raindrops on the deck, and the crew lay about as dead men.
When this had lasted nearly a week, and it seemed possible that the water might run short, there came a memorable night when a little coolness stole from somewhere over the blank ocean, and Captain Harlow allowed the Italian wine to be served out in place of water. The amount was moderate, to be sure, yet that evening the Merry Andrew was another ship, officers and men. Forward, from sunset till long after dark, there rose the merry sound of harmonicas, rough songs, and shuffling heel and toe. Aft, the captain—sun-dried Yankee as he was—relaxed to the extent of two bottles with the first mate, by lantern-light and starlight. Harden, who stood useless at the wheel, was forced to listen to the talk, which ran seriously upon Jerry Fox, and the causes of desertion in general.
"I 've seen men, Mr. Spinney," the captain said, with a vinous buoyancy in his voice, "I 've seen men go plumb to hellelujah over women that if they'd 'a' brung me my food
