I spied the corpulent figure of Jans, the boatswain, forward of the fore-mast. He was standing with his arms folded, staring ahead. His posture somehow suggested a vacancy of mind, and you thought of him as looking into God knows what distance, with the unmeaningness you observe in the fixed gaze of a babe sucking. I could not say whether the decks had been washed down; they seemed damp, as if newly swabbed. One whom I supposed to be the ship's carpenter was sawing wood near the house in which were the live stock. Two others, hard by him, sat upon a sail, stitching at it. There was a seaman in the fore-top, but what doing I could not see; little more than his head showed above the barricade. I walked forward to where the boatswain stood, and, on observing that he took no notice of me, I touched him lightly on the shoulder. He turned his round face, ghastly as death yet as fleshy and plump as life, and gazed at me. I felt nervous--it was dreadful to accost these conformations, which were neither men nor devils--but I was resolved to go through with the business I had on hand, impelled by the thought that if I was suffered to come off with my life from this experience there would be that to relate to the world beyond anything which seamen have told of the ocean life. I said to him, "Good morning, Herr Jans. Here, to be sure, is a fine sky with noble promise." "True, sir," he answered, seeming to step out of the mystery of his stillness and vacancy without effort. "She looks fairly up: but so tedious a nor'-wester should be followed by a southerly gale!" "Heaven grant it!" cried I, gathering courage from his civility. "You will be glad to see old Amsterdam again, no doubt!" "Ay," said he, "I warrant you; and my wife, Amana, too, and my daughter, Tobina. Ha! ha!" His laugh was like that of the parrot, mirthless; and not a wrinkle stirred upon his countenance to give reality to his shocking merriment. To come at what I wanted--for I did not wish Vanderdecken to arrive and see me forward--I said "Yes, meetings are made sweeter by a little delay. Pardon me, Heer: I am an Englishman not well acquainted with the shipboard usages of the Dutch. In the ship of which I was second mate, we had what is called a topgallant forecastle in which the crew slept----" He interrupted with a shake of the head. "I do not understand," said he. This was not strange, for as I did not know the Dutch words, I called it topgallant forecastle in English. "They slept under a deck resembling the poop," said I. "Ha!" he exclaimed. "Where do your crew sleep?" "Down there," he responded, pointing to a hatch answering to the forescuttle of these times. "Is it a comfortable cabin?" said I.