Life on hoard Ship. 19 



As the sonorous bell strikes the fifth hour of the morning, 

 the crew are called on deck by the boatswain's whistle, the 

 hammocks are slung up and stowed away, and the work begins. 



This is the busiest time of the day, and for the mere 

 spectator the most uncomfortable. On all sides scouring, 

 rubbing, sweeping are going on, floods of water are streaming 

 along the decks, and he who is not as yet familiar with 

 these cleaning processes, runs some risk of a ducking as soon 

 as he makes his appearance outside his cabin. These morning 

 ablutions are, however, indispensable evils on board ship, for 

 cleanliness is a condition essential to the preservation of health, 

 and even the quantity of humidity which penetrates the 

 timber, and renders the air damp, appears to be less injurious 

 than the omission of these daily scourings. 



When the cleaning of the various parts of the ship is 

 finished, the idlers, and such of the officers as are off duty, 

 appear on deck, whither people come to enjoy the fresh 

 air, and to greet the opening day. It may, however, be 

 permitted to observe, that a sunrise at sea, notwithstanding 

 its various charms, is by far less imposing than the same scene 

 on a lofty mountain, where the veil of night seems to vanish as 

 if by magic, and luxuriant nature lies at our feet like a 

 smiling infant awaking from a lovely dream. That wild 

 majesty of scenery, that overpowering grandeur of gigantic 

 mountain forms, such as one sees in the Swiss or Tyrolcse 

 Alps, is wanting at sea, where the rising sun pours his beams 

 only over a boundless world of water, 



c 2 



