What think you of this character of a seaman, of a plain north-country merchant seaman; _you_ whose ideas of the nautical man are gotten from Smollett’s studies, from the delightful portraits of dear Captain Marryatt? But, Jack, bless ye! _you_, who have been to sea, _you_ who have sailed ten times round the world, who have swung your hammock in a score of forecastles, and who have outweathered Satan himself in a dozen different aspects of ship’s captains, _you_, mate, will approve this sketch, will recognize its truth, will tell the landlubbers that at sea are many varieties of men--men who swear not, who are gentle, faithful in their duty below; men who are a little crazy, who drink deeply and are devils in their thoughts and madmen in their behavior, but trucklers and slaverers to those who hire them; men who are hearty, pimpled, broad of beam, verdant with the grog blossom and green in naught else, moist in the weather eye, and bow-legged by great seas. One Sunday morning, when we had left the island a little more or less than three weeks behind us, Greaves said to me at the breakfast table: “I shall hold divine service this morning on deck.” I stared, but said nothing. “I’ll read a portion of the Church of England liturgy to the men,” said he, “and a chapter out of the Bible. What chapter do you recommend?” I was at a loss. “Give them something interesting,” said I, “something that will carry them along with you.” “Right,” he exclaimed, with a little light of vivacity in his somewhat sunken and somewhat leaden eye, “what d’ye say to a fight out of Joshua?” “I do not think,” I answered, “that a good fight out of Joshua could be bettered.” “I’ll give ’em that chapter,” said he, “in which the son of Nun corks the five kings up in a cave and then hangs them. Not that there’s any moral that I can see in that sort of narrative. It is an Ebrew Gazette extraordinary--a pitiful, bloody business from beginning to end. But if the reading of a chapter of it causes even one of the sailors to take an interest in the Bible I shall have done some good.” “So you will.” “Do you know the men’s persuasions?” “Not I, captain.” “The Spaniards are Roman Catholics, of course. The Dutchmen and the others will be of us if they’re of anything. When you go on deck tell Bol to see that the crew clean themselves, and let him muster and bring them aft for divine service at half-past ten.” “Ay, ay, sir.”