drink at his will.  Sailors will never be convinced that rum is a dangerous thing by taking it away from them and giving it to the officers; nor can they see a friend in that temperance which takes from them what they have always had, and gives them nothing in the place of it.  By seeing it allowed to their officers, they will not be convinced that it is taken from them for their good; and by receiving nothing in its place they will not believe that it is done in kindness.  On the contrary, many of them look upon the change as a new instrument of tyranny.  Not that they prefer rum.  I never knew a sailor, who had been a month away from the grog shops, who would not prefer a pot of hot coffee or chocolate, in a cold night, to all the rum afloat.  They all say that rum only warms them for a time; yet, if they can get nothing better, they will miss what they have lost.  The momentary warmth and glow from drinking it; the break and change which it makes in a long, dreary watch by the mere calling all hands aft and serving of it out; and the simply having some event to look forward to and to talk about,—­ all give it an importance and a use which no one can appreciate who has not stood his watch before the mast.  On my passage out, the Pilgrim was not under temperance articles, and grog was served out every middle and morning watch, and after every reefing of topsails; and, though I had never drunk rum before, nor desire to again, I took my allowance then at the capstan, as the rest did, merely for the momentary warmth it gave the system, and the change in our feelings and aspect of our duties on the watch.  At the same time, as I have said, there was not a man on board who would not have pitched the rum to the dogs (I have heard them say so a dozen times) for a pot of coffee or chocolate; or even for our common beverage,—­ ``water bewitched and tea begrudged,’’ as it was.[2] The temperance reform is the best thing that ever was undertaken for the sailor; but when the grog is taken from him, he ought to have something in its place.  As it is now, in most vessels, it is a mere saving to the owners; and this accounts for the sudden increase of temperance ships, which surprised even the best friends of the cause.  If every merchant, when he struck grog from the list of the expenses of his ship, had been obliged to substitute as much coffee, or chocolate, as would give each man a pot-full when he came off the topsail yard, on a stormy night,—­ I fear Jack might have gone to ruin on the old road.[3]

But this is not doubling Cape Horn.  Eight hours of the night our watch was on deck, and during the whole of that time we kept a bright lookout:  one man on each bow, another in the bunt of the fore yard, the third mate on the scuttle, one man on each quarter, and another always standing by the wheel.  The chief mate was everywhere, and commanded the ship when the captain was below.  When a large piece of ice was seen in our way, or drifting near us, the