By a violent effort, Wang pulled himself out of the delicious stupor and sat up on the edge of the bunk. The drug had not fully overcome him; in a long lifetime, he had never exceeded the moderate daily pipeful that would put him to sleep for only half an hour.
"Steward, I can't permit this any longer. You've left your door open, and stunk up the whole cabin with the damned stuff"
"I s'pose close him, Cappen. Maybe wind swing him open"
"You didn't close it! You don't finish anything, now-a-days. It's got to stop, I tell you. I can see what the trouble is. This devilish opium is getting the best of you. It's got to stop—and the best way to stop, is to begin now.... Give me all the opium you've got"
"Yes, sir, Cappen"
The import of the captain's words brought the old Chinaman to his senses with a rush. He got up unsteadily, went to his chest, and began fumbling in the lower corner. Soon he brought out a number of small square packages done up in Chinese paper.
"Cappen, what you do with him?"
Captain Sheldon snatched the packages from the steward's hand.
"I'm going to throw it all overboard! If you've got any more of the stuff hidden away, you're not to smoke it—do you understand? I won't have such a mess in my cabin"
"Cappen, no can do!"