on shore; in fact, it would have taken a better nautical
authority than Cleggett to tell offhand just exactly where the
land ended and the Jasper B. began. She seemed to be possessed
of an odd stability; although the tide was receding the Jasper B.
was not perceptibly agitated by the motion of the water. Of
anchor, or mooring chains or cables of any sort, there was no
sign.

The brown old man--he was brown not only as to the portions of
his skin visible through his hair and whiskers, but also as to
coat and trousers and worn boots and cap and pipe and flannel
shirt--turned around as Cleggett stepped aboard, and stared at
the invader with a shaggy-browed intensity that was embarrassing.

It occurred to Cleggett that the old man might own the vessel and
make a home of her.

"I beg your pardon if I am intruding," ventured Cleggett,
politely, "but do you live here?"

The brown old man made an indeterminate motion of his head,
without otherwise replying at once. Then he took a cake of dark,
hard-looking tobacco from the starboard pocket of his trousers
and a clasp knife from the port side. He shaved off a fresh
pipeful, rolled it in his palms, knocked the old ash from his
pipe, refilled and relighted it, all with the utmost
deliberation. Then he cut another small piece of tobacco from
the "plug" and popped it into his mouth. Cleggett perceived with
surprise that he smoked and chewed tobacco at the same time. As
he thus refreshed himself he glanced from time to time at