Then, each taking an end of the barrel--which was one of those small casks called breakers, holding about twelve to fourteen gallons, and therefore very weighty,--they carried it up to the hut, where they found Bevan just returned with the remainder of the turtle's eggs. Irwin at once set to work to remove the bung of the cask, while Roger went into the hut and fetched out the only small vessel belonging to the little community, a wooden mug capable of holding somewhere about a pint and a half. A few moments more and Irwin said: "Ready, Master Trevose?" "Yes," replied the lad. "Then, here you are, sir." Roger slipped the mug in front of the hole, and caught the liquid in it as it came gurgling out. He let the mug fill, and then the bung was returned to its place and driven home with the hammer. So far as colour and smell were concerned there could be little doubt that the liquor was brandy, as Irwin had surmised. Roger was not greatly addicted to the use of spirits, being, indeed, exceedingly temperate; he therefore considered himself but a poor judge of its quality. Nevertheless he sipped at the contents of the mug, and, having tasted, said that, so far as he could tell, the stuff was good spirit enough, and at any rate he was certain that it had not been got at by the salt water. Bevan and Irwin then each took a taste--a pretty long taste it was too, for they returned the mug to Roger empty,--both pronouncing it to be the finest brandy of France that had ever passed their lips. They, being seamen, would have very much liked some more; but Roger pointed out that the spirit must be regarded as medicine only, and must be carefully conserved for use as such if ever any of themselves should be taken ill. The men fortunately had sense enough to see that Roger was right in what he said, and agreed to the liquor being kept for use in case of necessity.