When he returned, the old sailor was sleeping, or so it seemed.

He was a tough old sailor who ought to have been good for another twenty years.

The oldest sailor on board - and he was a very old one - had never seen such weather.

Knowing when he was dismissed, the older sailor turned to leave, taking the other fellow with him.

The old sailor was too transported with sympathy to say a word.

They did not understand this speech and looked at the old sailor as if expecting him to explain what he meant.

Many of the old sailors were still more salty than sad.

The older sailor took one step closer to the old man with the rifle still pointed.

He never looked directly at the older sailor or the threatening rifle.

There's an old sailor, ugly and poor, who presses me to live with him.