I noted a shadow fall over his well-satisfied expression, a
momentary hesitation in closing his cigar-case. But he ended by
putting it in his pocket jauntily. A placid voice uttered in the
doorway: "That's quite correct, Captain."

The large noiseless Jacobus advanced into the room. His quietness,
in the circumstances, amounted to cordiality. He had put on his
jacket before joining us, and he sat down in the chair vacated by
the steamer-man, who nodded again to me and went out with a short,
jarring laugh. A profound silence reigned. With his drowsy stare
Jacobus seemed to be slumbering open-eyed. Yet, somehow, I was
aware of being profoundly scrutinised by those heavy eyes. In the
enormous cavern of the store somebody began to nail down a case,
expertly: tap-tap . . . tap-tap-tap.

Two other experts, one slow and nasal, the other shrill and snappy,
started checking an invoice.

"A half-coil of three-inch manilla rope."

"Right!"

"Six assorted shackles."

"Right!"

"Six tins assorted soups, three of pate, two asparagus, fourteen
pounds tobacco, cabin."

"Right!"