That portly individual, having just finished a cigar which the first lieutenant had presented to him on his arrival on board, threw the fag end of it into the sea, and proceeded leisurely to fill a large-headed German pipe, which was the constant companion of his waking hours, and the bowl of which seldom enjoyed a cool moment.
Ole having filled the pipe, lighted it; then leaning over the taffrail, he gazed placidly into the dark waters, which were so perfectly calm that every star in the vault above could be compared with its reflection in the abyss below.
Ole Thorwald, excepting when engaged in actual battle, was phlegmatic, and constitutionally lazy and happy.

When enjoying his German pipe he felt impressibly serene, and did not care to be disturbed.

He therefore paid no attention to the angry manner of Montague, who brushed past him repeatedly in his hasty perambulations, but continued to gaze downwards and smoke calmly in a state of placid felicity.
"You appear to take things coolly, Mister Thorwald," said Montague, half in jest, yet with a touch of asperity in his manner.
"I always do" (puff) "when the weather's not warm." (Puff, puff.) "Humph!" ejaculated Montague; "but the weather _is_ warm just now; at least it seems so to me,--so warm that I should not be surprised if a thunder-squall were to burst upon us ere long." "Not a pleasant place to be caught in a squall," returned the other, gazing through the voluminous clouds of smoke which he emitted at several coral reefs, whose ragged edges just rose to the level of the calm sea without breaking its mirror-like surface; "I've seen one or two fine vessels caught that way, just here abouts, and go right down in the middle of the breakers." Montague smiled, and the commander-in-chief of the Sandy Cove army fired innumerable broadsides from his mouth with redoubled energy.
"That is not a cheering piece of information," said he, "especially when one has reason to believe that a false man stands at the helm." Montague uttered the latter part of his speech in a subdued, earnest voice, and the matter-of-fact Ole turned his eyes slowly towards the man at the wheel; but observing that he who presided there was a short, fat, commonplace, and uncommonly jolly-looking seaman, he merely uttered a grunt, and looked at Montague inquiringly.
"Nay: I mean not the man who actually holds the spokes of the wheel, but he who guides the ship." Thorwald glanced at Gascoyne, whose figure was dimly visible in the fore part of the ship, and then looking at Montague in surprise, shook his head gravely, as if to say, "I'm still in the dark; go on." "Can Mr.Thorwald put out his pipe for a few minutes, and accompany me to the cabin?
I would have a little converse on this matter in private." Ole hesitated.
"Well, then," said the other, smiling, "you may take the pipe with you, although it is against rules to smoke in my cabin; but I'll make an exception in your case." Ole smiled, bowed, and thanking the captain for his courtesy, descended to the cabin along with him, and sat down on a sofa in the darkest corner of it.

Here he smoked vehemently, while his companion, assuming rather a mysterious air, said, in an undertone: "You have heard, of course, that the pirate Durward has been seen, or heard of, in these seas ?" Ole nodded.
"Has it ever struck you that this Gascoyne, as he calls himself, knows more about the pirate than he chooses to tell ?" "Never," replied Ole.

Indeed, nothing ever did _strike_ the stout commander-in-chief of the forces.