He was a fidgety person, always twitching
with his hands, and he walked with something of a strut, as though the
earth belonged to him. He snapped-to the case of his binoculars as
though he had sheathed a sword.
Later in the day, after supper, in the second dog-watch, as I sat
smoking on the fore-coamings, he came up to me and spoke to me. "You
know zees coas'?" he asked. Yes, I knew the coast. "What you zink?"
he asked; "you like 'eem?" No, I didn't like 'eem. "Ah," he said,
"You 'ave been wizzin?" I asked him what he meant. "Wizzin," he
repeated, "wizzen, in ze contry. You 'ave know ze land, ze peoples?"
I growled that I had been within, to Lima, and to Santiago, and that I
had been ashore at the Chincha Islands. "Ah," he said, with a strange
quickening of interest, "you 'ave been to Lima; you like 'eem?" No, I
had not. "I go wizzen," he said proudly. "It is because I go; zat is
why I ask. Zere is few 'ave gone wizzen." An old quartermaster walked
up to us. "There's very few come back, sir," he said. "Them
Indians----" "Ah, ze Indians," said the little man scornfully, "ze
Indians; I zeenk nozzin of ze Indians." "Beg pardon, sir," said the
old sailor, "They're a tough crowd, them copper fellers.
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