I had drunk two men, drink for drink, into unconsciousness.

And I was still on my two feet, upright, making my way on deck to get air into my scorching lungs.

It was in this bout on the Idler that I discovered what a good stomach and a strong head I had for drink--a bit of knowledge that was to be a source of pride in succeeding years, and that ultimately I was to come to consider a great affliction.
The fortunate man is the one who cannot take more than a couple of drinks without becoming intoxicated.

The unfortunate wight is the one who can take many glasses without betraying a sign, who must take numerous glasses in order to get the "kick." The sun was setting when I came on the Idler's deck.

There were plenty of bunks below.