The bottom of the sea, that is what I want most in the world to know about." He paused, out of breath, and would have been abashed at his own boldness, had not the Skipper's eyes told him so perfectly that they had understood all about it, and that there was no sort of reason why he should not ask all the questions he liked.
They were wonderful eyes, those of the Skipper.

Most black eyes are wanting in the depths that one sounds in blue, or gray, in brown, more rarely in hazel eyes; they flash with an outward brilliancy, they soften into velvet, but one seldom sees through them into the heart.

But these eyes, though black beyond a doubt, had the darkness of deep, still water, when you look into it and see the surface mantling with a bluish gloss, and beneath that depth upon depth of black--clear, serene, unfathomable.

And when a smile came into them,--ah, well! we all know how that same dark water looks when the sun strikes on it.

The sun struck now, and little John felt warm and comfortable all through his body and heart.
"The bottom of the sea ?" said the Skipper, taking up a shell and polishing it on his coat-sleeve.