The Dutch skipper of the _coper_ had a round fat face and person, and a
jovial, hearty manner. He received the visitors with an air of
open-handed hospitality which seemed to indicate that nothing was
further from his thoughts than gain.

"We've come for baccy," said Lockley, as he leaped over the bulwarks and
shook hands, "I s'pose you've plenty of that?"

"Ya," the Dutchman had "plenty tabac--ver sheep too, an' mit sooch a
goot vlavour!"

He was what the Yankees would call a 'cute fellow, that Dutchman.
Observing the emphasis with which Lockley mentioned tobacco, he
understood at once that the skipper did not want his men to drink, and
laid his snares accordingly.

"Com'," he said, in a confidential tone, taking hold of Lockley's arm,
"com' b'low, an' you shall zee de tabac, an' smell him yourself."

Our skipper accepted the invitation, went below, and was soon busy
commenting on the weed, which, as the Dutchman truly pointed out, was
"_so_ sheep as well as goot." But another smell in that cabin
overpowered that of the tobacco. It was the smell of Hollands, or some
sort of spirit, which soon aroused the craving that had gained such
power over the fisherman.

"Have some schnapps!" said the Dutch skipper, suddenly producing a
case-bottle as square as himself, and pouring out a glass.

"No, thank 'ee," said Stephen firmly.

"No!" exclaimed the other, with well-feigned surprise. "You not drink?"

"Oh yes, I drink," replied Lockley, with a laugh, "but not to-day."

"I not ask you to buy," rejoined the tempter, holding the spirits a
little nearer to his victim's nose. "Joost take von leetle glass for
goot vellowship."

It seemed rude to decline a proposal so liberally made, and with such a
smiling countenance. Lockley took the glass, drank it off and went
hurriedly on deck, followed by the Dutchman, with the case-bottle in one
hand and the glass in the other. Of course the men had no objection to
be treated. They had a small glass all round.

"That's the stuff for my money!" cried Stubley, smacking his lips. "I
say, old chap, let's have a bottle of it. None o' your thimblefuls for
me. I like a good swig when I'm at it."

"You'd better wait till we get aboard, Joe, before you begin," suggested
Lockley, who was well aware of Joe's tendencies.

Joe admitted the propriety of this advice, but said he would treat his
mates to one glass before starting, by "way o' wetting their whistles."

"Ya, joost