Beside me, long in silent admiration of the scene, stood my messmates,
Fred Smith and Mike O'Hanlon,--two genuine specimens of Young New York,
the first of whom disappointed love had driven to sea, whither also
friendship and a reckless spirit of adventure had impelled the second.
Behind us was one, a just impression of whom--if I could but convey
it--would make what followed appear as possible to you as it did to
us who were long his companions. I never knew to what country he
belonged; for he spoke any language occasion called for, with the same
apparent ease and fluency. He was far beyond the ordinary stature, yet
it was only when you saw him in comparison with other men that you
observed anything gigantic in his form. His hair was black, and hung
in a smooth, heavy, even wave down to his massive jaw, which was always
clean shaved, if indeed beard ever grew upon it. Neither could I guess
his age; for though he was apparently in manhood's prime, it often
appeared to me that the spirit I saw looking through his eyes must have
been looking from them for a thousand years.
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