He
kept a private store of liquors in his cabin, and had recourse to them
when by himself, under the impression that he could keep it a secret.
But intemperance, like murder, will out.
Harry and the professor were standing by the rail looking out at sea,
one day, when a thick voice greeted them, "Good-mor'n', gentlemen,"
this address being followed by a hiccough.
Both turned quickly, and exchanged a significant glance when they
recognized the captain.
"Yes," answered Professor Hemenway, "it is indeed a fine morning."
"I am sorry to see this, Harry," said the professor.
"Yes, sir; it is a pity any gentleman should drink too much."
"Yes, but that isn't all," said the professor, earnestly; "it is a
pity, of course, that Captain Hill should so sin against his own
health, but we must consider furthermore, that he has our lives under
his control. Our safety depends on his prudent management."
"He seems to understand his business," said Harry.
"Granted; but no man, however good a seaman, is fit to manage a vessel
when he allows liquor to rob him of his senses. I wish I had had a
knowledge beforehand of the captain's infirmity."
"Suppose you had, sir?"
"I wouldn't have trusted myself on board the Nantucket, you may be
sure of that.
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