'Beer?' repeated Huish, struggling to his feet. 'Beer it is!' cried Davis. 'Beer and plenty of it. Any number of persons can use it (like Lyon's tooth-tablet) with perfect propriety and neatness. Who's to officiate?' 'Leave me alone for that,' said the clerk. He knocked the necks off with a lump of coral, and each drank in succession from the shell. 'Have a weed,' said Davis. 'It's all in the bill.' 'What is up?' asked Herrick. The captain fell suddenly grave. 'I'm coming to that,' said he. 'I want to speak with Herrick here. You, Hay--or Huish, or whatever your name is--you take a weed and the other bottle, and go and see how the wind is down by the purao. I'll call you when you're wanted!' 'Hay? Secrets? That ain't the ticket,' said Huish. 'Look here, my son,' said the captain, 'this is business, and don't you make any mistake about it. If you're going to make trouble, you can have it your own way and stop right here. Only get the thing right: if Herrick and I go, we take the beer. Savvy?' 'Oh, I don't want to shove my oar in,' returned Huish. 'I'll cut right enough. Give me the swipes. You can jaw till you're blue in the face for what I care. I don't think it's the friendly touch: that's all.' And he shambled grumbling out of the cell into the staring sun. The captain watched him clear of the courtyard; then turned to Herrick. 'What is it?' asked Herrick thickly. 'I'll tell you,' said Davis. 'I want to consult you. It's a chance we've got. What's that?' he cried, pointing to the music on the wall. 'What?' said the other. 'Oh, that! It's music; it's a phrase of Beethoven's I was writing up. It means Destiny knocking at the door.' 'Does it?' said the captain, rather low; and he went near and studied the inscription; 'and this French?' he asked, pointing to the Latin. 'O, it just means I should have been luckier if I had died at horne,' returned Herrick impatiently. 'What is this business?' 'Destiny knocking at the door,' repeated the captain; and then, looking over his shoulder. 'Well, Mr Herrick, that's about what it comes to,' he added. 'What do you mean? Explain yourself,' said Herrick. But the captain was again staring at the music. 'About how long ago since you wrote up this truck?' he asked. 'What does it matter?' exclaimed Herrick. 'I dare say half an hour.' 'My God, it's strange!' cried Davis. 'There's some men would call that accidental: not me. That--' and he drew his thick finger under the music--'that's what I call Providence.' 'You said we had a chance,' said Herrick. 'Yes, SIR!' said the captain, wheeling suddenly face to face with his companion. 'I did so. If you're the man I take you for, we have a chance.' 'I don't know what you take me for,' was the reply. 'You can scarce take me too low.' 'Shake hands, Mr Herrick,' said the captain. 'I know you. You're a gentleman and a man of spirit. I didn't want to speak before that bummer there; you'll see why. But to you I'll rip it right out. I got a ship.'