To make a man a seaman, he should be put to no
other duty. Indeed, a thorough tar is unfit for anything else; and
what is more, this fact is the best evidence of his being a true
sailor.
On board the Reine Blanche, they did not have enough to eat; and what
they did have was not of the right sort. Instead of letting the
sailors file their teeth against the rim of a hard sea-biscuit, they
baked their bread daily in pitiful little rolls. Then they had no
"grog"; as a substitute, they drugged the poor fellows with a thin,
sour wine - the juice of a few grapes, perhaps, to a pint of the juice
of water-faucets. Moreover, the sailors asked for meat, and they
gave them soup; a rascally substitute, as they well knew.
Ever since leaving home, they had been on "short allowance." At the
present time, those belonging to the boats - and thus getting an
occasional opportunity to run ashore - frequently sold their rations
of bread to some less fortunate shipmate for sixfold its real value.
Another thing tending to promote dissatisfaction among the crew was
their having such a devil of a fellow for a captain.
