all over his head and fine, open forehead; and his eyes he might have sold to a duchess at the price of diamonds, for their brilliancy.  As for their color, every change of position and light seemed to give them a new hue; but their prevailing color was black, or nearly so.  Take him with his well-varnished black tarpaulin, stuck upon the back of his head, his long locks coming down almost into his eyes, his white duck trousers and shirt, blue jacket, and black kerchief, tied loosely round his neck, and he was a fine specimen of manly beauty.  On his broad chest was stamped with India ink ``Parting moments,’’—­ a ship ready to sail, a boat on the beach, and a girl and her sailor lover taking their farewell.  Underneath were printed the initials of his own name, and two other letters, standing for some name which he knew better than I. The printing was very well done, having been executed by a man who made it his business to print with India ink, for sailors, at Havre.  On one of his broad arms he had a crucifix, and on the other, the sign of the ``foul anchor.’’

He was fond of reading, and we lent him most of the books which we had in the forecastle, which he read and returned to us the next time we fell in with him.  He had a good deal of information, and his captain said he was a perfect seaman, and worth his weight in gold on board a vessel, in fair weather and in foul.  His strength must have been great, and he had the sight of a vulture.  It is strange that one should be so minute in the description of an unknown, outcast sailor, whom one may never see again, and whom no one may care to hear about; yet so it is.  Some persons we see under no remarkable circumstances, but whom, for some reason or other, we never forget.  He called himself Bill Jackson; and I know no one of all my accidental acquaintances to whom I would more gladly give a shake of the hand than to him.  Whoever falls in with him will find a handsome, hearty fellow, and a good shipmate.

Sunday came again while we were at Monterey; but, as before, it brought us no holiday.  The people on shore dressed and came off in greater numbers than ever, and we were employed all day in boating and breaking out cargo, so that we had hardly time to eat.  Our former second mate, who was determined to get liberty if it was to be had, dressed himself in a long coat and black hat, and polished his shoes, and went aft, and asked to go ashore.  He could not have done a more imprudent thing; for he knew that no liberty would be given; and besides, sailors, however sure they may be of having liberty granted them, always go aft in their working clothes, to appear as though they had no reason to expect anything, and then wash, dress, and shave after the matter is settled.  But this poor fellow was always getting into hot water, and if there was a wrong way of doing a thing, was sure to hit upon it.  We looked to see him go aft, knowing pretty well what his reception would be.