customs; the new-fashioned skipper is overbearing and often conceited,
but rarely brutal.

They formed a strange society, did those East Coast sailors of past
days. A boy grew up in one of the brisk little ports that lay between
Wivenhoe and Spittal. The notion of inland life had no place in his
mind, for his thoughts in early years suffered a sea change. He played
on the quay, and heard the growling talk of the lounging, bearded
sailors; so that he soon became critical in the matter of ships and
seamanship. He could tell you the name of every black and apple-bowed
vessel that came curtseying over the bar on the flood tide; and he would
prove the superiority of the "Halicore" over the "Mary Jane," with many
clenching allusions to aged authorities. If the black fleet went out
with a northerly breeze blowing, he could name the ship that would be
first clear of the ruck; if the wind were off the land, he knew which
ship would be suited by having the breeze on the beam. Long before he
ever saw the outside of the bar he had heard of every point on the
coast. The possibility of becoming anything but a sailor never entered
his head. He tried to copy the flat-footed rolling walk of the seamen,
and he longed for the time when he might wear a braided cap and smoke a
pipe. While yet little more than a child he went on his trial voyage,
and had his first experience of sea-sickness. Then he was bound
apprentice for five years, his wages beginning at £8 per year, and
increasing yearly by £2 until the end of his term. His troubles began
after his indentures were signed. The average skipper had no thought of
cruelty and yet was very cruel. The poor lad had a very scanty allowance
of water for washing; yet if he appeared at breakfast-time with face and
hands unclean he was sent squeaking up to the galley with a few smart
weals tingling upon him. All sorts of projectiles were launched at him
merely to emphasize orders. The mate, the able seamen (or