human
Before me, leaning against a rail, is the portly, or rather sea-portly, jovial-looking individual, whose acquaintance I have already made in captain's cabin, thoughtfully finishing a cigar. By the way, at any period of our too-brief acquaintance I never see him without cigar, which he is always just finishing, but never commencing. At this moment his cheery countenance wears as hard an expression, quite unnatural to it, as it could by any possibility assume for more than three minutes at a stretch, He is addressing a flabby, cadaverous-looking individual in seedy black trousers and coat, one button of which conceals the upper part of a waistcoat made of some