Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
men on ships think about, talk about, bitch about their food. It's challenge shipmen face three times a day, so central to their thoughts In the days when salt-sea sailors were charting islands and spearing his diet, a fruit known to us mariners of a more sophisticated age The Ship's Cook, the man who accomplishes the daily miracle of turning offal into eatables, is in many ways the most vital man aboard a spacer. He can make morale or foment a mutiny. His power is paramount. Slimeheads remember the H. M. S. Ajax bite he ate to a superior grade of . And for a third footnote to the ancient observation, "God sends food, and the Devil sends cooks," Marsmen will recall what happened aboard my ship the aboard the Registry minimum of six men and three officers. Ship's Surgeon was myself, Paul Vilanova. Our Captain was Willy Winkelmann, the hardest man in space and very likely the fattest. Ship's Cook was Cooking aboard a spacer is a job combining the more frustrating dietetics and sewage engineering. It's the Cook's responsibility to see that each man aboard gets each day no less than five pounds of guardian of the medicinal whiskey and frustrator of mutual murder. Generally the man aboard who'd serve as the most popular murder-victim is the Cook. This trip, the-man-you-love-to-hate was our Captain. If the Cook hadn't problems enough with the chemical and psychic duties of his office, Winkelmann supplied the want. Captain Willy Winkelmann Pullman car, our Captain quickly established himself as a major social hemorrhoid. The Captain's particular patsy was, of course, young Bailey the Cook. and the properties of the nobler wines while we munched our Captain Willy Winkelmann who never referred to the ship's head by any the carbohydrate recycler. The crew thanked him. The Captain did not. you are feeding me." Captain Winkelmann blotted his chin "Not much," I said. "I suspect that the finest gift our Captain can to live with him. He's a good man at driving a ship." "His plumpness is an unwitting tribute to your cooking, Bailey," I we'd call such garbage Horse-Leavings." "You'll never make Winkelmann happy," I said. "Even the simultaneous death of all other human beings could hardly make him smile. Keep up the good work, though, and you'll keep our Captain fat." so tender," the radioman joked, "that I can hardly believe it's really steak." imploring the Captain's ratification of his masterpiece. The big "You seem able enough to choke down Bailey's chow, Captain," I said. I "Yes, I eat it," the Captain said, taking and talking through another the ship—cannot be coaxed to work on hog-slop. You understand me, "You are a spacer and a Ship's Cook, not a suburban "Yes, sir," Bailey said, his face a picture of that offense the British followed him. "Captain," I said, "you're driving Bailey too hard. to improvise, to widen the horizons of his ingenuity. He will learn somehow to bring good food from Chlorella tanks." "You're driving him too hard, Sir," I said. "He'll crack." many discomforts. That will be all, Doctor Vilanova." "Crew morale on the ship...." I began. "That will be all, Doctor Vilanova," Captain Winkelmann repeated. the appetite of our splenetic Captain. Each such offering was condemned by that heartless man. Bailey began to try avoiding the Captain at compliments to the Chef, please," the Captain would instruct one of into Hohmann orbit. His every meal established a higher benchmark in brilliant galleymanship. We were served, for instance, an "We are not amused," said Captain Winkelmann, accepting a second helping of the pseudo-turkey. "You are improving, Belly-Robber, but only arithmetically. Your first efforts were so hideous as to require The crew and my fellow-officers were amused by Winkelmann's riding of Captain and their Cook served to feed them so well. Most spacers embark on an outward voyage somewhat plump, having eaten enough on their last seemed to have gained. His uniform was taut over his plump backside, and he puffed a bit up the ladders. I was considering suggesting to our Captain that he curtail his diet for reasons of health, a bit of advice besides his uniforms, these being considered Ship's Furnishing. As his rank and responsibility merit, the Captain is allowed double this ration. He may thus bring aboard with him some forty-five pounds of fact, had used up his weight-allowance in bringing aboard a case of Captain Winkelmann was not a reader, and had brought no books. Cards "What disgusting form does the ship's garbage appear in today, had much practice. "I've been working on the problem of steak, Sir," texture steak-like. Do you understand, Sir?" our food," the Captain said, his jowls settling into an expression of the meal." "Try it," he urged the Captain. kind word from the Captain bettered the ruffles-and-flourishes of a more reasonable man. "But it still needs something ... something," "... Sir," Bailey added. "You must realize, Belly-Robber, that a dyspeptic Captain is a threat to the welfare of his ship. Were I to continue eating your surrealistic understand, Belly-Robber?" he demanded. "I understand that you're an ungrateful, impossible, square-headed, slave-driving...." insubordinate your noun might prove mutinous." "Captain, you've gone too far," I said. Bailey, his fists knotted, was "Doctor, I must point out to you that it ill behooves the Ship's Surgeon to side with the Cook against the Captain," Winkelmann said. and the men have been more than satisfied with his work." "That only suggests atrophy of their taste buds," Winkelmann said. "You've taken more pressure than most men would," I said. "Nothing to be ashamed of." "He's crazy. What sane man would expect me to dip Wiener schnitzel restaurant of yours and forget about our fat Flying Dutchman." "I hate him," Bailey said with the simplicity of true emotion. He reached for the bottle. I let him have it. Sometimes alcohol can be an apt confederate of though daring him to comment. The Captain lifted a spoonful of the now strong enough to withstand the Captain's fiercest assaults of theory of forcing a Cook to make bricks without straw. The Captain had pushed too hard. He'd need that ketchup for the meals to come, I thought. vehement in their protests, blaming the Captain, in his absence, for oblivious of the taunts of his crewmates. "Then he's beat the Captain at his game," I said. "The Dutchman won't want to mess ketchup on these steaks," the crewman this is a victory for the Captain, too. He drove you to this triumph you couldn't have done it without him." "You mean he was just whipping me on, trying to make me do better?" Captain may be a hard man, Bailey but he did know how to coax maximum performance out of his Ship's Cook." Bailey stood up. "Do you like Captain Winkelmann, Doctor?" he asked. I thought about his question a moment. Winkelmann was good at his job. He persuaded his men by foul means, true but it was all for the good of the ship and his crew. "Do I like Captain Winkelmann?" I asked,

<question>:
Which of these best describes the captain?

<options>:
A He is a tempermental man who wants everyone to stay out of his way
B He has good intentions but always has a bad effect on those around him
C He is a sly but fair man who pushes his crew to do their best
D He is a pushy person who gets on people's bad sides but thinks he has good intentions

<answer>:

D