Like Cornwall miners, wash off the soot from their skins, and they are all pale as ghosts.

Unless upon rare occasions, they seldom come on deck to sun themselves.

They may circumnavigate the world fifty times, and they see about as much of it as Jonah did in the whale's belly.

They are a lazy, lumpish, torpid set; and when going ashore after a long cruise, come out into the day like terrapins from their caves, or bears in the spring, from tree-trunks.

No one ever knows the names of these fellows; after a three years' voyage, they still remain strangers to you.