We shall see.' There was that in his manner more than in his words, though they remained with her too, which impressed Florence so much, that she would have confided her uneasiness to Captain Cuttle at that moment, if the Captain had not seized that moment for expounding the state of circumstance, on which the opinion of the sagacious Bunsby was requested, and entreating that profound authority to deliver the same.
Bunsby, whose eye continued to be addressed to somewhere about the half-way house between London and Gravesend, two or three times put out his rough right arm, as seeking to wind it for inspiration round the fair form of Miss Nipper; but that young female having withdrawn herself, in displeasure, to the opposite side of the table, the soft heart of the Commander of the Cautious Clara met with no response to its impulses.

After sundry failures in this wise, the Commander, addressing himself to nobody, thus spake; or rather the voice within him said of its own accord, and quite independent of himself, as if he were possessed by a gruff spirit: 'My name's Jack Bunsby!' 'He was christened John,' cried the delighted Captain Cuttle.

'Hear him!' 'And what I says,' pursued the voice, after some deliberation, 'I stands to.
The Captain, with Florence on his arm, nodded at the auditory, and seemed to say, 'Now he's coming out.

This is what I meant when I brought him.' 'Whereby,' proceeded the voice, 'why not?
If so, what odds?
Can any man say otherwise?
No.

Awast then!' When it had pursued its train of argument to this point, the voice stopped, and rested.