attention, and the officer of the watch was forward, he would come aft and hold a short yarn with me; but this was against the rules of the ship, as is, in fact, all intercourse between passengers and the crew.  I was often amused to see the sailors puzzled to know what to make of him, and to hear their conjectures about him and his business.  They were as much at a loss as our old sailmaker was with the captain’s instruments in the cabin.  He said there were three,—­ the chro-nometer, the chre-nometer, and the the-nometer.  The Pilgrim’s crew called Mr. Nuttall ``Old Curious,’’ from his zeal for curiosities; and some of them said that he was crazy, and that his friends let him go about and amuse himself in this way.  Why else a rich man (sailors call every man rich who does not work with his hands, and who wears a long coat and cravat) should leave a Christian country and come to such a place as California to pick up shells and stones, they could not understand.  One of them, however, who had seen something more of the world ashore, set all to rights, as he thought; ``O, ’vast there!  You don’t know anything about them craft.  I’ve seen them colleges and know the ropes.  They keep all such things for cur’osities, and study ’em, and have men a purpose to go and get ’em.  This old chap knows what he’s about.  He a’n’t the child you take him for.  He’ll carry all these things to the college, and if they are better than any that they have had before, he’ll be head of the college.  Then, by and by, somebody else will go after some more, and if they beat him he’ll have to go again, or else give up his berth.  That’s the way they do it.  This old covey knows the ropes.  He has worked a traverse over ’em, and come ’way out here where nobody’s ever been afore, and where they’ll never think of coming.’’ This explanation satisfied Jack; and as it raised Mr. Nuttall’s credit, and was near enough to the truth for common purposes, I did not disturb it.

With the exception of Mr. Nuttall, we had no one on board but the regular ship’s company and the live stock.  Upon the stock we had made a considerable inroad.  We killed one of the bullocks every four days, so that they did not last us up to the line.  We, or rather the cabin, then began upon the sheep and the poultry, for these never come into Jack’s mess.[2] The pigs were left for the latter part of the voyage, for they are sailors, and can stand all weathers.  We had an old sow on board, the mother of a numerous progeny, who had been twice round the Cape of Good Hope and once round Cape Horn.  The last time going round was very nearly her death.  We heard her squealing and moaning one dark night after it had been snowing and hailing for several hours, and, climbing over into the sty, we found her nearly frozen to death.  We got some straw, an old sail, and other things, and wrapped her up in a corner of the sty, where she stayed until we came into fine weather again.