terworth saw to the arrangements of their special table, and got things out to be cooked. The skipper came down for a moment while they were eating, and Gruddle called him over to their table.
"Will you 'ave a glass of champagne, captain?" he asked.
"With pleasure, sir," said the white-headed old skipper, who looked like a thoroughbred beside any one of them.
"Ah, I thought you would," said Gruddle warmly. "I reckon you 'ave not tasted it since you wrecked the Grimshaw 'All on the Manacles, captain. And don't you forget that if you wrecks the Nemesis you won't taste much but skilly and water for the rest of your life. Pour 'im out a glass, Sloggett, if you can spare it."
Jordan drank the wine, and it nearly choked him. When he got out of their sight he spat on the deck, and went upon the bridge alongside the pilot shivering. His hands were clenched and he was almost sick with rage.
The mud-pilot saw that there was something wrong.
"Are you ill, captain?" he asked.
"I've 'ad a blow," said the old skipper, "I've 'ad a blow."
