The Boatswain's mates whistle round him, like hawks screaming in a gale, and the strange noises under decks are like volcanic rumblings in a mountain.

He dodges sudden sounds, as a raw recruit falling bombs.
Well-nigh useless to him, now, all previous circumnavigations of this terraqueous globe; of no account his arctic, antarctic, or equinoctial experiences; his gales off Beachy Head, or his dismastings off Hatteras.

He must begin anew; he knows nothing; Greek and Hebrew could not help him, for the language he must learn has neither grammar nor lexicon.
Mark him, as he advances along the files of old ocean-warriors; mark his debased attitude, his deprecating gestures, his Sawney stare, like a Scotchman in London; his--"_cry your merry, noble seignors!_" He is wholly nonplussed, and confounded.

And when, to crown all, the First Lieutenant, whose business it is to welcome all new-corners, and assign them their quarters: when this officer--none of the most bland or amiable either--gives him number after number to recollect--246--139--478--351--the poor fellow feels like decamping.
Study, then, your mathematics, and cultivate all your memories, oh ye! who think of cruising in men-of-war..