ourselves. Truculent-looking men accompanied us to our several
boarding-houses, paid our debts for us, finally bringing us by
boat to a ship lying out in the bay. As we passed under her
stern, I read the name CACHALOT, of New Bedford; but as soon as
we ranged alongside, I realized that I was booked for the
sailor's horror--a cruise in a whaler. Badly as I wanted to get
to sea, I had not bargained for this, and would have run some
risks to get ashore again; but they took no chances, so we were
all soon aboard. Before going forward, I took a comprehensive
glance around, and saw that I was on board of a vessel belonging
to a type which has almost disappeared off the face of the
waters. A more perfect contrast to the trim-built English
clipper-ships that I had been accustomed to I could hardly
imagine. She was one of a class characterized by sailors as
"built by the mile, and cut off in lengths as you want 'em," bow
and stern almost alike, masts standing straight as broomsticks,
and bowsprit soaring upwards at an angle of about forty-five
degrees. She was as old-fashioned in her rig as in her hull;
but I must not go into the technical differences between rigs,
for fear of making myself tedious. Right in the centre of the
deck, occupying a space of about ten feet by eight, was a square
erection of brickwork, upon which my wondering gaze rested
longest, for I had not the slightest idea what it could be. But
I was rudely roused from my meditations by the harsh voice of
one of the officers, who shouted, "Naow then, git below an' stow
yer dunnage, 'n look lively up agin." I took the broad hint,
and shouldering my traps, hurried forward to the fo'lk'sle,
which was below deck. Tumbling down the steep ladder, I entered
the gloomy den which was to be for so long my home, finding it
fairly packed with my shipmates. A motley crowd they were. I