324 FROM EDINBURGH TO THE ANTARCTIC 
talk with just as many profanities as usual. In safety or 
in danger, sailors swear, but they mean no harm, and they 
don't swear nearly so much as their fathers did before 
them. — ■ 
Once upon a time there was a parson on board a sailing 
vessel in the Mediterranean. On passing by the focsle one 
day, he heard oaths thick as shot come rattling up the hatch. 
Surely, he thought, our good ship must be in imminent 
danger ; I must ask our captain. So he went aft to the 
skipper, who was lounging in the shade on the poop with 
a lemonade at his elbow. 'Captain,' he said, ' 1 have just 
come from the other end of the ship, where I overheard 
the men in their cabin using such terrible language that 
I greatly fear our ship must be in some great danger. 1 
' I greatly regret/ replied the skipper, with the courtesy 
of his class, ( that the language of my men should have been 
such as to cause you the least pain. Rest assured, my 
dear sir, that there is really no danger just now; and believe 
me when I tell you, sir, that it is only on occasions such as 
the present, when the sky is clear and the sea is smooth 
and all danger far removed, that in his rash confidence the 
sailor so far forgets the Ever-listening Ear, the Ever- 
recording Pen.' . . . 
In the Bay the barometer went up with a jump and 
they caught a nor'-wester that brought the mizzen over by 
the board, blew the fore topmast over the side, shifted 
the cargo, and laid them over with a two-foot list to 
starboard. 
Down came the skipper to the cabin, blasting and 
blanking right and left, shouting to the steward for 
