Harry, on the contrary, made a distinction. He allowed no one to curse him, except the officers. When a sailor ventured to swear at him, he returned the swearing with interest, and clenched his fist ready for the violent sequel. He had long ago overcome the young boy’s squeamishness at an oath. If anything, he was rather prone to take the boy’s advantage over a man, and dare him to prove himself a coward by striking one younger and weaker. It is a cunning method of fence, which I have since found is frequently practised by those who, without loss of manliness, can resort to screaming. When I confided to him that the crew of the ‘Windermere’ were a very wicked set, he said the ‘Windermere’ was Heaven compared to a Black-Ball packet-ship. I believe that he would have liked to see more belaying-pins and marline-spikes thrown at the men by the mates, more knuckle-dusting, and sling-shot violence. According to him, brutal sailors should be commanded by brutal mates. ‘Lime-juicers’ were too soft altogether for his kidney. From the day we reached the region of the Trades, we enjoyed blue skies and dry decks, speeding along under square yards, with studding-sails below and aloft. Our work, however, was not a whit easier. The mates hated to see idleness, and found endless jobs of scrubbing paint-work, brass-cleaning, painting, oiling, slushing, and tarring, not to mention sennet-making, and serving shrouds and stays. Sundays, however,--weather permitting,--were restful. The sailors occupied themselves with overhauling their kits, shaving, hair-cutting, and clothes-mending. In the afternoon, after gorging themselves on duff, they were more given to smoke, and to spinning such sanguinary yarns of sea-life that I wondered they could find pleasure in following such a gory profession. When sea and sky were equally sympathetic, and Waters and Nelson gave a rest to their vocal machines, there might have been worse places than the deck of the ‘Windermere’ on a Sunday; and, to us boys, the Sunday feed of plum-duff, with its ‘Nantucket raisins,’ soft-tack, and molasses, or gingerbread, contributed to render it delightful. We were on the verge of the Gulf of Mexico, when one night, just after eight bells were struck, and the watch was turning out, Waters, who was ever on the alert for a drop on someone, hurled an iron belaying-pin at a group of sailors on the main deck, and felled a Norwegian senseless. Then, as though excited at the effect, he bounded over the poop-railing to the main deck, amongst the half-sleepy men, and struck right and left with a hand-spike, and created such a panic that old salts and joskins began to leap over each other in their wild hurry to escape from the demon. Four men lay on the deck still as death for a while, but, fortunately, they recovered in a short time, though the Norwegian was disabled for a week.