In the same vessel, and on the same voyage to China, the sailors had another pet, of a very singular description; viz. a pig—­literally a grunter:  nor do I believe there ever was a favourite more deeply cherished, or more sincerely lamented after her singular exit.  On our sailing from England, six little sows, of a peculiarly fine breed, had been laid in by my steward.  In the course of the voyage, five of these fell under the relentless hands of the butcher; but one of the six, being possessed of a more graceful form than belonged to her sister swine, and kept as clean as any lap-dog, was permitted to run about the decks, amongst the goats, sheep, dogs, and monkeys of our little ark.  The occurrence of two or three smart gales of wind off the Cape of Good Hope, and the unceremonious entrance of sundry large seas, swept the decks of most of our live stock, excepting only this one pig, known amongst the crew by the pet name of Jean.  During the bad weather off the Bank of Aguilhas, her sowship was stowed in the launch on the booms, and never seen, though often enough heard; but when we hauled up to the northward, and once more entered the trade-winds, on our course to the Straits of Sunda, by which entrance we proposed to gain the Java Sea, Miss Jean was again allowed to range about the decks at large, and right happy she seemed, poor lady, to exchange the odious confinement of the longboat for the freedom of the open waist.

In warm latitudes, the men, as I have mentioned before, generally take their meals on deck, and it was Jean’s grand amusement, as well as business, to cruise along amongst the messes, poking her snout into every bread-bag, and very often she scalded her tongue in the soup-kids.  Occasionally, the sailors, to show the extent of their regard, amused themselves by pouring a drop of grog down her throat.  I never saw her fairly drunk, however, but twice; upon which occasions, as was to be expected, she acted pretty much like a human being in the same hoggish predicament.  Whether it was owing to this high feeding, or to the constant scrubbing which her hide received from sand, brushes, and holystones, I know not, but she certainly grew and flourished at a most astonishing rate, and every day waxed more and more impudent and importunate at the dinner-hour.  I saw a good deal of this familiarity going on, but had no idea of the estimation Jean was held in, till one day, when we were about half-way across the China Sea, and all our stock of sheep, fowls, and ducks, was expended, I said to the steward, “You had better kill the pig, which, if properly managed, will last till we reach Macao.”

The servant stood for some time fumbling with his hair, and shuffling with his feet, muttering something to himself.

“Don’t you hear?” I asked.  “Kill the pig; and let us have the fry to-day; the head with plenty of port wine, as mock-turtle soup, to-morrow; and get one of the legs roasted for dinner on Saturday.”