Besides Other Deficiencies, We Were Utterly Shoeless.
In the free and
easy Pacific, sailors seldom wear shoes; mine had been tossed
overboard the day we met the Trades; and except in one or two tramps
ashore, I had never worn any since.
In Martair, they would have been
desirable: but none were to be had. For the expedition we meditated,
however, they were indispensable. Zeke, being the owner of a pair of
huge, dilapidated boots, hanging from a rafter like saddlebags, the
doctor succeeded in exchanging for them a case-knife, the last
valuable article in his possession. For myself, I made sandals from a
bullock's hide, such as are worn by the Indians in California. They
are made in a minute; the sole, rudely fashioned to the foot, being
confined across the instep by three straps of leather.
Our headgear deserves a passing word. My comrade's was a brave old
Panama hat, made of grass, almost as fine as threads of silk; and so
elastic that, upon rolling it up, it sprang into perfect shape again.
Set off by the jaunty slouch of this Spanish sombrero, Doctor Long
Ghost, in this and his Eoora, looked like a mendicant grandee.
Nor was my own appearance in an Eastern turban less distinguished. The
way I came to wear it was this. My hat having been knocked overboard
a few days before reaching Papeetee, I was obliged to mount an
abominable wad of parti-coloured worsted - what sailors call a Scotch
cap.
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