Their dreams are of cringles and reef-tackles, of knots, splices, grummets, and dead-eyes.

They can tell the length, to a fathom, of every rope in the boatswain's warrant, from the flying jib down-haul to the spanker-sheet; and the height of every spar, from the main-top-gallant truck to the heel of the lower mast.

Their delight is in stowing the hold; dragging about kentlage is their joy; they are the very souls of the ship's company.

In harbour they are eternally paddling in the boats, rowing, or sculling, or sailing about; they are always the first in fishing or bathing parties; in short, they are for ever at some sailor-kind of work.

At sea, their darling music is the loud whistle of the hardest storm-stay-sail breeze, with an occasional accompaniment of a split main-topsail.