wide apart, and
scientifically swaying their bodies to the motion of the ship, as they
flourish their edge-tools about the lips, nostrils, and jugular.

As I looked upon the practitioner and patient at such times, I could
not help thinking that, if the sailor had any insurance on his life, it
would certainly be deemed forfeited should the president of the company
chance to lounge by and behold him in that imminent peril. For myself,
I accounted it an excellent preparation for going into a sea-fight,
where fortitude in standing up to your gun and running the risk of all
splinters, comprise part of the practical qualities that make up an
efficient man-of-war's man.

It remains to be related, that these barbers of ours had their labours
considerably abridged by a fashion prevailing among many of the crew,
of wearing very large whiskers; so that, in most cases, the only parts
needing a shave were the upper lip and suburbs of the chin. This had
been more or less the custom during the whole three years' cruise; but
for some time previous to our weathering Cape Horn, very many of the
seamen had redoubled their assiduity in cultivating their beards
preparatory to their return to America. There they anticipated creating
no small impression by their immense and magnificent
_homeward-bounders_--so they called the long fly-brushes at their
chins. In particular, the more aged sailors, embracing the Old Guard of
sea grenadiers on the forecastle, and the begrimed gunner's mates and
quarter-gunners, sported most venerable beards of an exceeding length
and hoariness, like long, trailing moss hanging from the bough of some
aged oak. Above all, the Captain of the Forecastle, old Ushant--a fine
specimen of a sea sexagenarian--wore a wide, spreading beard, gizzled
and grey, that flowed over his breast and often became tangled and
knotted with tar. This Ushant, in all weathers, was ever alert at his
duty; intrepidly mounting the fore-yard in a gale, his long beard
streaming like Neptune's. Off Cape Horn it looked like a miller's,
being all over powdered with frost; sometimes it glittered with minute
icicles in the pale, cold, moonlit Patagonian nights. But though he was
so active in time of tempest, yet when his duty did not call for
exertion, he was a remarkably staid, reserved, silent, and majestic old
man, holding himself aloof from noisy revelry, and never participating
in the boisterous sports of the crew. He resolutely set his beard