skipper and all hands of a borrowed thirteen-foot dory, with the usual leg-o'-mutton sail, and steered by an oar over her lee gunwale. In these dories water was carried in a strong earthen jug with a stout handle to which a tin drinking-cup was usually attached, while a wooden dinner-pail, such as the Gloucester fishermen used in those days, contained provisions. When the rode line was coiled down clear with the killick stowed away forward, and the dinner-pail, wooden bailer, and water jug had been made fast with a lanyard to the becket in the stern sheets, the famous Cape Ann dory was about ready for sea.
Joe Creesy was a genuine boy, large and strong for his age, freckled, good-tempered, and fond of rowing, sailing, and fishing. When he got to be thirteen or fourteen years old, he used to get some one to lend him a dory, and in this, during his summer vacation, he would make short cruises to Beverly and sometimes to the neighboring port of Salem. Here he would loiter about the wharves, watching an Indiaman discharge her fragrant cargo, or perhaps some ship fitting out for another voyage to India or China; and he would gaze up in wonder and admiration at the long tapering masts, with their lofty yards and studdingsail booms, and what appeared to him to be a labyrinth of blocks and slender threads. The ships' figureheads, especially those representing warriors and wild animals, pleased Joe mightily, and the spare spars, gratings, capstans, boats, guns, and shining brass work, all delighted his heart. Occasionally he would behold a sea-captain who had really sailed to Calcutta and
