" Ay, and why should she, Jack? didn't every one of her stout timbers grow on shore, and hasn't she sensibilities as well as we?
? ? ? ? Poor old ship! Her very looks denote her desires: how deplorable she appears! The paint on her sides, burnt up by the scorching sun, is puffed out and cracked. See the weeds she trails along with her, and what an unsightly bunch of these horrid barnacles has formed about her stern-piece; and every time she shows her copper torn, away or hanging in jagged strips.
? ? ? ? Poor old ship! I say again: for six months she has been rolling and pitching about, never for one moment at rest. But courage, old lass, I hope to see thee soon within a biscuit's toss of the merry land, riding snugly at anchor in some green cove, and sheltered from the boisterous winds.
? ? ? ? "Hurrah, my lads! It's a settled thing; next week we shape our course to the Marquesas!" The Marquesas! What strange visions of outlandish things does the very name spirit up! Lovely houris- cannibal banquets- groves of cocoa-nuts- coral reefs- tattooed chiefs- and bamboo temples; sunny valleys planted with bread-fruit trees- carved canoes dancing on the flashing blue waters- savage woodlands guarded by horrible idols- heathenish rites and human sacrifices.
? ? ? ? Such were the strangely jumbled anticipations that haunted me during our passage from the cruising ground.
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