"If you ever tell the captain on us," First Mate Miller threatened, as he and the second mate stood over a barrel of Kümmel, mixing hot water with it, to fill up for what they had stolen, "if you ever tell, I'll see that you go overboard—by accident ... 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."