WHITE-JACKETORTHE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR

BY HERMAN MELVILLEAUTHOR OF "TYPEE, " "OMOO, " AND "MOBY-DICK"

NEW YORKUNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY5 AND 7 EAST SIXTEENTH STREET * * * * *CHICAGO: 266 & 268 WABASH AVE. 

Copyright, 1892BY ELIZABETH S. MELVILLE

 "Conceive him now in a man-of-war; with his letters of mart, well armed, victualed, and appointed, and see how he acquits himself. " --FULLER'S "Good Sea-Captain. "

NOTE. In the year 1843 I shipped as "ordinary seaman" on board of aUnited States frigate then lying in a harbor of the Pacific Ocean. After remaining in this frigate for more than a year, I was dischargedfrom the service upon the vessel's arrival home. My man-of-warexperiences and observations have been incorporated in the presentvolume. 

New York, March, 1850. 

WHITE-JACKET. 

CHAPTER I. 

THE JACKET. 

It was not a _very_ white jacket, but white enough, in all conscience, as the sequel will show. 

The way I came by it was this. 

When our frigate lay in Callao, on the coast of Peru--her lastharbour in the Pacific--I found myself without a _grego_, orsailor's surtout; and as, toward the end of a three years' cruise, no pea-jackets could be had from the purser's steward: and beingbound for Cape Horn, some sort of a substitute was indispensable;I employed myself, for several days, in manufacturing an outlandishgarment of my own devising, to shelter me from the boisterous weatherwe were so soon to encounter. 

It was nothing more than a white duck frock, or rather shirt:which, laying on deck, I folded double at the bosom, and by thenmaking a continuation of the slit there, opened it lengthwise--much as you would cut a leaf in the last new novel. The gashbeing made, a metamorphosis took place, transcending any relatedby Ovid. For, presto! the shirt was a coat!--a strange-lookingcoat, to be sure; of a Quakerish amplitude about the skirts; withan infirm, tumble-down collar; and a clumsy fullness about thewristbands; and white, yea, white as a shroud. And my shroud itafterward came very near proving, as he who reads further will find. 

But, bless me, my friend, what sort of a summer jacket is this, in which to weather Cape Horn? A very tasty, and beautiful whitelinen garment it may have seemed; but then, people almostuniversally sport their linen next to their skin. 

Very true; and that thought very early occurred to me; for noidea had I of scudding round Cape Horn in my shirt; for _that_would have been almost scudding under bare poles, indeed. 

So, with many odds and ends of patches--old socks, old trowser-legs, and the like--I bedarned and bequilted the inside of myjacket, till it became, all over, stiff and padded, as KingJames's cotton-stuffed and dagger-proof doublet; and no buckramor steel hauberk stood up more stoutly. 

So far, very good; but pray, tell me, White-Jacket, how do youpropose keeping out the rain and the wet in this quilted _grego_of yours? You don't call this wad of old patches a Mackintosh, doyou?----you don't pretend to say that worsted is water-proof?

No, my dear friend; and that was the deuce of it. Waterproof itwas not, no more than a sponge. Indeed, with such recklessnesshad I bequilted my jacket, that in a rain-storm I became auniversal absorber; swabbing bone-dry the very bulwarks I leanedagainst. Of a damp day, my heartless shipmates even used to standup against me, so powerful was the capillary attraction betweenthis luckless jacket of mine and all drops of moisture. I drippedlike a turkey a roasting; and long after the rain storms wereover, and the sun showed his face, I still stalked a Scotch mist;and when it was fair weather with others, alas! it was foulweather with me. 

_Me?_ Ah me! Soaked and heavy, what a burden was that jacket tocarry about, especially when I was sent up aloft; dragging myselfup step by step, as if I were weighing the anchor. Small timethen, to strip, and wring it out in a rain, when no hanging backor delay was permitted. No, no; up you go: fat or lean: Lambertor Edson: never mind how much avoirdupois you might weigh. Andthus, in my own proper person, did many showers of rain reascendtoward the skies, in accordance with the natural laws. 

But here be it known, that I had been terribly disappointed incarrying out my original plan concerning this jacket. It had beenmy intention to make it thoroughly impervious, by giving it acoating of paint, But bitter fate ever overtakes us unfortunates. So much paint had been stolen by the sailors, in daubing theiroverhaul trowsers and tarpaulins, that by the time I--anhonest man--had completed my quiltings, the paint-pots werebanned, and put under strict lock and key. 

Said old Brush, the captain of the _paint-room_-- "Look ye, White-Jacket, " said he, "ye can't have any paint. "

Such, then, was my jacket: a well-patched, padded, and porousone; and in a dark night, gleaming white as the White Lady ofAvenel!

CHAPTER II. 

HOMEWARD BOUND. 

"All hands up anchor! Man the capstan!"

"High die! my lads, we're homeward bound!"

Homeward bound!--harmonious sound! Were you _ever_ homewardbound?--No?--Quick! take the wings of the morning, or the sailsof a ship, and fly to the uttermost parts of the earth. There, tarry a year or two; and then let the gruffest of boatswains, hislungs all goose-skin, shout forth those magical words, and you'llswear "the harp of Orpheus were not more enchanting. "

All was ready; boats hoisted in, stun' sail gear rove, messengerpassed, capstan-bars in their places, accommodation-ladder below;and in glorious spirits, we sat down to dinner. In the ward-room, the lieutenants were passing round their oldest port, andpledging their friends; in the steerage, the _middies_ were busyraising loans to liquidate the demands of their laundress, orelse--in the navy phrase--preparing to pay their creditors _witha flying fore-topsail_. On the poop, the captain was looking towindward; and in his grand, inaccessible cabin, the high andmighty commodore sat silent and stately, as the statue of Jupiterin Dodona. 

We were all arrayed in our best, and our bravest; like strips ofblue sky, lay the pure blue collars of our frocks upon ourshoulders; and our pumps were so springy and playful, that wedanced up and down as we dined. 

It was on the gun-deck that our dinners were spread; all alongbetween the guns; and there, as we cross-legged sat, you wouldhave thought a hundred farm-yards and meadows were nigh. Such acackling of ducks, chickens, and ganders; such a lowing of oxen, and bleating of lambkins, penned up here and there along thedeck, to provide sea repasts for the officers. More rural thannaval were the sounds; continually reminding each mother's son ofthe old paternal homestead in the green old clime; the oldarching elms; the hill where we gambolled; and down by the barleybanks of the stream where we bathed. 

"All hands up anchor!"

When that order was given, how we sprang to the bars, and heavedround that capstan; every man a Goliath, every tendon a hawser!--round and round--round, round it spun like a sphere, keeping timewith our feet to the time of the fifer, till the cable wasstraight up and down, and the ship with her nose in the water. 

"Heave and pall! unship your bars, and make sail!"

It was done: barmen, nipper-men, tierers, veerers, idlers andall, scrambled up the ladder to the braces and halyards; whilelike monkeys in Palm-trees, the sail-loosers ran out on thosebroad boughs, our yards; and down fell the sails like whiteclouds from the ether--topsails, top-gallants, and royals; andaway we ran with the halyards, till every sheet was distended. 

"Once more to the bars!"

"Heave, my hearties, heave hard!"

With a jerk and a yerk, we broke ground; and up to our bows cameseveral thousand pounds of old iron, in the shape of ourponderous anchor. 

Where was White-Jacket then?

White-Jacket was where he belonged. It was White-Jacket thatloosed that main-royal, so far up aloft there, it looks like awhite albatross' wing. It was White-Jacket that was taken for analbatross himself, as he flew out on the giddy yard-arm!

CHAPTER III. 

A GLANCE AT THE PRINCIPAL DIVISIONS, INTO WHICH A MAN-OF-WAR'SCREW IS DIVIDED. 

Having just designated the place where White-Jacket belonged, itmust needs be related how White-Jacket came to belong there. 

Every one knows that in merchantmen the seamen are divided intowatches--starboard and larboard--taking their turn at the ship'sduty by night. This plan is followed in all men-of-war. But inall men-of war, besides this division, there are others, renderedindispensable from the great number of men, and the necessity ofprecision and discipline. Not only are particular bands assigned tothe three _tops_, but in getting under weigh, or any other proceedingrequiring all hands, particular men of these bands are assigned toeach yard of the tops. Thus, when the order is given to loose themain-royal, White-Jacket flies to obey it; and no one but him. 

And not only are particular bands stationed on the three decks ofthe ship at such times, but particular men of those bands arealso assigned to particular duties. Also, in tacking ship, reefing top-sails, or "coming to, " every man of a frigate's five-hundred-strong, knows his own special place, and is infalliblyfound there. He sees nothing else, attends to nothing else, andwill stay there till grim death or an epaulette orders him away. Yet there are times when, through the negligence of the officers, some exceptions are found to this rule. A rather seriouscircumstance growing out of such a case will be related in somefuture chapter. 

Were it not for these regulations a man-of-war's crew would benothing but a mob, more ungovernable stripping the canvas in agale than Lord George Gordon's tearing down the lofty house ofLord Mansfield. 

But this is not all. Besides White-Jacket's office as looser ofthe main-royal, when all hands were called to make sail; andbesides his special offices, in tacking ship, coming to anchor, etc. ; he permanently belonged to the Starboard Watch, one of thetwo primary, grand divisions of the ship's company. And in thiswatch he was a maintop-man; that is, was stationed in the main-top, with a number of other seamen, always in readiness toexecute any orders pertaining to the main-mast, from above themain-yard. For, including the main-yard, and below it to thedeck, the main-mast belongs to another detachment. 

Now the fore, main, and mizen-top-men of each watch--Starboardand Larboard--are at sea respectively subdivided into QuarterWatches; which regularly relieve each other in the tops to whichthey may belong; while, collectively, they relieve the wholeLarboard Watch of top-men. 

Besides these topmen, who are always made up of active sailors, there are Sheet-Anchor-men--old veterans all--whose place is onthe forecastle; the fore-yard, anchors, and all the sails on thebowsprit being under their care. 

They are an old weather-beaten set, culled from the mostexperienced seamen on board. These are the fellows that sing you"_The Bay of Biscay Oh!_" and "_Here a sheer hulk lies poor TornBowling!_" "_Cease, rude Boreas, blustering railer!_" who, whenashore, at an eating-house, call for a bowl of tar and a biscuit. These are the fellows who spin interminable yarns about Decatur, Hull, and Bainbridge; and carry about their persons bits of "OldIronsides, " as Catholics do the wood of the true cross. These arethe fellows that some officers never pretend to damn, howevermuch they may anathematize others. These are the fellows that itdoes your soul good to look at;---hearty old members of the OldGuard; grim sea grenadiers, who, in tempest time, have lost manya tarpaulin overboard. These are the fellows whose society someof the youngster midshipmen much affect; from whom they learntheir best seamanship; and to whom they look up as veterans; ifso be, that they have any reverence in their souls, which is notthe case with all midshipmen. 

Then, there is the _After-guard_, stationed on the Quarterdeck;who, under the Quarter-Masters and Quarter-Gunners, attend to themain-sail and spanker, and help haul the main-brace, and otherropes in the stern of the vessel. 

The duties assigned to the After-Guard's-Men being comparativelylight and easy, and but little seamanship being expected fromthem, they are composed chiefly of landsmen; the least robust, least hardy, and least sailor-like of the crew; and beingstationed on the Quarter-deck, they are generally selected withsome eye to their personal appearance. Hence, they are mostlyslender young fellows, of a genteel figure and gentlemanlyaddress; not weighing much on a rope, but weighing considerablyin the estimation of all foreign ladies who may chance to visitthe ship. They lounge away the most part of their time, inreading novels and romances; talking over their lover affairsashore; and comparing notes concerning the melancholy andsentimental career which drove them--poor young gentlemen--intothe hard-hearted navy. Indeed, many of them show tokens of havingmoved in very respectable society. They always maintain a tidyexterior; and express an abhorrence of the tar-bucket, into whichthey are seldom or never called to dip their digits. And plumingthemselves upon the cut of their trowsers, and the glossiness oftheir tarpaulins, from the rest of the ship's company, theyacquire the name of "_sea-dandies_" and "_silk-sock-gentry_. "

Then, there are the _Waisters_, always stationed on the gun-deck. These haul aft the fore and main-sheets, besides being subject toignoble duties; attending to the drainage and sewerage belowhatches. These fellows are all Jimmy Duxes--sorry chaps, whonever put foot in ratlin, or venture above the bulwarks. Inveterate "_sons of farmers_, " with the hayseed yet in theirhair, they are consigned to the congenial superintendence of thechicken-coops, pig-pens, and potato-lockers. These are generallyplaced amidships, on the gun-deck of a frigate, between the foreand main hatches; and comprise so extensive an area, that itmuch resembles the market place of a small town. The melodioussounds thence issuing, continually draw tears from the eyes ofthe Waisters; reminding them of their old paternal pig-pens andpotato-patches. They are the tag-rag and bob-tail of the crew;and he who is good for nothing else is good enough for a _Waister_. 

Three decks down--spar-deck, gun-deck, and berth-deck--and wecome to a parcel of Troglodytes or "_holders_, " who burrow, likerabbits in warrens, among the water-tanks, casks, and cables. Like Cornwall miners, wash off the soot from their skins, andthey are all pale as ghosts. Unless upon rare occasions, theyseldom come on deck to sun themselves. They may circumnavigatethe world fifty times, and they see about as much of it as Jonahdid in the whale's belly. They are a lazy, lumpish, torpid set;and when going ashore after a long cruise, come out into the daylike terrapins from their caves, or bears in the spring, fromtree-trunks. No one ever knows the names of these fellows; aftera three years' voyage, they still remain strangers to you. Intime of tempests, when all hands are called to save ship, theyissue forth into the gale, like the mysterious old men of Paris, during the massacre of the Three Days of September: every onemarvels who they are, and whence they come; they disappear asmysteriously; and are seen no more, until another general commotion. 

Such are the principal divisions into which a man-of-war's crewis divided; but the inferior allotments of duties are endless, and would require a German commentator to chronicle. 

We say nothing here of Boatswain's mates, Gunner's mates, Carpenter's mates, Sail-maker's mates, Armorer's mates, Master-at-Arms, Ship's corporals, Cockswains, Quarter-masters, Quarter-gunners, Captains of the Forecastle, Captains of the Fore-top, Captains of the Main-top, Captains of the Mizen-top, Captains ofthe After-Guard, Captains of the Main-Hold, Captains of the Fore-Hold, Captains of the Head, Coopers, Painters, Tinkers, Commodore's Steward, Captain's Steward, Ward-Room Steward, Steerage Steward, Commodore's cook, Captain's cook, Officers'cook, Cooks of the range, Mess-cooks, hammock-boys, messengerboys, cot-boys, loblolly-boys and numberless others, whosefunctions are fixed and peculiar. 

It is from this endless subdivision of duties in a man-of-war, that, upon first entering one, a sailor has need of a goodmemory, and the more of an arithmetician he is, the better. 

White-Jacket, for one, was a long time rapt in calculations, concerning the various "numbers" allotted him by the _FirstLuff_, otherwise known as the First Lieutenant. In the firstplace, White-Jacket was given the _number of his mess_; then, his_ship's number_, or the number to which he must answer when thewatch-roll is called; then, the number of his hammock; then, thenumber of the gun to which he was assigned; besides a variety ofother numbers; all of which would have taken Jedediah Buxtonhimself some time to arrange in battalions, previous to addingup. All these numbers, moreover, must be well remembered, or woebetide you. 

Consider, now, a sailor altogether unused to the tumult of a man-of-war, for the first time stepping on board, and given all thesenumbers to recollect. Already, before hearing them, his head ishalf stunned with the unaccustomed sounds ringing in his ears;which ears seem to him like belfries full of tocsins. On the gun-deck, a thousand scythed chariots seem passing; he hears thetread of armed marines; the clash of cutlasses and curses. TheBoatswain's mates whistle round him, like hawks screaming in agale, and the strange noises under decks are like volcanicrumblings in a mountain. He dodges sudden sounds, as a rawrecruit falling bombs. 

Well-nigh useless to him, now, all previous circumnavigations ofthis terraqueous globe; of no account his arctic, antarctic, orequinoctial experiences; his gales off Beachy Head, or hisdismastings off Hatteras. He must begin anew; he knows nothing;Greek and Hebrew could not help him, for the language he mustlearn has neither grammar nor lexicon. 

Mark him, as he advances along the files of old ocean-warriors;mark his debased attitude, his deprecating gestures, his Sawneystare, like a Scotchman in London; his--"_cry your merry, nobleseignors!_" He is wholly nonplussed, and confounded. And when, tocrown all, the First Lieutenant, whose business it is to welcomeall new-corners, and assign them their quarters: when thisofficer--none of the most bland or amiable either--gives himnumber after number to recollect--246--139--478--351--the poorfellow feels like decamping. 

Study, then, your mathematics, and cultivate all your memories, oh ye! who think of cruising in men-of-war. 

CHAPTER IV. 

JACK CHASE. 

The first night out of port was a clear, moonlight one; thefrigate gliding though the water, with all her batteries. 

It was my Quarter Watch in the top; and there I reclined on thebest possible terms with my top-mates. Whatever the other seamenmight have been, these were a noble set of tars, and well worthyan introduction to the reader. First and foremost was Jack Chase, our noble First Captain of the Top. He was a Briton, and a true-blue; tall and well-knit, with a clear open eye, a fine broadbrow, and an abounding nut-brown beard. No man ever had a betterheart or a bolder. He was loved by the seamen and admired by theofficers; and even when the Captain spoke to him, it was with aslight air of respect. Jack was a frank and charming man. 

No one could be better company in forecastle or saloon; no mantold such stories, sang such songs, or with greater alacritysprang to his duty. Indeed, there was only one thing wantingabout him; and that was a finger of his left hand, which fingerhe had lost at the great battle of Navarino. 

He had a high conceit of his profession as a seaman; and beingdeeply versed in all things pertaining to a man-of-war, wasuniversally regarded as an oracle. The main-top, over which hepresided, was a sort of oracle of Delphi; to which many pilgrimsascended, to have their perplexities or differences settled. 

There was such an abounding air of good sense and good feelingabout the man, that he who could not love him, would therebypronounce himself a knave. I thanked my sweet stars, that kindfortune had placed me near him, though under him, in the frigate;and from the outset Jack and I were fast friends. 

Wherever you may be now rolling over the blue billows, dear Jack!take my best love along with you; and God bless you, wherever you go!

Jack was a gentleman. What though his hand was hard, so was nothis heart, too often the case with soft palms. His manners wereeasy and free; none of the boisterousness, so common to tars; andhe had a polite, courteous way of saluting you, if it were onlyto borrow your knife. Jack had read all the verses of Byron, andall the romances of Scott. He talked of Rob Roy, Don Juan, andPelham; Macbeth and Ulysses; but, above all things, was an ardentadmirer of Camoens. Parts of the Lusiad, he could recite in theoriginal. Where he had obtained his wonderful accomplishments, itis not for me, his humble subordinate, to say. Enough, that thoseaccomplishments were so various; the languages he could conversein, so numerous; that he more than furnished an example of thatsaying of Charles the Fifth--_ he who speaks five languages is asgood as five men_. But Jack, he was better than a hundred commonmortals; Jack was a whole phalanx, an entire army; Jack was athousand strong; Jack would have done honour to the Queen ofEngland's drawing-room; Jack must have been a by-blow of someBritish Admiral of the Blue. A finer specimen of the island raceof Englishmen could not have been picked out of Westminster Abbeyof a coronation day. 

