An inch or two of tarry spun
yarn, clove-hitched to a miniature toggel, neatly carved, was the hopeful
beginning, a hasty splinter inserted pin-wise, the heedless ending of
the row. Between these ranged a bleached cowrie shell, loosely looped
with string; a fantastic ornament (green with verdigris) from some
bygone millinery, and a cherished relic of a pair of trousers of the
past in all the boldness of polished brass. But it was easy to detect
that there was no shirt beneath the dingy coat; and that the coat itself
was merely a concession to the evidence of civilisation which had been
apparent from the boat. On board the man wore neither coat nor shirt.
The cheerful note of colour, so conspicuous as he sailed to the
anchorage, was his sunburnt skin. Some men burn brown, some red. He was
of the red variety, and his bare skin looked a deal more respectable
than his cockroach-nibbled coat. To him. clothing save for decency's sake
had become superfluous. He felt that "to be naked is to be so much
nearer the being man than to go in livery." He wore no hat, no boots.
Pyjama trousers of cotton composed his entire workaday costume;
dungaree trousers and a musty coat his Court dress.
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