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- 10826
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:14.843Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 10764
- text
- like opium-smokers, suddenly cut off from their drug. They would sit on
their chests, forlorn and moping; with a steadfast sadness, eying the
forecastle lamp, at which they had lighted so many a pleasant pipe.
With touching eloquence they recalled those happier evenings—the time
of smoke and vapor; when, after a whole day’s delectable _“chawing,”_
they beguiled themselves with their genial, and most companionable
puffs.
One night, when they seemed more than usually cast down and
disconsolate, Blunt, the Irish cockney, started up suddenly with an
idea in his head—“Boys, let’s search under the bunks!” Bless you,
Blunt! what a happy conceit! Forthwith, the chests were dragged out;
the dark places explored; and two sticks of _nail-rod_ tobacco, and
several old _“chaws,”_ thrown aside by sailors on some previous voyage,
were their cheering reward. They were impartially divided by Jackson,
who, upon this occasion, acquitted himself to the satisfaction of all.
Their mode of dividing this tobacco was the rather curious one
generally adopted by sailors, when the highest possible degree of
impartiality is desirable. I will describe it, recommending its earnest
consideration to all heirs, who may hereafter divide an inheritance;
for if they adopted this nautical method, that universally slanderous
aphorism of Lavater would be forever rendered nugatory—“Expect _not to
understand any man till you have divided with him an inheritance.”_
The _nail-rods_ they cut as evenly as possible into as many parts as
there were men to be supplied; and this operation having been performed
in the presence of all, Jackson, placing the tobacco before him, his
face to the wall, and back to the company, struck one of the bits of
weed with his knife, crying out, “Whose is this?” Whereupon a
respondent, previously pitched upon, replied, at a venture, from the
opposite corner of the forecastle, “Blunt’s;” and to Blunt it went; and
so on, in like manner, till all were served.
I put it to you, lawyers—shade of Blackstone, I invoke you—if a more
impartial procedure could be imagined than this?
But the nail-rods and last-voyage _“chaws”_ were soon gone, and then,
after a short interval of comparative gayety, the men again drooped,
and relapsed into gloom.
They soon hit upon an ingenious device, however—but not altogether new
among seamen—to allay the severity of the depression under which they
languished. Ropes were unstranded, and the yarns picked apart; and, cut
up into small bits, were used as a substitute for the weed. Old ropes
were preferred; especially those which had long lain in the hold, and
had contracted an epicurean dampness, making still richer their
ancient, cheese-like flavor.
In the middle of most large ropes, there is a straight, central part,
round which the exterior strands are twisted. When in picking oakum,
upon various occasions, I have chanced, among the old junk used at such
times, to light upon a fragment of this species of rope, I have ever
taken, I know not what kind of strange, nutty delight in untwisting it
slowly, and gradually coming upon its deftly hidden and aromatic
_“heart;”_ for so this central piece is denominated.
It is generally of a rich, tawny, Indian hue, somewhat inclined to
luster; is exceedingly agreeable to the touch; diffuses a pungent odor,
as of an old dusty bottle of Port, newly opened above ground; and,
altogether, is an object which no man, who enjoys his dinners, could
refrain from hanging over, and caressing.
- title
- Chunk 2