It was not unusual for those old-time brigs, when bound to
the North in ballast, to be blown off the land by strong
westerly gales, and these occasions were dreaded by the
coasting commander whose geographical knowledge was so
limited that when he found himself drifting into the German
Ocean beyond the sight of land, his resources became too
heavily taxed, and perplexity prevailed. It was on one of
those occasions that a skipper, after many days of
boisterous drifting, remarked to his mate, "I wish our wives
knew where we are this terrible night!"
"Yes," replied the shrewd officer, with comic candour; "and
I wish to heaven we knew where we are ourselves!"
Such was the almost opaque ignorance, in spite of which a
very large carrying trade was successfully kept going for
generations.
The writing of the old-time skipper was so atrocious that it
brought much bad language into the world. One gentleman used
to say that his captain's letters used to go all over the
country before they fell into his hands, and when they did,
they were covered over with "try here" and "try there."
Their manners, too, were aboriginal; and they spoke with an
accent which was terrible.
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