oftentimes expose and fatigue themselves to no purpose, harass their
officers, and make them unreliable, so that when the time comes that
their presence on deck is absolutely necessary, they are, through
exhaustion of mind and body, in anything but a fit state to take
charge of the ship, or be cool and collected in a moment of sudden
emergency. Should a man feel that through hard work and exposure he is
becoming shaky, he should at once leave off _entirely_ the false
relief which drink gives and consult a physician. A _good_ man with
_experience_ will in almost any case be able to help him, and, besides
medicine, give him such hints for regulating his diet and mode of
living as will enable him to bear better than before the strain and
wear and tear of his life.[1]

[Footnote 1: For the _fluttering_, unsteady feeling often felt,
the following, if not abused, will be found beneficial: Take as
much bromide of potassium as will lie, not heaped up, on a
shilling, and half a teaspoonful of sal volatile (aromatic spirits
of ammonia). Mix in a wine glass full of water; but this should
only be taken when absolutely necessary, and not habitually.]

As to the crew. A master who has full command of himself ought to be
able to rule judiciously even the most unruly crew, but before he is
in a really _strong_ position to do this, he must treat them fairly
and honestly. In many cases a bad start is made with a new set of men
(of course this will not apply to the high class mail steamers, nor
perhaps to what are termed weekly boats). They come on board and find
their forecastle just as the last crew left it, full of a week's
filth,[2] possibly lumbered up with hauling lines and what-not,
wanting painting badly, and often showing unmistakable signs of
overhead leakage. This is quite enough to make a respectable man