The really first-class seamen on these vessels (both American and British) were treated not only with fairness, but very often with indulgence.  It was not unusual, however, for them to have to fight their way to having proper respect paid to them.  The expert seaman, who could box as well as he could handle a marline spike or use a sail-needle, appealed to the sympathies of the captain and officers.  It must not be supposed that either the officers or men who were thought good enough to sail in these vessels were in any degree representative of the great bulk of British captains, officers, or men.  At the same time, I do not mean to suggest that the rest of the mercantile marine was, or ever could be, composed of Puritans.  But the men I have been trying to describe were the very antithesis of the typical British tar.  Many of them were, constitutionally, criminals, who had spent years compulsorily on the Spanish main, when not undergoing punishment in prison.  Having been shipmate with some of them I am able to speak of their character with some claim to authority.  They were big bullies, and consequently abject cowards.  The tales I have heard them relate before and during their sojourn on the Spanish main reeked with a villainous odour.  They always commenced their bullying tactics as soon as they came aboard, especially if the vessel had apparently a quiet set of officers and a peaceful captain.  They did not always gauge aright the pugilistic capacity of some of their forecastle brethren, and so it came to pass that once one of these six-feet-four rampaging creatures was threatening annihilation to a little forecastle colony, and, indeed, to the after-end colonists also, when there was heard, amid a flow of sulphurous curses, a quiet, defiant word of disapproval.  It came from a Scottish able seaman who had served long in American sailing vessels.  The orator promptly struck out at the semi-inanimate Sandy, who woke up, went for his man in true British style, and had him howling for mercy in less than two minutes.  The Scottish sailor became the idol of the captain and crew, and the Yankee bullies deserted at the first port the vessel touched at.  In 1871 I shipped aboard a barque in Liverpool as chief officer.  I was very young, and what perhaps was more sinful, very youthful looking.  The captain was only two years my senior, and the second mate four.  There was a scarcity of desirable men available, which resulted in our having to engage what we could get, and, with the exception of three respectable men, the rest were “packet rats,” though few of them had sailed in packets, and those who had were stamped with the mark of it.  We left Birkenhead in tow.  There was a strong wind blowing.  It was my duty to see the anchors stowed properly.  I gave orders to man the fish tackle, and directed one of the men to pinch the flukes of the anchor on to the gunwale while the crew were hauling on the tackle.  He looked at me for a minute or two as though he were