"Not necessarily," said Jenkins. "I've listened to all this powwow, and I gather that you got drunk to the last man, and he gathered you in."
"That's about it, Jenkins," assented Sampson. "We all got gloriously drunk."
"And before you got drunk you made this pin-headed, educated rat"—he jerked his thumb toward Forsythe—"your commander."
"Well—we needed a navigator, and you were out of commission, Jenkins."
"I'm in commission now, though, and when we get on deck, we'll still have a navigator, and it won't be Denman, either."
"D'you mean," began Forsythe, "that you'll take charge again, and make—"
"Yes," said Jenkins, "make you navigate. Make you navigate under orders and under fear of punishment. You're the worst-hammered man in this crowd; but hammering doesn't improve you. You'll be keelhauled, or triced up by the thumbs, or spread-eagled over a boiler—but you'll navigate. Now, shut up."
There was silence for a while, then one said: "You spoke about getting on deck again, Jenkins. Got any plan?"
"Want to go on deck now and stand watch in this storm?" Jenkins retorted.
"No; not unless necessary."