“I see. When these decanters go back, Williams takes charge of them?” “Yes. He locks them away.” He dropped his voice still lower. “Empty them, Leslie,” he said. “Do you understand? Throw what is left overboard. And, if you get a chance at Williams’s key, pitch a dozen or two quarts overboard.” “And be put in irons!” “Not necessarily. I think you understand me. I don’t trust Williams. In a week we could have this boat fairly dry.” “There is a great deal of wine.” He scowled. “Damn Williams, anyhow! His instructions were—but never mind about that. Get rid of the whiskey.” Turner coming up the companionway at that moment, Vail left me. I had understood him perfectly. It was common talk in the forecastle that Turner was drinking hard, and that, in fact, the cruise had been arranged by his family in the hope that, away from his clubs; he would alter his habits—a fallacy, of course. Taken away from his customary daily round, given idle days on a summer sea, and aided by Williams, the butler, he was drinking his head off. Early as it was, he was somewhat the worse for it that morning. He made directly for me. It was the first time he had noticed me, although it was the third day out. He stood in front of me, his red eyes flaming, and, although I am a tall man, he had an inch perhaps the advantage of me. “What’s this about Williams?” he demanded furiously. “What do you mean by a thing like that?” “He was bullying me. I didn’t intend to drop him.” The ship was rolling gently; he made a pass at me with a magazine he carried, and almost lost his balance. The women had risen, and were watching from the corner of the after house. I caught him and steadied him until he could clutch a chair. “You try any tricks like that again, and you’ll go overboard,” he stormed. “Who are you, anyhow? Not one of our men?” I saw the quick look between Vail and Mrs. Turner, and saw her come forward. Mrs. Johns followed her, smiling. “Marsh!” Mrs. Turner protested. “I told you about him—the man who had been ill.” “Oh, another of your friends!” he sneered, and looked from me to Vail with his ugly smile. Vail went rather pale and threw up his head quickly. The next moment Mrs. Johns had saved the situation with an irrelevant remark, and the incident was over. They were playing bridge, not without dispute, but at least without insult. But I had hard a glimpse beneath the surface of that luxurious cruise, one of many such in the next few days.