Sometimes it went to sleep in this position, bowed over the emptiness. After this, as soon as the drum had beat the retreat, the sloth would meet him, hurrying toward the door on its uneven legs: it was given its own bowl, and it would grip it with its claws, lowering its round face into it and pursing its lips to drink (its tongue was too short to lap). More cake, more grog: growing confidence and esteem. Some minutes later he felt a touch upon his knee: the sloth had silently climbed down and it was standing there, its beady eyes looking up into his face, bright with expectation.
'It might put a little heart into you.' The sloth sighed, closed its eyes, but gently absorbed the piece, and sighed again.
'Try a piece of this, old cock,' he said, dipping his cake in the grog and proffering the sop. The sloth sneezed, and looking up, Jack caught its gaze fixed upon him its inverted face had an expression of anxiety and concern. Jack was in his cabin, pricking the chart with less satisfaction than he could have wished: progress, slow, serious trouble with the mainmast- unaccountable headwinds by night- and sipping a glass of grog Stephen was in the mizentop, teaching Bonden to write and scanning the sea for his first albatross. “The weather had freshened almost to coldness, for the wind was coming more easterly, from the chilly currents between Tristan and the Cape the sloth was amazed by the change it shunned the deck and spent its time below.
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