Our
stout boots, too, we covered over with a thick mixture of melted
grease and tar, and hung out to dry. Thus we took advantage of the
warm sun and fine weather of the Pacific to prepare for its other
face. In the forenoon watches below, our forecastle looked like the
workshop of what a sailor is- a Jack at all trades. Thick stockings
and drawers were darned and patched; mittens dragged from the bottom
of the chest and mended; comforters made for the neck and ears; old
flannel shirts cut up to line monkey jackets; southwesters lined
with flannel, and a pot of paint smuggled forward to give them a
coat on the outside; and everything turned to hand; so that,
although two years had left us but a scanty wardrobe, yet the
economy and invention which necessity teaches a sailor, soon put
each of us in pretty good trim for bad weather, even before we had
seen the last of the fine. Even the cobbler's art was not out of
place. Several old shoes were very decently repaired, and with waxed
ends, an awl, and the top of an old boot, I made me quite a
respectable sheath for my knife.
There was one difficulty, however, which nothing that we could do
would remedy; and that was the leaking of the forecastle, which made
it very uncomfortable in bad weather, rendered half of the berths
tenantless.
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