His whole demeanor was in strong contrast to that of one of theCaptains of the fore-top. This man, though a good seaman, furnished an example of those insufferable Britons, who, whilepreferring other countries to their own as places of residence;still, overflow with all the pompousness of national andindividual vanity combined. "When I was on board the Audacious"--for a long time, was almost the invariable exordium to the fore-top Captain's most cursory remarks. It is often the custom ofmen-of-war's-men, when they deem anything to be going on wrongaboard ship to refer to _last cruise_ when of course everythingwas done _ship-shape and Bristol fashion_. And by referring tothe _Audacious_--an expressive name by the way--the fore-topCaptain meant a ship in the English navy, in which he had had thehonour of serving. So continual were his allusions to this craftwith the amiable name, that at last, the _Audacious_ was voted abore by his shipmates. And one hot afternoon, during a calm, whenthe fore-top Captain like many others, was standing still andyawning on the spar-deck; Jack Chase, his own countryman, came upto him, and pointing at his open mouth, politely inquired, whetherthat was the way they caught _flies_ in Her Britannic Majesty's ship, the _Audacious?_ After that, we heard no more of the craft. 

Now, the tops of a frigate are quite spacious and cosy. They arerailed in behind so as to form a kind of balcony, very pleasantof a tropical night. From twenty to thirty loungers may agreeablyrecline there, cushioning themselves on old sails and jackets. Wehad rare times in that top. We accounted ourselves the bestseamen in the ship; and from our airy perch, literally lookeddown upon the landlopers below, sneaking about the deck, amongthe guns. In a large degree, we nourished that feeling of"_esprit de corps_, " always pervading, more or less, the varioussections of a man-of-war's crew. We main-top-men were brothers, one and all, and we loaned ourselves to each other with all thefreedom in the world. 

Nevertheless, I had not long been a member of this fraternity offine fellows, ere I discovered that Jack Chase, our captain was--like all prime favorites and oracles among men--a little bit of adictator; not peremptorily, or annoyingly so, but amusinglyintent on egotistically mending our manners and improving ourtaste, so that we might reflect credit upon our tutor. 

He made us all wear our hats at a particular angle--instructed usin the tie of our neck-handkerchiefs; and protested against ourwearing vulgar _dungeree_ trowsers; besides giving us lessons inseamanship; and solemnly conjuring us, forever to eschew the companyof any sailor we suspected of having served in a whaler. Againstall whalers, indeed, he cherished the unmitigated detestation of atrue man-of-war's man. Poor Tubbs can testify to that. 

Tubbs was in the After-Guard; a long, lank Vineyarder, eternallytalking of line-tubs, Nantucket, sperm oil, stove boats, and Japan. Nothing could silence him; and his comparisons were ever invidious. 

Now, with all his soul, Jack abominated this Tubbs. He said hewas vulgar, an upstart--Devil take him, he's been in a whaler. But like many men, who have been where _you_ haven't been; orseen what _you_ haven't seen; Tubbs, on account of his whalingexperiences, absolutely affected to look down upon Jack, even asJack did upon him; and this it was that so enraged our noble captain. 

One night, with a peculiar meaning in his eye, he sent me down ondeck to invite Tubbs up aloft for a chat. Flattered by so markedan honor--for we were somewhat fastidious, and did not extendsuch invitations to every body--Tubb's quickly mounted therigging, looking rather abashed at finding himself in the augustpresence of the assembled Quarter-Watch of main-top-men. Jack'scourteous manner, however, very soon relieved his embarrassment;but it is no use to be courteous to _some_ men in this world. Tubbs belonged to that category. No sooner did the bumpkin feelhimself at ease, than he launched out, as usual, into tremendouslaudations of whalemen; declaring that whalemen alone deservedthe name of sailors. Jack stood it some time; but when Tubbs camedown upon men-of-war, and particularly upon main-top-men, hissense of propriety was so outraged, that he launched into Tubbslike a forty-two pounder. 

"Why, you limb of Nantucket! you train-oil man! you sea-tallowstrainer! you bobber after carrion! do _you_ pretend to vilify aman-of-war? Why, you lean rogue, you, a man-of-war is towhalemen, as a metropolis to shire-towns, and sequesteredhamlets. _Here's_ the place for life and commotion; _here's_ theplace to be gentlemanly and jolly. And what did you know, youbumpkin! before you came on board this _Andrew Miller?_ What knewyou of gun-deck, or orlop, mustering round the capstan, beatingto quarters, and piping to dinner? Did you ever roll to _grog_ onboard your greasy ballyhoo of blazes? Did you ever winter atMahon? Did you ever '_ lash and carry?_' Why, what are even amerchant-seaman's sorry yarns of voyages to China after tea-caddies, and voyages to the West Indies after sugar puncheons, and voyages to the Shetlands after seal-skins--what are eventhese yarns, you Tubbs you! to high life in a man-of-war? Why, you dead-eye! I have sailed with lords and marquises forcaptains; and the King of the Two Sicilies has passed me, as Ihere stood up at my gun. Bah! you are full of the fore-peak andthe forecastle; you are only familiar with Burtons and Billy-tackles; your ambition never mounted above pig-killing! which, inmy poor opinion, is the proper phrase for whaling! Topmates! hasnot this Tubbs here been but a misuser of good oak planks, and avile desecrator of the thrice holy sea? turning his ship, myhearties! into a fat-kettle, and the ocean into a whale-pen?Begone! you graceless, godless knave! pitch him over the topthere, White-Jacket!"

But there was no necessity for my exertions. Poor Tubbs, astoundedat these fulminations, was already rapidly descending by the rigging. 

This outburst on the part of my noble friend Jack made me shakeall over, spite of my padded surtout; and caused me to offer updevout thanksgivings, that in no evil hour had I divulged thefact of having myself served in a whaler; for having previouslymarked the prevailing prejudice of men-of-war's men to that much-maligned class of mariners, I had wisely held my peace concerningstove boats on the coast of Japan. 

He presides at the head of the Ward-room officers' table, who areso called from their messing together in a part of the ship thusdesignated. In a frigate it comprises the after part of theberth-deck. Sometimes it goes by the name of the Gun-room, butoftener is called the Ward-room. Within, this Ward-room muchresembles a long, wide corridor in a large hotel; numerous doorsopening on both hands to the private apartments of the officers. I never had a good interior look at it but once; and then theChaplain was seated at the table in the centre, playing chesswith the Lieutenant of Marines. It was mid-day, but the place waslighted by lamps. 

Besides the First Lieutenant, the Ward-room officers include thejunior lieutenants, in a frigate six or seven in number, theSailing-master, Purser, Chaplain, Surgeon, Marine officers, andMidshipmen's Schoolmaster, or "the Professor. " They generally forma very agreeable club of good fellows; from their diversity ofcharacter, admirably calculated to form an agreeable socialwhole. The Lieutenants discuss sea-fights, and tell anecdotes ofLord Nelson and Lady Hamilton; the Marine officers talk ofstorming fortresses, and the siege of Gibraltar; the Pursersteadies this wild conversation by occasional allusions to therule of three; the Professor is always charged with a scholarlyreflection, or an apt line from the classics, generally Ovid; theSurgeon's stories of the amputation-table judiciously serve tosuggest the mortality of the whole party as men; while the goodchaplain stands ready at all times to give them pious counsel andconsolation. 

Of course these gentlemen all associate on a footing of perfectsocial equality. 

Next in order come the Warrant or Forward officers, consisting ofthe Boatswain, Gunner, Carpenter, and Sailmaker. Though theseworthies sport long coats and wear the anchor-button; yet, in theestimation of the Ward-room officers, they are not, technicallyspeaking, rated gentlemen. The First Lieutenant, Chaplain, orSurgeon, for example, would never dream of inviting them todinner, In sea parlance, "they come in at the hawse holes;" theyhave hard hands; and the carpenter and sail-maker practicallyunderstand the duties which they are called upon to superintend. They mess by themselves. Invariably four in number, they neverhave need to play whist with a dummy. 

In this part of the category now come the "reefers, " otherwise"middies" or midshipmen. These boys are sent to sea, for thepurpose of making commodores; and in order to become commodores, many of them deem it indispensable forthwith to commence chewingtobacco, drinking brandy and water, and swearing at the sailors. As they are only placed on board a sea-going ship to go to schooland learn the duty of a Lieutenant; and until qualified to act assuch, have few or no special functions to attend to; they arelittle more, while midshipmen, than supernumeraries on board. Hence, in a crowded frigate, they are so everlastingly crossingthe path of both men and officers, that in the navy it has becomea proverb, that a useless fellow is "_as much in the way as areefer _. "

In a gale of wind, when all hands are called and the deck swarmswith men, the little "middies" running about distracted andhaving nothing particular to do, make it up in vociferousswearing; exploding all about under foot like torpedoes. Some ofthem are terrible little boys, cocking their cups at alarmingangles, and looking fierce as young roosters. They are generallygreat consumers of Macassar oil and the Balm of Columbia; theythirst and rage after whiskers; and sometimes, applying theirointments, lay themselves out in the sun, to promote thefertility of their chins. 

As the only way to learn to command, is to learn to obey, theusage of a ship of war is such that the midshipmen are constantlybeing ordered about by the Lieutenants; though, without havingassigned them their particular destinations, they are alwaysgoing somewhere, and never arriving. In some things, they almosthave a harder time of it than the seamen themselves. They aremessengers and errand-boys to their superiors. 

"Mr. Pert, " cries an officer of the deck, hailing a younggentleman forward. Mr. Pert advances, touches his hat, andremains in an attitude of deferential suspense. "Go and tell theboatswain I want him. " And with this perilous errand, the middyhurries away, looking proud as a king. 

The middies live by themselves in the steerage, where, nowadays, they dine off a table, spread with a cloth. They have a castor atdinner; they have some other little boys (selected from theship's company) to wait upon them; they sometimes drink coffeeout of china. But for all these, their modern refinements, insome instances the affairs of their club go sadly to rack andruin. The china is broken; the japanned coffee-pot dented like apewter mug in an ale-house; the pronged forks resemble tooth-picks (for which they are sometimes used); the table-knives arehacked into hand-saws; and the cloth goes to the sail-maker to bepatched. Indeed, they are something like collegiate freshmen andsophomores, living in the college buildings, especially so far asthe noise they make in their quarters is concerned. The steeragebuzzes, hums, and swarms like a hive; or like an infant-school ofa hot day, when the school-mistress falls asleep with a fly onher nose. 

In frigates, the ward-room--the retreat of the Lieutenants--immediately adjoining the steerage, is on the same deck with it. Frequently, when the middies, waking early of a morning, as mostyoungsters do, would be kicking up their heels in their hammocks, or running about with double-reefed night-gowns, playing _tag_among the "clews;" the Senior lieutenant would burst among themwith a--"Young gentlemen, I am astonished. You must stop thissky-larking. Mr. Pert, what are you doing at the table there, without your pantaloons? To your hammock, sir. Let me see no moreof this. If you disturb the ward-room again, young gentleman, youshall hear of it. " And so saying, this hoary-headed SeniorLieutenant would retire to his cot in his state-room, like thefather of a numerous family after getting up in his dressing-gownand slippers, to quiet a daybreak tumult in his populous nursery. 

Having now descended from Commodore to Middy, we come lastly to aset of nondescripts, forming also a "mess" by themselves, apartfrom the seamen. Into this mess, the usage of a man-of-warthrusts various subordinates--including the master-at-arms, purser's steward, ship's corporals, marine sergeants, and ship'syeomen, forming the first aristocracy above the sailors. 

The master-at-arms is a sort of high constable and school-master, wearing citizen's clothes, and known by his official rattan. Heit is whom all sailors hate. His is the universal duty of auniversal informer and hunter-up of delinquents. On the berth-deck he reigns supreme; spying out all grease-spots made by thevarious cooks of the seamen's messes, and driving the laggards upthe hatches, when all hands are called. It is indispensable thathe should be a very Vidocq in vigilance. But as it is aheartless, so is it a thankless office. Of dark nights, mostmasters-of-arms keep themselves in readiness to dodge forty-twopound balls, dropped down the hatchways near them. 

The ship's corporals are this worthy's deputies and ushers. 

The marine sergeants are generally tall fellows with unyieldingspines and stiff upper lips, and very exclusive in their tastesand predilections. 

The ship's yeoman is a gentleman who has a sort of counting-room ina tar-cellar down in the fore-hold. More will be said of him anon. 

Except the officers above enumerated, there are none who messapart from the seamen. The "_petty officers_, " so called; thatis, the Boatswain's, Gunner's, Carpenter's, and Sail-maker'smates, the Captains of the Tops, of the Forecastle, and of theAfter-Guard, and of the Fore and Main holds, and the Quarter-Masters, all mess in common with the crew, and in the Americannavy are only distinguished from the common seamen by theirslightly additional pay. But in the English navy they wear crownsand anchors worked on the sleeves of their jackets, by way ofbadges of office. In the French navy they are known by strips ofworsted worn in the same place, like those designating theSergeants and Corporals in the army. 

Thus it will be seen, that the dinner-table is the criterion ofrank in our man-of-war world. The Commodore dines alone, becausehe is the only man of his rank in the ship. So too with theCaptain; and the Ward-room officers, warrant officers, midshipmen, the master-at-arms' mess, and the common seamen;--all of them, respectively, dine together, because they are, respectively, on afooting of equality. 

CHAPTER V. 

JACK CHASE ON A SPANISH QUARTER-DECK. 

Here, I must frankly tell a story about Jack, which as touching hishonour and integrity, I am sure, will not work against him, in anycharitable man's estimation. On this present cruise of the frigateNeversink, Jack had deserted; and after a certain interval, had beencaptured. 

But with what purpose had he deserted? To avoid naval discipline? Toriot in some abandoned sea-port? for love of some worthless signorita?Not at all. He abandoned the frigate from far higher and nobler, nay, glorious motives. Though bowing to naval discipline afloat; yet ashore, he was a stickler for the Rights of Man, and the liberties of the world. He went to draw a partisan blade in the civil commotions of Peru;and befriend, heart and soul, what he deemed the cause of the Right. 

At the time, his disappearance excited the utmost astonishment amongthe officers, who had little suspected him of any such conduct ofdeserting. 

"What? Jack, my great man of the main-top, gone!" cried the captain;"I'll not believe it. "

"Jack Chase cut and run!" cried a sentimental middy. "It must havebeen all for love, then; the signoritas have turned his head. "

"Jack Chase not to be found?" cried a growling old sheet-anchor-man, one of your malicious prophets of past events: "I though so; I know'dit; I could have sworn it--just the chap to make sail on the sly. Ialways s'pected him. "

Months passed away, and nothing was heard of Jack; till at last, the frigate came to anchor on the coast, alongside of a Peruviansloop of war. 

Bravely clad in the Peruvian uniform, and with a fine, mixed martialand naval step, a tall, striking figure of a long-bearded officer wasdescried, promenading the Quarter-deck of the stranger; andsuperintending the salutes, which are exchanged between nationalvessels on these occasions. 

This fine officer touched his laced hat most courteously to ourCaptain, who, after returning the compliment, stared at him, ratherimpolitely, through his spy-glass. 

"By Heaven!" he cried at last--"it is he--he can't disguise hiswalk--that's the beard; I'd know him in Cochin China. --Man the firstcutter there! Lieutenant Blink, go on board that sloop of war, andfetch me yon officer. "

All hands were aghast--What? when a piping-hot peace was between theUnited States and Peru, to send an armed body on board a Peruviansloop of war, and seize one of its officers, in broad daylight?--Monstrous infraction of the Law of Nations! What would Vattel say?

But Captain Claret must be obeyed. So off went the cutter, every manarmed to the teeth, the lieutenant-commanding having secretinstructions, and the midshipmen attending looking ominously wise, though, in truth, they could not tell what was coming. 

Gaining the sloop of war, the lieutenant was received with thecustomary honours; but by this time the tall, bearded officer haddisappeared from the Quarter-deck. The Lieutenant now inquired forthe Peruvian Captain; and being shown into the cabin, made known tohim, that on board his vessel was a person belonging to the UnitedStates Ship Neversink; and his orders were, to have that persondelivered up instanter. 

The foreign captain curled his mustache in astonishment andindignation; he hinted something about beating to quarters, andchastising this piece of Yankee insolence. 

But resting one gloved hand upon the table, and playing with hissword-knot, the Lieutenant, with a bland firmness, repeated hisdemand. At last, the whole case being so plainly made out, and theperson in question being so accurately described, even to a mole onhis cheek, there remained nothing but immediate compliance. 

So the fine-looking, bearded officer, who had so courteously doffedhis chapeau to our Captain, but disappeared upon the arrival of theLieutenant, was summoned into the cabin, before his superior, whoaddressed him thus:--

"Don John, this gentleman declares, that of right you belong to thefrigate Neversink. Is it so?"

"It is even so, Don Sereno, " said Jack Chase, proudly folding hisgold-laced coat-sleeves across his chest--"and as there is noresisting the frigate, I comply. --Lieutenant Blink, I am ready. Adieu! Don Sereno, and Madre de Dios protect you? You have been amost gentlemanly friend and captain to me. I hope you will yet thrashyour beggarly foes. "

With that he turned; and entering the cutter, was pulled back to thefrigate, and stepped up to Captain Claret, where that gentleman stoodon the quarter-deck. 

"Your servant, my fine Don, " said the Captain, ironically lifting hischapeau, but regarding Jack at the same time with a look of intensedispleasure. 

"Your most devoted and penitent Captain of the Main-top, sir; and onewho, in his very humility of contrition is yet proud to call CaptainClaret his commander, " said Jack, making a glorious bow, and thentragically flinging overboard his Peruvian sword. 

"Reinstate him at once, " shouted Captain Claret--"and now, sir, toyour duty; and discharge that well to the end of the cruise, and youwill hear no more of your having run away. "

So Jack went forward among crowds of admiring tars, who swore by hisnut-brown beard, which had amazingly lengthened and spread during hisabsence. They divided his laced hat and coat among them; and ontheir shoulders, carried him in triumph along the gun-deck. 

CHAPTER VI. 

THE QUARTER-DECK OFFICERS, WARRANT OFFICERS, AND BERTH-DECK UNDERLINGSOF A MAN-OF-WAR; WHERE THEY LIVE IN THE SHIP; HOW THEY LIVE; THEIRSOCIAL STANDING ON SHIP-BOARD; AND WHAT SORT OF GENTLEMEN THEY ARE. 

Some account has been given of the various divisions into which ourcrew was divided; so it may be well to say something of the officers;who they are, and what are their functions. 

Our ship, be it know, was the flag-ship; that is, we sported a_broad-pennant_, or _bougee_, at the main, in token that we carried aCommodore--the highest rank of officers recognised in the Americannavy. The bougee is not to be confounded with the _long pennant_ or_coach-whip_, a tapering serpentine streamer worn by all men-of-war. 

Owing to certain vague, republican scruples, about creating greatofficers of the navy, America has thus far had no admirals; though, as her ships of war increase, they may become indispensable. Thiswill assuredly be the case, should she ever have occasion to employlarge fleets; when she must adopt something like the English plan, and introduce three or four grades of flag-officers, above aCommodore--Admirals, Vice-Admirals, and Rear-Admirals of Squadrons;distinguished by the color of their flags, --red, white, and blue, corresponding to the centre, van, and rear. These rank respectivelywith Generals, Lieutenant-Generals, and Major-Generals in the army;just as Commodore takes rank with a Brigadier-General. So that thesame prejudice which prevents the American Government from creatingAdmirals should have precluded the creation of all army officersabove a Brigadier. 

An American Commodore, like an English Commodore, or the French _Chefd'Escadre_, is but a senior Captain, temporarily commanding a smallnumber of ships, detached for any special purpose. He has no permanentrank, recognised by Government, above his captaincy; though once employedas a Commodore, usage and courtesy unite in continuing the title. 

