RNIA; then they were all furled at once, but with orders
to our boys to stay aloft at the top-gallant mast-heads and loose them
again at the word. It was my duty to furl the fore-royal; and while
standing by to loose it again, I had a fine view of the scene. From
where I stood, the two vessels seemed nothing but spars and sails, while
their narrow decks, far below, slanting over by the force of the wind
aloft, appeared hardly capable of supporting the great fabrics
raised upon them. The CALIFORNIA was to windward of us, and had every
advantage; yet, while the breeze was stiff we held our own. As soon as
it began to slacken she ranged a little ahead, and the order was given
to loose the royals. In an instant the gaskets were off and the bunt
dropped. "Sheet home the fore-royal!"--"Weather sheet's home!"--"Lee
sheet's home!"--"Hoist away, sir!" is bawled from aloft. "Overhaul your
clew-lines!" shouts the mate. "Aye-aye, sir, all clear!"--"Taut leech!
belay! Well the lee brace; haul taut to windward!" and the royals are
set.

What would the captain of any sailing-vessel of our time say to that?
He would say, "The man that wrote that didn't learn his trade out of a
book, he has BEEN there!" But would this same captain be competent to
sit in judgment upon Shakespeare's seamanship--considering the changes
in ships and ship-talk that have necessarily taken place, unrecorded,
unremembered, and lost to history in the last three hundred years? It
is my conviction that Shakespeare's sailor-talk would be Choctaw to him.
For instance--from "The Tempest":

MASTER. Boatswain!

BOATSWAIN. Here, master; what cheer?

MASTER. Good, speak to the mariners: fall to 't, yarely, or we run
ourselves to ground; bestir, bestir! (ENTER MARINERS.)

BOATSWAIN. Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts! yare, yare!
Take in the topsail. Tend to the master's whistle.... Down with the
topmast! yare! lower, lower! Bring her to try wi' the main course....
Lay her a-hold, a-hold! Set her two courses. Off to sea again; lay her
off.

That will do, for the present; let us yare a little, now, for a change.

If a man should write a book and in it make one of his characters
say, "Here, devil, empty the quoins into the standing galley and the
imposing-stone into the hell-box; assemble the comps around the frisket
and let them jeff for takes and be quick about it," I should recognize a
mistake or two in the phrasing, and would know that the writer was