He had read that in books.

And Caragol, divining great praise in all this, would gravely reply, "That is so, my captain." Toni and the other officers by this time would be chewing away with heads down, only interrupting their feast to regret that the old Ganymede should have skimped them when measuring the ambrosia.
In his estimation, oil was as precious as rice.

In the time of their money-losing navigation, when the captain was making special efforts at economy, Caragol used to keep an especially sharp eye on the great oil bottles in his galley, for he suspected that the cabin boys and the young seamen appropriated it to dress their hair when they wanted to play the dandy, using the oil as a pomade.

Every head that put itself within reach of his disturbed glance he grasped between his arms, raising it to his nose.

The slightest perfume of olive oil would arouse his wrath.