The mate’s name is Leander Goggins. By the way, on a sailing ship the man who holds that position is never called the chief mate, first officer, or anything except simply “the mate,” even if there are four of them. Mr. Goggins was born in Chichester, England, about fifty years ago, but left that country when a lad and became a citizen of the United States, an unusual performance for an Englishman, who seldom renounces his native land. He is short and small generally, talks with a terrific cockney accent, in spite of his thirty-five years in and about America, and possesses one of those countenances which you can’t tell anything about; but his looks are not in his favor. One of his most objectionable points is his fawning servility, which is never prominent in a man who amounts to much, however humble his station. The second mate, Thomas Rarx, is a Nova Scotian, and is a large, raw-boned, hearty man with a fresh complexion, and is therefore the mate’s antithesis. You would never suppose that he was addicted to the thumping of sailors, yet this is one of the most important duties of the second mate of an American ship; on some of our sailing vessels it seems to be the most important. Then there are two bosuns; one of them, a Brooklyn youth, is a weak-looking creature, and has more the appearance of an American District Messenger boy than that of bosun of a Cape-Horner; perhaps his name has crushed his spirit,--it is Jimmie Rumps. But the other bosun is a brawny Scot, David MacFoy, of Troon; he is a splendid man, beautifully built, tall, straight, very good-looking, and is somewhat conceited, handles the men well, and has a cyclonic voice. The cook and steward are both natives of the East. The latter is from Singapore, and is therefore a true Malay; blandness seems to be his chief attribute, and his bashfulness allows him to do nothing but smile and back out of sight. What there is of the cook seems to be unexceptionable; he is a Cantonite, about four feet and a half high, weighs possibly ninety pounds, and is a tip-top sea-cook. Next comes the carpenter, whose only name aboard ship is “Chips.” Instead of a neat, clean person, redolent of pine shavings and saw-dust, our carpenter is a very dirty, fat individual, who appears to have been steeped for an indefinite period in a solution of kerosene and lamp-black. Most Finns (why Russian Finn? The man who says that will say hop-toad) seem to be dirty, however, so that he is no exception; in weight he would go well over two hundred and thirty pounds, and, as a whole, is the most objectionable-looking person whom I have ever seen. You could never call him Chips. As for Sammie, the boy, he is a short, thick, young Jew, not prepossessing in appearance, and with an apparently wonderful capacity for doing nothing; like Peter Simple, he looks as though he could stand a great deal of sleep. We have seen so little of the sailors as yet that, of course, no notion of any of them can be formed.