Her crew, too, were not in much better order. Her captain
was a slab-sided, shamble-legged Quaker, in a suit of brown, with a
broad-brimmed hat, and sneaking about decks, like a sheep, with his
head down; and the men looked more like fishermen and farmers than
they did like sailors.
Though it was by no means cold weather, (we having on only our red
shirts and duck trowsers,) they all had on woollen trowsers- not
blue and ship-shape- but of all colors- brown, drab, grey, aye, and
green, with suspenders over their shoulders, and pockets to put
their hands in. This, added to guernsey frocks, striped comforters
about the neck, thick cowhide boots, woollen caps, and a strong,
oily smell, and a decidedly green look, will complete the description.
Eight or ten were on the fore-topsail yard, and as many more in the
main, furling the topsails, while eight or ten were hanging about
the forecastle, doing nothing. This was a strange sight for a vessel
coming to anchor; so we went up to them, to see what was the matter.
One of them, a stout, hearty-looking fellow, held out his leg and said
he had the scurvy; another had cut his hand; and others had got nearly
well, but said that there were plenty aloft to furl the sails, so they
were sogering on the forecastle.
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