Chapter 9 - Page 2

crypts, and cabinets; and like a confidential writing-desk,
abounded in snug little out-of-the-way lairs and hiding-places,
for the storage of valuables.

Superadded to these, were four capacious pockets on the outside;
one pair to slip books into when suddenly startled from my
studies to the main-royal-yard; and the other pair, for permanent
mittens, to thrust my hands into of a cold night-watch. This last
contrivance was regarded as needless by one of my top-mates, who
showed me a pattern for sea-mittens, which he said was much
better than mine.

It must be known, that sailors, even in the bleakest weather,
only cover their hands when unemployed; they never wear mittens
aloft, since aloft they literally carry their lives in their
hands, and want nothing between their grasp of the hemp, and the
hemp itself.--Therefore, it is desirable, that whatever things
they cover their hands with, should be capable of being slipped
on and off in a moment. Nay, it is desirable, that they should be
of such a nature, that in a dark night, when you are in a great
hurry--say, going to the helm--they may be jumped into,
indiscriminately; and not be like a pair of right-and-left kids;
neither of which will admit any hand, but the particular one
meant for it.

My top-mate's contrivance was this--he ought to have got out a
patent for it--each of his mittens was provided with two thumbs,
one on each side; the convenience of which needs no comment. But
though for clumsy seamen, whose fingers are all thumbs, this
description of mitten might do very well, White-Jacket did not so
much fancy it. For when your hand was once in the bag of the
mitten, the empty thumb-hole sometimes dangled at your palm,
confounding your ideas of where your real thumb might be; or
else, being carefully grasped in the hand, was continually
suggesting the insane notion, that you were all the while having
hold of some one else's thumb.

No; I told my good top-mate to go away with his four thumbs, I would
have nothing to do with them; two thumbs were enough for any man.

For some time after completing my jacket, and getting the
furniture and household stores in it; I thought that nothing
could exceed it for convenience. Seldom now did I have occasion
to go to my bag, and be jostled by the crowd who were making
their wardrobe in a heap. If I wanted anything in the way of
clothing, thread, needles, or literature, the chances were that
my invaluable jacket contained it. Yes: I fairly hugged myself,
and revelled in my jacket; till, alas! a long rain put me out of
conceit of it. I, and all my pockets and their contents, were
soaked through and through, and my pocket-edition of Shakespeare
was reduced to an