.
"Shall I spile en, maister ?" asked one of the preventive men, producing a large auger.
"No, stave its head in.

And fetch a pannikin, somebody.

There's good water at the beach-head; and I dare say your men, Captain, won't despise a tot of French liquor after their ride." The preventive man set his chisel against the inner rim of the cask, and dealt it a short sharp blow with his hammer, a sort of trial tap, to guide his aim.

"French liquor ?" He sniffed.

"Furrin fruit, more like.