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- 2843
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- 2026-01-30T20:48:14.838Z
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- 2812
- text
- called upon him in port.
But this astonishment of mine was much increased, when some days after,
a storm came upon us, and the captain rushed out of the cabin in his
nightcap, and nothing else but his shirt on; and leaping up on the
poop, began to jump up and down, and curse and swear, and call the men
aloft all manner of hard names, just like a common loafer in the
street.
Besides all this, too, I noticed that while we were at sea, he wore
nothing but old shabby clothes, very different from the glossy suit I
had seen him in at our first interview, and after that on the steps of
the City Hotel, where he always boarded when in New York. Now, he wore
nothing but old-fashioned snuff-colored coats, with high collars and
short waists; and faded, short-legged pantaloons, very tight about the
knees; and vests, that did not conceal his waistbands, owing to their
being so short, just like a little boy’s. And his hats were all caved
in, and battered, as if they had been knocked about in a cellar; and
his boots were sadly patched. Indeed, I began to think that he was but
a shabby fellow after all; particularly as his whiskers lost their
gloss, and he went days together without shaving; and his hair, by a
sort of miracle, began to grow of a pepper and salt color, which might
have been owing, though, to his discontinuing the use of some kind of
dye while at sea. I put him down as a sort of impostor; and while
ashore, a gentleman on false pretenses; for no gentleman would have
treated another gentleman as he did me.
Yes, Captain Riga, thought I, you are no gentleman, and you know it!
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