Our Commodore was a gallant old man, who had seen service in his time. When a lieutenant, he served in the late war with England; and in thegun-boat actions on the Lakes near New Orleans, just previous to thegrand land engagements, received a musket-ball in his shoulder; which, with the two balls in his eyes, he carries about with him to this day. 

Often, when I looked at the venerable old warrior, doubled up from theeffect of his wound, I thought what a curious, as well as painfulsensation, it must be, to have one's shoulder a lead-mine; though, sooth to say, so many of us civilised mortals convert our mouths intoGolcondas. 

On account of this wound in his shoulder, our Commodore had abody-servant's pay allowed him, in addition to his regular salary. I cannot say a great deal, personally, of the Commodore; he neversought my company at all, never extended any gentlemanly courtesies. 

But though I cannot say much of him personally, I can mentionsomething of him in his general character, as a flag-officer. In thefirst place, then, I have serious doubts, whether for the most part, he was not dumb; for in my hearing, he seldom or never uttered aword. And not only did he seem dumb himself, but his presencepossessed the strange power of making other people dumb for the time. His appearance on the Quarter-deck seemed to give every officer thelock-jaw. 

Another phenomenon about him was the strange manner in which everyoneshunned him. At the first sign of those epaulets of his on theweather side of the poop, the officers there congregated invariablyshrunk over to leeward, and left him alone. Perhaps he had an evileye; may be he was the Wandering Jew afloat. The real reason probablywas, that like all high functionaries, he deemed it indispensablereligiously to sustain his dignity; one of the most troublesomethings in the world, and one calling for the greatest self-denial. And the constant watch, and many-sided guardedness, which thissustaining of a Commodore's dignity requires, plainly enough showsthat, apart from the common dignity of manhood, Commodores, ingeneral possess no real dignity at all. True, it is expedient forcrowned heads, generalissimos, Lord-high-admirals, and Commodores, tocarry themselves straight, and beware of the spinal complaint; but itis not the less veritable, that it is a piece of assumption, exceedinglyuncomfortable to themselves, and ridiculous to an enlightened generation. 

Now, how many rare good fellows there were among us main-top-men, who, invited into his cabin over a social bottle or two, would have rejoicedour old Commodore's heart, and caused that ancient wound of his to healup at once. 

Come, come, Commodore don't look so sour, old boy; step up aloft hereinto the _top_, and we'll spin you a sociable yarn. 

Truly, I thought myself much happier in that white jacket of mine, than our old Commodore in his dignified epaulets. 

One thing, perhaps, that more than anything else helped to make ourCommodore so melancholy and forlorn, was the fact of his having solittle to do. For as the frigate had a captain; of course, so far as_she_ was concerned, our Commodore was a supernumerary. What abundanceof leisure he must have had, during a three years' cruise; howindefinitely he might have been improving his mind!

But as everyone knows that idleness is the hardest work in the world, so our Commodore was specially provided with a gentleman to assisthim. This gentleman was called the _Commodore's secretary_. He was aremarkably urbane and polished man; with a very graceful exterior, andlooked much like an Ambassador Extraordinary from Versailles. He messedwith the Lieutenants in the Ward-room, where he had a state-room, elegantly furnished as the private cabinet of Pelham. His cot-boy usedto entertain the sailors with all manner of stories about thesilver-keyed flutes and flageolets, fine oil paintings, morocco boundvolumes, Chinese chess-men, gold shirt-buttons, enamelled pencil cases, extraordinary fine French boots with soles no thicker than a sheet ofscented note-paper, embroidered vests, incense-burning sealing-wax, alabaster statuettes of Venus and Adonis, tortoise-shell snuff-boxes, inlaid toilet-cases, ivory-handled hair-brushes and mother-of-pearlcombs, and a hundred other luxurious appendages scattered about thismagnificent secretary's state-room. 

I was a long time in finding out what this secretary's dutiescomprised. But it seemed, he wrote the Commodore's dispatches forWashington, and also was his general amanuensis. Nor was this a verylight duty, at times; for some commodores, though they do not _say_ agreat deal on board ship, yet they have a vast deal to write. Very often, the regimental orderly, stationed at our Commodore's cabin-door, wouldtouch his hat to the First Lieutenant, and with a mysterious air handhim a note. I always thought these notes must contain most importantmatters of state; until one day, seeing a slip of wet, torn paper in ascupper-hole, I read the following:

 "Sir, you will give the people pickles to-day with theirfresh meat. "To Lieutenant Bridewell. "By command of the Commodore; "Adolphus Dashman, Priv. Sec. "

This was a new revelation; for, from his almost immutable reserve, Ihad supposed that the Commodore never meddled immediately with theconcerns of the ship, but left all that to the captain. But thelonger we live, the more we learn of commodores. 

Turn we now to the second officer in rank, almost supreme, however, in the internal affairs of his ship. Captain Claret was a large, portly man, a Harry the Eighth afloat, bluff and hearty; and askingly in his cabin as Harry on his throne. For a ship is a bit ofterra firma cut off from the main; it is a state in itself; and thecaptain is its king. 

It is no limited monarchy, where the sturdy Commons have a right topetition, and snarl if they please; but almost a despotism like theGrand Turk's. The captain's word is law; he never speaks but in theimperative mood. When he stands on his Quarter-deck at sea, heabsolutely commands as far as eye can reach. Only the moon and starsare beyond his jurisdiction. He is lord and master of the sun. 

It is not twelve o'clock till he says so. For when the sailing-master, whose duty it is to take the regular observation at noon, touches hishat, and reports twelve o'clock to the officer of the deck; thatfunctionary orders a midshipman to repair to the captain's cabin, andhumbly inform him of the respectful suggestion of the sailing-master. 

"Twelve o'clock reported, sir, " says the middy. 

"_Make_ it so, " replies the captain. 

And the bell is struck eight by the messenger-boy, and twelve o'clockit is. 

As in the case of the Commodore, when the captain visits the deck, his subordinate officers generally beat a retreat to the other sideand, as a general rule, would no more think of addressing him, exceptconcerning the ship, than a lackey would think of hailing the Czar ofRussia on his throne, and inviting him to tea. Perhaps no mortal manhas more reason to feel such an intense sense of his own personalconsequence, as the captain of a man-of-war at sea. 

Next in rank comes the First or Senior Lieutenant, the chief executiveofficer. I have no reason to love the particular gentleman who filledthat post aboard our frigate, for it was he who refused my petition foras much black paint as would render water-proof that white-jacket ofmine. All my soakings and drenchings lie at his state-room door. Ihardly think I shall ever forgive him; every twinge of the rheumatism, which I still occasionally feel, is directly referable to him. TheImmortals have a reputation for clemency; and _they_ may pardon him;but he must not dun me to be merciful. But my personal feelings towardthe man shall not prevent me from here doing him justice. In mostthings he was an excellent seaman; prompt, loud, and to the point; andas such was well fitted for his station. The First Lieutenancy of afrigate demands a good disciplinarian, and, every way, an energetic man. By the captain he is held responsible for everything; by that magnate, indeed, he is supposed to be omnipresent; down in the hold, and upaloft, at one and the same time. 

He presides at the head of the Ward-room officers' table, who are socalled from their messing together in a part of the ship thus designated. In a frigate it comprises the after part of the berth-deck. Sometimes itgoes by the name of the Gun-room, but oftener is called the Ward-room. Within, this Ward-room much resembles a long, wide corridor in a largehotel; numerous doors opening on both hands to the private apartmentsof the officers. I never had a good interior look at it but once; andthen the Chaplain was seated at the table in the centre, playing chesswith the Lieutenant of Marines. It was mid-day, but the place waslighted by lamps. 

Besides the First Lieutenant, the Ward-room officers include the juniorlieutenants, in a frigate six or seven in number, the Sailing-master, Purser, Chaplain, Surgeon, Marine officers, and Midshipmen's Schoolmaster, or "the Professor. " They generally form a very agreeable club of goodfellows; from their diversity of character, admirably calculated to forman agreeable social whole. The Lieutenants discuss sea-fights, and tellanecdotes of Lord Nelson and Lady Hamilton; the Marine officers talk ofstorming fortresses, and the siege of Gibraltar; the Purser steadiesthis wild conversation by occasional allusions to the rule of three; theProfessor is always charged with a scholarly reflection, or an apt linefrom the classics, generally Ovid; the Surgeon's stories of theamputation-table judiciously serve to suggest the mortality of the wholeparty as men; while the good chaplain stands ready at all times to givethem pious counsel and consolation. 

Of course these gentlemen all associate on a footing of perfectsocial equality. 

Next in order come the Warrant or Forward officers, consisting of theBoatswain, Gunner, Carpenter, and Sailmaker. Though these worthiessport long coats and wear the anchor-button; yet, in the estimationof the Ward-room officers, they are not, technically speaking, ratedgentlemen. The First Lieutenant, Chaplain, or Surgeon, for example, would never dream of inviting them to dinner, In sea parlance, "theycome in at the hawse holes;" they have hard hands; and the carpenterand sail-maker practically understand the duties which they are calledupon to superintend. They mess by themselves. Invariably four in number, they never have need to play whist with a dummy. 

In this part of the category now come the "reefers, " otherwise "middies"or midshipmen. These boys are sent to sea, for the purpose of makingcommodores; and in order to become commodores, many of them deem itindispensable forthwith to commence chewing tobacco, drinking brandyand water, and swearing at the sailors. As they are only placed on boarda sea-going ship to go to school and learn the duty of a Lieutenant; anduntil qualified to act as such, have few or no special functions toattend to; they are little more, while midshipmen, than supernumerarieson board. Hence, in a crowded frigate, they are so everlastingly crossingthe path of both men and officers, that in the navy it has become aproverb, that a useless fellow is "_as much in the way as a reefer_. "

In a gale of wind, when all hands are called and the deck swarms withmen, the little "middies" running about distracted and having nothingparticular to do, make it up in vociferous swearing; exploding allabout under foot like torpedoes. Some of them are terrible littleboys, cocking their cups at alarming angles, and looking fierce asyoung roosters. They are generally great consumers of Macassar oiland the Balm of Columbia; they thirst and rage after whiskers; andsometimes, applying their ointments, lay themselves out in the sun, to promote the fertility of their chins. 

As the only way to learn to command, is to learn to obey, the usageof a ship of war is such that the midshipmen are constantly beingordered about by the Lieutenants; though, without having assignedthem their particular destinations, they are always going somewhere, and never arriving. In some things, they almost have a harder time ofit than the seamen themselves. They are messengers and errand-boys totheir superiors. 

"Mr. Pert, " cries an officer of the deck, hailing a young gentlemanforward. Mr. Pert advances, touches his hat, and remains in anattitude of deferential suspense. "Go and tell the boatswain I wanthim. " And with this perilous errand, the middy hurries away, lookingproud as a king. 

The middies live by themselves in the steerage, where, nowadays, theydine off a table, spread with a cloth. They have a castor at dinner;they have some other little boys (selected from the ship's company)to wait upon them; they sometimes drink coffee out of china. But forall these, their modern refinements, in some instances the affairs oftheir club go sadly to rack and ruin. The china is broken; thejapanned coffee-pot dented like a pewter mug in an ale-house; thepronged forks resemble tooth-picks (for which they are sometimesused); the table-knives are hacked into hand-saws; and the cloth goesto the sail-maker to be patched. Indeed, they are something likecollegiate freshmen and sophomores, living in the college buildings, especially so far as the noise they make in their quarters isconcerned. The steerage buzzes, hums, and swarms like a hive; or like aninfant-school of a hot day, when the school-mistress falls asleepwith a fly on her nose. 

In frigates, the ward-room--the retreat of the Lieutenants--immediately adjoining the steerage, is on the same deck with it. Frequently, when the middies, waking early of a morning, as mostyoungsters do, would be kicking up their heels in their hammocks, orrunning about with double-reefed night-gowns, playing tag among the"clews;" the Senior lieutenant would burst among them with a--"Younggentlemen, I am astonished. You must stop this sky-larking. Mr. Pert, what are you doing at the table there, without your pantaloons? Toyour hammock, sir. Let me see no more of this. If you disturb theward-room again, young gentleman, you shall hear of it. " And sosaying, this hoary-headed Senior Lieutenant would retire to his cotin his state-room, like the father of a numerous family after gettingup in his dressing-gown and slippers, to quiet a daybreak tumult inhis populous nursery. 

Having now descended from Commodore to Middy, we come lastly to a setof nondescripts, forming also a "mess" by themselves, apart from theseamen. Into this mess, the usage of a man-of-war thrusts varioussubordinates--including the master-at-arms, purser's steward, ship'scorporals, marine sergeants, and ship's yeomen, forming the firstaristocracy above the sailors. 

The master-at-arms is a sort of high constable and school-master, wearing citizen's clothes, and known by his official rattan. He it iswhom all sailors hate. His is the universal duty of a universalinformer and hunter-up of delinquents. On the berth-deck he reignssupreme; spying out all grease-spots made by the various cooks of theseamen's messes, and driving the laggards up the hatches, when allhands are called. It is indispensable that he should be a very Vidocqin vigilance. But as it is a heartless, so is it a thankless office. Of dark nights, most masters-of-arms keep themselves in readiness tododge forty-two pound balls, dropped down the hatchways near them. 

The ship's corporals are this worthy's deputies and ushers. 

The marine sergeants are generally tall fellows with unyieldingspines and stiff upper lips, and very exclusive in their tastes andpredilections. 

The ship's yeoman is a gentleman who has a sort of counting-room in atar-cellar down in the fore-hold. More will be said of him anon. 

Except the officers above enumerated, there are none who mess apartfrom the seamen. The "_petty officers_, " so called; that is, theBoatswain's, Gunner's, Carpenter's, and Sail-maker's mates, theCaptains of the Tops, of the Forecastle, and of the After-Guard, andof the Fore and Main holds, and the Quarter-Masters, all mess incommon with the crew, and in the American navy are only distinguishedfrom the common seamen by their slightly additional pay. But in theEnglish navy they wear crowns and anchors worked on the sleeves oftheir jackets, by way of badges of office. In the French navy theyare known by strips of worsted worn in the same place, like thosedesignating the Sergeants and Corporals in the army. 

Thus it will be seen, that the dinner-table is the criterion of rankin our man-of-war world. The Commodore dines alone, because he is theonly man of his rank in the ship. So too with the Captain; and theWard-room officers, warrant officers, midshipmen, the master-at-arms'mess, and the common seamen;--all of them, respectively, dinetogether, because they are, respectively, on a footing of equality. 

CHAPTER VII. 

BREAKFAST, DINNER, AND SUPPER. 

Not only is the dinner-table a criterion of rank on board a man-of-war, but also the dinner hour. He who dines latest is thegreatest man; and he who dines earliest is accounted the least. In a flag-ship, the Commodore generally dines about four or fiveo'clock; the Captain about three; the Lieutenants about two;while _the people_ (by which phrase the common seamen arespecially designated in the nomenclature of the quarter-deck) sitdown to their salt beef exactly at noon. 

Thus it will be seen, that while the two estates of sea-kings andsea-lords dine at rather patrician hours--and thereby, in thelong run, impair their digestive functions--the sea-commoners, or _the people_, keep up their constitutions, by keeping up thegood old-fashioned, Elizabethan, Franklin-warranted dinner hourof twelve. 

Twelve o'clock! It is the natural centre, key-stone, and veryheart of the day. At that hour, the sun has arrived at the top ofhis hill; and as he seems to hang poised there a while, beforecoming down on the other side, it is but reasonable to supposethat he is then stopping to dine; setting an eminent example toall mankind. The rest of the day is called _afternoon_; the verysound of which fine old Saxon word conveys a feeling of the leebulwarks and a nap; a summer sea--soft breezes creeping over it;dreamy dolphins gliding in the distance. _Afternoon!_ the wordimplies, that it is an after-piece, coming after the grand dramaof the day; something to be taken leisurely and lazily. But howcan this be, if you dine at five? For, after all, though ParadiseLost be a noble poem, and we men-of-war's men, no doubt, largelypartake in the immortality of the immortals yet, let us candidlyconfess it, shipmates, that, upon the whole, our dinners are themost momentous attains of these lives we lead beneath the moon. What were a day without a dinner? a dinnerless day! such a dayhad better be a night. 

Again: twelve o'clock is the natural hour for us men-of-war's mento dine, because at that hour the very time-pieces we haveinvented arrive at their terminus; they can get no further thantwelve; when straightway they continue their old rounds again. Doubtless, Adam and Eve dined at twelve; and the PatriarchAbraham in the midst of his cattle; and old Job with his noonmowers and reapers, in that grand plantation of Uz; and old Noahhimself, in the Ark, must have gone to dinner at precisely _eightbells_ (noon), with all his floating families and farm-yards. 

But though this antediluvian dinner hour is rejected by modernCommodores and Captains, it still lingers among "_the people_"under their command. Many sensible things banished from high lifefind an asylum among the mob. 

Some Commodores are very particular in seeing to it, that no manon board the ship dare to dine after his (the Commodore's, ) owndessert is cleared away. --Not even the Captain. It is said, ongood authority, that a Captain once ventured to dine at five, when the Commodore's hour was four. Next day, as the story goes, that Captain received a private note, and in consequence of thatnote, dined for the future at half-past three. 

Though in respect of the dinner hour on board a man-of-war, _thepeople_ have no reason to complain; yet they have just cause, almost for mutiny, in the outrageous hours assigned for theirbreakfast and supper. 

Eight o'clock for breakfast; twelve for dinner; four for supper;and no meals but these; no lunches and no cold snacks. Owing tothis arrangement (and partly to one watch going to their mealsbefore the other, at sea), all the meals of the twenty-four hoursare crowded into a space of less than eight! Sixteen mortal hourselapse between supper and breakfast; including, to one watch, eight hours on deck! This is barbarous; any physician will tellyou so. Think of it! Before the Commodore has dined, you havesupped. And in high latitudes, in summer-time, you have takenyour last meal for the day, and five hours, or more, daylight tospare!

Mr. Secretary of the Navy, in the name of _the people_, youshould interpose in this matter. Many a time have I, a maintop-man, found myself actually faint of a tempestuous morning watch, when all my energies were demanded--owing to this miserable, unphilosophical mode of allotting the government meals at sea. Webeg you, Mr. Secretary, not to be swayed in this matter by theHonourable Board of Commodores, who will no doubt tell you thateight, twelve, and four are the proper hours for _the people_ totake their Meals; inasmuch, as at these hours the watches arerelieved. For, though this arrangement makes a neater and cleanerthing of it for the officers, and looks very nice and superfineon paper; yet it is plainly detrimental to health; and in time ofwar is attended with still more serious consequences to the wholenation at large. If the necessary researches were made, it wouldperhaps be found that in those instances where men-of-waradopting the above-mentioned hours for meals have encountered anenemy at night, they have pretty generally been beaten; that is, in those cases where the enemies' meal times were reasonable;which is only to be accounted for by the fact that _the people_of the beaten vessels were fighting on an empty stomach insteadof a full one. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

SELVAGEE CONTRASTED WITH MAD-JACK. 

Having glanced at the grand divisions of a man-of-war, let us nowdescend to specialities: and, particularly, to two of the juniorlieutenants; lords and noblemen; members of that House of Peers, the gun-room. There were several young lieutenants on board; butfrom these two--representing the extremes of character to befound in their department--the nature of the other officers oftheir grade in the Neversink must be derived. 

One of these two quarter-deck lords went among the sailors by aname of their own devising--Selvagee. Of course, it was intendedto be characteristic; and even so it was. 

