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.