His nose was perfectly
straight, his lips thin, his eyes gray and very keen; he had little or
no whiskers, and, from his appearance and the intermixture of gray with
his brown hair, I supposed him to be about fifty years of age. In one
hand he held a short clay pipe, into which he was inserting the
forefinger of the other, as he talked with the captain. At the time that
he was pointed out to me by the second mate he was looking up aloft; I
had, therefore, time to make the above observations before he cast his
eyes down and perceived me, when I immediately went aft to him.
"I suppose you are Tom Saunders?" said he, surveying me from head to
foot.
I replied in the affirmative.
"Well, Anderson has given you a good character, mind you don't lose it.
D'ye think you'll like to be a pilot?"
"Yes," replied I.
"Have you sharp eyes, a good memory, and plenty of nerve?"
"I believe I've got the two first, I don't know about the other."
"I suppose not, it hasn't been tried yet. How far can you see through a
fog?"
"According how thick it is."
"I see you've a glass there: tell me what you make of that vessel just
opening from Blackwall Reach.
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