But to return to the state of the crew.  Upon our coming into the forecastle, there was some difficulty about the uniting of the allowances of bread, by which we thought we were to lose a few pounds.  This set us into a ferment.  The captain would not condescend to explain, and we went aft in a body, with John, the Swede, the oldest and best sailor of the crew, for spokesman.  The recollection of the scene that followed always brings up a smile, especially the quarter-deck dignity and elocution of the captain.  He was walking the weather side of the quarter-deck, and, seeing us coming aft, stopped short in his walk, and with a voice and look intended to annihilate us called out, ``Well, what the d—–­l do you want now?’’ Whereupon we stated our grievances as respectfully as we could, but he broke in upon us, saying that we were getting fat and lazy, didn’t have enough to do, and it was that which made us find fault.  This provoked us, and we began to give word for word.  This would never answer.  He clinched his fist, stamped and swore, and ordered us all forward, saying, with oaths enough interspersed to send the words home, ``Away with you! go forward every one of you!  I’ll haze you!  I’ll work you up!  You don’t have enough to do!  If you a’ n’t careful I’ll make a hell of heaven! . . . .  You’ve mistaken your man!  I’m Frank Thompson, all the way from `down east.’  I’ve been through the mill, ground and bolted, and come out a regular-built down-east johnny-cake, when it’s hot, d—–­d good, but when it’s cold, d—–­d sour and indigestible;—­ and you’ll find me so!’’ The latter part of this harangue made a strong impression, and the ``down-east johnny-cake’’ became a byword for the rest of the voyage, and on the coast of California, after our arrival.  One of his nicknames in all the ports was ``The Down-east Johnny-cake.’’ So much for our petition for the redress of grievances.  The matter was, however, set right, for the mate, after allowing the captain due time to cool off, explained it to him, and at night we were all called aft to hear another harangue, in which, of course, the whole blame of the misunderstanding was thrown upon us.  We ventured to hint that he would not give us time to explain; but it wouldn’t do.  We were driven back discomfited.  Thus the affair blew over, but the irritation caused by it remained; and we never had peace or a good understanding again so long as the captain and crew remained together.

We continued sailing along in the beautiful temperate climate of the Pacific.  The Pacific well deserves its name, for except in the southern part, at Cape Horn, and in the western parts, near the China and Indian oceans, it has few storms, and is never either extremely hot or cold.  Between the tropics there is a slight haziness, like a thin gauze, drawn over the sun, which, without obstructing or obscuring the light, tempers the heat which comes down with perpendicular fierceness in the Atlantic and Indian tropics.