Chapter 33 - Page 2

carrying red sails, which
looked as if they had been pickled and stained in a tan-yard. These
little fellows were continually coming in with their cargoes for ships
bound to America; and lying, five or six together, alongside of those
lofty Yankee hulls, resembled a parcel of red ants about the carcass
of a black buffalo.

When loaded, these comical little craft are about level with the water;
and frequently, when blowing fresh in the river, I have seen them flying
through the foam with nothing visible but the mast and sail, and a man
at the tiller; their entire cargo being snugly secured under hatches.

It was diverting to observe the self-importance of the skipper of any of
these diminutive vessels. He would give himself all the airs of an
admiral on a three-decker's poop; and no doubt, thought quite as much of
himself. And why not? What could Caesar want more? Though his craft was
none of the largest, it was subject to him; and though his crew might
only consist of himself; yet if he governed it well, he achieved a
triumph, which the moralists of all ages have set above the victories of
Alexander.

These craft have each a little cabin, the prettiest, charming-est, most
delightful little dog-hole in the world; not much bigger than an
old-fashioned alcove for a bed. It is lighted by little round glasses
placed in the deck; so that to the insider, the ceiling is like a small
firmament twinkling with astral radiations. For tall men, nevertheless,
the place is but ill-adapted; a sitting, or recumbent position being
indispensable to an occupancy of the premises. Yet small, low, and
narrow as the cabin is, somehow, it affords accommodations to the
skipper and his family. Often, I used to watch the tidy good-wife,
seated at the open little scuttle, like a woman at a cottage door,
engaged in knitting socks for her husband; or perhaps, cutting his hair,
as he kneeled before her. And once, while marveling how a couple like
this found room to turn in, below, I was amazed by a noisy irruption of
cherry-cheeked young tars from the scuttle, whence they came rolling
forth, like so many curly spaniels from a kennel.

Upon one occasion, I had the curiosity to go on board a salt-drogher,
and fall into conversation with its skipper, a bachelor, who kept house
all alone. I found him a very sociable, comfortable old fellow, who had
an eye to having things cozy around him. It was in the evening; and he
invited me down into his sanctum to supper; and there we sat together
like a couple in a box at an oyster-cellar.

"He, he," he chuckled, kneeling down before a fat, moist, little cask of
beer, and holding a cocked-hat pitcher to the faucet--"You see, Jack, I
keep every thing down here; and