into an old saw, written by som

shalt th

all ye

h thou sha

ystone

ape the

has seen his best days will doubtless come ashore and write how seamen are no longer what they used to be, but the man who knows the sea knows better. The seagoing portion of the human race has not retrograd

nfined to a ship's deck will develop a series of amusements which bear directly upon the peculiar affairs in his life and which appeal to him most strongly. Life at sea is more or less rough. The sailor has a rou

anything of a romping kind except under certain circumstances. If you ask an American sailor what he did on a deep-water voyage upon an American ship to amuse himself, he will look blankly at you and smile. After that it will be hard to engage him in conversation, for he will be convinced that he is talki

s for the occasion. The old bo's'n, with a voice like a bull whale in distress, will come over the bows some warm, quiet morning. His whiskers, a full fathom long, made of rope-yarn and dripping brine, will give him a most nautical appearance, and his crowd of retainers, in all sorts of grotesque rigs, will follow him. Shaving seems to be the most slighted part of the seaman's toilet at sea, and it will be necessary to shave all who have not been initiated. The razor usually consis

he old-fashioned fun left in them. This is because{33} the ships are manned by

roper game, for it teaches him that he must turn to when the watch is called. He may not be much account as a man, but there are cold and tired men on deck who need all the help they can get. If he does not turn to and the mates are easy, some one will

or, either way leaving some cuticle behind, and accumulating a few black and blue spots in places, while the men whang him with ropes' ends. He will probably reach the mainyard feet foremost, and will be wide-awake when he descends. Once is e

merican element is predominant, the watch will sometimes start

got drunk an

ng-necked bottl

morning-so early

s his whiskey,-

wn," that song which may be shifted to

outfits pretty thoroughly. I always hated to find that a dago had a hidden knife of a dangerous length

at me as I entered. "I tank youse'll find us a good cre

d. "I'll do the thinking for you. L

urvey, I went out again. The smell of the fresh, salt sea was now in my nostrils and the gloomy life of the shore left behind. Ahead was the excitement and hope of a prosperous{36} voyage in company of whom I began to suspect would prove pleasant passengers. The

squat sailor, who was hauling

une, den, what?"

d a Norwegian sailor, tailing

loose, the

tion of trying to break a topsail brace. "Sing, an' stretch th' line," a

p the masthead. The fellow who had loosed the sail had not left the yard and wa

ow, he reached the backstay with one hand. With a power born of desperation, he grasped the line. His body swung around with the sweep of a whip-lash, but he hung on. Then his other hand reached the stay, an

he screamed, and he lashed out with a rig

ch. The big Irishman would take care of the fracas when the time came to interfere.

ith the steward. I saw and heard nothing. The work for