Then, the air was perfumed with chips; and all other trades were swallowed up in mast, oar, and block-making, and boatbuilding.

Then, the ground grew marshy and unsettled.

Then, there was nothing to be smelt but rum and sugar.

Then, Captain Cuttle's lodgings--at once a first floor and a top storey, in Brig Place--were close before you.
The Captain was one of those timber-looking men, suits of oak as well as hearts, whom it is almost impossible for the liveliest imagination to separate from any part of their dress, however insignificant.
Accordingly, when Walter knocked at the door, and the Captain instantly poked his head out of one of his little front windows, and hailed him, with the hard glared hat already on it, and the shirt-collar like a sail, and the wide suit of blue, all standing as usual, Walter was as fully persuaded that he was always in that state, as if the Captain had been a bird and those had been his feathers.
'Wal'r, my lad!'said Captain Cuttle.

'Stand by and knock again.