glass was, and sat himself down behind it. He was usually addressed as Captain, this visitor; and had been a pilot, or a skipper, or a privateersman, or all three perhaps; and was a very salt-looking man indeed.
His face, remarkable for a brown solidity, brightened as he shook hands with uncle and nephew; but he seemed to be of a laconic disposition, and merely said:
"How goes it?"
"All well," said Mr. Gills, pushing the bottle towards him.
He took it up, and having surveyed and smelt it, said with extraordinary expression:
"The?"
"The," returned the Instrument Maker.
Upon that he whistled as he filled his glass, and seemed to think they were making holiday indeed.
"Wal’r!" he said, arranging his hair (which was thin) with his hook, and then pointing it at the Instrument Maker, "Look at him! Love! Honour! And Obey! Overhaul your catechism till you find that passage, and when found turn the leaf down. Success, my boy!"
He was so perfectly satisfied both with his quotation and his reference to it, that he could not help repeating the words again in a low voice, and saying he had forgotten 'em these forty year.
"But I never wanted two or three words in my life that I didn’t know where to lay my hand upon 'em, Gills," he observed. "It comes of not wasting language as some do."
The reflection perhaps reminded him that he had better, like young Norval’s father, "increase his store." At any rate he became silent, and remained so, until old Sol went out into the shop to light it up, when he turned to Walter, and said, without any introductory remark:—
"I suppose he could make a clock if he tried?"
"I shouldn’t wonder, Captain Cuttle," returned the boy.
"And it would go!" said Captain Cuttle, making a species of serpent in the air with his hook. "Lord, how that clock would go!"
For a moment or two he seemed quite lost in contemplating the pace of this ideal timepiece, and sat looking at the boy as if his face were the dial.
"But he’s chock-full of science," he observed, waving his hook towards the stock-in-trade. "Look’ye here! Here’s a collection of 'em. Earth, air, or water. It’s all one. Only say where you’ll have it. Up in a balloon? There you are. Down in a bell? There you are. D’ye want to put the North Star in a pair of scales and weigh it? He’ll do it for you."
It may be gathered from these remarks that Captain Cuttle’s reverence for the stock of instruments was profound, and that his philosophy knew little or no distinction between trading in it and inventing it.
"Ah!" he said, with a sigh, "it’s a fine thing to understand 'em. And yet it’s a fine thing not to understand 'em. I hardly know which is best. It’s so comfortable to sit here and feel that you might be weighed, measured, magnified, electrified, polarized, played the very devil with: and never know how."
Nothing short of the wonderful Madeira, combined with the occasion
