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Updated: June 18, 2025
He wore a blue reefer, white trousers, and carried a yachtsman's cap. His profile as he passed into his pew showed him young, his skin slightly bronzed, his features good, if a trifle heavy. Yet as he sat down and I studied his head, what seemed most significant about him was his hair.
“No more trouble from this pair,” laughed the bearded one to his companion at the hatchway. “Now, I’ll douse the cabin light, and then we’ll cast off. This thing has moved along very slickly.” Eph, after having made up his mind to turn in early, had found his sleepy fit passing. He read for a while in the cabin, then pulled on a reefer and went up on deck.
"Ay, ay, sir! in course I does now," was the boatswain's hearty response. Then there followed, in lower tones, certain remarks of which we could only catch such fragments as: " lieutenant hisself, by reefer, too; man rigging, you sea-dogs give sailors' welcome."
A pale streak of light comes from one of the vans and glides over the rails of a siding. In that van two men are sitting on an outspread cape: one is an old man with a big gray beard, wearing a sheepskin coat and a high lambskin hat, somewhat like a busby; the other a beardless youth in a threadbare cloth reefer jacket and muddy high boots. They are the owners of the goods.
She slipped some sovereigns into her purse, tucked it for safety into the bosom of her dress, and then put on her hat and jacket. Some instinct told the wild, ignorant child to dress quietly. She put on her plainest hat and a little reefer coat which looked neat and substantial. She was just drawing a pair of gloves on her hands when Alice was heard turning the handle of the door.
This master of a ship I remember first as a slim lad, with a shy smile, and large hands that were lonely beyond his outgrown reefer jacket. His cap was always too small for him, and the soiled frontal badge of his line became a coloured button beyond his forelock. He used to come home occasionally and it was always when we were on the point of forgetting him altogether.
"If he were sat down to dinner today with Viktor Nikolaevitch and the general, he'd have died of fright." Mishenka's shoulders were shaking with laughter. "He doesn't know even how to hold his fork, I bet." The footman's laughter and words, his reefer jacket and moustache, gave Anna Akimovna a feeling of uncleanness.
He was an adept at disguises, and on this occasion wore a reefer jacket, a peaked cap, and a dark violet scarf in lieu of collar, thus presenting the aspect of a seafarer ashore. He smoked a pipe of the most approved nautical type, and as we sat together in the saloon he told me sea stories, in order that a group of men sitting near might overhear.
Did you get anything else?" "He was dressed in a heavy gray suit with a reefer jacket, and he wore a short yellow overcoat and a soft cap." "What about the shotgun?" "It is less than two feet long. It could very well have fitted into his valise. He could have carried it inside his overcoat without difficulty." "And how do you consider that all this bears upon the general case?" "Well, Mr.
"You won't leave me, will you, Christine? Poor Jim! And then that man I should die of fright. Besides, it wouldn't be right not proper to-morrow one of my sisters " "Very well. I will spend the night here. But Robert must go to my people. They won't mind now. I shall be back in half an hour." She helped him into his reefer coat, which she had brought down with her.
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