"Why, boy, sometimes the fiercest storm is brewin' behind the greatest calm.

An' the worst o' the thing is that it comes so sudden at times, that the masts are torn out o' the ship before you can say Jack Robinson." "What! and without any warning ?" said I.
"Aye, _almost_ without warnin'; but not _altogether_ without it.

You heer'd the captain say he'd go an' take a squint at the glass ?" "Yes; what is the glass ?" "It's not a glass o' grog, you may be sure; nor yet a lookin'-glass.
It's the weather-glass, boy.

Shore-goin' chaps call it a barometer." "And what's the meaning of barometer ?" I enquired earnestly.
Tom Lokins stared at me in stupid amazement.

"Why, boy," said he, "you're too inquisitive.