“It’ll also be your painful dooty to stand outside your father-in-law’s pub and try and persuade customers not to go in,” continued Bob. “Nice thing that for a quiet family!” The skipper smiled knowingly, and, rolling a cigar in his mouth, leaned back in his seat and cocked his eye at the skylight. “Don’t you worry, my lad,” said he; “don’t you worry. I’m in this job, an’ I’m coming out on top. When men forget what’s due to their betters, and preach to ’em, they’ve got to be taught what’s what. If the wind keeps fair we ought to be home by Sunday night or Monday morning.” The other nodded. “Now, you keep your eyes open,” said the skipper; and, going to his state-room, he returned with three bottles of rum and a corkscrew, all of which, with an air of great mystery, he placed on the table, and then smiled at the mate. The mate smiled too. “What’s this?” inquired the skipper, drawing the cork, and holding a bottle under the other’s nose. “It smells like rum,” said the mate, glancing round, possibly for a glass. “It’s for the men,” said the skipper, “but you may take a drop.” The mate, taking down a glass, helped himself liberally, and, having made sure of it, sympathetically, but politely, expressed his firm opinion that the men would not touch it under any conditions whatever. “You don’t quite understand how firm they are,” said he; “you think it’s just a new fad with ’em, but it ain’t.” “They’ll drink it,” said the skipper, taking up two of the bottles. “Bring the other on deck for me.” The mate complied, wonderingly, and, laden with prime old Jamaica, ascended the steps. “What’s this?” inquired the skipper, crossing over to Dick, and holding out a bottle. “Pison, sir,” said Dick promptly. “Have a drop,” said the skipper jovially. “Not for twenty pounds,” said the old man, with a look of horror. “Not for two million pounds,” said Sam, with financial precision. “Will anybody have a drop?” asked the owner, waving the bottle to and fro. As he spoke a grimy paw shot out from behind him, and, before he quite realised the situation, the cook had accepted the invitation, and was hurriedly making the most of it. “Not you,” growled the skipper, snatching the bottle from him; “I didn’t mean you. Well, my lads, if you won’t have it neat you shall have it watered.” Before anybody could guess his intention he walked to the water-cask, and, removing the cover, poured in the rum. In the midst of a profound silence he emptied the three bottles, and then, with a triumphant smile, turned and confronted his astonished crew. “What’s in that cask, Dick?” he asked quietly. “Rum and water,” groaned Dick; “but that ain’t fair play, sir. We’ve kep’ to our part o’ the agreement, sir, an’ you ought to ha’ kep’ to yours.”