But the commander's wrath could not be appeased.
"Get this stuff pumped out, an' 'ave the tanks scoured.

We'll put into Fernando Noronha, an' refill there.

It's on'y a day lost, an' I guess the other liquor on board 'll last till we make the island.

Sink me, if this ain't the queerest run this crimson ship 'as ever 'ad.

I'll be glad w'en it's ended." Coke lurched away in the direction of the chart-room.