so braced that the sail lay with
the wind out of it, really slack for handling, though still bellying
and lifting as the ship rolled, or headed up or off; whether this rope
or that which controlled the wilful canvas needed another pull. But if
the yard itself had not been laid right, it was too late to mend it.
To start a brace with the men on the spar might cause a jerk that
would spill from it some one whose both hands were in the work,
contrary to the sound tradition, "One hand for yourself and one for
the owners." I believe the old English phrase ran, "One for yourself
and one for the king." Then, when all was over and snug once more, the
men down from aloft, the rigging coiled up again on its pins, there
succeeded the delightful relaxation from work well done and finished,
the easy acceptance of the quieting yet stimulating effect of the
strong air, enjoyed in indolence; for nothing was more unoccupied than
the seaman when the last reef was in the topsails and the ship
lying-to.

Talking of such sensations, and the idle _abandon_ of a whole gale of
wind after the ship is secured, I wonder how many of my readers will
have seen the following ancient song. I guard myself from implying the
full acquiescence of seamen in what is, of course, a caricature; few
seamen, few who have tried, really enjoy bad weather. Yet there are
exceptions. That there is no accounting for tastes is extraordinarily
true. I once met a man, journeying, who told me he liked living in a
sleeping-car; than which to me a dozen gales, with their abounding
fresh air, would be preferable. Yet this ditty does grotesquely
reproduce the lazy satisfaction and security of the old-timers under
the conditions:

"One night came on a hurricane,
The sea was mountains rolling,
When Barney Buntline turned his quid
And said to Billy Bowline,
'A strong nor'wester's blowing, Bill:
Hark! don't you hear it roar now?
Lord help them! how I pities all
Unlucky folks on shore now.

"'Foolhardy chaps, that live in towns,
What dangers they are all in!
And now lie shaking in their beds,
For fear the roof should fall in!
Poor creatures, how they envies us,
And wishes, I've a notion,
For our good luck, in such a storm,
To be upon the ocean.

"'And often, Bill, I have been told
How folks are killed, and undone,
By overturns of carriages,
By fogs and fires in London.