He weighs about eighteen stone, rather more than less.

He is a good-natured sort of a chap, amazingly ungenteel, not much of an officer, not much of a sailor, but a devilish good hand at the trencher.

But he's only part of the concern; he has his wife on board, who is a red-herring sort of a lady, and very troublesome to boot.

What makes her still more annoying is, that she has a _piano_ on board, very much out of _tune_, on which she plays very much out of _time_.

Holystoning is music compared with her playing: even the captain's spaniel howls when she comes to the high notes; but she affects the fine lady, and always treats the officers with music when they dine in the cabin, which makes them very glad to get out of it." "But, O'Brien, I thought wives were not permitted on board." "Very true, but there's the worst part in the man's character: he knows that he is not allowed to take his wife to sea, and, in consequence, he never says she _is_ his wife, or presents her on shore to anybody.