It came from a
Scottish able seaman who had served long in American sailing
vessels. The orator promptly struck out at the
semi-inanimate Sandy, who woke up, went for his man in true
British style, and had him howling for mercy in less than
two minutes. The Scottish sailor became the idol of the
captain and crew, and the Yankee bullies deserted at the
first port the vessel touched at. In 1871 I shipped aboard a
barque in Liverpool as chief officer. I was very young, and
what perhaps was more sinful, very youthful looking. The
captain was only two years my senior, and the second mate
four. There was a scarcity of desirable men available, which
resulted in our having to engage what we could get, and,
with the exception of three respectable men, the rest were
"packet rats," though few of them had sailed in packets, and
those who had were stamped with the mark of it. We left
Birkenhead in tow. There was a strong wind blowing. It was
my duty to see the anchors stowed properly. I gave orders to
man the fish tackle, and directed one of the men to pinch
the flukes of the anchor on to the gunwale while the crew
were hauling on the tackle.
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