Summary

Portrait of Richard Henry Dana Richard Henry Dana Two Years Before the Mast — Chapter XXV

She had a false deck which was rough and oily, and cut in every direction by the chimes of oil casks; her rigging was slack and turning white; no paint on the sparks or blocks; clumsy seizings and straps without covers, and homeward-bound splices in every direction. Her crew, too, were not in much better order. Her captain was a slab-sided, shamble-legged Quaker, in a suit of brown, with a broad-brimmed hat, and sneaking about decks, like a sheep, with his head down; and the men looked more like fishermen and farmers than they did like sailors.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Richard Henry Dana Richard Henry Dana Two Years Before the Mast — Chapter XXV

It was evidently blowing harder, but then there was not a cloud in the sky, and the sun had gone down bright.
We had been below but a short time, before we had the usual premonitions of a coming gale: seas washing over the whole forward part of the vessel, and her bows beating against them with a force and sound like the driving of piles. The watch, too, seemed very busy trampling about decks, and singing out at the ropes. A sailor can always tell, by the sound, what sail is coming in, and, in a short time, we heard the top-gallant sails come in, one after another, and then the flying jib.
Source: Wikisource

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