A sailor
has a peculiar cut to his clothes, and a way of wearing them which a
green hand can never get. The trowsers, tight round the hips, and
thence hanging long and loose round the feet, a superabundance of
checked shirt, a low-crowned, well varnished black hat, worn on the
back of the head, with half a fathom of black ribbon hanging over
the left eye, and a peculiar tie to the black silk neckerchief, with
sundry other minutiae, are signs, the want of which betray the
beginner, at once. Besides the points in my dress which were out of
the way, doubtless my complexion and hands were enough to
distinguish me from the regular salt, who, with a sunburnt cheek, wide
step, and rolling gait, swings his bronzed and toughened hands
athwartships, half open, as though just ready to grasp a rope.
"With all my imperfections on my head," I joined the crew, and we
hauled out into the stream, and came to anchor for the night. The next
day we were employed in preparations for sea, reeving studding-sail
gear, crossing royal yards, putting on chafing gear, and taking on
board our powder. On the following night, I stood my first watch.
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