This captain, who was a man of iron, shuffled and cut, dealt and
played as if he were in his cafe. From below we heard the
inarticulate murmurings of the two mates, half smothered by the
handkerchiefs which gagged them. Outside the timbers creaked and
the sails hummed under the brisk breeze which was sweeping us
upon our way. Amid the splash of the waves and the whistle of
the wind we heard the wild cheers and shoutings of the English
sailors as they broached the keg of rum. We played half-a-dozen
games and then the captain rose. "I think they are ready for us
now," said he. He took a brace of pistols from a locker, and he
handed one of them to me.
But we had no need to fear resistance, for there was no one to
resist. The Englishman of those days, whether soldier or sailor,
was an incorrigible drunkard.
Without drink he was a brave and good man. But if drink were
laid before him it was a perfect madness-- nothing could induce
him to take it with moderation.
In the dim light of the den which they inhabited, five senseless
figures and two shouting, swearing, singing madmen represented
the crew of the Black Swan.
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