Some of them were sober and well behaved, others were stupid or crazy from intoxication.

It required energy and decision to establish order and institute strict rules of discipline among such a miscellaneous collection of web-footed gentry.
But Mr.Stetson, assisted by Mr.Bachelder, the second mate, was equal to the task.

Indeed he was in his element while directing the labors of the men, blackguarding this one for his stupidity, anathematizing that one for his indolence, and shaking his fist at another, and menacing him with rough treatment for his short answers and sulky looks.
One of the seamen who had been brought on board nearly dead drunk, showed his figure-head above the forescuttle on the following morning.
His eyes, preternaturally brilliant, were bloodshot, his cheeks were pale and haggard, his long black hair was matted, and he seemed a personification of desperation and despondency.

Stetson caught a glimpse of his features; even his fossilized heart was touched with his appearance and he drove him below.
"Down with you!" said he, shaking his brawny fist in the drunken man's face, "don't let me see your ugly phiz again for the next twenty-four hours.

The sight of it is enough to frighten a land-lubber into hysterics, and conjure up a hurricane in the harbor before we can let go the sheet anchor.