Then The Captain's Gig Was
Lowered Away From The Quarter, And A Boat's Crew Of Fine Lads,
Between The Ages Of Fourteen And Eighteen, Pulled The Captain
Ashore.
The gig was a light whale-boat, handsomely painted,
and fitted up with cushions, etc., in the stern sheets.
We immediately attacked the boat's crew, and got very thick
with them in a few minutes.
We had much to ask about Boston,
their passage out, etc., and they were very curious to know about
the life we were leading upon the beach. One of them offered to
exchange with me; which was just what I wanted; and we had only
to get the permission of the captain.
After dinner, the crew began discharging their hides, and, as we
had nothing to do at the hide-houses, we were ordered aboard to
help them. I had now my first opportunity of seeing the ship which
I hoped was to be my home for the next year. She looked as well
on board as she did from without. Her decks were wide and roomy,
(there being no poop, or house on deck, which disfigures the after
part of most of our vessels,) flush, fore and aft, and as white as
snow, which the crew told us was from constant use of holystones.
There was no foolish gilding and gingerbread work, to take the eye
of landsmen and passengers, but everything was "ship-shape and
Bristol fashion." There was no rust, no dirt, no rigging hanging
slack, no fag ends of ropes and "Irish pendants" aloft, and the
yards were squared "to a t" by lifts and braces.
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