'Have a drink,' says she. I thought
they looked surprised when she unlocked the whisky locker and sent a
nigger for the glasses and water-monkey. But she must have tipped them
off unbeknownst to me, and they knew just what to do. 'Excuse me,' she
says, 'I'm going on deck a minute.' Now that minute was half an hour. I
hadn't had a drink in ten days. I'm an old man and the fever has
weakened me. Then I took it on an empty stomach, too, and there was them
three soaks setting me an example, they arguing for me to take the
_Flibberty_ to Poonga-Poonga, an' me pointing out my duty to the
contrary. The trouble was, all the arguments were pointed with drinks,
and me not being a drinking man, so to say, and weak from fever . . .
"Well, anyway, at the end of the half-hour down she came again and took a
good squint at me. 'That'll do nicely,' I remember her saying; and with
that she took the whisky bottles and hove them overside through the
companionway. 'That's the last, she said to the three soaks, 'till the
_Martha_ floats and you're back in Guvutu. It'll be a long time between
drinks.' And then she laughed.
"She looked at me and said--not to me, mind you, but to the soaks: 'It's
time this worthy man went ashore'--me! worthy man! 'Fowler,' she
said--you know, just like a straight order, and she didn't _mister_
him--it was plain Fowler--'Fowler,' she said, 'just tell Adamu Adam to
man the whale-boat, and while he's taking Captain Oleson ashore have your
boat put me on the _Flibberty_.
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