so
heartily detested, and the sick so little cared for, that the
greatest invalid generally strives to mask his sufferings. He has
given no sympathy to others, and he expects none in return. Their
conduct, in this respect, so opposed to their generous-hearted
behaviour ashore, painfully affects the landsman on his first
intercourse with them as a sailor.

Sometimes, but seldom, our invalids inveighed against their being kept
at sea, where they could be of no service, when they ought to be
ashore and in the way of recovery. But--"Oh! cheer up--cheer up, my
hearties!"--the mate would say. And after this fashion he put a stop
to their murmurings.

But there was one circumstance, to which heretofore I have but barely
alluded, that tended more than anything else to reconcile many to
their situation. This was the receiving regularly, twice every day, a
certain portion of Pisco, which was served out at the capstan, by the
steward, in little tin measures called "tots."

The lively affection seamen have for strong drink is well known; but
in the South Seas, where it is so seldom to be had, a thoroughbred
sailor deems scarcely any price too dear which will purchase his
darling "tot." Nowadays, American whalemen in the Pacific never think
of carrying spirits as a ration; and aboard of most of them, it is
never served out even in times of the greatest hardships. All Sydney
whalemen, however, still cling to the old custom, and carry it as a
part of the regular supplies for the voyage.

In port, the allowance of Pisco was suspended; with a view,
undoubtedly, of heightening the attractions of being out of sight of
land.

Now, owing to the absence of proper discipline, our sick, in addition
to what they took medicinally, often came in for their respective
"tots" convivially; and, added to all this, the evening of the last
day of the week was always celebrated by what is styled on board of
English vessels "The Saturday-night bottles." Two of these were sent
down into the forecastle, just after dark; one for the starboard
watch, and the other for the larboard.

By prescription, the oldest seaman in each claims the treat as his,
and, accordingly, pours out the good cheer and passes it round like a
lord doing the honours of his table. But the Saturday-night bottles
were not all. The carpenter and cooper, in sea parlance, Chips and
Bungs, who were the "Cods," or leaders of the forecastle, in some way
or other, managed to obtain an