In frigates, and all large ships of war, when getting underweigh, a large rope, called a _messenger_ used to carry thestrain of the cable to the capstan; so that the anchor may beweighed, without the muddy, ponderous cable, itself going roundthe capstan. As the cable enters the hawse-hole, therefore, something must be constantly used, to keep this travelling chainattached to this travelling _messenger_; something that may berapidly wound round both, so as to bind them together. Thearticle used is called a _selvagee_. And what could be betteradapted to the purpose? It is a slender, tapering, unstrandedpiece of rope prepared with much solicitude; peculiarly flexible;and wreathes and serpentines round the cable and messenger likean elegantly-modeled garter-snake round the twisted stalks of avine. Indeed, _Selvagee_ is the exact type and symbol of a tall, genteel, limber, spiralising exquisite. So much for thederivation of the name which the sailors applied to the Lieutenant. 

From what sea-alcove, from what mermaid's milliner's shop, hastthou emerged, Selvagee! with that dainty waist and languid cheek?What heartless step-dame drove thee forth, to waste thy fragranceon the salt sea-air?

Was it _you_, Selvagee! that, outward-bound, off Cape Horn, looked at Hermit Island through an opera-glass? Was it _you_, whothought of proposing to the Captain that, when the sails werefurled in a gale, a few drops of lavender should be dropped intheir "bunts, " so that when the canvas was set again, yournostrils might not be offended by its musty smell? I do not _say_it was you, Selvagee; I but deferentially inquire. 

In plain prose, Selvagee was one of those officers whom the sightof a trim-fitting naval coat had captivated in the days of hisyouth. He fancied, that if a _sea-officer_ dressed well, andconversed genteelly, he would abundantly uphold the honour ofhis flag, and immortalise the tailor that made him. On that rockmany young gentlemen split. For upon a frigate's quarter-deck, itis not enough to sport a coat fashioned by a Stultz; it is notenough to be well braced with straps and suspenders; it is notenough to have sweet reminiscences of Lauras and Matildas. It isa right down life of hard wear and tear, and the man who is not, in a good degree, fitted to become a common sailor will nevermake an officer. Take that to heart, all ye naval aspirants. Thrust your arms up to the elbow in pitch and see how you likeit, ere you solicit a warrant. Prepare for white squalls, livinggales and typhoons; read accounts of shipwrecks and horribledisasters; peruse the Narratives of Byron and Bligh; familiariseyourselves with the story of the English frigate Alceste and theFrench frigate Medusa. Though you may go ashore, now and then, atCadiz and Palermo; for every day so spent among oranges andladies, you will have whole months of rains and gales. 

And even thus did Selvagee prove it. But with all the intrepideffeminacy of your true dandy, he still continued his Cologne-water baths, and sported his lace-bordered handkerchiefs in thevery teeth of a tempest. Alas, Selvagee! there was no getting thelavender out of you. 

But Selvagee was no fool. Theoretically he understood hisprofession; but the mere theory of seamanship forms but thethousandth part of what makes a seaman. You cannot save a ship byworking out a problem in the cabin; the deck is the field ofaction. 

Well aware of his deficiency in some things, Selvagee never tookthe trumpet--which is the badge of the deck officer for the time--without a tremulous movement of the lip, and an earnestinquiring eye to the windward. He encouraged those old Tritons, the Quarter-masters, to discourse with him concerning thelikelihood of a squall; and often followed their advice as totaking in, or making sail. The smallest favours in that way werethankfully received. Sometimes, when all the North lookedunusually lowering, by many conversational blandishments, hewould endeavour to prolong his predecessor's stay on deck, afterthat officer's watch had expired. But in fine, steady weather, when the Captain would emerge from his cabin, Selvagee might beseen, pacing the poop with long, bold, indefatigable strides, andcasting his eye up aloft with the most ostentatious fidelity. 

But vain these pretences; he could not deceive. Selvagee! youknow very well, that if it comes on to blow pretty hard, theFirst Lieutenant will be sure to interfere with his paternalauthority. Every man and every boy in the frigate knows, Selvagee, that you are no Neptune. 

How unenviable his situation! His brother officers do not insulthim, to be sure; but sometimes their looks are as daggers. Thesailors do not laugh at him outright; but of dark nights theyjeer, when they hearken to that mantuamaker's voice ordering _astrong pull at the main brace_, or _hands by the halyards!_Sometimes, by way of being terrific, and making the men jump, Selvagee raps out an oath; but the soft bomb stuffed withconfectioner's kisses seems to burst like a crushed rose-buddiffusing its odours. Selvagee! Selvagee! take a main-top-man'sadvice; and this cruise over, never more tempt the sea. 

With this gentleman of cravats and curling irons, how stronglycontrasts the man who was born in a gale! For in some time oftempest--off Cape Horn or Hatteras--_Mad Jack_ must have enteredthe world--such things have been--not with a silver spoon, butwith a speaking-trumpet in his mouth; wrapped up in a caul, as ina main-sail--for a charmed life against shipwrecks he bears--andcrying, _Luff! luff, you may!--steady!--port! World ho!--here I am!_

Mad Jack is in his saddle on the sea. _That_ is his home; hewould not care much, if another Flood came and overflowed thedry land; for what would it do but float his good ship higher andhigher and carry his proud nation's flag round the globe, overthe very capitals of all hostile states! Then would mastssurmount spires; and all mankind, like the Chinese boatmen inCanton River, live in flotillas and fleets, and find their foodin the sea. 

Mad Jack was expressly created and labelled for a tar. Five feetnine is his mark, in his socks; and not weighing over elevenstone before dinner. Like so many ship's shrouds, his muscles andtendons are all set true, trim, and taut; he is braced up foreand aft, like a ship on the wind. His broad chest is a bulkhead, that dams off the gale; and his nose is an aquiline, that dividesit in two, like a keel. His loud, lusty lungs are two belfries, full of all manner of chimes; but you only hear his deepest bray, in the height of some tempest--like the great bell of St. Paul's, which only sounds when the King or the Devil is dead. 

Look at him there, where he stands on the poop--one foot on therail, and one hand on a shroud--his head thrown back, and histrumpet like an elephant's trunk thrown up in the air. Is hegoing to shoot dead with sounds, those fellows on the main-topsail-yard?

Mad Jack was a bit of a tyrant--they _say_ all good officers are--but the sailors loved him all round; and would much rather standfifty watches with him, than one with a rose-water sailor. 

But Mad Jack, alas! has one fearful failing. He drinks. And so dowe all. But Mad Jack, _He_ only brinks brandy. The vice wasinveterate; surely, like Ferdinand, Count Fathom, he must havebeen suckled at a puncheon. Very often, this had habit got himinto very serious scrapes. Twice was he put off duty by theCommodore; and once he came near being broken for his frolics. Sofar as his efficiency as a sea-officer was concerned, on shore atleast, Jack might _bouse away_ as much as he pleased; but afloatit will not do at all. 

Now, if he only followed the wise example set by those ships ofthe desert, the camels; and while in port, drank for the thirstpast, the thirst present, and the thirst to come--so that hemight cross the ocean sober; Mad Jack would get along prettywell. Still better, if he would but eschew brandy altogether; andonly drink of the limpid white-wine of the rills and the brooks. 

CHAPTER IX. 

OF THE POCKETS THAT WERE IN THE JACKET. 

I MUST make some further mention of that white jacket of mine. 

And here be it known--by way of introduction to what is tofollow--that to a common sailor, the living on board a man-of-waris like living in a market; where you dress on the door-steps, and sleep in the cellar. No privacy can you have; hardly onemoment's seclusion. It is almost a physical impossibility, thatyou can ever be alone. You dine at a vast _table d'hote_; sleepin commons, and make your toilet where and when you can. There isno calling for a mutton chop and a pint of claret by yourself; noselecting of chambers for the night; no hanging of pantaloonsover the back of a chair; no ringing your bell of a rainymorning, to take your coffee in bed. It is something like life ina large manufactory. The bell strikes to dinner, and hungry ornot, you must dine. 

Your clothes are stowed in a large canvas bag, generally paintedblack, which you can get out of the "rack" only once in thetwenty-four hours; and then, during a time of the utmostconfusion; among five hundred other bags, with five hundred othersailors diving into each, in the midst of the twilight of theberth-deck. In some measure to obviate this inconvenience, manysailors divide their wardrobes between their hammocks and theirbags; stowing a few frocks and trowsers in the former; so thatthey can shift at night, if they wish, when the hammocks arepiped down. But they gain very little by this. 

You have no place whatever but your bag or hammock, in which toput anything in a man-of-war. If you lay anything down, and turnyour back for a moment, ten to one it is gone. 

Now, in sketching the preliminary plan, and laying out thefoundation of that memorable white jacket of mine, I had had anearnest eye to all these inconveniences, and re-solved to avoidthem. I proposed, that not only should my jacket keep me warm, but that it should also be so constructed as to contain a shirtor two, a pair of trowsers, and divers knick-knacks--sewingutensils, books, biscuits, and the like. With this object, I hadaccordingly provided it with a great variety of pockets, pantries, clothes-presses, and cupboards. 

The principal apartments, two in number, were placed in theskirts, with a wide, hospitable entrance from the inside; twomore, of smaller capacity, were planted in each breast, withfolding-doors communicating, so that in case of emergency, toaccommodate any bulky articles, the two pockets in each breastcould be thrown into one. There were, also, several unseenrecesses behind the arras; insomuch, that my jacket, like an oldcastle, was full of winding stairs, and mysterious closets, crypts, and cabinets; and like a confidential writing-desk, abounded in snug little out-of-the-way lairs and hiding-places, for the storage of valuables. 

Superadded to these, were four capacious pockets on the outside;one pair to slip books into when suddenly startled from mystudies to the main-royal-yard; and the other pair, for permanentmittens, to thrust my hands into of a cold night-watch. This lastcontrivance was regarded as needless by one of my top-mates, whoshowed me a pattern for sea-mittens, which he said was muchbetter than mine. 

It must be known, that sailors, even in the bleakest weather, only cover their hands when unemployed; they never wear mittensaloft, since aloft they literally carry their lives in theirhands, and want nothing between their grasp of the hemp, and thehemp itself. --Therefore, it is desirable, that whatever thingsthey cover their hands with, should be capable of being slippedon and off in a moment. Nay, it is desirable, that they should beof such a nature, that in a dark night, when you are in a greathurry--say, going to the helm--they may be jumped into, indiscriminately; and not be like a pair of right-and-left kids;neither of which will admit any hand, but the particular onemeant for it. 

My top-mate's contrivance was this--he ought to have got out apatent for it--each of his mittens was provided with two thumbs, one on each side; the convenience of which needs no comment. Butthough for clumsy seamen, whose fingers are all thumbs, thisdescription of mitten might do very well, White-Jacket did not somuch fancy it. For when your hand was once in the bag of themitten, the empty thumb-hole sometimes dangled at your palm, confounding your ideas of where your real thumb might be; orelse, being carefully grasped in the hand, was continuallysuggesting the insane notion, that you were all the while havinghold of some one else's thumb. 

No; I told my good top-mate to go away with his four thumbs, I wouldhave nothing to do with them; two thumbs were enough for any man. 

For some time after completing my jacket, and getting thefurniture and household stores in it; I thought that nothingcould exceed it for convenience. Seldom now did I have occasionto go to my bag, and be jostled by the crowd who were makingtheir wardrobe in a heap. If I wanted anything in the way ofclothing, thread, needles, or literature, the chances were thatmy invaluable jacket contained it. Yes: I fairly hugged myself, and revelled in my jacket; till, alas! a long rain put me out ofconceit of it. I, and all my pockets and their contents, weresoaked through and through, and my pocket-edition of Shakespearewas reduced to an omelet. 

However, availing myself of a fine sunny day that followed, Iemptied myself out in the main-top, and spread all my goods andchattels to dry. But spite of the bright sun, that day proved ablack one. The scoundrels on deck detected me in the act ofdischarging my saturated cargo; they now knew that the whitejacket was used for a storehouse. The consequence was that, mygoods being well dried and again stored away in my pockets, thevery next night, when it was my quarter-watch on deck, and not inthe top (where they were all honest men), I noticed a parcel offellows skulking about after me, wherever I went. To a man, theywere pickpockets, and bent upon pillaging me. In vain I keptclapping my pocket like a nervous old gentlemen in a crowd; thatsame night I found myself minus several valuable articles. So, inthe end, I masoned up my lockers and pantries; and save the twoused for mittens, the white jacket ever after was pocketless. 

CHAPTER X. 

FROM POCKETS TO PICKPOCKETS. 

As the latter part of the preceding chapter may seem strange tothose landsmen, who have been habituated to indulge in high-raised, romantic notions of the man-of-war's man's character; itmay not be amiss, to set down here certain facts on this head, which may serve to place the thing in its true light. 

From the wild life they lead, and various other causes (needlessto mention), sailors, as a class, entertain the most liberalnotions concerning morality and the Decalogue; or rather, theytake their own views of such matters, caring little for thetheological or ethical definitions of others concerning what maybe criminal, or wrong. 

Their ideas are much swayed by circumstances. They will covertlyabstract a thing from one, whom they dislike; and insist upon it, that, in such a case, stealing is not robbing. Or, where thetheft involves something funny, as in the case of the whitejacket, they only steal for the sake of the joke; but this muchis to be observed nevertheless, i. E. , that they never spoil thejoke by returning the stolen article. 

It is a good joke; for instance, and one often perpetrated onboard ship, to stand talking to a man in a dark night watch, andall the while be cutting the buttons from his coat. But once off, those buttons never grow on again. There is no spontaneousvegetation in buttons. 

Perhaps it is a thing unavoidable, but the truth is that, amongthe crew of a man-of-war, scores of desperadoes are too oftenfound, who stop not at the largest enormities. A species ofhighway robbery is not unknown to them. A _gang_ will be informedthat such a fellow has three or four gold pieces in the money-bag, so-called, or purse, which many tars wear round their necks, tucked out of sight. Upon this, they deliberately lay theirplans; and in due time, proceed to carry them into execution. Theman they have marked is perhaps strolling along the benightedberth-deck to his mess-chest; when of a sudden, the foot-padsdash out from their hiding-place, throw him down, and while twoor three gag him, and hold him fast, another cuts the bag fromhis neck, and makes away with it, followed by his comrades. Thiswas more than once done in the Neversink. 

At other times, hearing that a sailor has something valuablesecreted in his hammock, they will rip it open from underneathwhile he sleeps, and reduce the conjecture to a certainty. 

To enumerate all the minor pilferings on board a man-of-war wouldbe endless. With some highly commendable exceptions, they robfrom one another, and rob back again, till, in the matter ofsmall things, a community of goods seems almost established; andat last, as a whole, they become relatively honest, by nearlyevery man becoming the reverse. It is in vain that the officers, by threats of condign punishment, endeavour to instil morevirtuous principles into their crew; so thick is the mob, thatnot one thief in a thousand is detected. 

CHAPTER XI. 

THE PURSUIT OF POETRY UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 

The feeling of insecurity concerning one's possessions in theNeversink, which the things just narrated begat in the minds ofhonest men, was curiously exemplified in the case of my poorfriend Lemsford, a gentlemanly young member of the After-Guard. Ihad very early made the acquaintance of Lemsford. It is curious, how unerringly a man pitches upon a spirit, any way akin to hisown, even in the most miscellaneous mob. 

Lemsford was a poet; so thoroughly inspired with the divineafflatus, that not even all the tar and tumult of a man-of-warcould drive it out of him. 

As may readily be imagined, the business of writing verse is avery different thing on the gun-deck of a frigate, from what thegentle and sequestered Wordsworth found it at placid Rydal Mountin Westmoreland. In a frigate, you cannot sit down and meanderoff your sonnets, when the full heart prompts; but only, whenmore important duties permit: such as bracing round the yards, orreefing top-sails fore and aft. Nevertheless, every fragment oftime at his command was religiously devoted by Lemsford to theNine. At the most unseasonable hours, you would behold him, seated apart, in some corner among the guns--a shot-box beforehim, pen in hand, and eyes "_in a fine frenzy rolling_. "

"What's that 'ere born nat'ral about?"--"He's got a fit, hain'the?" were exclamations often made by the less learned of hisshipmates. Some deemed him a conjurer; others a lunatic; and theknowing ones said, that he must be a crazy Methodist. But wellknowing by experience the truth of the saying, that _poetry isits own exceeding great reward_, Lemsford wrote on; dashing offwhole epics, sonnets, ballads, and acrostics, with a facilitywhich, under the circumstances, amazed me. Often he read over hiseffusions to me; and well worth the hearing they were. He hadwit, imagination, feeling, and humour in abundance; and out ofthe very ridicule with which some persons regarded him, he maderare metrical sport, which we two together enjoyed by ourselves;or shared with certain select friends. 

Still, the taunts and jeers so often levelled at my friend thepoet, would now and then rouse him into rage; and at such timesthe haughty scorn he would hurl on his foes, was proof positiveof his possession of that one attribute, irritability, almostuniversally ascribed to the votaries of Parnassus and the Nine. 

My noble captain, Jack Chase, rather patronised Lemsford, and hewould stoutly take his part against scores of adversaries. Frequently, inviting him up aloft into his top, he would beg himto recite some of his verses; to which he would pay the mostheedful attention, like Maecenas listening to Virgil, with a bookof Aeneid in his hand. Taking the liberty of a well-wisher, hewould sometimes gently criticise the piece, suggesting a fewimmaterial alterations. And upon my word, noble Jack, with hisnative-born good sense, taste, and humanity, was not illqualified to play the true part of a _Quarterly Review_;--whichis, to give quarter at last, however severe the critique. 

Now Lemsford's great care, anxiety, and endless source oftribulation was the preservation of his manuscripts. He had alittle box, about the size of a small dressing-case, and securedwith a lock, in which he kept his papers and stationery. Thisbox, of course, he could not keep in his bag or hammock, for, ineither case, he would only be able to get at it once in thetwenty-four hours. It was necessary to have it accessible at alltimes. So when not using it, he was obliged to hide it out ofsight, where he could. And of all places in the world, a ship ofwar, above her _hold_, least abounds in secret nooks. Almostevery inch is occupied; almost every inch is in plain sight; andalmost every inch is continually being visited and explored. Added to all this, was the deadly hostility of the whole tribe ofship-underlings--master-at-arms, ship's corporals, and boatswain'smates, --both to the poet and his casket. They hated his box, as ifit had been Pandora's, crammed to the very lid with hurricanes andgales. They hunted out his hiding-places like pointers, and gavehim no peace night or day. 

Still, the long twenty-four-pounders on the main-deck offeredsome promise of a hiding-place to the box; and, accordingly, itwas often tucked away behind the carriages, among the sidetackles; its black colour blending with the ebon hue of the guns. 

But Quoin, one of the quarter-gunners, had eyes like a ferret. Quoin was a little old man-of-war's man, hardly five feet high, with a complexion like a gun-shot wound after it is healed. Hewas indefatigable in attending to his duties; which consisted intaking care of one division of the guns, embracing ten of theaforesaid twenty-four-pounders. Ranged up against the ship's sideat regular intervals, they resembled not a little a stud of sablechargers in their stall. Among this iron stud little Quoin wascontinually running in and out, currying them down, now and then, with an old rag, or keeping the flies off with a brush. To Quoin, the honour and dignity of the United States of America seemedindissolubly linked with the keeping his guns unspotted andglossy. He himself was black as a chimney-sweep with continuallytending them, and rubbing them down with black paint. He wouldsometimes get outside of the port-holes and peer into theirmuzzles, as a monkey into a bottle. Or, like a dentist, he seemedintent upon examining their teeth. Quite as often, he would bebrushing out their touch-holes with a little wisp of oakum, likea Chinese barber in Canton, cleaning a patient's ear. 

Such was his solicitude, that it was a thousand pities he was notable to dwarf himself still more, so as to creep in at the touch-hole, and examining the whole interior of the tube, emerge atlast from the muzzle. Quoin swore by his guns, and slept by theirside. Woe betide the man whom he found leaning against them, orin any way soiling them. He seemed seized with the crazy fancy, that his darling twenty-four-pounders were fragile, and mightbreak, like glass retorts. 

