shoulders.

I had never liked the man, and his tacit acknowledgment that he
might incriminate himself made me eye him with shuddering distaste.
But I took down his story, and reproduce it here, minus the
technicalities and profanity with which it was interlarded.

Briefly, Singleton's watch began at midnight. The captain, who had
been complaining of lumbago, had had the cook prepare him a mustard
poultice, and had retired early. Burns was on watch from eight to
twelve, and, on coming into the forward house at a quarter after
eleven o'clock to eat his night lunch, reported to Singleton that
the captain was in bed and that Mr. Turner had been asking for him.
Singleton, therefore, took his cap and went on deck. This was about
twenty minutes after eleven. He had had a drink or two earlier in
the evening, and he took another in his cabin when he got his cap.

He found Turner in the chart-house, playing solitaire and drinking.
He was alone, and he asked Singleton to join him. The first mate
looked at his watch and accepted the invitation, but decided to look
around the forward house to be sure the captain was asleep. He went
on deck. He could hear Burns and the lookout talking. The forward
house was dark. He listened outside the captain's door, and heard
him breathing heavily, as if asleep. He stood there for a moment.
He had an uneasy feeling that some one was watching him. He thought
of Schwartz, and was uncomfortable. He did not feel the whiskey at
all.

He struck a light and looked around. There was no one in sight.
He could hear Charlie Jones in the forecastle drumming on his banjo,