GRINDING SPADES
No one was busier than the ship’s boy. Helping the steward in the pantry, turning the grindstone, peeling potatoes for the cook, or running aloft to tie stops in the buntlines, he was kept hopping from one job to another.
He doubtless found ere long that whaling was not as romantic a pursuit as he had dreamed it to be, and cried himself to sleep in homesickness many times before the end of the voyage.
Grinding Spades