Jacketless at sea! Jacketless so near Cape Horn! The thought was unendurable.

And, at least, my garment was a jacket in name, if not in utility.
At length I essayed a "swap." "Here, Bob," said I, assuming all possible suavity, and accosting a mess-mate with a sort of diplomatic assumption of superiority, "suppose I was ready to part with this 'grego' of mine, and take yours in exchange--what would you give me to boot ?" "Give you to _boot ?_" he exclaimed, with horror; "I wouldn't take your infernal jacket for a gift!" How I hailed every snow-squall; for then--blessings on them!--many of the men became _white-jackets_ along with myself; and, powdered with the flakes, we all looked like millers.
We had six lieutenants, all of whom, with the exception of the First Lieutenant, by turns headed the watches.

Three of these officers, including Mad Jack, were strict disciplinarians, and never permitted us to lay down on deck during the night.

And, to tell the truth, though it caused much growling, it was far better for our health to be thus kept on our feet.

So promenading was all the vogue.