Finish! I'll not spend it all on _you_!" Then, pouncing on the nearest crate, he burst it open with a ferocious kick.

"Stores?
The choicest to be 'ad in all Saigong! Look here"-- He held up a tin and scanned the label triumphantly: "Chow de Bruxelles, what?
Never saw chow spelt with an 'x' before, did ye?
French, my boy.

Bad spellers, but good cooks, are the French." Heywood lost his worried frown.

Something had happened,--evidently at Calcutta, for the captain always picked up his vernacular where he dropped his latest cargo; but at all events these vagaries were not the effect of heat or loneliness.
"What's up, Captain ?" he laughed.
But now that the coolies had gone, Captain Kneebone's heels were busy, staving open boxes right and left.

A bottle rolled out, and smashed in a hissing froth of champagne.
"Plenty more," he cried, rejoicing.