At
last, just as he was resolving to run his boat straight down the river
until he came to a halt for want of steam, the mate caught the rope he
flung, and the Bulldog went down the river with her boat made fast to
her stern.
"Come aboard, you--you lunatic!" he shouted.
"Not afore I knows 'ow I stand," said the engineer, who was now
beautifully sober, and in full possession of a somewhat acute intellect.
"What do you mean?" demanded the skipper.
"I don't come aboard," shouted the engineer, "until you and the mate and
the bye all swear as you won't say nothing about this little game."
"I'll report you the moment I get ashore," roared the skipper. "I'll
give you in charge for desertion. I'll"--
With a supreme gesture the engineer prepared to dive, but the watchful
mate fell on his neck and tripped him over a seat.
"Come aboard!" cried the skipper, aghast at such determination. "Come
aboard, and I'll give you a licking when we get ashore instead."
"Honour bright?" inquired the engineer.
"Honour bright," chorused the three.
The engineer, with all the honours of war, came on board, and, after
remarking that he felt chilly bathing on an empty stomach, went down
below and began to stoke. In the course of the voyage he said that it
was worth while making such a fool of himself if only to see the
skipper's beautiful steering, warmly asseverating that there was not
another man on the river that could have done it.
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