“Is there any hope of getting back in?” asked Leonard sympathetically.
“Instauration! Never knew of such a thing in our navy. If I ever get out of here I'll go in trade somewhere.”
“In South America?”
“I had British Honduras in mind, or Canada. I'd like to keep in the Empire.”
A noise below interrupted the conversation. The two youths looked down. The deck plan of the tug lay flat and empty save for the inert form of Gaskin. The noise came from inside the cabin and arose to a shouting. It was a drunken ribald sound. A suspicion flashed on Leonard's mind.
“Those pigs below are wasting the stores,” he declared.
“They ought to be stopped.”
“I couldn't stop them without a fight. They were about to court martial me when they happened to think of something else.”
Caradoc stared down in the direction of the noise, “I might talk them into sense if Greer isn't drunk and wanting to fight again.”
“He said he never drank—I don't know.”
