As far as I could judge, the old, bow-legged sailmaker had taken out a monopoly on the cases of beer aft. Never were sails kept in better condition. He was always down there, singing and sewing.
Several times I saw him coming up whistling softly with a lush air of subdued and happy reminiscence.
Several mornings out ... and I couldn't believe my ears ... I heard a sound of music. It sounded like a grind-organ on a city street....
The Sunshine of Paradise Alley.
And the captain's voice was booming along with the melody.
I peeked into Schantze's cabin to announce breakfast.
He had a huge music box there. And he was singing to its playing, and dancing clumsily about like a happy young mammoth.
"Spying on the 'old man,' eh?"
He came over and caught me by an ear roughly but playfully.