Johnstone of the Border by Harold Bindloss

There was a light wind from the westward, and the flood tide, running east, smoothed the sea to a faintly wrinkled heave, when the _Rowan_ crept across Wigtown Bay on the southern coast of Scotland. Andrew lounged at the tiller while Whitney sat in the cockpit, holding a tray on which were laid out a pot of smoke-tainted tea, several thick slices of bread, sardines, and marmalade.

Whitney wore a woolen sweater -- which had been white a few days before but now was a dingy gray -- new blue trousers, already streaked with rust, and an expensive yachting cap which had got badly crushed. His hands were not immaculate, and there was a soot-smear on his face.