“Granted; but no man, however good a seaman, is fit to manage a vessel when he allows liquor to rob him of his senses. I wish I had had a knowledge beforehand of the captain’s infirmity.”
“Suppose you had, sir?”
“I wouldn’t have trusted myself on board the Nantucket, you may be sure of that.”
“It may be only an exceptional case.”
“Let us hope so.”
The next occasion on which the captain displayed his infirmity was rather a laughable one. He came up from the cabin about three o’clock in the afternoon so full that he was forced to stagger as he walked. Directly in front of him the young dude, Montgomery Clinton, was pacing the deck, carrying in his hand a rattan cane such as he used on shore. As he overhauled him, Captain Hill, with the instinct of a drunken man, locked arms with the young man, and forced him to promenade in his company, talking rather incoherently meanwhile. Clinton’s look of distress and perplexity, as he submitted to his fate, caused Harry nearly to explode with laughter. They were indeed a singular pair.
Finally there came a disaster. A lurch of the vessel proved too much for the captain, who, in losing his equilibrium, also upset Clinton, and the two rolled down under one of the ship’s boats, which was slung on one side.
Montgomery Clinton picked himself up, and hurriedly betook himself to his cabin, fearing that he might fall again into the clutches of his unwelcome companion. The captain was helped to his feet by the mate, and was persuaded also to go downstairs.
“The captain was pretty well slewed, professor,” said Mr. Stubbs, who chanced to be on deck at the time.
“It looks like it,” answered Professor Hemenway.