The evening was delightfully serene, and groups of seamen clustered together; spinning yarns, conversing on things in general, or singing songs in a low tone, so as not to disturb the sacred character of the quarter-deck; where, however, the young gentleman left in charge was drawing round him a little knot of favourite youngsters, eager to take advantage of the relaxation of discipline. Some were attentively listening to the hilarity going on in the captain's cabin,—for the heat had rendered it necessary to open the skylights; others were paying equal attention to the vocal talents of honest Jack, who, if he did not possess quite so much grace or talent as his superiors, made ample atonement for the deficiency by his peculiar and characteristic humour. Here and there, the treasured grog was served out with scrupulous exactness, exciting many a longing and envious eye. As in communities on shore, every ship had its choice spirits,—its particular and especial jokers, songsters, and tale-tellers—and, not unfrequently, that pest to society, the plausible pettifogger, whose head, like that of a Philadelphy lawyer, was constantly filled with proclamations.
Jack detected sailing under false Colors
The moon shone with a crystalline clearness, and the gentle motion of the frigate threw the shadows of the people in corresponding movements on the deck, resembling the ombres Chinois that delighted us so much in boyhood. The look-outs were posted at their appointed stations; some with a shipmate to bear them company—others alone, and thinking upon merry England.
"I say, Bill!" uttered the captain of the forecastle, addressing one of the men, as he was looking to windward from the cat-head—or, as it was more generally termed, 'Old Savage's picture-gallery,'—"I say, Bill! somehow or another I don't much like the looks o' the sky thereaway; to my thinking it's some'at fiery-eyed."
"Gammon!" returned the man without moving from his position, "I'd ha' thought you would have known better, Jem! Well, I'm blowed if we mayn't live and larn as long as there's a flurry o' breath in the windsel! Why, that's ounly the pride o' the sun, to show his glory to the last; would you have him go out like a purser's dip,—a spark and away?"