Nothing happened worth noting in the week that followed this business. The trade-wind blew as languid a breeze as ever vexed the heart and inflamed the passions of a ship-master. It was to be a long passage, we all said--six months, Mr. Johnson predicted--and old Keeling admitted that he had nothing to offer us in the way of hope until we had crossed the equator, where the south-east trades might compensate us for this northern sluggishness by blowing a brisk gale of wind. However, if the dull crawling of the ship held the spirits of us who lived aft somewhat low, forward the Jacks made sport enough for themselves, and of a second dog-watch were as jolly a lot as ever fetched an echo out of a hollow topsail with salt-hardened lungs. There were a couple of excellent fiddlers amongst them, and these chaps would perch themselves upon the booms, and with bowed heads and quivering arms saw endless dance-tunes out of the catgut. Many a half-hour have I pleasantly killed in watching and hearkening to the forecastle frolics. The squeaking of the fiddles was the right sort of music for the show; the Jacks in couples lovingly embracing each other, slided, twirled, frisked, polked with loose delighted limbs between the forecastle rails, their hairy faces grinning over each other’s shoulders; or one of them would take the deck--the rest drawing off to smoke a pipe and look on --and break into a noble maritime shuffle--the true deep-sea hornpipe--always dancing it to perfection, as I would think. One such scene I vividly recall as I sit writing: a tar of manly proportions, a little way past the forecastle ladder, plain in the view of the poop, his shoes twinkling, his flowing duck breeches trembling, his arms folded, or one hand gracefully arching to his head, his straw hat on nine hairs, his face between his broad black whiskers showing out in the hue of claret, his little eyes sparkling with the enjoyment of the measures, and the perspiration hopping off his nose like parched peas; past him a crowd of storm-dyed faces meditatively surveying him, gnawing with excitement upon the junks standing high in their cheeks in their sympathy with the dancer, or pulling their pipes from their lips with the slow deliberateness of the merchant sailor to expectorate and growl out a comment upon the capering lively; to the right of him amidships on the booms the two fiddlers, working their hardest, and threatening every moment to topple over on to the deck with the energy of their movements. Far ahead forked out the great bowsprit and jib-booms, made massive to the eye by the long spritsail yard and the enormously thick gear of shrouds and guys; on high rose the canvas at the fore, yellowing as it soared into a golden tinge to the westering glory that was setting the heavens on fire on the starboard beam. Oh! it was a sight beautiful exceedingly, with the gilding of the ropes by the sunset to the complexion of golden wire, and a long line