The other watch was composed of about the same number.  A tall, fine-looking Frenchman, with coal-black whiskers and curly hair, a first-rate seaman, named John (one name is enough for a sailor), was the head man of the watch.  Then came two Americans (one of whom had been a dissipated young man of some property and respectable connections, and was reduced to duck trousers and monthly wages), a German, an English lad, named Ben, who belonged on the mizzen-topsail yard with me, and was a good sailor for his years, and two Boston boys just from the public schools.  The carpenter sometimes mustered in the starboard watch, and was an old sea-dog, a Swede by birth, and accounted the best helmsman in the ship.  This was our ship’s company, beside cook and steward, who were blacks, three mates, and the captain.

The second day out, the wind drew ahead, and we had to beat up the coast; so that, in tacking ship, I could see the regulations of the vessel.  Instead of going wherever was most convenient, and running from place to place, wherever work was to be done, each man had his station.  A regular tacking and wearing bill was made out.  The chief mate commanded on the forecastle, and had charge of the head sails and the forward part of the ship.  Two of the best men in the ship, the sailmaker from our watch, and John, the Frenchman, from the other, worked the forecastle.  The third mate commanded in the waist, and, with the carpenter and one man, worked the main tack and bowline; the cook, ex officio, the fore sheet, and the steward the main.  The second mate had charge of the after yards, and let go the lee fore and main braces.  I was stationed at the weather cross-jack braces; three other light hands at the lee; one boy at the spanker-sheet and guy; a man and a boy at the main topsail, top-gallant, and royal braces; and all the rest of the crew—­ men and boys—­ tallied on to the main brace.  Every one here knew his station, must be there when all hands were called to put the ship about, and was answerable for the ropes committed to him.  Each man’s rope must be let go and hauled in at the order, properly made fast, and neatly coiled away when the ship was about.  As soon as all hands are at their stations, the captain, who stands on the weather side of the quarter-deck, makes a sign to the man at the wheel to put it down, and calls out ``Helm’s a lee’!’’ ``Helm’s a lee’!’’ answers the mate on the forecastle, and the head sheets are let go. ``Raise tacks and sheets!’’ says the captain; ``tacks and sheets!’’ is passed forward, and the fore tack and main sheet are let go.  The next thing is to haul taut for a swing.  The weather cross-jack braces and the lee main braces are belayed together upon two pins, and ready to be let go, and the opposite braces hauled taut. ``Main topsail haul!’’ shouts the captain; the braces are let go; and if he has chosen his time well, the yards swing round like a top; but if he is too late, or too soon, it is like drawing