“Well,” said Captain Bowers, with a wink at the mate, “I’m going to give you chaps a little self-denial week all to yourselves. If you all live on biscuit and water till we get to port, and don’t touch nothing else, I’ll jine you and become a Salvationist.”
“Biscuit and water,” said Dick doubtfully, scratching a beard strong enough to scratch back.
“It wouldn’t be right to play with our constitooshuns in that way, sir,” objected Joe, shaking his head.
“There you are,” said Bowers, turning to the mate with a wave of his hand. “They’re precious anxious about me so long as it’s confined to jawing, and dropping tracts into my tea, but when it comes to a little hardship on their part, see how they back out of it.”
“We ain’t backing out of it,” said Dick cautiously; “but s’pose we do, how are we to be certain as you’ll jine us?”
“You’ve got my word for it,” said the other, “an’ the mate an’ cook witness it.”
“O’ course, you jine the Army for good, sir,” said Dick, still doubtfully.
“O’ course.”
“Then it’s a bargain, sir,” said Dick, beaming; “ain’t it, chaps?”
“Ay, ay,” said the others, but not beaming quite so much. “Oh, what a joyful day this is!” said the old man. “A Salvation crew an’ a Salvation cap’n! We’ll have the cook next, bad as he is.”