There was nothing so very particular, perhaps, about the appearance
of the elderly man I saw; he was brown and brawny, like most old seamen,
and heavily rolled up in blue pilot-cloth, cut in the Quaker style;
only there was a fine and almost microscopic net-work of the minutest
wrinkles interlacing round his eyes, which must have arisen from his
continual sailings in many hard gales, and always looking to windward;--
for this causes the muscles about the eyes to become pursed together.
Such eye-wrinkles are very effectual in a scowl.
"Is this the Captain of the Pequod?" said I, advancing to the door
of the tent.
"Supposing it be the Captain of the Pequod, what dost thou want
of him?" he demanded.
"I was thinking of shipping."
"Thou wast, wast thou? I see thou art no Nantucketer--
ever been in a stove boat?"
"No, Sir, I never have."
"Dost know nothing at all about whaling, I dare say--eh?
"Nothing, Sir; but I have no doubt I shall soon learn.
I've been several voyages in the merchant service, and I think that-"
"Merchant service be damned. Talk not that lingo to me.
Dost see that leg?--I'll take that leg away from thy stern,
if ever thou talkest of the merchant service to me again.
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