I know it.

When I was young and on the sea, a brother-lieutenant went mad.

Sometimes he was violent, and we struggled with him, twisting his arms, bruising his flesh, tying him helpless while we sat and panted on him that he might not do harm to us, himself, or the ship.

And he, who still lived, died to us.

Don't you understand?
He was no longer of us, like us.