a party of us conquered the tedium of the
evening with a few games and were ready for bed at six bells, mariner's
time, the signal for putting out the lights.

There was much chat in the smoking-cabin on the upper deck after luncheon
to-day, mostly whaler yarns from those old sea-captains. Captain Tom
Bowling was garrulous. He had that garrulous attention to minor detail
which is born of secluded farm life or life at sea on long voyages, where
there is little to do and time no object. He would sail along till he
was right in the most exciting part of a yarn, and then say, "Well, as I
was saying, the rudder was fouled, ship driving before the gale, head-on,
straight for the iceberg, all hands holding their breath, turned to
stone, top-hamper giving 'way, sails blown to ribbons, first one stick
going, then another, boom! smash! crash! duck your head and stand from
under! when up comes Johnny Rogers, capstan-bar in hand, eyes a-blazing,
hair a-flying . . . no, 'twa'n't Johnny Rogers. . . lemme see . .
seems to me Johnny Rogers wa'n't along that voyage; he was along one
voyage, I know that mighty well, but somehow it seems to me that he
signed the articles for this voyage, but--but--whether he come along or
not, or got left, or something happened--"

And so on and so on till the excitement all cooled down and nobody cared
whether the ship struck the iceberg or not.

In the course of his talk he rambled into a criticism upon New England
degrees of merit in ship building. Said he, "You get a vessel built away
down Maine-way; Bath, for instance; what's the result? First thing you
do, you want to heave her down for repairs--that's the result! Well,
sir, she hain't been hove down a week till you can heave a dog through
her seams. You send that vessel to sea, and what's the result? She wets
her oakum the first trip! Leave it to any man if 'tain't so. Well, you
let our folks build you a vessel--down New Bedford-way. What's the
result? Well, sir, you might take that ship and heave her down, and keep
her hove down six months, and she'll never shed a tear!"

Everybody, landsmen and all, recognized the descriptive neatness of that
figure, and applauded, which greatly pleased the old man. A moment
later, the meek eyes of the pale young fellow heretofore mentioned came
up slowly, rested upon the old man's face a moment, and the meek mouth
began to open.

"Shet your head!" shouted the old mariner.

It was a rat