"Done? He's 'ad a small lemon,
an' it's got into his silly old head. He's making all this fuss 'cos he
wanted to set the pub on fire, an' they wouldn't let him. Man ashore
told us they belonged to the Good Intent, but I know they're your men."
"Sam!" roared the skipper, with a sinking heart, as his glance fell on
the recumbent figures in the boat; "come aboard at once, you drunken
disgrace! D'ye hear?"
"I can't leave him," said Sam, whimpering.
"Leave who?" growled the skipper.
"Him," said Sam, placing his arms round the waterman's neck. "Him an'
me's like brothers."
"Get up, you old loonatic!" snarled the waterman, extricating himself
with difficulty, and forcing the other towards the side. "Now, up you
go!"
Aided by the shoulders of the waterman and the hands of his superior
officers, Sam went up, and then the waterman turned his attention to the
remainder of his fares, who were snoring contentedly in the bottom of
the boat.
"Now, then!" he cried; "look alive with you! D'ye hear? Wake up! Wake
up! Kick 'em, Bill!"
"I can't kick no 'arder," grumbled the other waterman.
"What the devil's the matter with 'em?" stormed the master of the
Thistle, "Chuck a pail of water over 'em, Joe!"
Joe obeyed with gusto; and, as he never had much of a head for details,
bestowed most of it upon the watermen.
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