Two Years Before the Mast

d except our own doings on board. We caught the southeast trades, and ran before them for nearly three weeks, without so much as alt

had quite as much as we wished of it. We put on short duck frocks, and, taking a small bucket of tar and a bunch of oakum in our hands, went aloft, one at the main royal-mast-head, and the other at the fore, and began tarring down. This is an important operation, and is usually done about once in six months in vessels upon a long voyage. It was done in our vessel several times afterwards, but by the whole crew at once, and finished off in a day; but at this time, as most of it, as I have said, came upon two of us, and we were new at the business, it took several days. In this operation they always begin at the mast-head, and work down, tarring the shrouds, backstays, standing parts of the lifts, the ties, runners, &c., and go out to the yard-arms, and come in, tarring, as they come, the lifts and foot-ropes. Tarring the stays is more difficult, and is done by an operation which the sailors call “riding down.” A long piece of rope — top-gallant-studding-sail halyards, or something of the kind — is taken up to the mast-head from which the

s off Cape Horn, where we could expect nothing better. On Monday we began painting, and getting the vessel ready for port. This work, too, is done by the crew, and every sailor who has been long voyages is a little of a painter, in addition to his other accomplishments. We painted her, both inside and out, from the truck to the water’s edge. The outside is painted by lowering stages over the side by ropes, and on those we sat, with our brushes and paint-pots by us, a

ongruity which all have when, for the first time, they find themselves living under an en

for dinner, and the crew quarrelled with the steward because he did not give us our usual allowance of molasses to eat with

ef and salt pork throughout the week, with the exception of a very small duff on Sunday. This added to the discontent; and many little things, daily and almost hourly occurring, which no one who has not himself been on a long and tedious voyage can conceive of or properly appreciate — little wars and rumor

r sailor’s pleasure; and you live with the steward, who is usually a go-between; and the crew never feel as though you were one of them. But if you live in the forecastle, you are “as independent as a wood-sawyer’s clerk” (nauticé), and are a sailor. You hear sailors’ talk, learn their ways, their peculiarities of feeling as well as speaking and acting; and, moreover, pick up a great deal of curious and useful information in seamanship, ship’s customs, foreign countries, &c., from their long yarns and equally long disputes. No man can be a sailor, or know what sailors are, unless he has lived in the fore

aying that we were getting fat and lazy, didn’t have enough to do, and it was that which made us find fault. This provoked us, and we began to give word for word. This would never answer. He clinched his fist, stamped and swore, and ordered us all forward, saying, with oaths enough interspersed to send the words home, “Away with you! go forward every one of you! I’ll haze you! I’ll work you up! You don’t have enough to do! If you a’ n’t careful I’ll make a hell of heaven! . . . . You’ve mistaken your man! I’m Frank Thompson, all the way from ‘down east.’ I’ve been through the mill, ground and bolted, and come out a regular-built down-east johnny-cake, when it’s hot, d —— d good, but when it’s cold, d —— d sour and indigestible; — and you’ll find me so!” The latter part of this harangue made a strong imp

auze, drawn over the sun, which, without obstructing or obscuring the light, tempers the heat which comes down with perpendicular fierceness in the Atlantic and Indian tropics. We sailed well to the westward to have the full advantage of the northeast trades, and when we had reached the latitude of Point Conception, where it is usual to make

The port of Santa Barbara, to which we were bound, lying about fifty miles to the southward of this p

cious bay of Santa Barbara, after a voyage

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