He has no permanent rank, recognised by Government, above his captaincy; though once employed as a Commodore, usage and courtesy unite in continuing the title.
Our Commodore was a gallant old man, who had seen service in his time.
When a lieutenant, he served in the late war with England; and in the gun-boat actions on the Lakes near New Orleans, just previous to the grand land engagements, received a musket-ball in his shoulder; which, with the two balls in his eyes, he carries about with him to this day.
Often, when I looked at the venerable old warrior, doubled up from the effect of his wound, I thought what a curious, as well as painful sensation, it must be, to have one's shoulder a lead-mine; though, sooth to say, so many of us civilised mortals convert our mouths into Golcondas.
On account of this wound in his shoulder, our Commodore had a body-servant's pay allowed him, in addition to his regular salary.

I cannot say a great deal, personally, of the Commodore; he never sought my company at all, never extended any gentlemanly courtesies.
But though I cannot say much of him personally, I can mention something of him in his general character, as a flag-officer.

In the first place, then, I have serious doubts, whether for the most part, he was not dumb; for in my hearing, he seldom or never uttered a word.

And not only did he seem dumb himself, but his presence possessed the strange power of making other people dumb for the time.

His appearance on the Quarter-deck seemed to give every officer the lock-jaw.
Another phenomenon about him was the strange manner in which everyone shunned him.