coarse in person as in mind, Toby was endowed with a remarkably
prepossessing exterior. Arrayed in his blue frock and duck
trousers, he was as smart a looking sailor as ever stepped upon a
deck; he was singularly small and slightly made, with great
flexibility of limb. His naturally dark complexion had been
deepened by exposure to the tropical sun, and a mass of jetty
locks clustered about his temples, and threw a darker shade into
his large black eyes. He was a strange wayward being, moody,
fitful, and melancholy--at times almost morose. He had a quick
and fiery temper too, which, when thoroughly roused, transported
him into a state bordering on delirium.

It is strange the power that a mind of deep passion has over
feebler natures. I have seen a brawny, fellow, with no lack of
ordinary courage, fairly quail before this slender stripling,
when in one of his curious fits. But these paroxysms seldom
occurred, and in them my big-hearted shipmate vented the bile
which more calm-tempered individuals get rid of by a continual
pettishness at trivial annoyances.

No one ever saw Toby laugh. I mean in the hearty abandonment of
broad-mouthed mirth. He did smile sometimes, it is true; and
there was a good deal of dry, sarcastic humour about him, which
told the more from the imperturbable gravity of his tone and
manner.

Latterly I had observed that Toby's melancholy had greatly
increased, and I had frequently seen him since our arrival at the
island gazing wistfully upon the shore, when the remainder of the
crew would be rioting below. I was aware that he entertained a