of which, with respect to what is called the world, his competitor was
as ignorant as a child. He had his sentimental vein, accordingly, in
which he took the last love-tale out of some "Penny Story-Teller" or
fashionable novel he had spelled over below, and turned it over into a
parody that would have thrown its unfortunate author into convulsions of
horror, and his critics into shrieks of laughter. The fine language of
lords and ladies, of romantic heroines, or of foreign counts and
bandits, was gravely retailed and gravely listened to by a throng of
admiring jacktars; while the old whaler smoked his pipe sulkily apart,
gave now and then a scornful glance out of his weather-eye, and called
it "all '_high-dic_' and soger's gammon."

On this occasion, however, the group forward did not solicit the
services of either candidate, as they happened to have present among
them a shipmate, who, by general confession, "took the shine" out of
both, although it was rarely they could get hold of him. "Old Jack," the
captain's private steward, was the oldest seaman on board, and having
known the captain when the latter went to sea, had sailed with him
almost ever since he commanded a ship, as well as lived in his house on
shore. He did not now keep his watch, nor take his "trick at the helm,"
except when he chose, and was altogether a privileged sort of a person,
or one of the "idlers." His name was Jacobs, which afforded a pretext
for calling him "Old Jack," with the sailor's fondness for that
Christian cognomen, which it is difficult to account for, unless because
Jonah and St. John were seafaring characters, and the Roman Catholic
holy clerk St. Nicholas was baptized "Davy Jones," with sundry other
reasons good at sea. But Old Jack was, at any rate, the best hand for a
yarn in the Gloucester Indiaman, and had been once or twice called upon
to spin one to the ladies and gentlemen in the cuddy. It was partly
because of his inexhaustible fund of good humor, and partly from that
love of the sea which looked out through all that the old tar had seen
and undergone, and which made him still follow the bowsprit, although
able to live comfortably ashore. In his blue jacket, white canvas
trowsers edged with blue, and glazed hat, coming forward to the galley
to light his pipe, after serving the captain's tea of an evening, Old
Jack looked out over the bulwarks, sniffed the sharp sea-air, and stood
with his shirt-sleeve fluttering as he put h