The name I went by was “Fancy Chest”, and it stuck to me to the end of the voyage. As we walked away, Kreelman said:
“Well, Fancy Chest, what do you think of it?”
“Fine.”
“Not so fine as you think. The flannel shirt isn’t good for much, and you can’t spend the five dollars at any of the few places where we stop, for they don’t know that kind of money. I went on a voyage once and got a so-called gold watch when we got home. It was pinchbeck. I had to shake it to make it go, and I shook it so hard it made my arm ache.”
This was discouraging, and I was pretty well disillusioned. It was to be my fortune during the voyage to draw a watch, but I must withhold the story about it till the end of the book.
Kreelman continued, changing the subject, “It’s about time to have fresh meat. I’m about tired of hard bread and lobscouse.”
“Do they keep it on board?”
“Fancy Chest, you are still a greenie. Look in the sea and see what you see.”
We had seen porpoises before, but never so many as there were now. They were dancing all about the vessel, as if bent on a frolic. One of the boat-steerers went forward and rigged a platform just over the bow. Then he took his stand on it, with harpoon in hand. Two or three of the graceful creatures came up as if to encourage advances, and then disappeared beneath the surface. They were not near enough for the boat-steerer’s purpose. Then a daring fellow leaped up as if to defy the harpooner, only to fall a prey to his iron. Soon another porpoise was captured. I looked at the pretty creatures lying on the deck—each about five feet in length—with some pity, which gave way to the pleasant thought of the approaching repast.
As I went by the galley the cook said, “You’ll get something at dinner to make you feel good.” And we did. The meat was boiled with “doughboys” or dumplings, and nice it tasted, too. This change in diet cheered us all, and that afternoon there was more contentment than I had seen any day since we sailed.