We want some brains in No. 2 boat; and, between
ourselves, Grimalson hasn't the brains of a hare. He's a
second-cousin-twice-removed of one of our directors. He's no seaman
at all; and his navigation's all a pretence. . . . I suppose, now,
_you_ can't navigate?'
"'Good Lord, no, sir!' said I. 'I just understand the principles of
it--that's all.'
"'It's a damned sight more than Grimalson understands, I'll bet,'
responded Captain Macnaughten, studying the binnacle and speaking as
though we were discussing the weather and the crops. 'You may push
your finger into that man anywhere, he's that soft and boggy--no
better'n slush--_and_ pink. . . . Don't you despise a pink-coloured
man? Still, I want you to understand, Doctor, that he's the superior
officer on No. 2, for the time being.'
"'I understand,' said I, looking up from my business of unguenting
the stoker, who was not badly burnt.
"'But if Grimalson should turn rotten. . . . Well, now, I've had an
eye on you, sir, and I judge I can share off on you a bit of trouble
I wouldn't share off on most.
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