"I b'leeve we're all fresh," was the reply. "I don't believe some of 'em
have ever smelt salt water afore."

"The mate's been at it again," said the captain warmly, "that's what he
has. He's done it afore and got left behind. Them what can't stand
drink, my man, shouldn't take it, remember that."

"He said we wasn't going to sail till Wen'sday," remarked the man, who
found the captain's attitude rather trying.

"He'll get sacked, that's what he'll get," said the captain warmly. "I
shall report him as soon as I get ashore."

The subject exhausted, the seaman returned to his work, and the captain
continued steering in moody silence.

Slowly, slowly darkness gave way to light. The different portions of the
craft, instead of all being blurred into one, took upon themselves
shape, and stood out wet and distinct in the cold grey of the breaking
day. But the lighter it became, the harder the skipper stared and rubbed
his eyes, and looked from the deck to the flat marshy shore, and from
the shore back to the deck again.

"Here, come here," he cried, beckoning to one of the crew.

"Yessir," said the man, advancing.

"There's something in one of my eyes," faltered the skipper. "I can't
see straight; everything seems mixed up. Now, speaking deliberate and
without any hurry, which side o' the ship do you say the cook's galley's