Through by Daylight by Oliver Optic

My father and I had always been on the best of terms. He was very considerate to me, and used to talk with me a great deal; indeed, he treated me in such a way that I had very little reason to think I was a boy. He discussed his plans with me, and often asked my advice, just as though I had been a man of mature judgment. He was angry with me now, almost for the first time in my remembrance; certainly he had never before been so highly exasperated with me. But I consoled myself with the reflection that he was partially intoxicated, and that, when the fumes of the whiskey had worked off, he would be as kind and gentle to me as ever.

Perhaps it was wrong for me to empty the bottle; but, as I can never know what would have happened if I had not done so, I am content with simply believing that I did it for the best. He was in charge of the engine. There were fifty precious lives on the boat. My father had the reputation of being a very steady and reliable man. If he had been a little noisy and turbulent at Ucayga, the shock of losing his money had wrought a sudden and wonderful change in his manner, so that few, if any, had noticed him. After the steamer started, I alone was aware of his condition; I alone knew of his resuming his cups; and I alone knew that, left to himself, he would soon be intoxicated, and incapable of managing the engine. I could not wish that I had not emptied the bottle, even while I suffered intensely under the consciousness of his displeasure.