"This brute is coming out in his true colours," said the astronomer. "What did he mean by saying I should see stars?"
"Begging your pardon, sir," said Simpkins, "he meant he'd plug you."
"Plug me?"
"Bung your eye up," explained Simpkins, "and Lor' bless you, he'd do it. Oh, a rare chap is the captain; why, some years half his money goes in fines."
"I wish to heaven I was ashore," said the poor astronomer, "and when I get there I'll see he never gets another job."
Simpkins eyed the sleeping skipper in alarm.
"Best not let him 'ear you, matey," he cried. "He'd haze you to death."
"Haze me?"
"Work you up," explained the seaman.
"What's that?"