Chapter 15

THE MELANCHOLY STATE OF HIS WARDROBE

And now that I have been speaking of the captain's old clothes, I may as
well speak of mine.

It was very early in the month of June that we sailed; and I had greatly
rejoiced that it was that time of the year; for it would be warm and
pleasant upon the ocean, I thought; and my voyage would be like a summer
excursion to the sea shore, for the benefit of the salt water, and a
change of scene and society.

So I had not given myself much concern about what I should wear; and
deemed it wholly unnecessary to provide myself with a great outfit of
pilot-cloth jackets, and browsers, and Guernsey frocks, and oil-skin
suits, and sea-boots, and many other things, which old seamen carry in
their chests. But one reason was, that I did not have the money to buy
them with, even if I had wanted to. So in addition to the clothes I had
brought from home, I had only bought a red shirt, a tarpaulin hat, and a
belt and knife, as I have previously related, which gave me a sea
outfit, something like the Texan rangers', whose uniform, they say,
consists of a shirt collar and a pair of spurs.

But I was not many days at sea, when I found that my shore clothing, or
"long togs," as the sailors call them, were but ill adapted to the life
I now led. When I went aloft, at my yard-arm gymnastics, my pantaloons
were all the time ripping and splitting in every direction, particularly
about the seat, owing to their not being cut sailor-fashion, with low
waistbands, and to wear without suspenders. So that I was often placed
in most unpleasant predicaments, straddling the rigging, sometimes in
plain sight of the cabin, with my table linen exposed in the most
inelegant and ungentlemanly manner possible.

And worse than all, my best pair of pantaloons, and the pair I most
prided myself upon, was a very conspicuous and remarkable looking pair.

I had had them made to order by our village tailor, a little fat man,
very thin in the legs, and who used to say he imported the latest
fashions direct from Paris; though all the fashion plates in his shop
were very dirty with fly-marks.

Well, this tailor made the pantaloons I speak of, and while he had them
in hand, I used to call and see him two or three times a day to try them
on, and hurry him forward; for he was an old man with large round
spectacles, and could not see very well, and had no one to help him but
a sick wife, with five grandchildren to take care of; and besides that,
he was such a great snuff-taker, that it interfered with his business;
for he took several pinches for every stitch, and would sit snuffing and
blowing his nose over my pantaloons, till I used to get disgusted with
him. Now, this old tailor had