"Spirits, male and female, show a good deal of refinement in a general
way, don't they?"

To which Bunter, holding his black-whiskered head high, would mutter:

"I don't know."

"Ah! that's because you don't want to. You are the most obstinate,
prejudiced man I've ever met, Mr. Bunter. I told you you may have any
book out of my bookcase. You may just go into my stateroom and help
yourself to any volume."

And if Bunter protested that he was too tired in his watches below to
spare any time for reading, Captain Johns would smile nastily behind
his back, and remark that of course some people needed more sleep than
others to keep themselves fit for their work. If Mr. Bunter was afraid
of not keeping properly awake when on duty at night, that was another
matter.

"But I think you borrowed a novel to read from the second mate the other
day--a trashy pack of lies," Captain Johns sighed. "I am afraid you are
not a spiritually minded man, Mr. Bunter. That's what's the matter."

Sometimes he would appear on deck in the middle of the night, looking
very grotesque and bandy-legged in his sleeping suit. At that sight the
persecuted Bunter would wring his hands stealthily, and break out into
moisture all over his forehead. After standing sleepily by the binnacle,
scratching himself in an unpleasant manner, Captain Johns was sure to
start on some aspect or other of his only topic.