Excerpt from The Emigrant Ship, Vol. 2 of 3

I sat as requested, lighting my pipe afresh. The tobacco, being thick-cut and damp, yielded a long smoke. I felt nervous on a sudden. But the swing of the lamp threw a frequent shadow over my face, which I knitted into a hard, resolved expression, a thing not difficult to manage, when you have plenty of eyebrows, and Slack, sailorly hair upon the brow, and when there's no hurry to speak or act.

The others did not offer to sit. They stood in the light, watching me or Brigstock.

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