“‘Boys, boys!’ says he, through his blue spectacles, ’is it as bad as this?  Are you so far reduced?’

“‘We’re reduced,’ says I, ‘to very vulgar fractions.’

“‘It is indeed sad,’ says Pendergast, ’to see my countrymen in such circumstances.’

“’Cut ‘arf of that out, old party,’ says Liverpool.  ’Cawn’t you tell a member of the British upper classes when you see one?’

“‘Shut up,’ I told Liverpool.  ’You’re on foreign soil now, or that portion of it that’s not on you.’

“‘And on this day, too!’ goes on Pendergast, grievous—­’on this most glorious day of the year when we should all be celebrating the dawn of Christian civilization and the downfall of the wicked.’

“‘I did notice bunting and bouquets decorating the town, reverend,’ says I, ’but I didn’t know what it was for.  We’ve been so long out of touch with calendars that we didn’t know whether it was summer time or Saturday afternoon.’

“‘Here is two dollars,’ says Pendergast digging up two Chili silver wheels and handing ’em to me.  ’Go, my men, and observe the rest of the day in a befitting manner.’

“Me and Liverpool thanked him kindly, and walked away.

“‘Shall we eat?’ I asks.

“’Oh, ‘ell!’ says Liverpool.  ‘What’s money for?’

“‘Very well, then,’ I says, ‘since you insist upon it, we’ll drink.’

“So we pull up in a rum shop and get a quart of it and go down on the beach under a cocoanut tree and celebrate.

“Not having eaten anything but oranges in two days, the rum has immediate effect; and once more I conjure up great repugnance toward the British nation.

“‘Stand up here,’ I says to Liverpool, ’you scum of a despot limited monarchy, and have another dose of Bunker Hill.  That good man, Mr. Pendergast,’ says I, ’said we were to observe the day in a befitting manner, and I’m not going to see his money misapplied.’

“’Oh, you go to ‘ell!’ says Liverpool, and I started in with a fine left-hander on his right eye.

“Liverpool had been a fighter once, but dissipation and bad company had taken the nerve out of him.  In ten minutes I had him lying on the sand waving the white flag.

“‘Get up,’ says I, kicking him in the ribs, ‘and come along with me.’

“Liverpool got up and followed behind me because it was his habit, wiping the red off his face and nose.  I led him to Reverend Pendergast’s shack and called him out.

“‘Look at this, sir,’ says I—­’look at this thing that was once a proud Britisher.  You gave us two dollars and told us to celebrate the day.  The star-spangled banner still waves.  Hurrah for the stars and eagles!’

“‘Dear me,’ says Pendergast, holding up his hands.  ’Fighting on this day of all days!  On Christmas day, when peace on—­’

“‘Christmas, hell!’ says I.  ‘I thought it was the Fourth of July.’”

“Merry Christmas!” said the red, white, and blue cockatoo.