thy fragrance on the
salt sea-air?

Was it _you_, Selvagee! that, outward-bound, off Cape Horn, looked at
Hermit Island through an opera-glass? Was it _you_, who thought of
proposing to the Captain that, when the sails were furled in a gale, a
few drops of lavender should be dropped in their "bunts," so that when
the canvas was set again, your nostrils might not be offended by its
musty smell? I do not _say_ it was you, Selvagee; I but deferentially
inquire.

In plain prose, Selvagee was one of those officers whom the sight of a
trim-fitting naval coat had captivated in the days of his youth. He
fancied, that if a _sea-officer_ dressed well, and conversed genteelly,
he would abundantly uphold the honour of his flag, and immortalise the
tailor that made him. On that rock many young gentlemen split. For upon
a frigate's quarter-deck, it is not enough to sport a coat fashioned by
a Stultz; it is not enough to be well braced with straps and
suspenders; it is not enough to have sweet reminiscences of Lauras and
Matildas. It is a right down life of hard wear and tear, and the man
who is not, in a good degree, fitted to become a common sailor will
never make an officer. Take that to heart, all ye naval aspirants.
Thrust your arms up to the elbow in pitch and see how you like it, ere
you solicit a warrant. Prepare for white squalls, living gales and
typhoons; read accounts of shipwrecks and horrible disasters; peruse
the Narratives of Byron and Bligh; familiarise yourselves with the
story of the English frigate Alceste and the French frigate Medusa.
Though you may go ashore, now and then, at Cadiz and Palermo; for every
day so spent among oranges and ladies, you will have whole months of
rains and gales.

And even thus did Selvagee prove it. But with all the intrepid
effeminacy of your true dandy, he still continued his Cologne-water
baths, and sported his lace-bordered handkerchiefs in the very teeth of
a tempest. Alas, Selvagee! there was no getting the lavender out of you.

But Selvagee was no fool. Theoretically he understood his profession;
but the mere theory of seamanship forms but the thousandth part of what
makes a seaman. You cannot save a ship by working out a problem in the
cabin; the deck is the field of action.

Well aware of his deficiency in some things, Selvagee never took the
trumpet--which is the badge of the deck officer for the time--without a
tremulous movement of the lip, and an earnest inquiring e