Edison Marshall

“ Ned commented gaily.
They were really in too glad a mood to see anything but sport in the suddenly rocking table. The truth was that the wind had suddenly sprung into a brisk gale, rolling heavy seas and bobbing the little craft about like a cork. The three screamed with laughter, holding fast to their slipping chairs, and Lenore rescued the bottle that was tipping precariously on the buffet. ”

“ He felt himself immune from the tragedies that had afflicted other men. It was part of the conceit of his generation.
But Ned found plenty of customers for his whisky. McNab, at the wheel, wished him happy days over two fingers of straight liquor in the glass, and Knutsen, his pale eyes gleaming, poured himself a staggering portion. “Go ahead,” Ned encouraged him when the seaman apologized for his greediness. “The sky's the limit to-night.” And Forest in the engine room, and Julius in the kitchen absorbed a man's-size drink with right good will. ”

“ Most sea rules are good rules—built on sense—all except the one that you can't take the wheel away from a drunken captain. What's your idea?”
“You know as well as I do. I promised his father before I left that I'd look after Ned. He was in earnest—and Ned needs looking after now if he ever did. Mr. Cornet won't blame me, either. Show me how to get down in the hold.”
McNab suddenly chuckled and patted her on the back with rough familiarity, yet with fervent companionship. “You've got the stuff,” he said. “But you can't lift them alone. I'm with you till the last dog is hung.” ”