On the Sabbath morning, as Dr. Reikie solemnly called this holy day, divisions of course formed quite an event. The officers were all in frock-coats and swords, except Jack, who was lashed to his dirk. The best and biggest flag floated gaily aloft, and if a breeze was blowing, the Gurnet, with every white sail bellying out before it, looked indeed a thing of life and beauty. Down below on deck there wasn't a rope's end out of place; the hammocks were neatly arranged above the bulwarks, and the brass-work shone like the inside of a good gold watch.
Solemnly along the line of sailors and marines marched the captain, followed by Sturdy, followed in his turn by Dr. Reikie, and there was nothing that escaped the eagle eyes of any of the three. The men's very faces and ears came in for inspection, and even the cut and length of their hair, the hang of their knives, the lay of their lanyards; and if a bluejacket's collar was badly and carelessly spread, or if it were too broad or too narrow, the quartermaster's attention was drawn thereto.
To appear with a dirty face on a Sunday morning was indeed a crime. The captain would call attention to it, perhaps as follows: "Is that man's face clean and wholesome, Dr. Reikie?"
"It's waur* than a brookie's, sir; and look, his lugs† are like midden creels."‡
* "Waur," worse.
† "Lugs," ears.
‡ "Midden creels," baskets used in the Highlands of Scotland for carrying manure to the fields.
There were times, you see, when the English language would hardly meet the demands of the case, and then the honest doctor permitted himself to drift into his dearly-beloved native dialect.
"Bring that man before me to-morrow forenoon, quartermaster."
That man would next day be planked accordingly, and perhaps his grog stopped for a week, or, if the ship were in harbour, his leave stopped.