meant for the sea than a hairdresser. Hence everybody made fun of
him. They called him "The Cabin Boy," "Paper Jack," and half a dozen
other undignified names. In truth, the men made no secret of the
derision in which they held him; and as for the slender gentleman
himself, he knew it all very well, and bore himself with becoming
meekness. Holding as little intercourse with them as possible, he
left everything to the chief mate, who, as the story went, had been
given his captain in charge. Yet, despite his apparent
unobtrusiveness, the silent captain had more to do with the men than
they thought. In short, although one of your sheepish-looking
fellows, he had a sort of still, timid cunning, which no one would
have suspected, and which, for that very reason, was all the more
active. So the bluff mate, who always thought he did what he pleased,
was occasionally made a fool of; and some obnoxious measures which he
carried out, in spite of all growlings, were little thought to
originate with the dapper little fellow in nankeen jacket and white
canvas pumps. But, to all appearance, at least, the mate had
everything his own way; indeed, in most things this was actually the
case; and it was quite plain that the captain stood in awe of him.

So far as courage, seamanship, and a natural aptitude for keeping
riotous spirits in subjection were concerned, no man was better
qualified for his vocation than John Jermin. He was the very
beau-ideal of the efficient race of short, thick-set men. His hair
curled in little rings of iron gray all over his round bullet head. As
for his countenance, it was strongly marked, deeply pitted with the
small-pox. For the rest, there was a fierce little squint out of one
eye; the nose had a rakish twist to one side; while his large mouth,
and great white teeth, looked absolutely sharkish when he laughed. In
a word, no one, after getting a fair look at him, would ever think of