Now, from this Quoin's vigilance, how could my poor friend the poethope to escape with his box? Twenty times a week it was pounced upon, with a "here's that d----d pillbox again!" and a loud threat, to pitchit overboard the next time, without a moment's warning, or benefit ofclergy. Like many poets, Lemsford was nervous, and upon these occasionshe trembled like a leaf. Once, with an inconsolable countenance, hecame to me, saying that his casket was nowhere to be found; he hadsought for it in his hiding-place, and it was not there. 

I asked him where he had hidden it?

"Among the guns, " he replied. 

"Then depend upon it, Lemsford, that Quoin has been the death of it. "

Straight to Quoin went the poet. But Quoin knew nothing about it. For ten mortal days the poet was not to be comforted; dividinghis leisure time between cursing Quoin and lamenting his loss. The world is undone, he must have thought: no such calamity hasbefallen it since the Deluge;--my verses are perished. 

But though Quoin, as it afterward turned out, had indeed foundthe box, it so happened that he had not destroyed it; which nodoubt led Lemsford to infer that a superintending Providence hadinterposed to preserve to posterity his invaluable casket. It wasfound at last, lying exposed near the galley. 

Lemsford was not the only literary man on board the Neversink. There were three or four persons who kept journals of the cruise. One of these journalists embellished his work--which was writtenin a large blank account-book--with various coloured illustrationsof the harbours and bays at which the frigate had touched; and also, with small crayon sketches of comical incidents on board the frigateitself. He would frequently read passages of his book to an admiringcircle of the more refined sailors, between the guns. They pronouncedthe whole performance a miracle of art. As the author declared to themthat it was all to be printed and published so soon as the vesselreached home, they vied with each other in procuring interesting items, to be incorporated into additional chapters. But it having beenrumoured abroad that this journal was to be ominously entitled "_TheCruise of the Neversink, or a Paixhan shot into Naval Abuses;_" andit having also reached the ears of the Ward-room that the workcontained reflections somewhat derogatory to the dignity of theofficers, the volume was seized by the master-at-arms, armed with awarrant from the Captain. A few days after, a large nail was drivenstraight through the two covers, and clinched on the other side, and, thus everlastingly sealed, the book was committed to the deep. The ground taken by the authorities on this occasion was, perhaps, that the book was obnoxious to a certain clause in the Articles of War, forbidding any person in the Navy to bring any other person in theNavy into contempt, which the suppressed volume undoubtedly did. 

CHAPTER XII. 

THE GOOD OR BAD TEMPER OF MEN-OF-WAR'S MEN, IN A GREAT DEGREE, ATTRIBUTABLE TO THEIR PARTICULAR STATIONS AND DUTIES ABOARD SHIP. 

Quoin, the quarter-gunner, was the representative of a class onboard the Neversink, altogether too remarkable to be left astern, without further notice, in the rapid wake of these chapters. 

As has been seen, Quoin was full of unaccountable whimsies; hewas, withal, a very cross, bitter, ill-natured, inflammable oldman. So, too, were all the members of the gunner's gang;including the two gunner's mates, and all the quarter-gunners. Every one of them had the same dark brown complexion; all theirfaces looked like smoked hams. They were continually grumblingand growling about the batteries; running in and out among theguns; driving the sailors away from them; and cursing andswearing as if all their conscience had been powder-singed, andmade callous, by their calling. Indeed they were a mostunpleasant set of men; especially Priming, the nasal-voicedgunner's mate, with the hare-lip; and Cylinder, his stutteringcoadjutor, with the clubbed foot. But you will always observe, that the gunner's gang of every man-of-war are invariably ill-tempered, ugly featured, and quarrelsome. Once when I visited anEnglish line-of-battle ship, the gunner's gang were fore and aft, polishing up the batteries, which, according to the Admiral'sfancy, had been painted white as snow. Fidgeting round the greatthirty-two-pounders, and making stinging remarks at the sailorsand each other, they reminded one of a swarm of black wasps, buzzing about rows of white headstones in a church-yard. 

Now, there can be little doubt, that their being so much amongthe guns is the very thing that makes a gunner's gang so crossand quarrelsome. Indeed, this was once proved to the satisfactionof our whole company of main-top-men. A fine top-mate of ours, amost merry and companionable fellow, chanced to be promoted to aquarter-gunner's berth. A few days afterward, some of us main-top-men, his old comrades, went to pay him a visit, while he wasgoing his regular rounds through the division of guns allotted tohis care. But instead of greeting us with his usual heartiness, and cracking his pleasant jokes, to our amazement, he did littleelse but scowl; and at last, when we rallied him upon his ill-temper, he seized a long black rammer from overhead, and drove uson deck; threatening to report us, if we ever dared to befamiliar with him again. 

My top-mates thought that this remarkable metamorphose was theeffect produced upon a weak, vain character suddenly elevatedfrom the level of a mere seaman to the dignified position of a_petty officer_. But though, in similar cases, I had seen sucheffects produced upon some of the crew; yet, in the presentinstance, I knew better than that;--it was solely brought aboutby his consorting with with those villainous, irritable, ill-tempered cannon; more especially from his being subject to theorders of those deformed blunderbusses, Priming and Cylinder. 

The truth seems to be, indeed, that all people should be very carefulin selecting their callings and vocations; very careful in seeing toit, that they surround themselves by good-humoured, pleasant-lookingobjects; and agreeable, temper-soothing sounds. Many an angelicdisposition has had its even edge turned, and hacked like a saw;and many a sweet draught of piety has soured on the heart frompeople's choosing ill-natured employments, and omitting to gatherround them good-natured landscapes. Gardeners are almost alwayspleasant, affable people to con-verse with; but beware ofquarter-gunners, keepers of arsenals, and lonely light-house men. 

It would be advisable for any man, who from an unlucky choice of aprofession, which it is too late to change for another, should findhis temper souring, to endeavour to counteract that misfortune, byfilling his private chamber with amiable, pleasurable sights and sounds. In summer time, an Aeolian harp can be placed in your window at a verytrifling expense; a conch-shell might stand on your mantel, to be takenup and held to the ear, that you may be soothed by its continuallulling sound, when you feel the blue fit stealing over you. For sights, a gay-painted punch-bowl, or Dutch tankard--never mind about fillingit--might be recommended. It should be placed on a bracket in the pier. Nor is an old-fashioned silver ladle, nor a chased dinner-castor, nora fine portly demijohn, nor anything, indeed, that savors of eating anddrinking, bad to drive off the spleen. But perhaps the best of all is ashelf of merrily-bound books, containing comedies, farces, songs, andhumorous novels. You need never open them; only have the titles in plainsight. For this purpose, Peregrine Pickle is a good book; so is Gil Blas;so is Goldsmith. 

But of all chamber furniture in the world, best calculated to cure a hadtemper, and breed a pleasant one, is the sight of a lovely wife. If youhave children, however, that are teething, the nursery should be a goodway up stairs; at sea, it ought to be in the mizzen-top. Indeed, teething children play the very deuce with a husband's temper. I haveknown three promising young husbands completely spoil on their wives'hands, by reason of a teething child, whose worrisomeness happened to beaggravated at the time by the summer-complaint. With a breaking heart, and my handkerchief to my eyes, I followed those three hapless younghusbands, one after the other, to their premature graves. 

Gossiping scenes breed gossips. Who so chatty as hotel-clerks, market women, auctioneers, bar-keepers, apothecaries, newspaper-reporters, monthly-nurses, and all those who live in bustlingcrowds, or are present at scenes of chatty interest. 

Solitude breeds taciturnity; _that_ every body knows; who sotaciturn as authors, taken as a race?

A forced, interior quietude, in the midst of great out-wardcommotion, breeds moody people. Who so moody as railroad-brakemen, steam-boat-engineers, helmsmen, and tenders of power-looms in cotton factories? For all these must hold their peacewhile employed, and let the machinery do the chatting; theycannot even edge in a single syllable. 

Now, this theory about the wondrous influence of habitual sights andsounds upon the human temper, was suggested by my experiences on boardour frigate. And al-though I regard the example furnished by ourquarter-gunners--especially him who had once been our top-mate--as byfar the strongest argument in favour of the general theory; yet, theentire ship abounded with illustrations of its truth. Who were moreliberal-hearted, lofty-minded, gayer, more jocund, elastic, adventurous, given to fun and frolic, than the top-men of the fore, main, and mizzenmasts? The reason of their liberal-heartedness was, that they were dailycalled upon to expatiate themselves all over the rigging. The reason oftheir lofty-mindedness was, that they were high lifted above the pettytumults, carping cares, and paltrinesses of the decks below. 

And I feel persuaded in my inmost soul, that it is to the fact ofmy having been a main-top-man; and especially my particular postbeing on the loftiest yard of the frigate, the main-royal-yard;that I am now enabled to give such a free, broad, off-hand, bird's-eye, and, more than all, impartial account of our man-of-warworld; withholding nothing; inventing nothing; nor flattering, norscandalising any; but meting out to all--commodore and messenger-boyalike--their precise descriptions and deserts. 

The reason of the mirthfulness of these top-men was, that theyalways looked out upon the blue, boundless, dimpled, laughing, sunny sea. Nor do I hold, that it militates against this theory, that of a stormy day, when the face of the ocean was black, andovercast, that some of them would grow moody, and chose to sitapart. On the contrary, it only proves the thing which Imaintain. For even on shore, there are many people naturally gayand light-hearted, who, whenever the autumnal wind begins tobluster round the corners, and roar along the chimney-stacks, straight becomes cross, petulant, and irritable. What is moremellow than fine old ale? Yet thunder will sour the best nut-brown ever brewed. 

The _Holders_ of our frigate, the Troglodytes, who lived down inthe tarry cellars and caves below the berth-deck, were, nearlyall of them, men of gloomy dispositions, taking sour views ofthings; one of them was a blue-light Calvinist. Whereas, the old-sheet-anchor-men, who spent their time in the bracing sea-air andbroad-cast sunshine of the forecastle, were free, generous-hearted, charitable, and full of good-will to all hands; thoughsome of them, to tell the truth, proved sad exceptions; butexceptions only prove the rule. 

The "steady-cooks" on the berth-deck, the "steady-sweepers, " and"steady-spit-box-musterers, " in all divisions of the frigate, fore and aft, were a narrow-minded set; with contracted souls;imputable, no doubt, to their groveling duties. More especiallywas this evinced in the case of those odious ditchers and nightscavengers, the ignoble "Waisters. "

The members of the band, some ten or twelve in number, who hadnothing to do but keep their instruments polished, and play alively air now and then, to stir the stagnant current in ourpoor old Commodore's torpid veins, were the most gleeful set offellows you ever saw. They were Portuguese, who had been shippedat the Cape De Verd islands, on the passage out. They messed bythemselves; forming a dinner-party, not to be exceeded iremirthfulness, by a club of young bridegrooms, three months aftermarriage, completely satisfied with their bargains, after testingthem. 

But what made them, now, so full of fun? What indeed but theirmerry, martial, mellow calling. Who could he a churl, and play aflageolet? who mean and spiritless, braying forth the souls ofthousand heroes from his brazen trump? But still more efficacious, perhaps, in ministering to the light spirits of the band, was theconsoling thought, that should the ship ever go into action, theywould be exempted from the perils of battle. In ships of war, themembers of the "music, " as the band is called, are generallynon-combatants; and mostly ship, with the express understanding, that as soon as the vessel comes within long gun-shot of an enemy, they shall have the privilege of burrowing down in the cable-tiers, or sea coal-hole. Which shows that they are inglorious, butuncommonly sensible fellows. 

Look at the barons of the gun-room--Lieutenants, Purser, Marineofficers, Sailing-master--all of them gentlemen with stiff upperlips, and aristocratic cut noses. Why was this? Will any onedeny, that from their living so long in high military life, served by a crowd of menial stewards and cot-boys, and alwaysaccustomed to command right and left; will any one deny, I say, that by reason of this, their very noses had become thin, peaked, aquiline, and aristocratically cartilaginous? Even old Cuticle, the Surgeon, had a Roman nose. 

But I never could account how it came to be, that our grey headedFirst Lieutenant was a little lop-sided; that is, one of hisshoulders disproportionately dropped. And when I observed, thatnearly all the First Lieutenants I saw in other men-of-war, besides many Second and Third Lieutenants, were similarly lop-sided, I knew that there must be some general law which inducedthe phenomenon; and I put myself to studying it out, as aninteresting problem. At last, I came to the conclusion--to whichI still adhere--that their so long wearing only one epaulet (forto only one does their rank entitle them) was the infallible clewto this mystery. And when any one reflects upon so well-known afact, that many sea Lieutenants grow decrepit from age, withoutattaining a Captaincy and wearing _two_ epaulets, which wouldstrike the balance between their shoulders, the above reasonassigned will not appear unwarrantable. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

A MAN-OF-WAR HERMIT IN A MOB. 

The allusion to the poet Lemsford in a previous chapter, leads meto speak of our mutual friends, Nord and Williams, who, withLemsford himself, Jack Chase, and my comrades of the main-top, comprised almost the only persons with whom I unreservedlyconsorted while on board the frigate. For I had not been long onboard ere I found that it would not do to be intimate witheverybody. An indiscriminate intimacy with all hands leads tosundry annoyances and scrapes, too often ending with a dozen atthe gang-way. Though I was above a year in the frigate, therewere scores of men who to the last remained perfect strangers tome, whose very names I did not know, and whom I would hardly beable to recognise now should I happen to meet them in the streets. 

In the dog-watches at sea, during the early part of the evening, the main-deck is generally filled with crowds of pedestrians, promenading up and down past the guns, like people taking the airin Broadway. At such times, it is curious to see the men noddingto each other's recognitions (they might not have seen each otherfor a week); exchanging a pleasant word with a friend; making ahurried appointment to meet him somewhere aloft on the morrow, orpassing group after group without deigning the slightestsalutation. Indeed, I was not at all singular in having butcomparatively few acquaintances on board, though certainlycarrying my fastidiousness to an unusual extent. 

My friend Nord was a somewhat remarkable character; and ifmystery includes romance, he certainly was a very romantic one. Before seeking an introduction to him through Lemsford, I hadoften marked his tall, spare, upright figure stalking like DonQuixote among the pigmies of the Afterguard, to which hebelonged. At first I found him exceedingly reserved and taciturn;his saturnine brow wore a scowl; he was almost repelling in hisdemeanour. In a word, he seemed desirous of hinting, that hislist of man-of war friends was already made up, complete, andfull; and there was no room for more. But observing that the onlyman he ever consorted with was Lemsford, I had too muchmagnanimity, by going off in a pique at his coldness, to let himlose forever the chance of making so capital an acquaintance asmyself. Besides, I saw it in his eye, that the man had been areader of good books; I would have staked my life on it, that heseized the right meaning of Montaigne. I saw that he was anearnest thinker; I more than suspected that he had been bolted inthe mill of adversity. For all these things, my heart yearnedtoward him; I determined to know him. 

At last I succeeded; it was during a profoundly quiet midnightwatch, when I perceived him walking alone in the waist, whilemost of the men were dozing on the carronade-slides. 

That night we scoured all the prairies of reading; dived into thebosoms of authors, and tore out their hearts; and that night White-Jacket learned more than he has ever done in any single night since. 

The man was a marvel. He amazed me, as much as Coleridge did thetroopers among whom he enlisted. What could have induced such aman to enter a man-of-war, all my sapience cannot fathom. And howhe managed to preserve his dignity, as he did, among such arabble rout was equally a mystery. For he was no sailor; asignorant of a ship, indeed, as a man from the sources of theNiger. Yet the officers respected him; and the men were afraid ofhim. This much was observable, however, that he faithfullydischarged whatever special duties devolved upon him; and was sofortunate as never to render himself liable to a reprimand. Doubtless, he took the same view of the thing that another of thecrew did; and had early resolved, so to conduct himself as neverto run the risk of the scourge. And this it must have been--addedto whatever incommunicable grief which might have been his--thatmade this Nord such a wandering recluse, even among our man-of-war mob. Nor could he have long swung his hammock on board, erehe must have found that, to insure his exemption from that thingwhich alone affrighted him, he must be content for the most partto turn a man-hater, and socially expatriate himself from manythings, which might have rendered his situation more tolerable. Still more, several events that took place must have horrifiedhim, at times, with the thought that, however he might isolateand entomb himself, yet for all this, the improbability of hisbeing overtaken by what he most dreaded never advanced to theinfallibility of the impossible. 

In my intercourse with Nord, he never made allusion to his pastcareer--a subject upon which most high-bred castaways in a man-of-war are very diffuse; relating their adventures at the gaming-table; the recklessness with which they have run through theamplest fortunes in a single season; their alms-givings, andgratuities to porters and poor relations; and above all, theiryouthful indiscretions, and the broken-hearted ladies they haveleft behind. No such tales had Nord to tell. Concerning the past, he was barred and locked up like the specie vaults of the Bank ofEngland. For anything that dropped from him, none of us could besure that he had ever existed till now. Altogether, he was aremarkable man. 

My other friend, Williams, was a thorough-going Yankee fromMaine, who had been both a peddler and a pedagogue in his day. Hehad all manner of stories to tell about nice little countryfrolics, and would run over an endless list of his sweethearts. He was honest, acute, witty, full of mirth and good humour--alaughing philosopher. He was invaluable as a pill against thespleen; and, with the view of extending the advantages of hissociety to the saturnine Nord, I introduced them to each other;but Nord cut him dead the very same evening, when we sallied outfrom between the guns for a walk on the main-deck. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

A DRAUGHT IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

We were not many days out of port, when a rumour was set afloatthat dreadfully alarmed many tars. It was this: that, owing tosome unprecedented oversight in the Purser, or some equallyunprecedented remissness in the Naval-storekeeper at Callao, thefrigate's supply of that delectable beverage, called "grog, " waswell-nigh expended. 

In the American Navy, the law allows one gill of spirits per dayto every seaman. In two portions, it is served out just previousto breakfast and dinner. At the roll of the drum, the sailorsassemble round a large tub, or cask, filled with liquid; and, astheir names are called off by a midshipman, they step up andregale themselves from a little tin measure called a "tot. " Nohigh-liver helping himself to Tokay off a well-polished sideboard, smacks his lips with more mighty satisfaction than the sailor doesover this _tot_. To many of them, indeed, the thought of theirdaily _tots_ forms a perpetual perspective of ravishing landscapes, indefinitely receding in the distance. It is their great "prospectin life. " Take away their grog, and life possesses no further charmsfor them. It is hardly to be doubted, that the controlling inducementwhich keeps many men in the Navy, is the unbounded confidence theyhave in the ability of the United States government to supply them, regularly and unfailingly, with their daily allowance of this beverage. I have known several forlorn individuals, shipping as landsmen, whohave confessed to me, that having contracted a love for ardent spirits, which they could not renounce, and having by their foolish courses beenbrought into the most abject poverty--insomuch that they could no longergratify their thirst ashore--they incontinently entered the Navy;regarding it as the asylum for all drunkards, who might there prolongtheir lives by regular hours and exercise, and twice every day quenchtheir thirst by moderate and undeviating doses. 

When I once remonstrated with an old toper of a top-man aboutthis daily dram-drinking; when I told him it was ruining him, andadvised him to _stop his grog_ and receive the money for it, inaddition to his wages as provided by law, he turned about on me, with an irresistibly waggish look, and said, "Give up my grog?And why? Because it is ruining me? No, no; I am a good Christian, White-Jacket, and love my enemy too much to drop his acquaintance. "

It may be readily imagined, therefore, what consternation anddismay pervaded the gun-deck at the first announcement of thetidings that the grog was expended. 

