"Why, right on top of me, as it seemed," stammered the bo'sun.
"Job Mallet," said the captain, shaking his large finger at him, "I'll tell you what it is, my man: you've been drinking rum."
"Well, sir," admitted the seaman, "it did seem extra good to-night, and perhaps I did take more than I could manage; though come to think of it, sir, I've often drunk more than I've swallowed to-night and not seen a thing, sir."
"You get back to the barn and go to sleep," said the captain, "and lock the door from the inside; there's no need to stand watches to-night, and it won't do that foreign rascal any harm to find himself on the wrong side of the door for once." Job Mallet saluted and left the room.
"You see what it comes to, Sennacherib," laughed the squire: "drink too much and you're bound to see devils!"
"I don't believe that fellow has drunk too much," said the physician, getting up. "But I'm walking home, and it's late; time I made a start."
"Mind the devils!" laughed the vicar as he shook hands.
"They'll mind me, sir," said Sennacherib as he grasped his thick stick. And so the supper party broke up: the squire lighting the captain to his room; Doctor Syn returning to the vicarage; and Sennacherib Pepper
