His skin, having lost at last the tan of thirty years, is like the rough side of light brown sole leather--a sort of yellowish, grey, dead-leaf colour.

He is very deaf and therefore generally very silent.

He has been boatswain on board of many a good ship and there are few ports from Batum to San Francisco where he has not cast anchor.
The boys saw him from a long way off, and their courage rose.

He often came to Verbicaro to buy wine and had known their father, and knew them.
He would certainly give them a piece of bread.

As he saw them coming his quiet eyes watched them, and followed them as they came up the beach.