"I suppose you've heard all this gossip in some eminently
respectable place?" I snapped at him in a most sarcastic tone.

The shaft told, because Mr. Burns, like many other disagreeable
people, was very sensitive himself. He remained as if
thunderstruck, with his mouth open for some further communication,
but I did not give him the chance. "And, anyhow, what the deuce do
I care?" I added, retiring into my room.

And this was a natural thing to say. Yet somehow I was not
indifferent. I admit it is absurd to be concerned with the morals
of one's ship-chandler, if ever so well connected; but his
personality had stamped itself upon my first day in harbour, in the
way you know.

After this initial exploit Jacobus showed himself anything but
intrusive. He was out in a boat early every morning going round
the ships he served, and occasionally remaining on board one of
them for breakfast with the captain.

As I discovered that this practice was generally accepted, I just
nodded to him familiarly when one morning, on coming out of my
room, I found him in the cabin. Glancing over the table I saw that
his place was already laid. He stood awaiting my appearance, very
bulky and placid, holding a beautiful bunch of flowers in his thick
hand. He offered them to my notice with a faint, sleepy smile.
From his own garden; had a very fine old garden; picked them
himself that morning before going out to business; thought I would
like. . . . He turned away. "Steward, can you oblige me with some
water in a large jar, please."