It is much to be regretted that Julia could not find her way to the Mythological Gardens, which must be a wonderful show place.
Still, it was a nice excursion until, being very absent-minded, the poor Griffin turned her head towards home while her body continued in the old direction. That is how she managed to breathe a gust of her largest flames in the faces of her passengers. Storm was extremely annoyed....
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V
An ant heap is a busy community, and has no time to be concerned at all with the domestic worries of the other ant heaps. Our world is absorbed in its worldly affairs, and looks upon other-worldly people as more or less lunatic for being attracted by the concerns of worlds remote or planets far removed. By these analogies we may perceive that Captain David Home was all the world to Captain David Home. The sun which lighted that world was the Hudson's Bay House, from whence came all good things, to which his prayers were addressed in duplicate. The moon which governed the night was Mrs. Home, whose face was full or peaked or turned away according to his conduct. There were certain little satellites whose music was not the music of the spheres as known to the angels in Heaven. And the rest of creation was the Beaver, peopled by mates and microbes of low degree, together possibly with rats, cockroaches, weevils, and other vermin to be kept down. The adoration of the sun, and moon and the suppression of low forms of life made up the sum of Captain's Home's religion. So shall it be understood that, what with the sun, the moon, and the microbes, he had no time to be bothered about the news-sheets, but merely caused a stack of the same to be hoarded for future use at sea, where they would come in handy when there was nothing better as food for the mind, for shaving paper, stuffing for his mattress, and an incentive to the mates. They might—if they behaved themselves—be allowed to see what was left next time he had his berth cleaned. So after a month or two the mates would read the news-sheets, use them for shaving paper, stuff mattresses, have their bunks cleaned, and allow what was left to be seen by the Boatswain, Chips, Sails, and others in the steerage. These, having read, shaved, stuffed, and cleaned out, would pass the ragged remnants forward to such as could read in the forecastle. There the very advertisements and obituaries would be devoured over and over again by men with starving minds.
Thus it came about that the Beaver was in the tropics, and running down the "trades" while still the tragedy of the barge Polly Phemus, noted in all the news-sheets, escaped any special attention. It was an episode remote from the real world of things which matter. Indeed, from the point of view of deep-sea mariners a barge is a mere obstruction to traffic on the fairways, while bargees are lubbers of no account whatever.
The Beaver was a fine sight of a Sunday morning, when after the decks were holystoned snow-white and breakfast served, she set her colors out above a cloud of sail, and rigged church with the Union Jack upon the table. She had the boatswain whistle the men aft barefoot all in their best white slacks, their red or chequered shirts, black silken scarfs, and shiny tarpaulin hats. In no detail of pomp and circumstance would the Hudson's Bay Company come short of the Navy, being authorized by Royal Charter to arm their forts, their troops, their ships, to wield the Greater and the Lesser Justice, make treaty with savage peoples or levy war, or, in an Empire three times as large as the then United States, wield the main powers of a Sovereign state. Indeed the old man, standing at the break of the half-poop, addressed his prayers to the Almighty with a jolly good word of command.
In those days dinner and supper consisted of boiled salt horse served in a kid or wooden tub upon the forecastle floor. The fat joints went aft. There was always hard-tack; and tea, not too powerful, was served morning and evening. At noon there was lime juice, used by British merchant ships on long voyages to stave off scurvy. Sunday dinner was illustrated with boiled duff of flour and water. The Navy, East Indiamen, Hudson's Bay ships, and clippers of the first flight had plum duff.
Food thus being lavished upon common sailors, mainly because they could not be put out to graze, they had the Sunday afternoon off duty excepting one hand to relieve the wheel.
Men on good terms with the cook would sometimes win a mug of hot fresh water to wash themselves withal, instead of waiting months perhaps for a deluge of tropic rain. Clothes were cleaned with sea water by trailing them overboard. There was a deal of making and mending to get the whole kit ready against the cold and storms off the Cape and the Horn. Mighty fine was their craftsmanship with waxed thread, palm thimble, bladed needles, and awls for heavy sewing; but for delicate artistry of intricately beautiful knotting the sheath knife lanyard has never been excelled. The knots took years to learn. Men sat in the coil of a halliard or perched upon a boat, smoking black muck in cutty pipes while they sewed, gossiped, or spun yarns, though some would read or sleep. Above them a flaw of the wind would set the reef points tapping upon sails which slept, high up against white cloud race or deep azure. Out beyond the bulwarks, the indigo of the deeps was maned with diamond-glittering spray on the swift surges. On deck was a splendor of swaying light, and shadow soft as sapphire dissolved. Bill sat and darned socks, while Auld Jock read the Bible aloud, or at times expounded the sacred text, "withoot, ye ken, the verra slichtest trace o' Scottish accent."