Treasure Island, by Robert Louis Stevenson. Part I.
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The Sea-Fairy Man
He threw down three or four gold pieces on the threshold. And indeed, bad as his clothes were, and coarsely as he spoke, he had none of the appearance of a man who sailed before the mast. All day he hung around the cove or upon the cliffs with a brass telescope. All evening he sat in the corner of the parlor next to the fire, and drank rum and water, very strong. Mostly he would not speak when spoken to, only look up sudden and fierce, and blow through his nose like a fog horn. He promised me a silver forpony on the first of every month, if I would only keep my wherever I opened for a sea-f
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