It was found that old men, though possessed of more experience, more grey matter on the brain, were hardly active enough in their lower extremities. They had the courage right enough, but they were somewhat deficient in dash and go.
In the wardroom there lived and moved and ate their beef, two lieutenants, a marine officer usually called our "soldier," the engineer lieutenant, the assistant pay-master in charge, and last, but certainly not least, for he stood six feet one inch in his home made hose--the Surgeon.
When I tell you that the Captain--a Commander he really was in rank--was one of the jolliest round-faced and boyish-looking officers in the service, you will understand how pleasant it was to sail with him.
But his name was, or rather had been, Brazier before he took over the Breezy.
"Don't much like that name," said Jack Jewell, a sturdy built A.B. "Do you, Tom?"
Tom Davis said, "No, I don't either."
"Let's boil him down, Tom."
"Boil away, Jack."
So Captain Brazier was allowed to simmer a while in the brains of Jack Jewell, and lo! he came to the top of the pot as Captain Breezy. The name worked gradually aft. The boatswain got hold of it, the gunners also, then the officers and skipper himself.
The Captain didn't mind it a bit.