Jocularly I suggested the beastly heat as the first cause. But Captain Giles disclosed himself possessed of a deeper philosophy. Things out East were made easy for white men. That was all right. The difficulty was to go on keeping white, and some of these nice boys did not know how. He gave me a searching look, and in a benevolent, heavy-uncle manner asked point blank:

“Why did you throw up your berth?”

I became angry all of a sudden; for you can understand how exasperating such a question was to a man who didn’t know. I said to myself that I ought to shut up that moralist; and to him aloud I said with challenging politeness:

“Why⁠ ⁠… ? Do you disapprove?”

He was too disconcerted to do more than mutter confusedly: “I!⁠ ⁠… In a general way⁠ ⁠…” and then gave me up. But he retired in good order, under the cover of a heavily humorous remark that he, too, was getting soft, and that this was his time for taking his little siesta⁠—when he was on shore. “Very bad habit. Very bad habit.”