"The grog gone!" roared an old Sheet-anchor-man. 

"Oh! Lord! what a pain in my stomach!" cried a Main-top-man. 

"It's worse than the cholera!" cried a man of the After-guard. 

"I'd sooner the water-casks would give out!" said a Captain of the Hold. 

"Are we ganders and geese, that we can live without grog?" asked aCorporal of Marines. 

"Ay, we must now drink with the ducks!" cried a Quarter-master. 

"Not a tot left?" groaned a Waister. 

"Not a toothful!" sighed a Holder, from the bottom of his boots. 

Yes, the fatal intelligence proved true. The drum was no longer heardrolling the men to the tub, and deep gloom and dejection fell like acloud. The ship was like a great city, when some terrible calamity hasovertaken it. The men stood apart, in groups, discussing their woes, and mutually condoling. No longer, of still moonlight nights, was thesong heard from the giddy tops; and few and far between were the storiesthat were told. It was during this interval, so dismal to many, that tothe amazement of all hands, ten men were reported by the master-at-armsto be intoxicated. They were brought up to the mast, and at theirappearance the doubts of the most skeptical were dissipated; but whencethey had obtained their liquor no one could tell. It was observed, however at the time, that the tarry knaves all smelled of lavender, like so many dandies. 

After their examination they were ordered into the "brig, " ajail-house between two guns on the main-deck, where prisoners arekept. Here they laid for some time, stretched out stark andstiff, with their arms folded over their breasts, like so manyeffigies of the Black Prince on his monument in Canterbury Cathedral. 

Their first slumbers over, the marine sentry who stood guard overthem had as much as he could do to keep off the crowd, who wereall eagerness to find out how, in such a time of want, theprisoners had managed to drink themselves into oblivion. In duetime they were liberated, and the secret simultaneously leaked out. 

It seemed that an enterprising man of their number, who hadsuffered severely from the common deprivation, had all at oncebeen struck by a brilliant idea. It had come to his knowledgethat the purser's steward was supplied with a large quantity of_Eau-de-Cologne_, clandestinely brought out in the ship, for thepurpose of selling it on his own account, to the people of thecoast; but the supply proving larger than the demand, and havingno customers on board the frigate but Lieutenant Selvagee, he wasnow carrying home more than a third of his original stock. Tomake a short story of it, this functionary, being called upon insecret, was readily prevailed upon to part with a dozen bottles, with whose contents the intoxicated party had regaled themselves. 

The news spread far and wide among the men, being only keptsecret from the officers and underlings, and that night the long, crane-necked Cologne bottles jingled in out-of-the-way cornersand by-places, and, being emptied, were sent flying out of theports. With brown sugar, taken from the mess-chests, and hotwater begged from the galley-cooks, the men made all manner ofpunches, toddies, and cocktails, letting fall therein a smalldrop of tar, like a bit of brown toast, by way of imparting aflavour. Of course, the thing was managed with the utmostsecrecy; and as a whole dark night elapsed after their orgies, the revellers were, in a good measure, secure from detection; andthose who indulged too freely had twelve long hours to get soberbefore daylight obtruded. 

Next day, fore and aft, the whole frigate smelled like a lady'stoilet; the very tar-buckets were fragrant; and from the mouth ofmany a grim, grizzled old quarter-gunner came the most fragrantof breaths. The amazed Lieutenants went about snuffing up thegale; and, for once. Selvagee had no further need to flourish hisperfumed hand-kerchief. It was as if we were sailing by someodoriferous shore, in the vernal season of violets. Sabaean odours!

 "For many a league, Cheered with grateful smell, old Ocean smiled. "

But, alas! all this perfume could not be wasted for nothing; andthe masters-at-arms and ship's corporals, putting this and thattogether, very soon burrowed into the secret. The purser'ssteward was called to account, and no more lavender punches andCologne toddies were drank on board the Neversink. 

CHAPTER XV. 

A SALT-JUNK CLUB IN A MAN-OF-WAR, WITH A NOTICE TO QUIT. 

It was about the period of the Cologne-water excitement that myself-conceit was not a little wounded, and my sense of delicacyaltogether shocked, by a polite hint received from the cook ofthe mess to which I happened to belong. To understand the matter, it is needful to enter into preliminaries. 

The common seamen in a large frigate are divided into some thirtyor forty messes, put down on the purser's books as _Mess_ No. 1, _Mess_ No. 2, _Mess_ No. 3, etc. The members of each mess club, their rations of provisions, and breakfast, dine, and suptogether in allotted intervals between the guns on the main-deck. In undeviating rotation, the members of each mess (excepting thepetty-officers) take their turn in performing the functions ofcook and steward. And for the time being, all the affairs of theclub are subject to their inspection and control. 

It is the cook's business, also, to have an eye to the generalinterests of his mess; to see that, when the aggregatedallowances of beef, bread, etc. , are served out by one of themaster's mates, the mess over which he presides receives its fullshare, without stint or subtraction. Upon the berth-deck he has achest, in which to keep his pots, pans, spoons, and small storesof sugar, molasses, tea, and flour. 

But though entitled a cook, strictly speaking, the head of themess is no cook at all; for the cooking for the crew is all doneby a high and mighty functionary, officially called the "_ship'scook_, " assisted by several deputies. In our frigate, thispersonage was a dignified coloured gentleman, whom the men dubbed"_Old Coffee;_" and his assistants, negroes also, went by thepoetical appellations of "_Sunshine_, " "_Rose-water_, " and "_May-day_. "

Now the _ship's cooking_ required very little science, though oldCoffee often assured us that he had graduated at the New YorkAstor House, under the immediate eye of the celebrated Colemanand Stetson. All he had to do was, in the first place, to keepbright and clean the three huge coppers, or caldrons, in whichmany hundred pounds of beef were daily boiled. To this end, Rose-water, Sunshine, and May-day every morning sprang into theirrespective apartments, stripped to the waist, and well providedwith bits of soap-stone and sand. By exercising these in a veryvigorous manner, they threw themselves into a violent perspiration, and put a fine polish upon the interior of the coppers. 

Sunshine was the bard of the trio; and while all three would bebusily employed clattering their soap-stones against the metal, he would exhilarate them with some remarkable St. Domingomelodies; one of which was the following:

 "Oh! I los' my shoe in an old canoe, Johnio! come Winum so! Oh! I los' my boot in a pilot-boat, Johnio! come Winum so! Den rub-a-dub de copper, oh! Oh! copper rub-a-dub-a-oh!"

When I listened to these jolly Africans, thus making gleefultheir toil by their cheering songs, I could not help murmuringagainst that immemorial rule of men-of-war, which forbids thesailors to sing out, as in merchant-vessels, when pulling ropes, or occupied at any other ship's duty. Your only music, at suchtimes, is the shrill pipe of the boatswain's mate, which isalmost worse than no music at all. And if the boatswain's mate isnot by, you must pull the ropes, like convicts, in profoundsilence; or else endeavour to impart unity to the exertions ofall hands, by singing out mechanically, _one_, _two_, _three_, and then pulling all together. 

Now, when Sunshine, Rose-water, and May-day have so polished theship's coppers, that a white kid glove might be drawn along theinside and show no stain, they leap out of their holes, and thewater is poured in for the coffee. And the coffee being boiled, and decanted off in bucketfuls, the cooks of the messes march upwith their salt beef for dinner, strung upon strings and talliedwith labels; all of which are plunged together into the self-samecoppers, and there boiled. When, upon the beef being fished outwith a huge pitch-fork, the water for the evening's tea is pouredin; which, consequently possesses a flavour not unlike that ofshank-soup. 

From this it will be seen, that, so far as cooking is concerned, a "_cook of the mess_" has very little to do; merely carrying hisprovisions to and from the grand democratic cookery. Still, insome things, his office involves many annoyances. Twice a weekbutter and cheese are served out--so much to each man--and themess-cook has the sole charge of these delicacies. The greatdifficulty consists in so catering for the mess, touching theseluxuries, as to satisfy all. Some guzzlers are for devouring thebutter at a meal, and finishing off with the cheese the same day;others contend for saving it up against _Banyan Day_, when thereis nothing but beef and bread; and others, again, are for takinga very small bit of butter and cheese, by way of dessert, to eachand every meal through the week. All this gives rise to endlessdisputes, debates, and altercations. 

Sometimes, with his mess-cloth--a square of painted canvas--setout on deck between the guns, garnished with pots, and pans, and_kids_, you see the mess-cook seated on a matchtub at its head, his trowser legs rolled up and arms bared, presiding over theconvivial party. 

"Now, men, you can't have any butter to-day. I'm saving it up forto-morrow. You don't know the value of butter, men. You, Jim, take your hoof off the cloth! Devil take me, if some of you chapshaven't no more manners than so many swines! Quick, men, quick;bear a hand, and '_scoff_' (eat) away. --I've got my to-morrow's_duff_ to make yet, and some of you fellows keep _scoffing_ as ifI had nothing to do but sit still here on this here tub here, andlook on. There, there, men, you've all had enough: so sail awayout of this, and let me clear up the wreck. "

In this strain would one of the periodical cooks of mess No. 15talk to us. He was a tall, resolute fellow, who had once been abrakeman on a railroad, and he kept us all pretty straight; fromhis fiat there was no appeal. 

But it was not thus when the turn came to others among us. Thenit was _look out for squalls_. The business of dining became abore, and digestion was seriously impaired by the unamiablediscourse we had over our _salt horse_. 

I sometimes thought that the junks of lean pork--which wereboiled in their own bristles, and looked gaunt and grim, likepickled chins of half-famished, unwashed Cossacks--had somethingto do with creating the bristling bitterness at times prevailingin our mess. The men tore off the tough hide from their pork, asif they were Indians scalping Christians. 

Some cursed the cook for a rogue, who kept from us our butter andcheese, in order to make away with it himself in an underhand manner;selling it at a premium to other messes, and thus accumulating aprincely fortune at our expense. Others anthematised him for hisslovenliness, casting hypercritical glances into their pots and pans, and scraping them with their knives. Then he would be railed at forhis miserable "duffs, " and other shortcoming preparations. 

Marking all this from the beginning, I, White-Jacket, was sorelytroubled with the idea, that, in the course of time, my own turnwould come round to undergo the same objurgations. How to escape, I knew not. However, when the dreaded period arrived, I receivedthe keys of office (the keys of the mess-chest) with a resignedtemper, and offered up a devout ejaculation for fortitude underthe trial. I resolved, please Heaven, to approve myself anunexceptionable caterer, and the most impartial of stewards. 

The first day there was "_duff_" to make--a business whichdevolved upon the mess-cooks, though the boiling of it pertainedto Old Coffee and his deputies. I made up my mind to lay myselfout on that _duff_; to centre all my energies upon it; to put thevery soul of art into it, and achieve an unrivalled _duff_--a_duff_ that should put out of conceit all other _duffs_, and forever make my administration memorable. 

From the proper functionary the flour was obtained, and theraisins; the beef-fat, or "_slush_, " from Old Coffee; and therequisite supply of water from the scuttle-butt. I then wentamong the various cooks, to compare their receipts for making"duffs:" and having well weighed them all, and gathered from eacha choice item to make an original receipt of my own, with duedeliberation and solemnity I proceeded to business. Placing thecomponent parts in a tin pan, I kneaded them together for anhour, entirely reckless as to pulmonary considerations, touchingthe ruinous expenditure of breath; and having decanted the semi-liquid dough into a canvas-bag, secured the muzzle, tied on thetally, and delivered it to Rose-water, who dropped the preciousbag into the coppers, along with a score or two of others. 

Eight bells had struck. The boatswain and his mates had piped thehands to dinner; my mess-cloth was set out, and my messmates wereassembled, knife in hand, all ready to precipitate themselvesupon the devoted _duff_: Waiting at the grand cookery till myturn came, I received the bag of pudding, and gallanting it intothe mess, proceeded to loosen the string. 

It was an anxious, I may say, a fearful moment. My hands trembled;every eye was upon me; my reputation and credit were at stake. Slowly I undressed the _duff_, dandling it upon my knee, much as anurse does a baby about bed-time. The excitement increased, as Icurled down the bag from the pudding; it became intense, when at lastI plumped it into the pan, held up to receive it by an eager hand. Bim! it fell like a man shot down in a riot. Distraction! It washarder than a sinner's heart; yea, tough as the cock that crowed onthe morn that Peter told a lie. 

"Gentlemen of the mess, for heaven's sake! permit me one word. Ihave done my duty by that duff--I have----"

But they beat down my excuses with a storm of criminations. Onepresent proposed that the fatal pudding should be tied round myneck, like a mill-stone, and myself pushed overboard. No use, nouse; I had failed; ever after, that duff lay heavy at my stomachand my heart. 

After this, I grew desperate; despised popularity; returned scornfor scorn; till at length my week expired, and in the duff-bag Itransferred the keys of office to the next man on the roll. 

Somehow, there had never been a very cordial feeling between thismess and me; all along they had nourished a prejudice against mywhite jacket. They must have harbored the silly fancy that in itI gave myself airs, and wore it in order to look consequential;perhaps, as a cloak to cover pilferings of tit-bits from themess. But to out with the plain truth, they themselves were not avery irreproachable set. Considering the sequel I am coming to, this avowal may be deemed sheer malice; but for all that, I cannotavoid speaking my mind. 

After my week of office, the mess gradually changed theirbehaviour to me; they cut me to the heart; they became cold andreserved; seldom or never addressed me at meal-times withoutinvidious allusions to my _duff_, and also to my jacket, and itsdripping in wet weather upon the mess-cloth. However, I had noidea that anything serious, on their part, was brewing; but alas!so it turned out. 

We were assembled at supper one evening when I noticed certainwinks and silent hints tipped to the cook, who presided. He was alittle, oily fellow, who had once kept an oyster-cellar ashore;he bore me a grudge. Looking down on the mess-cloth, he observedthat some fellows never knew when their room was better thantheir company. This being a maxim of indiscriminate application, of course I silently assented to it, as any other reasonable manwould have done. But this remark was followed up by another, tothe effect that, not only did some fellows never know when theirroom was better than their company, but they persisted in stayingwhen their company wasn't wanted; and by so doing disturbed theserenity of society at large. But this, also, was a generalobservation that could not be gainsaid. A long and ominous pauseensued; during which I perceived every eye upon me, and my whitejacket; while the cook went on to enlarge upon the disagreeablenessof a perpetually damp garment in the mess, especially when thatgarment was white. This was coming nearer home. 

Yes, they were going to black-ball me; but I resolved to sit itout a little longer; never dreaming that my moralist wouldproceed to extremities, while all hands were present. Butbethinking him that by going this roundabout way he would neverget at his object, he went off on another tack; apprising me, insubstance, that he was instructed by the whole mess, then andthere assembled, to give me warning to seek out another club, asthey did not longer fancy the society either of myself or my jacket. 

I was shocked. Such a want of tact and delicacy! Common proprietysuggested that a point-blank intimation of that nature should beconveyed in a private interview; or, still better, by note. Iimmediately rose, tucked my jacket about me, bowed, and departed. 

And now, to do myself justice, I must add that, the next day, Iwas received with open arms by a glorious set of fellows--MessNo. 1!--numbering, among the rest, my noble Captain Jack Chase. 

This mess was principally composed of the headmost men of thegun-deck; and, out of a pardonable self-conceit, they calledthemselves the "_Forty-two-pounder Club;_" meaning that theywere, one and all, fellows of large intellectual and corporealcalibre. Their mess-cloth was well located. On their starboardhand was Mess No. 2, embracing sundry rare jokers and highlivers, who waxed gay and epicurean over their salt fare, andwere known as the "_Society for the Destruction of Beef andPork_. " On the larboard hand was Mess No. 31, made up entirely offore-top-men, a dashing, blaze-away set of men-of-war's-men, whocalled themselves the "_Cape Horn Snorters and NeversinkInvincibles_. " Opposite, was one of the marine messes, musteringthe aristocracy of the marine corps--the two corporals, thedrummer and fifer, and some six or eight rather gentlemanlyprivates, native-born Americans, who had served in the Seminolecampaigns of Florida; and they now enlivened their salt fare withstories of wild ambushes in the Everglades; and one of themrelated a surprising tale of his hand-to-hand encounter withOsceola, the Indian chief, whom he fought one morning fromdaybreak till breakfast time. This slashing private also boastedthat he could take a chip from between your teeth at twentypaces; he offered to bet any amount on it; and as he could get noone to hold the chip, his boast remained for ever good. 

Besides many other attractions which the _Forty-two-pounder Club_furnished, it had this one special advantage, that, owing tothere being so many _petty officers_ in it, all the members ofthe mess were exempt from doing duty as cooks and stewards. Afellow called _a steady-cook_, attended to that business duringthe entire cruise. He was a long, lank, pallid varlet, going bythe name of Shanks. In very warm weather this Shanks would sit atthe foot of the mess-cloth, fanning himself with the front flapof his frock or shirt, which he inelegantly wore over histrousers. Jack Chase, the President of the Club, frequentlyremonstrated against this breach of good manners; but the_steady-cook_ had somehow contracted the habit, and it provedincurable. 

For a time, Jack Chase, out of a polite nervousness touchingmyself, as a newly-elected member of the club, would frequentlyendeavour to excuse to me the vulgarity of Shanks. One day hewound up his remarks by the philosophic reflection--"But. White-Jacket, my dear fellow, what can you expect of him? Our realmisfortune is, that our noble club should be obliged to dine withits cook. "

There were several of these _steady-cooks_ on board; men of nomark or consideration whatever in the ship; lost to all noblepromptings; sighing for no worlds to conquer, and perfectlycontented with mixing their _duff's_, and spreading their mess-cloths, and mustering their pots and pans together three timesevery day for a three years' cruise. They were very seldom to beseen on the spar-deck, but kept below out of sight. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

GENERAL TRAINING IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

To a quiet, contemplative character, averse to uproar, undueexercise of his bodily members, and all kind of uselessconfusion, nothing can be more distressing than a proceeding inall men-of-war called "_general quarters_. " And well may it be socalled, since it amounts to a general drawing and quartering ofall the parties concerned. 

As the specific object for which a man-of-war is built and put intocommission is to fight and fire off cannon, it is, of course, deemedindispensable that the crew should be duly instructed in the art andmystery involved. Hence these "general quarters, " which is a musteringof all hands to their stations at the guns on the several decks, and asort of sham-fight with an imaginary foe. 

The summons is given by the ship's drummer, who strikes a peculiarbeat--short, broken, rolling, shuffling--like the sound made by themarch into battle of iron-heeled grenadiers. It is a regular tune, with a fine song composed to it; the words of the chorus, being mostartistically arranged, may give some idea of the air:

 "Hearts of oak are our ships, jolly tars are our men, We always are ready, steady, boys, steady, To fight and to conquer, again and again. "

In warm weather this pastime at the guns is exceedingly unpleasant, to say the least, and throws a quiet man into a violent passion andperspiration. For one, I ever abominated it. 

I have a heart like Julius Caesar, and upon occasions would fightlike Caius Marcius Coriolanus. If my beloved and for ever gloriouscountry should be ever in jeopardy from invaders, let Congress putme on a war-horse, in the van-guard, and _then_ see how I will acquitmyself. But to toil and sweat in a fictitious encounter; to squanderthe precious breath of my precious body in a ridiculous fight of shamsand pretensions; to hurry about the decks, pretending to carry thekilled and wounded below; to be told that I must consider the shipblowing up, in order to exercise myself in presence of mind, andprepare for a real explosion; all this I despise, as beneath a truetar and man of valour. 

