for sleep.

Dr. Staines became a favorite with the officers. There is a great deal
of science on board a modern ship of war, and, of course, on some points
Staines, a Cambridge wrangler, and a man of many sciences and books, was
an oracle. On others he was quite behind, but a ready and quick pupil.
He made up to the navigating officer, and learned, with his help, to
take observations. In return he was always at any youngster's service
in a trigonometrical problem; and he amused the midshipmen and young
lieutenants with analytical tests; some of these were applicable to
certain liquids dispensed by the paymaster. Under one of them the
port wine assumed some very droll colors and appearances not proper to
grape-juice.

One lovely night that the ship clove the dark sea into a blaze of
phosphorescence, and her wake streamed like a comet's tail, a waggish
middy got a bucketful hoisted on deck, and asked the doctor to analyze
that. He did not much like it, but yielded to the general request; and
by dividing it into smaller vessels, and dropping in various chemicals,
made rainbows and silvery flames and what not. But he declined to repeat
the experiment: "No, no; once is philosophy; twice is cruelty. I've
slain more than Samson already."

As for Tadcaster, science had no charms for him; but fiction had; and
he got it galore; for he cruised about the forecastle, and there the
quartermasters and old seamen spun him yarns that held him breathless.

But one day my lord had a fit on the quarter-deck, and a bad one; and
Staines found him smelling strong of rum. He represented this to Captain
Hamilton. The captain caused strict inquiries to be made, and it came