Get on in the world; that's all the poor fool thinks of. But he never will. Do you know who does? A man who can buy himself a part of some stinking scow, man her, and hire some poor devil like me to run her. Then sit back in his office and watch the dollars roll in. He can't lose. After a while, the bottom will fall out of her but that's alright. If I get her home, they buy me a bottle of whisky, if I don't the insurance will pay for the lot.
You are sad tonight, Senhor Commandante, eh?