamed idiot!" he said rudely.
A CASE OF DESERTION
The sun was just rising as the small tub-like steamer, or, to be more
correct, steam-barge, the Bulldog, steamed past the sleeping town of
Gravesend at a good six knots per hour.
There had been a little discussion on the way between her crew and the
engineer, who, down in his grimy little engine-room, did his own stoking
and everything else necessary. The crew, consisting of captain, mate,
and boy, who were doing their first trip on a steamer, had been
transferred at the last moment from their sailing-barge the Witch, and
found to their discomfort that the engineer, who had not expected to
sail so soon, was terribly and abusively drunk. Every moment he could
spare from his engines he thrust the upper part of his body through the
small hatchway, and rowed with his commander.
"Ahoy, bargee!" he shouted, popping up like a jack-in-the-box, after a
brief cessation of hostilities.
"Don't take no notice of 'im," said the mate. "'E's got a bottle of
brandy down there, an' he's 'alf mad."
"If I knew anything o' them blessed engines," growled the skipper, "I'd
go and hit 'im over the head."
"But you don't," said the mate, "and neither do I, so you'd better keep
quiet.
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