These were my sentiments at the time, and these remain my sentimentsstill; but as, while on board the frigate, my liberty of thought didnot extend to liberty of expression, I was obliged to keep thesesentiments to myself; though, indeed, I had some thoughts of addressinga letter, marked _Private and Confidential_, to his Honour the Commodore, on the subject. 

My station at the batteries was at one of the thirty-two-poundcarronades, on the starboard side of the quarter-deck. [1]

----[Footnote-1] For the benefit of a Quaker reader here and there, aword or two in explanation of a carronade may not be amiss. Thecarronade is a gun comparatively short and light for its calibre. A carronade throwing a thirty-two-pound shot weighs considerablyless than a long-gun only throwing a twenty-four-pound shot. Itfurther differs from a long-gun, in working with a joint and boltunderneath, instead of the short arms or _trunnions_ at thesides. Its _carriage_, likewise, is quite different from that ofa long-gun, having a sort of sliding apparatus, something like anextension dining-table; the goose on it, however, is a tough one, and villainously stuffed with most indigestible dumplings. Point-blank, the range of a carronade does not exceed one hundred andfifty yards, much less than the range of a long-gun. When oflarge calibre, however, it throws within that limit, Paixhanshot, all manner of shells and combustibles, with great effect, being a very destructive engine at close quarters. This piece isnow very generally found mounted in the batteries of the Englishand American navies. The quarter-deck armaments of most modernfrigates wholly consist of carronades. The name is derived fromthe village of Carron, in Scotland, at whose celebrated founderiesthis iron Attila was first cast. 

----

I did not fancy this station at all; for it is well known onshipboard that, in time of action, the quarter-deck is one of themost dangerous posts of a man-of-war. The reason is, that theofficers of the highest rank are there stationed; and the enemyhave an ungentlemanly way of target-shooting at their buttons. Ifwe should chance to engage a ship, then, who could tell but somebungling small-arm marks-man in the enemy's tops might put abullet through _me_ instead of the Commodore? If they hit _him_, no doubt he would not feel it much, for he was used to that sortof thing, and, indeed, had a bullet in him already. Whereas, _I_was altogether unaccustomed to having blue pills playing round myhead in such an indiscriminate way. Besides, ours was a flag-ship; and every one knows what a peculiarly dangerous predicamentthe quarter-deck of Nelson's flag-ship was in at the battle ofTrafalgar; how the lofty tops of the enemy were full of soldiers, peppering away at the English Admiral and his officers. Many apoor sailor, at the guns of that quarter-deck, must have receiveda bullet intended for some wearer of an epaulet. 

By candidly confessing my feelings on this subject, I do by nomeans invalidate my claims to being held a man of prodigiousvalour. I merely state my invincible repugnance to being shot forsomebody else. If I am shot, be it with the express understandingin the shooter that I am the identical person intended so to beserved. That Thracian who, with his compliments, sent an arrowinto the King of Macedon, superscribed "_for Philip's righteye_, " set a fine example to all warriors. The hurried, hasty, indiscriminate, reckless, abandoned manner in which both sailorsand soldiers nowadays fight is really painful to any serious-minded, methodical old gentleman, especially if he chance to havesystematized his mind as an accountant. There is little or noskill and bravery about it. Two parties, armed with lead and oldiron, envelop themselves in a cloud of smoke, and pitch theirlead and old iron about in all directions. If you happen to be inthe way, you are hit; possibly, killed; if not, you escape. Insea-actions, if by good or bad luck, as the case may be, a roundshot, fired at random through the smoke, happens to sendoverboard your fore-mast, another to unship your rudder, thereyou lie crippled, pretty much at the mercy of your foe: who, accordingly, pronounces himself victor, though that honourproperly belongs to the Law of Gravitation operating on theenemy's balls in the smoke. Instead of tossing this old lead andiron into the air, therefore, it would be much better amicably totoss up a copper and let heads win. 

The carronade at which I was stationed was known as "Gun No. 5, "on the First Lieutenant's quarter-bill. Among our gun's crew, however, it was known as _Black Bet_. This name was bestowed bythe captain of the gun--a fine negro--in honour of hissweetheart, a coloured lady of Philadelphia. Of Black Bet I wasrammer-and-sponger; and ram and sponge I did, like a good fellow. I have no doubt that, had I and my gun been at the battle of theNile, we would mutually have immortalised ourselves; the ramming-pole would have been hung up in Westminster Abbey; and I, ennobled by the king, besides receiving the illustrious honour ofan autograph letter from his majesty through the perfumed righthand of his private secretary. 

But it was terrible work to help run in and out of the portholethat amazing mass of metal, especially as the thing must be clonein a trice. Then, at the summons of a horrid, rasping rattle, swayed by the Captain in person, we were made to rush from ourguns, seize pikes and pistols, and repel an imaginary army ofboarders, who, by a fiction of the officers, were supposed to beassailing all sides of the ship at once. After cutting andslashing at them a while, we jumped back to our guns, and againwent to jerking our elbows. 

Meantime, a loud cry is heard of "Fire! fire! fire!" in the fore-top; and a regular engine, worked by a set of Bowery-boy tars, isforthwith set to playing streams of water aloft. And now it is"Fire! fire! fire!" on the main-deck; and the entire ship is inas great a commotion as if a whole city ward were in a blaze. 

Are our officers of the Navy utterly unacquainted with the lawsof good health? Do they not know that this violent exercise, taking place just after a hearty dinner, as it generally does, iseminently calculated to breed the dyspepsia? There was nosatisfaction in dining; the flavour of every mouthful wasdestroyed by the thought that the next moment the cannonadingdrum might be beating to quarters. 

Such a sea-martinet was our Captain, that sometimes we wereroused from our hammocks at night; when a scene would ensue thatit is not in the power of pen and ink to describe. Five hundredmen spring to their feet, dress themselves, take up theirbedding, and run to the nettings and stow it; then he to theirstations--each man jostling his neighbour--some alow, some aloft;some this way, some that; and in less than five minutes thefrigate is ready for action, and still as the grave; almost everyman precisely where he would be were an enemy actually about tobe engaged. The Gunner, like a Cornwall miner in a cave, isburrowing down in the magazine under the Ward-room, which islighted by battle-lanterns, placed behind glazed glass bull's-eyes inserted in the bulkhead. The Powder-monkeys, or boys, whofetch and carry cartridges, are scampering to and fro among theguns; and the _first and second loaders_ stand ready to receivetheir supplies. 

These _Powder-monkeys_, as they are called, enact a curious partin time of action. The entrance to the magazine on the berth-deck, where they procure their food for the guns, is guarded by awoollen screen; and a gunner's mate, standing behind it, thrustsout the cartridges through a small arm-hole in this screen. Theenemy's shot (perhaps red hot) are flying in all directions; andto protect their cartridges, the powder-monkeys hurriedly wrapthem up in their jackets; and with all haste scramble up theladders to their respective guns, like eating-house waitershurrying along with hot cakes for breakfast. 

At _general quarters_ the shot-boxes are uncovered; showing thegrape-shot--aptly so called, for they precisely resemble bunchesof the fruit; though, to receive a bunch of iron grapes in theabdomen would be but a sorry dessert; and also showing thecanister-shot--old iron of various sorts, packed in a tin case, like a tea-caddy. 

Imagine some midnight craft sailing down on her enemy thus;twenty-four pounders levelled, matches lighted, and each captainof his gun at his post!

But if verily going into action, then would the Neversink havemade still further preparations; for however alike in somethings, there is always a vast difference--if you sound them--between a reality and a sham. Not to speak of the pale sternnessof the men at their guns at such a juncture, and the chokedthoughts at their hearts, the ship itself would here and therepresent a far different appearance. Something like that of anextensive mansion preparing for a grand entertainment, whenfolding-doors are withdrawn, chambers converted into drawing-rooms, and every inch of available space thrown into onecontinuous whole. For previous to an action, every bulk-head in aman-of-war is knocked down; great guns are run out of theCommodore's parlour windows; nothing separates the ward-roomofficers' quarters from those of the men, but an en-sign used fora curtain. The sailors' mess-chests are tumbled down into thehold; and the hospital cots--of which all men-of-war carry alarge supply--are dragged forth from the sail-room, and pilednear at hand to receive the wounded; amputation-tables are rangedin the _cock-pit_ or in the _tiers_, whereon to carve the bodiesof the maimed. The yards are slung in chains; fire-screensdistributed here and there: hillocks of cannon-balls piledbetween the guns; shot-plugs suspended within easy reach from thebeams; and solid masses of wads, big as Dutch cheeses, braced tothe cheeks of the gun-carriages. 

No small difference, also, would be visible in the wardrobe ofboth officers and men. The officers generally fight as dandiesdance, namely, in silk stockings; inasmuch as, in case of beingwounded in the leg, the silk-hose can be more easily drawn off bythe Surgeon; cotton sticks, and works into the wound. Aneconomical captain, while taking care to case his legs in silk, might yet see fit to save his best suit, and fight in his oldclothes. For, besides that an old garment might much better becut to pieces than a new one, it must be a mighty disagreeablething to die in a stiff, tight-breasted coat, not yet worked easyunder the arm-pits. At such times, a man should feel free, unencumbered, and perfectly at his ease in point of straps andsuspenders. No ill-will concerning his tailor should intrude uponhis thoughts of eternity. Seneca understood this, when he choseto die naked in a bath. And men-of-war's men understand it, also;for most of them, in battle, strip to the waist-bands; wearingnothing but a pair of duck trowsers, and a handkerchief roundtheir head. 

A captain combining a heedful patriotism with economy wouldprobably "bend" his old topsails before going into battle, instead of exposing his best canvas to be riddled to pieces; forit is generally the case that the enemy's shot flies high. Unlessallowance is made for it in pointing the tube, at long-gundistance, the slightest roll of the ship, at the time of firing, would send a shot, meant for the hull, high over the top-gallant yards. 

But besides these differences between a sham-fight at _generalquarters_ and a real cannonading, the aspect of the ship, at thebeating of the retreat, would, in the latter case, be verydissimilar to the neatness and uniformity in the former. 

_Then_ our bulwarks might look like the walls of the houses inWest Broadway in New York, after being broken into and burned outby the Negro Mob. Our stout masts and yards might be lying aboutdecks, like tree boughs after a tornado in a piece of woodland;our dangling ropes, cut and sundered in all directions, would bebleeding tar at every yard; and strew with jagged splinters fromour wounded planks, the gun-deck might resemble a carpenter'sshop. _Then_, when all was over, and all hands would be piped totake down the hammocks from the exposed nettings (where they playthe part of the cotton bales at New Orleans), we might find bitsof broken shot, iron bolts and bullets in our blankets. And, while smeared with blood like butchers, the surgeon and his mateswould be amputating arms and legs on the berth-deck, an underlingof the carpenter's gang would be new-legging and arming thebroken chairs and tables in the Commodore's cabin; while the restof his _squad_ would be _splicing_ and _fishing_ the shatteredmasts and yards. The scupper-holes having discharged the lastrivulet of blood, the decks would be washed down; and the galley-cooks would be going fore and aft, sprinkling them with hotvinegar, to take out the shambles' smell from the planks; which, unless some such means are employed, often create a highlyoffensive effluvia for weeks after a fight. 

_Then_, upon mustering the men, and calling the quarter-bills bythe light of a battle-lantern, many a wounded seaman with his armin a sling, would answer for some poor shipmate who could nevermore make answer for himself:

 "Tom Brown?"

 "Killed, sir. "

 "Jack Jewel?"

 "Killed, sir. "

 "Joe Hardy?"

 "Killed, sir. "

And opposite all these poor fellows' names, down would go on thequarter-bills the bloody marks of red ink--a murderer's fluid, fitly used on these occasions. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

AWAY! SECOND, THIRD, AND FOURTH CUTTERS, AWAY!

It was the morning succeeding one of these _general quarters_that we picked up a life-buoy, descried floating by. 

It was a circular mass of cork, about eight inches thick and fourfeet in diameter, covered with tarred canvas. All round itscircumference there trailed a number of knotted ropes'-ends, terminating in fanciful Turks' heads. These were the life-lines, for the drowning to clutch. Inserted into the middle of the corkwas an upright, carved pole, somewhat shorter than a pike-staff. The whole buoy was embossed with barnacles, and its sidesfestooned with sea-weeds. Dolphins were sporting and flashingaround it, and one white bird was hovering over the top of thepole. Long ago, this thing must have been thrown over-board tosave some poor wretch, who must have been drowned; while even thelife-buoy itself had drifted away out of sight. 

The forecastle-men fished it up from the bows, and the seamenthronged round it. 

"Bad luck! bad luck!" cried the Captain of the Head; "we'llnumber one less before long. "

The ship's cooper strolled by; he, to whose department it belongsto see that the ship's life-buoys are kept in good order. 

In men-of-war, night and day, week in and week out, two life-buoys are kept depending from the stern; and two men, withhatchets in their hands, pace up and down, ready at the first cryto cut the cord and drop the buoys overboard. Every two hoursthey are regularly relieved, like sentinels on guard. No similarprecautions are adopted in the merchant or whaling service. 

Thus deeply solicitous to preserve human life are the regulationsof men-of-war; and seldom has there been a better illustration ofthis solicitude than at the battle of Trafalgar, when, after"several thousand" French seamen had been destroyed, accordingto Lord Collingwood, and, by the official returns, sixteenhundred and ninety Englishmen were killed or wounded, theCaptains of the surviving ships ordered the life-buoy sentriesfrom their death-dealing guns to their vigilant posts, asofficers of the Humane Society. 

"There, Bungs!" cried Scrimmage, a sheet-anchor-man, [2] "there'sa good pattern for you; make us a brace of life-buoys like that;something that will save a man, and not fill and sink under him, as those leaky quarter-casks of yours will the first time there'soccasion to drop 'ern. I came near pitching off the bowsprit theother day; and, when I scrambled inboard again, I went aft to geta squint at 'em. Why, Bungs, they are all open between thestaves. Shame on you! Suppose you yourself should fall over-board, and find yourself going down with buoys under you of yourown making--what then?"

----[FOOTNOTE-2] In addition to the _Bower-anchors_ carried on herbows, a frigate carries large anchors in her fore-chains, called_Sheet-anchors_. Hence, the old seamen stationed in that part ofa man-of-war are called _sheet-anchor-man_. ----

"I never go aloft, and don't intend to fall overboard, " replied Bungs. 

"Don't believe it!" cried the sheet-anchor-man; "you lopers that liveabout the decks here are nearer the bottom of the sea than the lighthand that looses the main-royal. Mind your eye, Bungs--mind your eye!"

"I will, " retorted Bungs; "and you mind yours!"

Next day, just at dawn, I was startled from my hammock by the cryof "_All hands about ship and shorten sail_!" Springing up theladders, I found that an unknown man had fallen overboard fromthe chains; and darting a glance toward the poop, perceived, fromtheir gestures, that the life-sentries there had cut away the buoys. 

It was blowing a fresh breeze; the frigate was going fast throughthe water. But the one thousand arms of five hundred men soontossed her about on the other tack, and checked her further headway. 

"Do you see him?" shouted the officer of the watch through his trumpet, hailing the main-mast-head. "Man or _buoy_, do you see either?"

"See nothing, sir, " was the reply. 

"Clear away the cutters!" was the next order. "Bugler! call awaythe second, third, and fourth cutters' crews. Hands by the tackles!"

In less than three minutes the three boats were down; More handswere wanted in one of them, and, among others, I jumped in tomake up the deficiency. 

"Now, men, give way! and each man look out along his oar, andlook sharp!" cried the officer of our boat. For a time, inperfect silence, we slid up and down the great seething swells ofthe sea, but saw nothing. 

"There, it's no use, " cried the officer; "he's gone, whoever heis. Pull away, men--pull away! they'll be recalling us soon. "

"Let him drown!" cried the strokesman; "he's spoiled my watchbelow for me. "

"Who the devil is he?" cried another. 

"He's one who'll never have a coffin!" replied a third. 

"No, no! they'll never sing out, '_All hands bury the dead!_' forhim, my hearties!" cried a fourth. 

"Silence, " said the officer, "and look along your oars. " But thesixteen oarsmen still continued their talk; and, after pullingabout for two or three hours, we spied the recall-signal at thefrigate's fore-t'-gallant-mast-head, and returned on board, having seen no sign even of the life-buoys. 

The boats were hoisted up, the yards braced forward, and away webowled--one man less. 

"Muster all hands!" was now the order; when, upon calling theroll, the cooper was the only man missing. 

"I told you so, men, " cried the Captain of the Head; "I said wewould lose a man before long. "

"Bungs, is it?" cried Scrimmage, the sheet-anchor-man; "I told himhis buoys wouldn't save a drowning man; and now he has proved it!"

CHAPTER XVIII. 

A MAN-OF-WAR FULL AS A NUT. 

It was necessary to supply the lost cooper's place; accordingly, word was passed for all who belonged to that calling to musterat the main-mast, in order that one of them might be selected. Thirteen men obeyed the summons--a circumstance illustrative ofthe fact that many good handicrafts-men are lost to their tradesand the world by serving in men-of-war. Indeed, from a frigate'screw might he culled out men of all callings and vocations, froma backslidden parson to a broken-down comedian. The Navy is theasylum for the perverse, the home of the unfortunate. Here thesons of adversity meet the children of calamity, and here thechildren of calamity meet the offspring of sin. Bankrupt brokers, boot-blacks, blacklegs, and blacksmiths here assemble together;and cast-away tinkers, watch-makers, quill-drivers, cobblers, doctors, farmers, and lawyers compare past experiences and talkof old times. Wrecked on a desert shore, a man-of-war's crewcould quickly found an Alexandria by themselves, and fill it withall the things which go to make up a capital. 

Frequently, at one and the same time, you see every trade inoperation on the gun-deck--coopering, carpentering, tailoring, tinkering, blacksmithing, rope-making, preaching, gambling, andfortune-telling. 

In truth, a man-of-war is a city afloat, with long avenues setout with guns instead of trees, and numerous shady lanes, courts, and by-ways. The quarter-deck is a grand square, park, or paradeground, with a great Pittsfield elm, in the shape of the main-mast, at one end, and fronted at the other by the palace of theCommodore's cabin. 

Or, rather, a man-of-war is a lofty, walled, and garrisoned town, like Quebec, where the thoroughfares and mostly ramparts, andpeaceable citizens meet armed sentries at every corner. 

Or it is like the lodging-houses in Paris, turned upside down;the first floor, or deck, being rented by a lord; the second, bya select club of gentlemen; the third, by crowds of artisans; andthe fourth, by a whole rabble of common people. 

For even thus is it in a frigate, where the commander has a wholecabin to himself and the spar-deck, the lieutenants their ward-room underneath, and the mass of sailors swing their hammocksunder all. 

And with its long rows of port-hole casements, each revealing themuzzle of a cannon, a man-of-war resembles a three-story house ina suspicions part of the town, with a basement of indefinitedepth, and ugly-looking fellows gazing out at the windows. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

THE JACKET ALOFT. 

Again must I call attention to my white jacket, which, about thistime came near being the death of me. 

I am of a meditative humour, and at sea used often to mount aloftat night, and seating myself on one of the upper yards, tuck myjacket about me and give loose to reflection. In some ships inwhich. I have done this, the sailors used to fancy that I must bestudying astronomy--which, indeed, to some extent, was the case--and that my object in mounting aloft was to get a nearer view ofthe stars, supposing me, of course, to be short-sighted. A verysilly conceit of theirs, some may say, but not so silly afterall; for surely the advantage of getting nearer an object by twohundred feet is not to be underrated. Then, to study the starsupon the wide, boundless sea, is divine as it was to the ChaldeanMagi, who observed their revolutions from the plains. 

