unprofessional must know, is a light
anchor, dropped for a momentary stop, or to haul a ship ahead, the
title being in so far very consonant to the object of instruction;
whereas the sheet-anchor is the great and last stand-by of a vessel,
let go as a final resource after the two big "bowers," which
constitute the usual reliance. The rareness with which the sheet
anchor touched ground (the bottom) gave rise to the proverb, "To go
ashore with the sheet anchor," as the ultimate expression of attention
to duty; and the story ran of a British captain, a devoted
ship-keeper, who, to a lieutenant remonstrating on the little
privilege of leave enjoyed by the junior officers, replied: "Sir, when
I and the sheet anchor go ashore, you may go with us." By the
prescription of our seniors we had to tie to _The Kedge Anchor_, let
us hope in the cause of progress, to haul us ahead; but in a tight
place _The Sheet Anchor_ was our recourse, and by it think I may say
we--swore. I always mistrusted _The Kedge Anchor_ after my researches
into a mysterious sentence--"A celebrated master, now a commander, in
the navy never served the bowsprit rigging all over." In the old-time
frigates, of the days of Nelson and Hull, the master was at the head
of the marling-spike division of the ship's economy, being, in fact,
the descendant of the master (captain) of more than a century earlier,
who managed the ship while soldiers commanded and fought her. But the
masters were not in the line of promotion; in the British navy they
rarely rose, in our own much more rarely. Who, then, was this
celebrated master, now a commander? Eventually I found the sentence in
a British book, and my faith in the pure product of American home
industry was suddenly shaken. It is only fair to say that books on
seamanship, being essentially an accumulation of facts, must be more
or less compilations. Methods were too well established to allow much
originality, even of treatment.

There were many other works of like character, the enumeration of
which would be tedious. _The Young Officer's Assistant_ was less a
specific title than a generic description. Several of them were
contemporary; and one, by a Captain Boyd of the British navy, summed
up the convictions of us all, teachers as well as pupils, in the
sententious aphorism: "It is by no means certain that coal whips will
outlive tacks and sheets." It is scarcely kind to resurrect a
prophecy, even when so guarded in expres