She gave me the fever. Brought it on by shock. And
got me drunk, as well--rotten drunk."
Dr. Welshmere laughed heartily.
"Nevertheless, she is not an unmitigated evil, your Miss Lackland. She's
sworn three men off their drink, or, to the same purpose, shut off their
whisky. You know them--Brahms, Curtis, and Fowler. She shipped them on
the _Flibberty-Gibbet_ along with her."
"She's the skipper of the _Flibberty_ now," Oleson broke in. "And she'll
wreck her as sure as God didn't make the Solomons."
Dr. Welshmere tried to look shocked, but laughed again.
"She has quite a way with her," he said. "I tried to back out of
bringing the horses over. Said I couldn't charge freight, that the
_Apostle_ was under a yacht license, that I was going around by Savo and
the upper end of Guadalcanar. But it was no use. 'Bother the charge,'
said she. 'You take the horses like a good man, and when I float the
_Martha_ I'll return the service some day.'"
"And 'bother your orders,' said she to me," Oleson cried. "'I'm your
boss now,' said she, 'and you take your orders from me.' 'Look at that
load of ivory nuts,' I said. 'Bother them,' said she; 'I'm playin' for
something bigger than ivory nuts. We'll dump them overside as soon as we
get under way.
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