One calm night in the doldrums I went on deck in the middle watch to see if there were any signs of a breeze. The moon "had scoffed the clouds," and shone brilliantly upon the glassy sea. The courses were hauled up, jib and staysails hauled down, and the vessel made no motion ahead. I felt that I could not sleep till a breeze came and thought I would stay on deck and help the second mate keep his watch; so I called him to me, and as we leaned over the rail, I said, "Mr. Bangs, I believe you told me you sailed in the 'Bloodhound' once. I should like to hear about your voyage." So he told the following yarn: "When I got home from Australia in the 'Grace Darling,' after I'd had a lively time on the Cape, and my money began to get low, I went up to Boston to the Sailors' Home and began to look for a ship. My chum Bill Holmes and I made up our minds we would sail together again, and as we cruised about the wharves, we came across the ship 'Bloodhound' lying at India wharf. She was an extreme clipper, eighteen hundred tons register, and the handsomest vessel I ever clapped eyes on. I was told she was bound out to 'Frisco,' and that evening I asked the Superintendent of the Home about her, for I felt rather shy of those crack California clippers. I had been shipmates with a man who was with Bully Woodman in the 'Sea Witch.' He had a fashion of shooting at the men aloft with a revolver, or would let go the topsail halyards when men were on the yard and shake them overboard. His owners paid him five thousand dollars a year and fighting expenses, and sometimes these were pretty heavy. They used to clear the ship out with another captain, and put Woodman aboard at Sandy Hook, for it was hard to ship a crew to sail with him. There were several men of that style in those clippers, and I thought the Superintendent would know if the 'Bloodhound' was a safe boat to go in. He said she belonged to Jones and Thompson one of the most respectable firms in Boston. Deacon Jones was a member of Old South church, a tip-top man. He often gave lectures to young men about good principles and success in life, and it was certain he wouldn't allow any 'bullyragging' in one of his ships, for he was a good friend of sailors. "We went to the shipping-office next day and found the articles just opened, and Bill and I were the first ones that signed. In a week we went on board, and just as we hauled out from the wharf the mate came over the rail with his duds. "'Halloa!' said one of the men; 'I'll be blowed if we haven't Johnny Clarkson for mate, and he's the biggest rascal that ever walked a ship's deck.' "It seemed that the reason why the mate didn't join the ship any sooner, was, because he was such a notorious scoundrel that it would be very hard to ship a crew if it was known that he was to go in her; so the captain or owners kept him out of sight, until the last moment, when all the crew were on board, and the steam-tug alongside, and then he made his appearance.