In the midst of all this,
the lazy gentleman, who seems to have no luggage of any kind - not
so much as a friend, even - lounges up and down the hurricane deck,
coolly puffing a cigar; and, as this unconcerned demeanour again
exalts him in the opinion of those who have leisure to observe his
proceedings, every time he looks up at the masts, or down at the
decks, or over the side, they look there too, as wondering whether
he sees anything wrong anywhere, and hoping that, in case he
should, he will have the goodness to mention it.
What have we here? The captain's boat! and yonder the captain
himself. Now, by all our hopes and wishes, the very man he ought
to be! A well-made, tight-built, dapper little fellow; with a
ruddy face, which is a letter of invitation to shake him by both
hands at once; and with a clear, blue honest eye, that it does one
good to see one's sparkling image in. 'Ring the bell!' 'Ding,
ding, ding!' the very bell is in a hurry. 'Now for the shore -
who's for the shore?' - 'These gentlemen, I am sorry to say.' They
are away, and never said, Good b'ye. Ah now they wave it from the
little boat.
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