The captain twisted the bottle savagely, and the cork came free with a little pop. He removed the cork from between his teeth, placed it very carefully beside his fork, and poured himself a full glass of the wine.
"Very probably," he said sadly.
"I don't think hit'll do hit," the first mate said. "He hain't shook hard enough to matter."
The captain picked up the glass, brought it toward his lips—then, suddenly having thought of something, he put it back down and turned to Nestir.
"I say. Have you decided on this Carstar thing yet, Father?"
The little priest looked up. He laid his knife across the rim of his plate. "It has ramifications," he said.
When the third mate saw that his opinion on the wine was not immediately to be justified, he settled back in his chair with a little sigh of disapproval.
"Well, what do you think your decision will be, Father?" the steward asked.
Nestir picked up his knife and fork and cut off a piece of meat. "Hummmm," he said. "It's hard to say. The whole issue involves, as a core point, the principle of casta cum mae stotiti."
The first mate nodded sagely.