Morgan Robertson

“ Three men, idlers for the moment, met casually on the after superstructure-deck and discussed—not the subject uppermost in the minds of the whole ship's company, the prospect of meeting the enemy before dark—but Finnegan—poor, disgraceful old Finnegan, the ship's drunkard, who had appeared at quarters fairly steady of legs and voice, but the center of an atmosphere of whisky fumes which, like other radiant energy, decreased in potency only with the square of the distance. ”

“ Let me think," said Mr. Parmlee, with his hand pressing his forehead. "I believe that he did say something about keys; but what it was I cannot remember."
"Come on," said Mr. Clarkson, and away they hurried to the brig, where a sentry admitted them. Finnegan was asleep again, but they ruthlessly awakened him, and he rolled out of his hammock, blinking his eyes and knuckling his brow. He was as sober as the chaplain.
"I don't know nothin' about it, sir," he stuttered. "I wouldn't ha' done nothin' only I was loaded, sir. He's a good man, sir, an' I wouldn't hurt a hair of his head." ”

“ They separated, the surgeon going down to the sick-bay, the first lieutenant to the bridge, and the chaplain to his room, where he fell upon his knees in prayer. In a few minutes a knock at the door aroused him, and he admitted an apothecary's clerk, who, when he had deposited an opened quart bottle, some glasses, and a pitcher of water on the table, respectfully, though rather facetiously, asked him for a little of the "Dutch courage."
"Certainly," said Mr. Parmlee, with a ghastly smile. "Help yourself. But you will kindly say nothing, I hope, to others about this service of stimulant. ”

“ I have prayed for him when he has broken his promise, and that is all that I can do. I cannot approach him when in that condition. It is unchristianlike, I know, but I cannot. The disgust and horror inspired by drunkenness are overmastering. ”

“ A first lieutenant usually has most of the naval code in his head.
"Double column," he said, as he made out the signal. "A matter for the man at the wheel and the engineer; but I'll go forward."
"And I'll get down to my sick men," said the surgeon, also turning toward the steps. "And, say Mr. Parmlee," he added, from the top stair, "better give Finnegan up, or hand him over to me "
He followed the first lieutenant, and the young chaplain, with troubled face, leaned against the six-pounder on which lay the keys left by Mr. Clarkson. He spied them, and absently picked them up ”

“ Go down at once to the surgeon. No man may work and fight with a jumping toothache. Hurry, though, for, by all indications, we will commence firing within five minutes."
Mr. Clarkson hurried. He rushed down the bridge steps, at the risk of his neck; he raced aft on the main-deck and down to the gun-room, where he hurled himself bodily at the chaplain's door, hardly taking time to turn the knob. It opened, and a glance apprised the officer of the situation. Mr. Parmlee sat with his head bowed on the table, breathing heavily ”