toxication,
despite his solemn promise to Dr Nettleby, through whom the commander
had given him permission to land, that he "wouldn't touch a dhrop ov the
craythur, not if Ould Nick axed him."

Larkyns, who was in charge of the launch, in which the culprit was
brought back helpless to the ship in the afternoon, noticing his
condition when he tried to go up the side, ordered him to report himself
to the sergeant of marines; but, Mr Macan, who was valiant in his cups,
waxed indignant at this and flatly refused to obey the command, saying
that he would not mind going before the commander, or the first
lieutenant, or even meeting the doctor himself, though he was loth to
see him for the moment with his broken promise staring him in the face;
but as for going and reporting himself to the sergeant he should not,
no, not he.

"An' is it to rayport mesilf to that omahdaun ye're afther axin me,
sor?" he said scornfully, tossing his head and leering out of his little
pig eyes in the most comical way. "Faix, I'd rayther not, wid your
favour, sor. I wouldn't demane mesilf by spakin' to the loikes ov
Sarjent Linstock, sor!"

The upshot was that poor Macan was put under arrest and confined in the
cells that night; and when brought before the captain the next day for
insubordination and drunkenness, as he had no excuse to offer he was
disrated, losing his rank of corporal, with all its perquisites and
privileges!

On the doctor taxing him with breaking his pledged word, however, in an
after interview that worthy had with the delinquent, he vehemently
protested his innocence of that charge at all events.

"I tould yez, sor, I wouldn't touch a dhrop ov the craythur, maynin'
whisky, sure," he said, with a miserable attempt at a grin; for he felt
very much humiliated at losing his stripes, Macan sober being quite a
different man to Macan drunk. "An' faix I niver bruk me wurrud at all,
at all, I'll swear, sor."

"How can you have the face to deny it, man?" cried the doctor, angrily.
"Why, I saw the state you were in myself when you came aboard the other
night!"

"That mebbe, sor," replied the undaunted Irishman, with a little of his
old bravado; "but it warn't the ould complaint, I till ye, sor."

"What was it, then, that made you drunk, you rascal?" rejoined the
doctor, with a twinkle in his eye, knowing his man, "for, drunk you
were--ay, as drunk as Chloe?"

"Faix, sor," said Macan, noting instantly the doctor's change of