Beadle's Dime Novels No. 94: The Mad Skipper — page 44: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

4% THH MAD SKIPPER. listen like one entranced, the eyes of the old tar would sparkle with delight, while Portuguese Joe—poor little dwarf—crouch- ed up in a little ball on the deck, would grasp the bars over the cabin windows and pecr into the state-room at the fair singer, until his head swam and his strained eyes grew dim. | He could never hope to win the love of this beautiful being ; but he could watch her ever-changing countenance, and da- guerreotype its varied expressions upon his heart, to be treas- ured long after she should have passed forever from his sight ; he could listen to her voice, and long after it should: have died upon his ear, could hear its melody in his own soul. It was a voice which, on some occasions, even had the pow- er to smooth the wrinkles upon the moody brow of the cap- tain, who seemed to grow more strange and absent-niinded every day. In fact, the command of the ship now rested principally with Onoolo, the chief mate, who, having followed a seafaring life almost from his childhood, was an excellent sailor; and yet, so great was his respect for the madman, that he would have obeyed, without hesitation, ‘any order from the same, how fatal soever might have been its consequences. Luckily, for all concerned, he had not thus far been called up- on to do so; but trimming the sails with true nautical read- iness to meet every variation of the weather, he kept the ves- sel well up to her course. Thus it happened that the ship, one afternoon, nodded with her tall masts a salute to the dreary hights of Staten Land off Cape Horn. Partially vailed by a shroud of dyn-colored clouds, the snow-covered peaks of the island were visible about a league to the windward ; also the rocks below, covered with myriads of seals, the continual howling of which, mingling dismally with the roaring of the surf, was borne to the ears of the crew. A moderate gale was blowing ; but as it threatened to increase before night, Onoolo had put the ship under close-reefed topsails and a fore-topmast stay-sail, keeping her full and by, on an easterly course—the wind being about three points abreast the starboard bow. Portuguese Joe was at the helm, oftener, it must be ackowl- edged, glancing at Lilian—who with her father stood near the weather-rail—than at the compass or the ship’s head. The “eyes of the little man sparkled like diamonds ;_ his cheeks were : commiclbooks.conn