“New Orleans be sugared,” cried Captain Kettle. “Haven’t I spoke plain enough already? Don’t you understand all this racket’s a blessed swindle? The steamer’s going to have the name-plate on her engines altered, and the label on her stern changed, and a different pattern painted on her smoke-stacks, and a coat of gray clapped on her outside. And then, when she’s so bedevilled her own builder wouldn’t know her, we’ll run her round to some South American port where the least number of questions will be asked, and sell her for what she’ll fetch. But only the steamer, mark you. I reckon she’s carried the freight far enough. That’ll be struck out of her here.” “You bet,” said Nutt, rubbing his hands. “We’ll _corral_ the dollars for you right here till you come back. You shall have our niggers to s-s-stoke for you, if you can get ’em, and can manage ’em. But they’re fair toughs. Perhaps you’d w-w-weaken when you came to know ’em a bit.” “I’d handle,” retorted Kettle, “a crew of old Nick’s firemen, raw out of hell, if I was put to it. Don’t you make any error. I’ve kept my end up with the worst crowds a man ever put to sea with. By James!” he went on, with a blow at the table, “by James! I’d handle you, Mr. Nutt, if you were signed aboard o’ me, till you couldn’t call your soul your own.” “You’d w-w-which?” snarled Nutt, rising in his chair. “Sit, you swine,” said his partner, “and be quiet. You tire me. What are you riling the gentleman for, just when we were getting so nice and friendly with him?” “You—lemme alone.” “I’ll smash your ugly little face in if you don’t keep it shut.” The one-eyed man tried to retort, but his infirmity gagged him, and a spasm of wild fury bit into all his muscles. His friend wagged a derisive finger. “There’s an image for you, cap. Look at the creature, froze like a Chinese potdog; look at him and don’t laugh. And, say, just reach me another bottle of wine, it will be so good. Thanks, siree. I wouldn’t care if I died drinking this. Here’s our blessed health. Good old cap; you stick to me and I’ll stick to you; and if Mr. Billy Nutt can’t swallow his tantrums and join us two gentlemen like another gentleman, by Jemima, we’ll give him what he’s got for his share, and set him adrift in an empty bottle. You hear me, Billy Nutt?” “You spup-luttering fool. You boosey, drunken puttyhead.” “I’m not drunk,” retorted Hank, “but I’m merry. Have a sup yourself, and then perhaps you’ll be better company.” With which advice a liberal heeltap of champagne splashed in Nutt’s face.