and every time she rolled to leeward he brought up with a
jerk that would have sent anything but a monkey flying into
space. But he didn't leave it until he had rove the new rope, and
he got back all right. I think it was Jack at the wheel; the one
that seemed more cheerful, the one that whistled "Nancy Lee." He
had rather have been doing the job himself than watch his brother
do it, and he had a scared look; but he kept her as steady as he
could in the swell, and he drew a long breath when Jim had worked
his way back to the peak-halliard block, and had something to
hold on to. I think it was Jim.

They had good togs, too, and they were neat and clean men in the
forecastle. I knew they had nobody belonging to them ashore,--no
mother, no sisters, and no wives; but somehow they both looked as
if a woman overhauled them now and then. I remember that they had
one ditty bag between them, and they had a woman's thimble in it.
One of the men said something about it to them, and they looked
at each other; and one smiled, but the other didn't. Most of
their clothes were alike, but they had one red guernsey between
them. For some time I used to think it was always the same one
that wore it, and I thought that might be a way to tell them
apart. But then I heard one asking the other for it, and saying
that the other had worn it last. So that was no sign either. The
cook was a West Indiaman, called James Lawley; his father had
been hanged for putting lights in cocoanut trees where they
didn't belong. But he was a good cook, and knew his business; and
it wasn't soup-and-bully and dog's-body every Sunday. That's
what I meant to say. On Sunday the cook called both those boys
Jim, and on week-days he called them Jack. He used to say he must
be right sometimes if he did that, because even the hands on a
painted clock point right twice a day.

What started me to trying for some way of telling the Bentons
apart was this. I heard them talking about a girl. It was at
night, in our watch, and the wind had headed us off a little
rather suddenly, and when we had flattened in the jibs, we clewed
down the topsails, while the two Benton boys got the spanker
sheet aft. One of them was at the helm. I coiled down the
mizzen-topsail downhaul myself, and was going aft to see how she
headed up, when I stopped to look at a light, and leaned against
the deck-house. While I was standing there I heard the two boys
talking. It sounded as if they had talk