The Between-Decks Were High Enough
To Allow Of Jumping; And Being Clear, And White, From Holystoning,
Made A Fine Dancing-Hall.
Some of the Pilgrim's crew were in the
forecastle, and we all turned-to and had a regular sailor's shuffle,
till eight bells.
The Cape-Cod boy could dance the true fisherman's
jig, barefooted, knocking with his heels, and slapping the decks
with his bare feet, in time with the music. This was a favorite
amusement of the mate's, who always stood at the steerage door,
looking on, and if the boys would not dance, he hazed them round
with a rope's end, much to the amusement of the men.
The next morning, according to the orders of the agent, the Pilgrim
set sail for the windward, to be gone three or four months. She got
under weigh with very little fuss, and came so near us as to throw
a letter on board, Captain Faucon standing at the tiller himself,
and steering her as he would a mackerel smack. When Captain T - - -
was in command of the Pilgrim, there was as much preparation
and ceremony as there would be in getting a seventy-four under
weigh. Captain Faucon was a sailor, every inch of him; he knew
what a ship was, and was as much at home in one, as a cobbler in
his stall. I wanted no better proof of this than the opinion of
the ship's crew, for they had been six months under his command,
and knew what he was; and if sailors allow their captain to be a
good seaman, you may be sure he is one, for that is a thing they
are not always ready to say.
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