CHAPTER XVII 



IN WINDJAMMERS 



1 he Morose Captain — Onions and Music — The Flageolet and Dirges — 

 " Dead March " on the Poop 



What do you think of a five months' trip ? That was 

 my experience from Australia to England — leaving in 

 January, the arrival in London was in June. A pretty 

 tall order, nearly one hundred and fifty days. I had 

 several trips in sailing ships prior to this and altogether 

 have spent nearly two years of my life in windjammers. 

 At one time I knew everything there was to know, and 

 really believe that, had I served my time on my trips 

 I could have got a mate's certificate. As a boy I 

 hated the sea ; I would get sick in a row-boat, and be 

 violently ill on a moderate trip to Felixstowe via Har- 

 wich by the Queen of the Orwell or the Queen of the 

 Thames, which were the two boats plying in my youth. 

 We had a house at this Suffolk seaside resort, which was 

 a very small place in those days. However, constant 

 travelling at sea made it more attractive, and many are 

 the trips I can look back to and remember every in- 

 cident of. I have met skippers and mates of all kinds, 

 and as those sea trips were incidental to the period 

 I am writing about they crowd themselves into my 

 memory at the moment. 



On one of my passages I quite educated the captain 

 and the three mates in the mysteries of racing, and 

 most probably there has been something to answer 

 for in reference to this. The skipper had never been 

 on a racecourse in his life. He was a decent soul, and 



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