"I reckon they are," answered Luke. "Them foreigners, Semmel an' Peterson, must have stirred 'em up powerfully."
Still weak from the blow received, Captain Ponsberry sank down once more on the cabin couch. There was a lump as big as a walnut on the top of his head, and he had Jeff bathe it with water and then with witch-hazel, which made it a trifle more comfortable.
A short while later came a sudden wild song from the deck of the schooner, followed by a clinking of glasses.
"They are treating themselves to grog," said Luke. "I suppose, now they have the run of things, they'll drink all they want of the stuff."
"More than likely," returned the captain. "Well, it is their turn just now—perhaps before long it will be my turn!" And he smiled significantly.
