In very warm weather this Shanks would sit at the foot of the mess-cloth, fanning himself with the front flap of his frock or shirt, which he inelegantly wore over his trousers.

Jack Chase, the President of the Club, frequently remonstrated against this breach of good manners; but the _steady-cook_ had somehow contracted the habit, and it proved incurable.
For a time, Jack Chase, out of a polite nervousness touching myself, as a newly-elected member of the club, would frequently endeavour to excuse to me the vulgarity of Shanks.

One day he wound up his remarks by the philosophic reflection--"But, White-Jacket, my dear fellow, what can you expect of him?
Our real misfortune is, that our noble club should be obliged to dine with its cook." There were several of these _steady-cooks_ on board; men of no mark or consideration whatever in the ship; lost to all noble promptings; sighing for no worlds to conquer, and perfectly contented with mixing their _duff's_, and spreading their mess-cloths, and mustering their pots and pans together three times every day for a three years' cruise.
They were very seldom to be seen on the spar-deck, but kept below out of sight..