"If a shell or a shot don't finish you," interrupted Hobson. "No," he added, as Striker muttered something about being afraid, "I'm as brave, I think, as most men, but I'm peaceably inclined, and I say, let them as makes the quarrel go and fight it out."
"But the poor lads at the bottom of Havana harbor can't fight any more, matey," said Striker.
"No, they can't, an' more the pity. But then they didn't make the fight at the start. It's those in high authority do that." And Hobson turned to shore with a case of goods he was trucking; and the discussion, for the time being, came to an end.
Although it was still early in the year, it was hot in these latitudes, and when the noonday whistles blew, Larry was glad enough to knock off for his dinner and a rest. He was about to go ashore when Grandon hailed him.
"Have you paid for your dinner in advance?" he asked.
"Why, what do you mean? " returned Larry, somewhat mystified.
"I mean have you a regular boarding-place to go to for dinner? If not, you can have your dinner with the crew, and welcome."
