he was not dumb; for in my hearing, he seldom or never uttered a
word. And not only did he seem dumb himself, but his presence
possessed the strange power of making other people dumb for the time.
His appearance on the Quarter-deck seemed to give every officer the
lock-jaw.

Another phenomenon about him was the strange manner in which everyone
shunned him. At the first sign of those epaulets of his on the
weather side of the poop, the officers there congregated invariably
shrunk over to leeward, and left him alone. Perhaps he had an evil
eye; may be he was the Wandering Jew afloat. The real reason probably
was, that like all high functionaries, he deemed it indispensable
religiously to sustain his dignity; one of the most troublesome
things in the world, and one calling for the greatest self-denial.
And the constant watch, and many-sided guardedness, which this
sustaining of a Commodore's dignity requires, plainly enough shows
that, apart from the common dignity of manhood, Commodores, in
general possess no real dignity at all. True, it is expedient for
crowned heads, generalissimos, Lord-high-admirals, and Commodores, to
carry themselves straight, and beware of the spinal complaint; but it
is not the less veritable, that it is a piece of assumption, exceedingly
uncomfortable to themselves, and ridiculous to an enlightened generation.

Now, how many rare good fellows there were among us main-top-men, who,
invited into his cabin over a social bottle or two, would have rejoiced
our old Commodore's heart, and caused that ancient wound of his to heal
up at once.

Come, come, Commodore don't look so sour, old boy; step up aloft here
into the _top_, and we'll spin you a sociable yarn.