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- 3193
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- 2026-01-30T20:48:36.270Z
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- 3154
- text
- independent level, at least—I shall have the whole berth-deck to
myself. Accordingly, I lowered away my pallet to the desired
point—about three inches from the floor—and crawled into it again.
But, alas! this arrangement made such a sweeping semi-circle of my
hammock, that, while my head and feet were at par, the small of my back
was settling down indefinitely; I felt as if some gigantic archer had
hold of me for a bow.
But there was another plan left. I triced up my hammock with all my
strength, so as to bring it wholly _above_ the tiers of pallets around
me. This done, by a last effort, I hoisted myself into it; but, alas!
it was much worse than before. My luckless hammock was stiff and
straight as a board; and there I was—laid out in it, with my nose
against the ceiling, like a dead man’s against the lid of his coffin.
So at last I was fain to return to my old level, and moralise upon the
folly, in all arbitrary governments, of striving to get either _below_
or _above_ those whom legislation has placed upon an equality with
yourself.
Speaking of hammocks, recalls a circumstance that happened one night in
the Neversink. It was three or four times repeated, with various but
not fatal results.
The watch below was fast asleep on the berth-deck, where perfect
silence was reigning, when a sudden shock and a groan roused up all
hands; and the hem of a pair of white trowsers vanished up one of the
ladders at the fore-hatchway.
We ran toward the groan, and found a man lying on the deck; one end of
his hammock having given way, pitching his head close to three
twenty-four pound cannon shot, which must have been purposely placed in
that position. When it was discovered that this man had long been
suspected of being an _informer_ among the crew, little surprise and
less pleasure were evinced at his narrow escape.
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