But in fine, steady weather, when the Captain would emerge from his cabin, Selvagee might be seen, pacing the poop with long, bold, indefatigable strides, and casting his eye up aloft with the most ostentatious fidelity.
But vain these pretences; he could not deceive.

Selvagee! you know very well, that if it comes on to blow pretty hard, the First Lieutenant will be sure to interfere with his paternal authority.

Every man and every boy in the frigate knows, Selvagee, that you are no Neptune.
How unenviable his situation! His brother officers do not insult him, to be sure; but sometimes their looks are as daggers.

The sailors do not laugh at him outright; but of dark nights they jeer, when they hearken to that mantuamaker's voice ordering _a strong pull at the main brace_, or _hands by the halyards!_ Sometimes, by way of being terrific, and making the men jump, Selvagee raps out an oath; but the soft bomb stuffed with confectioner's kisses seems to burst like a crushed rose-bud diffusing its odours.

Selvagee! Selvagee! take a main-top-man's advice; and this cruise over, never more tempt the sea.
With this gentleman of cravats and curling irons, how strongly contrasts the man who was born in a gale! For in some time of tempest--off Cape Horn or Hatteras--_Mad Jack_ must have entered the world--such things have been--not with a silver spoon, but with a speaking-trumpet in his mouth; wrapped up in a caul, as in a main-sail--for a charmed life against shipwrecks he bears--and crying, _Luff! luff, you may!--steady!--port! World ho!--here I am!_ Mad Jack is in his saddle on the sea.