“He must ha’ meant another bottle,” said Jones, as the cook came slowly up again with a bottle containing one dose. “There ain’t another,” said the cook; “he’s ’alf off ’is ’ed.” There was a pained silence. “We must toss for it,” said Jones, at length; “that is, unless you chaps don’t want it.” “Toss,” said three voices speaking as one. Jones sighed, and the coins were produced. The prize fell to Tim, and he leaned against the windlass and slowly poured the yellow liquid into his mug. “There’s more than I thought there was,” remarked Mr. Jones, in surprise. “Bottles is deceiving,” said the cook. “It ain’t the fust toss as Tim ’as won,” said the third man, darkly. The ordinary seaman made no reply, but, stepping over to the water-cask, added with great care a little water. “Here’s your ’ealth, chaps,” he said, good-naturedly, as he drank, “and may you never want a drink.” “You’ve never drunk all that, Tim?” said Mr. Jones, anxiously. Tim shook his head. “There’s too much to drink all at once,” he said, gravely, and sat, with the mug on his knee, gazing ashore. “It’s warming me all over,” he mused. “I never tasted sich whisky afore. I’m in a gentle glow.” So was the cook; a glow which increased to fever heat as the youth raised the mug to his lips again, and slowly drained it and handed it to him to wash up. A little later the men went ashore, and strolling aimlessly up and down the road, passed the time in waiting for the ceremony and making sudden dashes after small boys who were throwing at their hats and hitting their heads. Seabridge itself was quiet, but Mrs. Banks’ house was in a state of ferment. Ladies with pins in their mouths wandered about restlessly until, coming into the orbit of one of the brides, they stuck one or two into her and then drew back to behold the effect. Miss Banks, in white satin, moved about stiffly; Mrs. Church, in heliotrope, glanced restlessly up the road every time she got near the window. “Now you sit down,” said one lady, at length, “both of you. All you’ve got to do now is to wait for the gentlemen.” It was whispered that Mr. Gibson’s delay was due to the fact that he had gone up for Captain Barber, and as time passed a certain restlessness became apparent in the assembly, and sympathetic glances were thrown in the direction of Mrs. Church. Places at the window were at a premium, and several guests went as far as the garden gate and looked up the road. Still no Captain Barber. “It’s time they were here,” said Mrs. Banks at last, in a stern voice.