Yet Wylie was a very sober man in a general way. Rum was his tool; not
his master.

When Hazel came to think of it all next day, he did not feel quite so
easy as he had done. The inner skin! But, when Wylie withdrew his auger,
the wafer had squirted in furiously. He felt it hard to believe that this
keen jet of water could be caused by a small quantity that had found its
way between the skin of the ship and her copper, or her top booting; it
seemed rather to be due to the direct pressure of the liquid monster
outside.

He went to the captain that afternoon, and first told him what he had
seen, offering no solution. The captain, on that occasion, was in an
amphibious state; neither wet nor dry; and his reply was altogether
exceptional. He received the communication with pompous civility; then
swore a great oath, and said he would put the mate in irons. "Confound
the lubber! he will be through the ship's bottom."

"But, stop a moment," said Mr. Hazel, "it is only fair you should also
hear how he accounts for his proceeding."

The captain listened attentively to the explanation, and altered his
tone. "Oh, that is a different matter," said he. "You need be under no
alarm, sir; the thundering lubber knows what he is about, at that work.
Why, he has been a ship's carpenter all his life. Him a seaman! If
anything ever happens to me, and Joe Wylie is set to navigate this ship,
then you may say your prayers. He isn't fit to sail a wash-tub across a
duck-pond. But I'll tell you what it is," added this worthy, with more
pomposity than neatness of articulation, "here's a respeckable passenger