He was as dark as the people in the geography book, where the pictures of the different races were; not an Ethiopian, evidently (John loved the long words in the geography book), because his nose was straight and his lips thin; perhaps a Malay or an Arab.

If one could see a real Arab, one could ask him about the horses, and whether the dates were always sticky, and what he did in a sandstorm, and lots of interesting things.

And then a Malay,--why, you could ask him how he felt when he ran amuck,--only, perhaps, that would not be polite.
These meditations were interrupted by a hail from the schooner.

It was the dark man himself who spoke, in a quiet voice that sounded kind.
"Good-morning, sir! Will you come aboard this morning ?" John was not used to being called "Sir," and the word fell pleasantly on ears that shrank from the detested syllable "Bub," with which strangers were wont to greet him.
"Yes, if you please," he answered, with some dignity.

It is, perhaps, difficult to be stately when one is only five feet tall, but John felt stately inside, as well as shy.