Finally the mate’s clear, sharp order comes: “Belay there; clap a watch tackle on the lee fore brace.” “Aye, aye, sir!” And so every sheet, halliard, and brace is swayed up and tautened to the freshening breeze. The gear is coiled up, the brasswork polished until it glistens in the morning sun, the paintwork and gratings are wiped off, decks swabbed dry, and the pumps manned to another rousing chanty: “London town is a-burning, Oh, run with the bullgine, run. Way, yay, way, yay, yar, Oh, run with the bullgine, run.” The “old man” gets his morning sights, the log is hove, the wheel and watch are relieved at eight bells, and the clipper is ready for another day of stress and strain. Mornings like these bring keen appetites to officers and men, so the watch below sit about on their chests in the forecastle or on the fore hatch and dive into the mess kid with knives and spoons. It may be a chunk of salt pork or cold salt beef, or what Rufus Choate, in one of his flights of forensic eloquence, described as the “nutritious hash,” “succulent lob-scouse,” or “palatable dandy funk,” with plenty of hard tack in the bread barge, and all washed down with unlimited coffee. Not quail on toast or devilled kidneys, to be sure, but good substantial seamen’s food, upon which a man can work better at sea, grow stronger, and become less tired than on any other. In the old days captains used to lay in large stocks of chickens, eggs, etc., for their crews at Anjer Point, but before the ship was half-way across the Indian Ocean, the men would begin to crow in the dog watch, and come aft in a body, asking that their salt junk might be restored to them. In those days, as now, salmon were plentiful in California, but their introduction on board the clipper ships failed to tempt the appetites of sailormen when off soundings. They said they liked salt junk a good deal better. Besides, it gave them something to growl about--for sailors knew how to curse junk according to traditions approved by generations of jackies, but when it came to chickens and salmon they were at a loss for sufficiently vigorous and appropriate expletives to express their disgust. There used to be a yarn about an old shellback who, in a cross-examination, was asked by a smart Boston lawyer whether the crew did not have enough to eat. The mariner replied, “Well, yes, your honor, there was enough of it, such as it was”; and upon further inquiry as to the quality of the food, he answered, “Now, you see, sir, it was like this: the food was good enough, what there was of it.” And this summed up a sailor’s idea of food and pretty much everything else, in those days.