The bread, too, was hard, dry, and brittle as glass; and there was plenty of both.
While we were below, the mate of the vessel called out for someone to come on deck.

I liked his voice.

Hearing it was as good as a look at his face.

It betokened a true sailor, and no taskmaster.
The appearance of the Leviathan herself was quite pleasing.

Like all large, comfortable old whalers, she had a sort of motherly look:--broad in the beam, flush decks, and four chubby boats hanging at the breast.