Many A Kid Of Beef
Have I Seen Rolling In The Scuppers, And The Bearer Lying At His
Length On The Decks.
I remember an English lad who was always the
life of the crew, but whom we afterwards lost overboard,
Standing for
nearly ten minutes at the galley, with this pot of tea in his hand,
waiting for a chance to get down into the forecastle; and seeing
what he thought was a "smooth spell," started to go forward. He had
just got to the end of the windlass, when a great sea broke over the
bows, and for a moment I saw nothing of him but his head and shoulders;
and at the next instant, being taken off of his legs, he was carried
aft with the sea, until her stern lifting up and sending the water
forward, he was left high and dry at the side of the long-boat,
still holding on to his tin pot, which had now nothing in it but
salt water. But nothing could ever daunt him, or overcome, for a
moment, his habitual good humor. Regaining his legs, and shaking
his fist at the man at the wheel, he rolled below, saying, as he
passed, "A man's no sailor, if he can't take a joke." The ducking
was not the worst of such an affair, for, as there was an allowance
of tea, you could get no more from the galley; and though sailors
would never suffer a man to go without, but would always turn in
a little from their own pots to fill up his, yet this was at best
but dividing the loss among all hands.
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