The waiter tells the Captain of the
cutter that Captain Percival (Commander of the Navy Yard) is sitting on
the deck of the anchor boy (which lies inside of the cutter), smoking his
cigar. The captain sends him a glass of champagne, and inquires of the
waiter what Percival says to it. "He said, sir, `What does he send me
this damned stuff for?' but drinks, nevertheless." The Captain
characterizes Percival as the roughest old devil that ever was in his
manners, but a kind, good-hearted man at bottom. By and by comes in the
steward. "Captain Percival is coming aboard of you, sir." "Well, ask
him to walk down into the cabin"; and shortly down comes old Captain
Percival, a white-haired, thin-visaged, weather-worn old gentleman, in a
blue, Quaker-cut coat, with tarnished lace and brass buttons, a pair of
drab pantaloons, and brown waistcoat. There was an eccentric expression
in his face, which seemed partly wilful, partly natural. He has not
risen to his present rank in the regular line of the profession; but
entered the navy as a sailing-master, and has all the roughness of that
class of officers.
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