"Mr. Hepworth," the prosecutor began, "on the night of June thirtieth your ship reached this port too late to dock. You anchored off Waikiki. On such an occasion, who is on deck—say, from midnight on?"
"The second officer," Hepworth told him. "In this case, myself. Also the quartermaster."
"The accommodation ladder is let down the night before?"
"Usually, yes. It was let down that night."
"Who is stationed near it?"
"The quartermaster."
"Ah, yes. You were in charge then on the night of June thirtieth. Did you notice anything unusual on that occasion?"
Hepworth nodded. "I did. The quartermaster appeared to be under the influence of liquor. At three o'clock I found him dozing near the accommodation ladder. I roused him. When I came back from checking up the anchor bearings before turning in at dawn—about four-thirty—he was dead to the world. I put him in his cabin, and the following morning I of course reported him."
"You noticed nothing else out of the ordinary?"
"Nothing, sir," Hepworth replied.