He was waiting with an iron patience for the word that should send them forth over the great Atlantic rollers, with the ocean spray bursting over their bows and the sting of the ocean wind in their faces.

That was the sort of life that appealed to him.

He had no use for civilization; the froth of society had no attraction for him.

He preferred a deeper draught.
Saltash was thoroughly cosmopolitan in his tastes; he liked amusement, but he abhorred boredom.

He declared that for him it was the root of all evil.