"Damn it, man," Noll complained. "Are you too proud to drink with the
skipper?"
Brander refused again; and Noll's brows gathered suspiciously. "Why
not?"
"My wish, sir,"
"Ye've a grudge against me. I remember.... You stick with Mauger...."
"No, sir."
Noll flung out his hand. "Be off. Your sour face is too ugly for me to
look at. Mauger's none so particular.... He'll drink with me."
It was true; Mauger had more than once accepted drink from Noll. Noll,
at these times, watched the one-eyed man furtively, almost appealingly.
It was as though he sought to placate him and make a friend of him.
Mauger had a weak head; he was not one to stand much liquor. It dizzied
him; and this amused Noll.... This day, after Brander had refused him,
Noll sent for Mauger and made the one-eyed man tipsy, and laughed at the
jest of it.
Then, one day, this state of affairs came abruptly to an end. Noll went
down into the storeroom to fill his bottle; and the spigot on the
whiskey barrel gasped and failed. The whiskey was gone.
Now Noll had given of the rum to the crew; he had exhausted that. But
the whiskey he kept jealously. He knew there should be more.... Much
more than this.... Gallons, at the least.... He turned the handle of
the spigot again, tipped the barrel, unable to understand.... His bottle
was half full.... But no more came....
He frowned, puzzled his heavy head, tried to understand.... He came
stumbling up out of the storeroom at last, with the half-filled bottle
in his hand.... And the man's face was white. He sought Faith, held the
bottle out to her.
"I say ..." he stammered. "It's gone.... Gone, by God...."