Chapter Vi.

No doubt Captain Barcle's misgivings about the worthiness of the “Druimuachdar's” new mate would have been increased could he have seen him at the moment he was discussing him.

Downstairs, at the back of the main taproom of the “Outward Bound” was a smaller bar known as the “glory hole,” and frequented by those customers of both sexes who, by reason of their comparative affluence, were considered to be worthy of greater comfort and privacy than the turbulent atmosphere that the main tap afforded. The privacy was secured by a slide which shut the “glory hole” off from the tap and through which the potman could serve his drinks. Comfort was provided by two leather settees, a wooden floor without any sand on it, and a small fire.

Mr. Holloway, although duty demanded that he should be superintending the stowage of the “Druimachdar's” cargo, entered the “glory hole” shortly after three o'clock and banged with his fist upon the slide. He was a hard-looking man with a flattened nose and he wore his peaked cap with an air that suggested he knew all about the world and the men who lived in it, and would stand no nonsense from either. For all that, his general appearance was somewhat shabby and down-at-heel, and he looked thoughtfully at the florin which he took from his pocket before pounding once more on the slide.

“Damnation!” he cried, when, after a third assault upon the slide it was reluctantly withdrawn, “are you all dead in there? Does a man have to— why,” he dropped his voice to a hoarse whisper as he caught sight of the potman's face, “why, strike me blind if it ain't me old pal Scotty 'Ollick, 'im as was not apprehended for the wilful and premeditated robbery wiv vi'lence of that most respected citizen of Boston, Massachussetts, Judge Esther, in the spring of last year.”

“Dorky,” said the potman without enthusiasm or surprise.

“Dorky it was, Holloway it is; Mr. Holloway to you, mate of the ‘Drummochter’ sailing day after to-morrer for the Antipodes. That's to say,” he leered slightly, “I was, but now I've found me old pal Scotty, p'raps I shan't—wot's me old pal got to say about it?”

The potman withdrew his head from the slide, and returning, placed a whisky bottle and two glasses on the sill. Mr. Holloway slipped the florin comfortably back into his pocket.

“Well, Scotty,” he said, “here's down the hatch. Now what about it—you and me I mean?”

“He died,” Mr. Holloway interrupted grimly, “and I can prove one or two little facts that the Boston police would be glad to hear.”

“Bawston's a long way frae Glesca,” replied the potman, “an’ they dinna take the Yankee polis verra seriously over here. Besides,” the potman's one eye grew suddenly menacing, “I've one or two friends in Glesca who wouldna’ like tae think ye were for selling yer infor-r-mation!”

“Still up to your old tricks eh!” Mr. Holloway attempted a feeble bluster, “ferget it Scotty boy, d'ye think I'd split on a pal fer a few lousy dollars— I was only having me little joke.”

“Aye,” replied the potman dourly, “I thought ye were.” He drained his glass in silence, then, “yer skipper's upstairs,” he said.

“That's alright aint’ it, skipper in the parlour, mate in the 'glory 'ole.’ Shouldn't wonder if the ole bloomin’ ship's company ain't in the tap.”

“They're no’,” replied the potman, who appeared to be a man of literal interpretations, “but,” he leaned forward, and taking the mate by the lapel of his jacket, whispered earnestly in his ear. For a long time they conversed in this manner, pausing now and again to frown and trace ruminative patterns on the sill of the slide with their forefingers.

The tide had begun to ebb in the basin outside and had gone out completely from the whisky bottle ere the potman straightened himself up.

“Well, Dorky,” he said, “you get them and bring them here to me before she sails if you can—if not then ye'll juist have tae wait yer chance. I'll know how tae get rid o’ them, and we'll split fifty-fifty.” And Mr. Holloway, a little uncertain in his footsteps, his brows knotted in a speculative scowl, returned to his job of superintending the stowage of the “Druimuachdar's” cargo.