In like manner all the contents of the bags were disposed of,
embracing old frocks, trowsers, and jackets, the various sums for
which they went being charged to the bidders on the books of the
Purser.

Having been present at this auction, though not a purchaser, and
seeing with what facility the most dismantled old garments went
off, through the magical cleverness of the accomplished auctioneer,
the thought occurred to me, that if ever I calmly and positively
decided to dispose of my famous white jacket, this would be the very
way to do it. I turned the matter over in my mind a long time.

The weather in Rio was genial and warm, and that I would ever
again need such a thing as a heavy quilted jacket--and such a
jacket as the white one, too--seemed almost impossible. Yet I
remembered the American coast, and that it would probably be
Autumn when we should arrive there. Yes, I thought of all that,
to be sure; nevertheless, the ungovernable whim seized me to
sacrifice my jacket and recklessly abide the consequences.
Besides, was it not a horrible jacket? To how many annoyances had
it subjected me? How many scrapes had it dragged me into? Nay,
had it not once jeopardised my very existence? And I had a
dreadful presentiment that, if I persisted in retaining it, it
would do so again. Enough! I will sell it, I muttered; and so
muttering, I thrust my hands further down in my waistband, and
walked the main-top in the stern concentration of an inflexible
purpose. Next day, hearing that another auction was shortly to
take place, I repaired to the office of the Purser's steward,
with whom I was upon rather friendly terms. After vaguely and