“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder”

Every night mr. Galloway was expected to report for sentry duty. His days passed by in complete and utter
monotony, everyone exactly identical to the one before, long and boring as the sermons of reverend Mathias.
Without exceptions he would drag himself to the main deck, seize the entangled mess of the mast’s shroud and
start climbing, up into the lookout, in the freezing and harsh whether, every single day of his life.

Every night little Oliver dreamed to climb up the might mast of the vessel and behold the expanse of the sea in
its morning glory: he was still too scrawny to do it by himself, but he was growing fast and strong, and before
long mr. Galloway would finally allow the boy to follow him in his duties.

mr. Galloway and Oliver are two different beholders of the same job: the disillusioned view of the old sailor

Same vessel, same job, same story. Different characters, different lives, different story.

Does Mr. Galloway hate his job? Not necessarily. He hates the monotony, the routine, the repetition.

We are Oliver and we are mr. Galloway every moment of our lives