90 NIMROD OF THE SEA; OR, 



and deck-hands, make a picture which might grace a vision 

 of Dante's " Inferno !" Oh, the horrible memory of that first 

 night's trying-out! The soreness and fatigue of the long 

 hours of extreme toil; the deathly drowse that comes over 

 one while standing, or mechanically performing some mo- 

 notonous duty ; the sliding of the bare feet over the greasy 

 deck in pools -of greasy and foul water; the dirty clothes, 

 cold and clammy from the saturating oil ; the glare of the 

 fierce flames, with the impenetrable gloom of the night be- 

 yond hell before, and heaven shut from view, as it were ; 

 the acrid, choking smoke ; the sooty deposit in nostril and 

 on palate ; the harsh commands of officers, and the fierce im- 

 precations of overtasked men all tended to fill six hours 

 with wretchedness greater than I have ever since experi- 

 enced. 



But they tell me one soon gets bravely over such senti- 

 mental tenderness, and the fatigue, the smear of blood, oil, 

 and dirt. The stench and the foul oath will become a mat- 

 ter of course. I am promised that I shall be habituated to 

 all, save the tyrannical hold of the awful drowsiness which 

 pours lead through the veins of the sailor : 



" Oh sleep ! it is a gentle thing, 

 Beloved from pole to pole ! 

 To Mary, Queen, the praise be given, 

 She sent the gentle sleep from heaven, 

 That slid into my soul." 



It may appear that we have time enough for sleep, stand- 

 ing watch and watch, or half our .time below; yet remem- 

 ber that our best sleep is in snatches of four hours each, 

 and that even these intervals are broken by the crowding 

 thoughts of the past. The tired sailor, as he tumbles into 

 his coarse, straw -lined bunk, loses precious moments in 

 dreams of home and of love, so much at variance with his 

 bitter surroundings. As a consequence, awaking at mid- 



