The faces changed, passing in rotation. Youthful faces, bearded
faces, dark faces: faces serene, or faces moody, but all akin with the
brotherhood of the sea; all with the same attentive expression of eyes,
carefully watching the compass or the sails. Captain Allistoun, serious,
and with an old red muffler round his throat, all day long pervaded the
poop. At night, many times he rose out of the darkness of the companion,
such as a phantom above a grave, and stood watchful and mute under the
stars, his night-shirt fluttering like a flag--then, without a sound,
sank down again. He was born on the shores of the Pentland Firth. In his
youth he attained the rank of harpooner in Peterhead whalers. When he
spoke of that time his restless grey eyes became still and cold, like
the loom of ice. Afterwards he went into the East Indian trade for the
sake of change. He had commanded the _Narcissus_ since she was built. He
loved his ship, and drove her unmercifully; for his secret ambition was
to make her accomplish some day a brilliantly quick passage which would
be mentioned in nautical papers. He pronounced his owner's name with a
sardonic smile, spoke but seldom to his officers, and reproved errors
in a gentle voice, with words that cut to the quick.
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