"Stop there, stop there!" he cried. "No man drinks to that toast just
yet. Patience, patience! all things in their order. If we claim the
power to elect our captain, by the cock-crowned Cross of the old bridge
we have a right to name the lieutenant! This is a question for the
companionship to decide, and a usurpation on the part of Roland."
"Sit down, you fool!" shouted Ebearhard savagely. "You're drunk. The
Captain couldn't have made a better selection. What say you, comrades?"
A universal shout of "Aye!" greeted the question, and even Kurzbold's
three comrades joined in it.
"And now, gentlemen, no more talk. Here's to the health of the new
lieutenant, Joseph Greusel."
The toast was drunk enthusiastically, all standing, with the exception
of Kurzbold, who came down in his seat with a thud.
"All right!" he cried, waving his hand. "All right; all right! That's
what I said. Greusel's good man, and now he's elected by the
companionship, he's all right. I drink to him. Drink to anybody, I
will!"
In groping round for the flagon, he upset it, and then roared loudly for
the landlord to supply him again.
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