.. when we clear for Iqueque,
after we unload at Sydney."
"Why should I tell? It's none of my business!"
I had come upon them, as they were at work. The cook had sent me into
the store-room for some potatoes.
* * * * *
Miller, the first mate, was quite fat and bleary-eyed. He used to go
about sweating clear through his clothes on warm days. At such times I
could detect the faint reek of alcohol coming through his pores. It's a
wonder Schantze didn't notice it, as I did.
* * * * *
Sometimes, at meals, the captain would swear and say, sniffing at the
edge of his glass, "What's the matter with this damned brandy ... it
tastes more like water than a good drink of liquor."
As he set his glass down in disgust, the mates would solemnly and
hypocritically go through the same operation, and express their wonder
with the captain's.
Finally one of the latter would remark sagely, "they always try to palm
off bad stuff on ships."
In spite of my fear of the mates, I once had to stuff a dirty dish-rag
down my mouth to keep from laughing outright. The greasy rag made me gag
and almost vomit.
"And what's the matter with you?" inquired Schantze, glaring into the
pantry at me, while the two mates also glowered, for a different reason.
* * * * *
"You skinny Yankee," said the captain, taking me by the ear, rather
painfully, several days after that incident, "I'm sure someone's
drinking my booze.
Pages:
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131