Saltmarsh was sixty, tall, erect,
powerfully built, with coal-black hair and whiskers, and he had a well
tanned complexion, and a gait and countenance that were full of command,
confidence and decision. His horny hands and wrists were covered with
tattoo-marks, and when his lips parted, his teeth showed up white and
blemishless. His voice was the effortless deep bass of a church organ,
and would disturb the tranquility of a gas flame fifty yards away.
"They're wonderful pictures," said Barrow. "We've been examining them."
"It is very bleasant dot you like dem," said Handel, the German, greatly
pleased. "Und you, Herr Tracy, you haf peen bleased mit dem too,
alretty?"
"I can honestly say I have never seen anything just like them before."
"Schon!" cried the German, delighted. "You hear, Gaptain? Here is a
chentleman, yes, vot abbreviate unser aart."
The captain was charmed, and said:
"Well, sir, we're thankful for a compliment yet, though they're not as
scarce now as they used to be before we made a reputation."
"Getting the reputation is the up-hill time in most things, captain."
"It's so. It ain't enough to know how to reef a gasket, you got to make
the mate know you know it.
Pages:
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172