The
captain was leaning over the rail watching him, and we went
quietly on with our work. In the midst of our painting, on--
Friday, December 19th, we crossed the equator for the second time.
I had the sense of incongruity which all have when, for the first
time, they find themselves living under an entire change of
seasons; as, crossing the line under a burning sun in the midst of
December.
Thursday, December 25th. This day was Christmas, but it brought us
no holiday. The only change was that we had a ``plum duff'' for
dinner, and the crew quarrelled with the steward because he did
not give us our usual allowance of molasses to eat with it. He
thought the plums would be a substitute for the molasses, but we
were not to be cheated out of our rights in that way.
Such are the trifles which produce quarrels on shipboard. In fact,
we had been too long from port. We were getting tired of one
another, and were in an irritable state, both forward and aft. Our
fresh provisions were, of course, gone, and the captain had
stopped our rice, so that we had nothing but salt beef and salt
pork throughout the week, with the exception of a very small duff
on Sunday. This added to the discontent; and many little things,
daily and almost hourly occurring, which no one who has not
himself been on a long and tedious voyage can conceive of or
properly appreciate,-- little wars and rumors of wars, reports of
things said in the cabin, misunderstanding of words and looks,
apparent abuses,-- brought us into a condition in which everything
seemed to go wrong.
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