Chapter 44 - Page 2

"All right, sir," said the master-at-arms, touching his cap;
"stores for the Purser, sir."

"Let it remain on deck," said the Lieutenant. "Mr. Montgomery!"
calling a midshipman, "ask the Purser whether there is any box
coming off for him this morning."

"Ay, ay, sir," said the middy, touching his cap.

Presently he returned, saying that the Purser was ashore.

"Very good, then; Mr. Montgomery, have that box put into the 'brig,'
with strict orders to the sentry not to suffer any one to touch it."

"Had I not better take it down into my mess, sir, till the Purser
comes off?" said the master-at-arms, deferentially.

"I have given my orders, sir!" said the Lieutenant, turning away.

When the Purser came on board, it turned out that he knew nothing at
all about the box. He had never so much as heard of it in his life.
So it was again brought up before the deck-officer, who immediately
summoned the master-at-arms.

"Break open that box!"

"Certainly, sir!" said the master-at-arms; and, wrenching off the
cover, twenty-five brown jugs like a litter of twenty-five brown pigs,
were found snugly nestled in a bed of straw.

"The smugglers are at work, sir," said the master-at-arms, looking up.

"Uncork and taste it," said the officer.

The master-at-arms did so; and, smacking his lips after a puzzled
fashion, was a little doubtful whether it was American whisky or
Holland gin; but he said he was not used to liquor.

"Brandy; I know it by the smell," said the officer; "return the
box to the brig."

"Ay, ay, sir," said the master-at-arms, redoubling his activity.

The affair was at once reported to the Captain, who, incensed at
the audacity of the thing, adopted every plan to detect the
guilty parties. Inquiries were made ashore; but by whom the box
had been brought down to the market-boat there was no finding
out. Here the matter rested for a time.

Some days after, one of the boys of the mizzen-top was flogged for
drunkenness, and, while suspended in agony at the gratings, was made
to reveal from whom he had procured his spirits. The man was called,
and turned out to be an old superannuated marine, one Scriggs, who did
the cooking for the marine-sergeants and masters-at-arms' mess. This
marine was one of the most villainous-looking fellows in the ship,
with a squinting, pick-lock, gray eye, and hang-dog gallows gait. How
such a most unmartial vagabond had insinuated himself into the
honourable marine corps was a perfect mystery. He had always been
noted for his personal uncleanliness, and among