There was no cloth to lay; the meals were either of oatmeal porridge or salt junk, except twice a week, when there was duff: and though I was clumsy enough and (not being firm on my sealegs) sometimes fell with what I was bringing them, both Mr.Riach and the captain were singularly patient.

I could not but fancy they were making up lee-way with their consciences, and that they would scarce have been so good with me if they had not been worse with Ransome.
As for Mr.Shuan, the drink or his crime, or the two together, had certainly troubled his mind.

I cannot say I ever saw him in his proper wits.

He never grew used to my being there, stared at me continually (sometimes, I could have thought, with terror), and more than once drew back from my hand when I was serving him.

I was pretty sure from the first that he had no clear mind of what he had done, and on my second day in the round-house I had the proof of it.