The man was a cask.

Even in the warm firelight his face was pale as a sheet, and his lips worked continually.
Captain Barker still walked up and down, but his thin legs would not always move in a straight line.

His eyes glared like two globes of green fire, and he began to knock against the furniture.

Few men can wait helplessly and come out of it with credit.

Every time Captain John hit himself against the furniture Captain Jemmy cursed him.
Tie up in silk your careless hair; Soft Peace is come again! -- Sang the little man, in a rasping voice.