ils in the cordage.

"Stand by to reef all three top-sails!--settle away the halyards!--haul
out--so: make fast!--aloft, top-men! and reef away!"

Thus, in storm and tempest terminated that day's theatricals. But the
sailors never recovered from the disappointment of not having the
"_True Yankee Sailor_" sung by the Irish Captain of the Head.

And here White-jacket must moralize a bit. The unwonted spectacle of
the row of gun-room officers mingling with "the people" in applauding a
mere seaman like Jack Chase, filled me at the time with the most
pleasurable emotions. It is a sweet thing, thought I, to see these
officers confess a human brotherhood with us, after all; a sweet thing
to mark their cordial appreciation of the manly merits of my matchless
Jack. Ah! they are noble fellows all round, and I do not know but I
have wronged them sometimes in my thoughts.

Nor was it without similar pleasurable feelings that I witnessed the
temporary rupture of the ship's stern discipline, consequent upon the
tumult of the theatricals. I thought to myself, this now is as it
should be. It is good to shake off, now and then, this iron yoke round
our necks. And after having once permitted us sailors to be a little
noisy, in a harmless way--somewhat merrily turbulent--the officers
cannot, with any good grace, be so excessively stern and unyielding as
before. I began to think a man-of-war a man-of-peace-and-good-will,
after all. But, alas! disappointment came.

Next morning the same old scene was enacted at the gang-way. And
beholding the row of uncompromising-looking-officers there assembled
with the Captain, to witness punishment--the same officers who had been
so cheerfully disposed over night--an old sailor touched my shoulder
and said, "See, White-Jacket, all round they have _shipped their
quarter-deck faces again_. But this is the way."

I afterward learned that this was an old man-of-war's-man's phrase,
expressive of the facility with which a sea-officer falls back upon all
the severity of his dignity, after a temporary suspension of it.

CHAPTER XXIV.

INTRODUCTORY TO CAPE HORN.

And now, through drizzling fogs and vapours, and under damp,
double-reefed top-sails, our wet-decked frigate drew nearer and nearer
to the squally Cape.

Who has not heard of it? Cape Horn, Cape Horn--a _horn_ indeed, that
has tossed many a good ship. Was the descent of Orpheus, Ulysses, or
Dante into Hell, one whit more hardy and su