. Sheer! or I'll pitch into you like a shin of beef into a
beggar's wallet."

It is often observable, that, in vessels of all kinds, the men who talk
the most sailor lingo are the least sailor-like in reality. You may
sometimes hear even marines jerk out more salt phrases than the Captain
of the Forecastle himself. On the other hand, when not actively engaged
in his vocation, you would take the best specimen of a seaman for a
landsman. When you see a fellow yawning about the docks like a
homeward-bound Indiaman, a long Commodore's pennant of black ribbon
flying from his mast-head, and fetching up at a grog-shop with a slew
of his hull, as if an Admiral were coming alongside a three-decker in
his barge; you may put that man down for what man-of-war's-men call a
_damn-my-eyes-tar_, that is, a humbug. And many damn-my-eyes hum-bugs
there are in this man-of-war world of ours.

CHAPTER LXXIV.

THE MAIN-TOP AT NIGHT.

The whole of our run from Rio to the Line was one delightful yachting,
so far as fine weather and the ship's sailing were concerned. It was
especially pleasant when our quarter-watch lounged in the main-top,
diverting ourselves in many agreeable ways. Removed from the immediate
presence of the officers, we there harmlessly enjoyed ourselves, more
than in any other part of the ship. By day, many of us were very
industrious, making hats or mending our clothes. But by night we became
more romantically inclined.

Often Jack Chase, an enthusiastic admirer of sea-scenery, would direct
our attention to the moonlight on the waves, by fine snatches from his
catalogue of poets. I shall never forget the lyric air with which, one
morning, at dawn of day, when all the East was flushed with red and
gold, he stood leaning against the top-mast shrouds, and stretching his
bold hand over the sea, exclaimed, "Here comes Aurora: top-mates, see!"
And, in a liquid, long-lingering tone, he recited the lines,

"With gentle hand, as seeming oft to pause,
The purple curtains of the morn she draws."

"Commodore Camoens, White-Jacket.--But bear a hand there; we must rig
out that stun'-sail boom--the wind is shifting."

From our lofty perch, of a moonlight night, the frigate itself was a
glorious sight. She was going large before the wind, her stun'-sails
set on both sides, so that the canvas on the main-mast and fore-mast
presented the appearance of majestic, tapering pyramids, more than a
hundred feet broad at