"I'll give you a thousand--" I began, but was interrupted.

"Stow that! Are you going to take up your duties as cabin-boy? Or
do I have to take you in hand?"

What was I to do? To be brutally beaten, to be killed perhaps,
would not help my case. I looked steadily into the cruel grey
eyes. They might have been granite for all the light and warmth of
a human soul they contained. One may see the soul stir in some
men's eyes, but his were bleak, and cold, and grey as the sea
itself.

"Well?"

"Yes," I said.

"Say 'yes, sir.'"

"Yes, sir," I corrected.

"What is your name?"

"Van Weyden, sir."

"First name?"

"Humphrey, sir; Humphrey Van Weyden."

"Age?"