It resembled a man dressed in what, in former ages, were known as petticoat-breeches. Their plenty made them look like a frock. Inspecting this figure through a binocular glass, Mr. Vanderholt perceived that the rest of its garb consisted of a white shirt, a silk handkerchief, tied in a sailor's knot under a wide turned-down collar, a braided jacket, blue, and a cap with a naval peak, much after the pattern that is worn by yachting men.
A short, square man stood at the wheel, that blazed in a brass circle to the sun, and beside him stood another man, remarkable for nothing but a long goatlike beard, and a blue cap, tasselled, pointed, and overhanging, such as mutinous smacksmen wear in Italian opera.
'A queer ship's company!' exclaimed Mr. Vanderholt to Glew. 'In all your going a-fishing did you ever see the like of such a sailor-man as that chap yonder in the trousers?'
Captain Glew's reply was arrested by a hail from the little barque.
'Ho!' shrilled the strange figure in breeches. 'The schooner ahoy! What schooner are you?'
'The Mowbray, of London, on a cruise. What ship are you?'
'The Wife's Hope, from Calcutta to New York! Eighty days out! Jute and linseed! We're short of sugar: can you loan me some?'
All this was delivered in the voice of a bantam-cock, delirious with continuous triumphant clarioning.
'The Wife's Hope,' said Mr. Vanderholt, turning to his daughter. 'Here's some Yankee notion.'