captain answered.

"Very well. And this ain't a piker's proposition. The cost of such a
chronometer would have been divided between the three of us. I stand for
its total cost. You just tell the sailors that I, Simon Nishikanta, will
pay one hundred dollars gold money for the first one that sights land on
Mr. Greenleaf's latitude and longitude."

But the sailors who swarmed the mast-heads were doomed to disappointment,
in that for only two days did they have opportunity to stare the ocean
surface for the reward. Nor was this due entirely to Dag Daughtry,
despite the fact that his own intention and act would have been
sufficient to spoil their chance for longer staring.

Down in the lazarette, under the main-cabin floor, it chanced that he
took toll of the cases of beer which had been shipped for his especial
benefit. He counted the cases, doubted the verdict of his senses,
lighted more matches, counted again, then vainly searched the entire
lazarette in the hope of finding more cases of beer stored elsewhere.

He sat down under the trap door of the main-cabin floor and thought for a
solid hour. It was the Jew again, he concluded--the Jew who had been
willing to equip the _Mary Turner_ with two chronometers, but not with
three; the Jew who had ratified the agreement of a sufficient supply to
permit Daughtry his daily six quarts. Once again the steward counted the
cases to make sure. There were three. And since each case contained two
dozen quarts, and since his whack each day was half a dozen quarts, it
was patent that, the supply that stared him in the face would last him
only twelve days. And twelve days were none too long to sail from this
unidentifiable naked sea-stretch to the nearest possible port where beer
could be purchased.

The steward, once his mind was made up, wasted no time. The clock marked
a quarter before twelve when he climbed up out of the lazarette, replaced
the trapdoor, and hurried to set the table. He served the company
through the noon meal, although it was all he could do to refrain from
capsizing the big tureen of split-pea soup over the head of Simon
Nishikanta. What did effectually withstrain him was the knowledge of the
act which in the lazarette he had already determined to perform that
afternoon down in the main hold where the water-casks were stored.

At three o'clock, while the Ancient Mariner supposedly drowned in his
room, and while Captain Doane, Grimshaw, and half