They had
never tasted rum and were quite sure they would not care for it. Wine they
knew, almost as little about, using that they had found on "The Galleon"
chiefly as a medicine, and they ended, one and all, by choosing a mild
West Indian drink, a kind of orange water. Lieutenant Bernal reached over
and with his two hands felt gingerly of Henry's mighty right arm.
"Do you mean to tell me," he said, "that such a muscle and such a body
have been built up and nourished by things as mild as orange water?"
"Not orange water, but plain water," replied Henry laughing. "But in
Maryland where I was born, and in Kentucky, where I've been growing up,
the water is very good, clear, pure, and cold."
"Will you kindly stand up a moment?" said the lieutenant.
Henry promptly stood up and then Lieutenant Diego Bernal, standing by the
side of him, was about a head the shorter. Then the young lieutenant made
a wry face.
"And I have drunk wine all my life," he said plaintively, "and he has
drunk only water!"
The two sat down again, and the others laughed. Their talk and actions had
attracted the attention of a number in the room, and a large man with
great gold bands in his ears, rose and sauntered over toward them. He was
a dark fellow, evidently a West Indian Spaniard with a dash of Carib.
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