And it is a very fine feeling, and one that fuses us into theuniverse of things, and mates us a part of the All, to thinkthat, wherever we ocean-wanderers rove, we have still the sameglorious old stars to keep us company; that they still shineonward and on, forever beautiful and bright, and luring us, byevery ray, to die and be glorified with them. 

Ay, ay! we sailors sail not in vain, We expatriate ourselves tonationalise with the universe; and in all our voyages round theworld, we are still accompanied by those old circumnavigators, the stars, who are shipmates and fellow-sailors of ours--sailingin heaven's blue, as we on the azure main. Let genteel generationsscoff at our hardened hands, and finger-nails tipped with tar--didthey ever clasp truer palms than ours? Let them feel of our sturdyhearts beating like sledge-hammers in those hot smithies, our bosoms;with their amber-headed canes, let them feel of our generous pulses, and swear that they go off like thirty-two-pounders. 

Oh, give me again the rover's life--the joy, the thrill, thewhirl! Let me feel thee again, old sea! let me leap into thysaddle once more. I am sick of these terra firma toils and cares;sick of the dust and reek of towns. Let me hear the clatter ofhailstones on icebergs, and not the dull tramp of these plodders, plodding their dull way from their cradles to their graves. Letme snuff thee up, sea-breeze! and whinny in thy spray. Forbid it, sea-gods! intercede for me with Neptune, O sweet Amphitrite, thatno dull clod may fall on my coffin! Be mine the tomb thatswallowed up Pharaoh and all his hosts; let me lie down withDrake, where he sleeps in the sea. 

But when White-Jacket speaks of the rover's life, he means notlife in a man-of-war, which, with its martial formalities andthousand vices, stabs to the heart the soul of all free-and-easyhonourable rovers. 

I have said that I was wont to mount up aloft and muse; and thuswas it with me the night following the loss of the cooper. Ere mywatch in the top had expired, high up on the main-royal-yard Ireclined, the white jacket folded around me like Sir John Moorein his frosted cloak. 

Eight bells had struck, and my watchmates had hied to theirhammocks, and the other watch had gone to their stations, and the_top_ below me was full of strangers, and still one hundred feetabove even _them_ I lay entranced; now dozing, now dreaming; nowthinking of things past, and anon of the life to come. Well-timedwas the latter thought, for the life to come was much nearerovertaking me than I then could imagine. Perhaps I was halfconscious at last of a tremulous voice hailing the main-royal-yard from the _top_. But if so, the consciousness glided awayfrom me, and left me in Lethe. But when, like lightning, the yarddropped under me, and instinctively I clung with both hands tothe "_tie_, " then I came to myself with a rush, and feltsomething like a choking hand at my throat. For an instant Ithought the Gulf Stream in my head was whirling me away toeternity; but the next moment I found myself standing; the yardhad descended to the _cup_; and shaking myself in my jacket, Ifelt that I was unharmed and alive. 

Who had done this? who had made this attempt on my life? thoughtI, as I ran down the rigging. 

"Here it comes!--Lord! Lord! here it comes! See, see! it is whiteas a hammock. "

"Who's coming?" I shouted, springing down into the top; "who'swhite as a hammock?"

"Bless my soul, Bill it's only White-Jacket--that infernal White-Jacket again!"

It seems they had spied a moving white spot there aloft, and, sailor-like, had taken me for the ghost of the cooper; and afterhailing me, and bidding me descend, to test my corporeality, andgetting no answer, they had lowered the halyards in affright. 

In a rage I tore off the jacket, and threw it on the deck. 

"Jacket, " cried I, "you must change your complexion! you must hieto the dyers and be dyed, that I may live. I have but one poorlife, White-Jacket, and that life I cannot spare. I cannotconsent to die for _you_, but be dyed you must for me. You candye many times without injury; but I cannot die withoutirreparable loss, and running the eternal risk. "

So in the morning, jacket in hand, I repaired to the FirstLieutenant, and related the narrow escape I had had during thenight. I enlarged upon the general perils I ran in being takenfor a ghost, and earnestly besought him to relax his commands foronce, and give me an order on Brush, the captain of the paint-room, for some black paint, that my jacket might be painted ofthat colour. 

"Just look at it, sir, " I added, holding it lip; "did you ever seeanything whiter? Consider how it shines of a night, like a bit ofthe Milky Way. A little paint, sir, you cannot refuse. "

"The ship has no paint to spare, " he said; "you must get alongwithout it. "

"Sir, every rain gives me a soaking; Cape Horn is at hand--sixbrushes-full would make it waterproof; and no longer would I bein peril of my life!"

"Can't help it, sir; depart!"

I fear it will not be well with me in the end; for if my own sinsare to be forgiven only as I forgive that hard-hearted andunimpressible First Lieutenant, then pardon there is none for me. 

What! when but one dab of paint would make a man of a ghost, andit Mackintosh of a herring-net--to refuse it I am full. I can sayno more. 

CHAPTER XX. 

HOW THEY SLEEP IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

No more of my luckless jacket for a while; let me speak of myhammock, and the tribulations I endured therefrom. 

Give me plenty of room to swing it in; let me swing it betweentwo date-trees on an Arabian plain; or extend it diagonally fromMoorish pillar to pillar, in the open marble Court of the Lionsin Granada's Alhambra: let me swing it on a high bluff of theMississippi--one swing in the pure ether for every swing over thegreen grass; or let me oscillate in it beneath the cool dome ofSt. Peter's; or drop me in it, as in a balloon, from the zenith, with the whole firmament to rock and expatiate in; and I wouldnot exchange my coarse canvas hammock for the grand state-bed, like a stately coach-and-four, in which they tuck in a king whenhe passes a night at Blenheim Castle. 

When you have the requisite room, you always have "spreaders" inyour hammock; that is, two horizontal sticks, one at each end, which serve to keep the sides apart, and create a wide vacancybetween, wherein you can turn over and over--lay on this side orthat; on your back, if you please; stretch out your legs; in short, take your ease in your hammock; for of all inns, your bed is the best. 

But when, with five hundred other hammocks, yours is crowded andjammed on all sides, on a frigate berth-deck; the third fromabove, when "_spreaders_" are prohibited by an express edict fromthe Captain's cabin; and every man about you is jealouslywatchful of the rights and privileges of his own proper hammock, as settled by law and usage; _then_ your hammock is your Bastileand canvas jug; into which, or out of which, it is very hard toget; and where sleep is but a mockery and a name. 

Eighteen inches a man is all they allow you; eighteen inches inwidth; in _that_ you must swing. Dreadful! they give you moreswing than that at the gallows. 

During warm nights in the Tropics, your hammock is as a stew-pan;where you stew and stew, till you can almost hear yourself hiss. Vain are all stratagems to widen your accommodations. Let themcatch you insinuating your boots or other articles in the head ofyour hammock, by way of a "spreader. " Near and far, the wholerank and file of the row to which you belong feel the encroachmentin an instant, and are clamorous till the guilty one is found out, and his pallet brought back to its bearings. 

In platoons and squadrons, they all lie on a level; their hammock_clews_ crossing and recrossing in all directions, so as to presentone vast field-bed, midway between the ceiling and the floor; whichare about five feet asunder. 

One extremely warm night, during a calm, when it was so hot thatonly a skeleton could keep cool (from the free current of airthrough its bones), after being drenched in my own perspiration, I managed to wedge myself out of my hammock; and with what littlestrength I had left, lowered myself gently to the deck. Let mesee now, thought I, whether my ingenuity cannot devise somemethod whereby I can have room to breathe and sleep at the sametime. I have it. I will lower my hammock underneath all theseothers; and then--upon that separate and independent level, atleast--I shall have the whole berth-deck to myself. Accordingly, I lowered away my pallet to the desired point--about three inchesfrom the floor--and crawled into it again. 

But, alas! this arrangement made such a sweeping semi-circle ofmy hammock, that, while my head and feet were at par, the smallof my back was settling down indefinitely; I felt as if somegigantic archer had hold of me for a bow. 

But there was another plan left. I triced up my hammock with allmy strength, so as to bring it wholly _above_ the tiers ofpallets around me. This done, by a last effort, I hoisted myselfinto it; but, alas! it was much worse than before. My lucklesshammock was stiff and straight as a board; and there I was--laidout in it, with my nose against the ceiling, like a dead man'sagainst the lid of his coffin. 

So at last I was fain to return to my old level, and moraliseupon the folly, in all arbitrary governments, of striving to geteither _below_ or _above_ those whom legislation has placed uponan equality with yourself. 

Speaking of hammocks, recalls a circumstance that happened onenight in the Neversink. It was three or four times repeated, withvarious but not fatal results. 

The watch below was fast asleep on the berth-deck, where perfectsilence was reigning, when a sudden shock and a groan roused upall hands; and the hem of a pair of white trowsers vanished upone of the ladders at the fore-hatchway. 

We ran toward the groan, and found a man lying on the deck; one end ofhis hammock having given way, pitching his head close to three twenty-four pound cannon shot, which must have been purposely placed in thatposition. When it was discovered that this man had long been suspectedof being an _informer_ among the crew, little surprise and lesspleasure were evinced at his narrow escape. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

ONE REASON WHY MEN-OF-WAR'S MEN ARE, GENERALLY, SHORT-LIVED. 

I cannot quit this matter of the hammocks without making mentionof a grievance among the sailors that ought to be redressed. 

In a man-of-war at sea, the sailors have _watch and watch;_ thatis, through every twenty-four hours, they are on and off dutyevery four hours. Now, the hammocks are piped down from thenettings (the open space for stowing them, running round the topof the bulwarks) a little after sunset, and piped up again whenthe forenoon watch is called, at eight o'clock in the morning; sothat during the daytime they are inaccessible as pallets. Thiswould be all well enough, did the sailors have a complete night'srest; but every other night at sea, one watch have only fourhours in their hammocks. Indeed, deducting the time allowed forthe other watch to turn out; for yourself to arrange yourhammock, get into it, and fairly get asleep; it maybe said that, every other night, you have but three hours' sleep in yourhammock. Having then been on deck for twice four hours, at eighto'clock in the morning your _watch-below_ comes round, and youare not liable to duty until noon. Under like circumstances, amerchant seaman goes to his _bunk_, and has the benefit of a goodlong sleep. But in a man-of-war you can do no such thing; yourhammock is very neatly stowed in the nettings, and there it mustremain till nightfall. 

But perhaps there is a corner for you somewhere along the batterieson the gun-deck, where you may enjoy a snug nap. But as no one isallowed to recline on the larboard side of the gun-deck (which isreserved as a corridor for the officers when they go forward totheir smoking-room at the _bridle-port_), the starboard side only isleft to the seaman. But most of this side, also, is occupied by thecarpenters, sail-makers, barbers, and coopers. In short, so few arethe corners where you can snatch a nap during daytime in a frigate, that not one in ten of the watch, who have been on deck eight hours, can get a wink of sleep till the following night. Repeatedly, afterby good fortune securing a corner, I have been roused from it by somefunctionary commissioned to keep it clear. 

Off Cape Horn, what before had been very uncomfortable became a serioushardship. Drenched through and through by the spray of the sea at night. I have sometimes slept standing on the spar-deck--and shuddered as Islept--for the want of sufficient sleep in my hammock. 

During three days of the stormiest weather, we were given the privilegeof the _berth-deck_ (at other times strictly interdicted), where we werepermitted to spread our jackets, and take a nap in the morning after theeight hours' night exposure. But this privilege was but a beggarly one, indeed. Not to speak of our jackets--used for blankets--being soakingwet, the spray, coming down the hatchways, kept the planks of theberth-deck itself constantly wet; whereas, had we been permitted ourhammocks, we might have swung dry over all this deluge. But weendeavoured to make ourselves as warm and comfortable as possible, chiefly by close stowing, so as to generate a little steam, in theabsence of any fire-side warmth. You have seen, perhaps, the way inwhich they box up subjects intended to illustrate the winter lecturesof a professor of surgery. Just so we laid; heel and point, face toback, dove-tailed into each other at every ham and knee. The wet of ourjackets, thus densely packed, would soon begin to distill. But it waslike pouring hot water on you to keep you from freezing. It was likebeing "packed" between the soaked sheets in a Water-cure Establishment. 

Such a posture could not be preserved for any considerable periodwithout shifting side for side. Three or four times during thefour hours I would be startled from a wet doze by the hoarse cryof a fellow who did the duty of a corporal at the after-end of myfile. "_Sleepers ahoy! stand by to slew round!_" and, with adouble shuffle, we all rolled in concert, and found ourselvesfacing the taffrail instead of the bowsprit. But, however youturned, your nose was sure to stick to one or other of thesteaming backs on your two flanks. There was some little reliefin the change of odour consequent upon this. 

But what is the reason that, after battling out eight stormy hourson deck at, night, men-of-war's-men are not allowed the poor boonof a dry four hours' nap during the day following? What is thereason? The Commodore, Captain, and first Lieutenant, Chaplain, Purser, and scores of others, have _all night in_, just as if theywere staying at a hotel on shore. And the junior Lieutenants not onlyhave their cots to go to at any time: but as only one of them isrequired to head the watch, and there are so many of them amongwhom to divide that duty, they are only on deck four hours to twelvehours below. In some eases the proportion is still greater. Whereas, with _the people_ it is four hours in and four hours off continually. 

What is the reason, then, that the common seamen should fare sohard in this matter? It would seem but a simple thing to let themget down their hammocks during the day for a nap. But no; such aproceeding would mar the uniformity of daily events in a man-of-war. It seems indispensable to the picturesque effect of thespar-deck, that the hammocks should invariably remain stowed inthe nettings between sunrise and sundown. But the chief reason isthis--a reason which has sanctioned many an abuse in this world--_precedents are against it;_ such a thing as sailors sleeping intheir hammocks in the daytime, after being eight hours exposed toa night-storm, was hardly ever heard of in the navy. Though, tothe immortal honour of some captains be it said, the fact is uponnavy record, that off Cape Horn, they _have_ vouchsafed themorning hammocks to their crew. Heaven bless such tender-heartedofficers; and may they and their descendants--ashore or afloat--have sweet and pleasant slumbers while they live, and anundreaming siesta when they die. 

It is concerning such things as the subject of this chapter thatspecial enactments of Congress are demanded. Health and comfort--so far as duly attainable under the circumstances--should belegally guaranteed to the man-of-war's-men; and not left to thediscretion or caprice of their commanders. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

WASH-DAY AND HOUSE-CLEANING IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

Besides the other tribulations connected with your hammock, youmust keep it snow-white and clean; who has not observed the longrows of spotless hammocks exposed in a frigate's nettings, where, through the day, their outsides, at least, are kept airing?

Hence it comes that there are regular mornings appointed for thescrubbing of hammocks; and such mornings are called _scrub-hammock-mornings;_ and desperate is the scrubbing that ensues. 

Before daylight the operation begins. All hands are called, andat it they go. Every deck is spread with hammocks, fore and aft;and lucky are you if you can get sufficient superfices to spreadyour own hammock in. Down on their knees are five hundred men, scrubbing away with brushes and brooms; jostling, and crowding, and quarrelling about using each other's suds; when all theirPurser's soap goes to create one indiscriminate yeast. 

Sometimes you discover that, in the dark, you have been all thewhile scrubbing your next neighbour's hammock instead of your own. But it is too late to begin over again; for now the word is passedfor every man to advance with his hammock, that it may he tied toa net-like frame-work of clothes-lines, and hoisted aloft to dry. 

That done, without delay you get together your frocks and trowsers, and on the already flooded deck embark in the laundry business. You have no special bucket or basin to yourself--the ship being onevast wash-tub, where all hands wash and rinse out, and rinse out andwash, till at last the word is passed again, to make fast your clothes, that they, also, may be elevated to dry. 

Then on all three decks the operation of holy-stoning begins, socalled from the queer name bestowed upon the principal instrumentsemployed. These are ponderous flat stones with long ropes at each end, by which the stones are slidden about, to and fro, over the wet andsanded decks; a most wearisome, dog-like, galley-slave employment. For the byways and corners about the masts and guns, smaller stonesare used, called _prayer-books;_ inasmuch as the devout operator hasto down with them on his knees. 

Finally, a grand flooding takes place, and the decks are remorselesslythrashed with dry swabs. After which an extraordinary implement--a sortof leathern hoe called a"_squilgee_"--is used to scrape and squeeze thelast dribblings of water from the planks. Concerning this "squilgee, " Ithink something of drawing up a memoir, and reading it before theAcademy of Arts and Sciences. It is a most curious affair. 

By the time all these operations are concluded it is _eight bell's_, and all hands are piped to breakfast upon the damp and every-waydisagreeable decks. 

Now, against this invariable daily flooding of the three decks of afrigate, as a man-of-war's-man, White-Jacket most earnestly protests. In sunless weather it keeps the sailors' quarters perpetually damp;so much so, that you can scarce sit down without running the risk ofgetting the lumbago. One rheumatic old sheet-anchor-man among us wasdriven to the extremity of sewing a piece of tarred canvas on the seatof his trowsers. 

Let those neat and tidy officers who so love to see a ship kept spickand span clean; who institute vigorous search after the man who chancesto drop the crumb of a biscuit on deck, when the ship is rolling in asea-way; let all such swing their hammocks with the sailors; and theywould soon get sick of this daily damping of the decks. 

Is a ship a wooden platter, that is to be scrubbed out every morningbefore breakfast, even if the thermometer be at zero, and every sailorgoes barefooted through the flood with the chilblains? And all thewhile the ship carries a doctor, well aware of Boerhaave's great maxim"_keep the feet dry_. " He has plenty of pills to give you when you aredown with a fever, the consequence of these things; but enters noprotest at the outset--as it is his duty to do--against the cause thatinduces the fever. 

During the pleasant night watches, the promenading officers, mounted ontheir high-heeled boots, pass dry-shod, like the Israelites, over thedecks; but by daybreak the roaring tide sets back, and the poor sailorsare almost overwhelmed in it, like the Egyptians in the Red Sea. 

Oh! the chills, colds, and agues that are caught. No snug stove, grate, or fireplace to go to; no, your only way to keep warm isto keep in a blazing passion, and anathematise the custom thatevery morning makes a wash-house of a man-of-war. 

Look at it. Say you go on board a line-of-battle-ship: you seeeverything scrupulously neat; you see all the decks clear andunobstructed as the sidewalks of Wall Street of a Sunday morning; yousee no trace of a sailor's dormitory; you marvel by what magic allthis is brought about. And well you may. For consider, that in thisunobstructed fabric nearly one thousand mortal men have to sleep, eat, wash, dress, cook, and perform all the ordinary functions ofhumanity. The same number of men ashore would expand themselves into atownship. Is it credible, then, that this extraordinary neatness, andespecially this _unobstructedness_ of a man-of-war, can be broughtabout, except by the most rigorous edicts, and a very serious sacrifice, with respect to the sailors, of the domestic comforts of life? To besure, sailors themselves do not often complain of these things; theyare used to them; but man can become used even to the hardest usage. And it is because he is used to it, that sometimes he does not complainof it. 

Of all men-of-war, the American ships are the most excessively neat, and have the greatest reputation for it. And of all men-of-war thegeneral discipline of the American ships is the most arbitrary. 

In the English. Navy, the men liberally mess on tables, which, between meals, are triced up out of the way. The American sailorsmess on deck, and pick up their broken biscuit, or _midshipman'snuts_, like fowls in a barn-yard. 

But if this unobstructedness in an American fighting-ship be, atall hazards, so desirable, why not imitate the Turks? In theTurkish navy they have no mess-chests; the sailors roll theirmess things up in a rug, and thrust them under a gun. Nor do theyhave any hammocks; they sleep anywhere about the decks in their_gregoes_. Indeed, come to look at it, what more does a man-of-war's-man absolutely require to live in than his own skin? That'sroom enough; and room enough to turn in, if he but knew how toshift his spine, end for end, like a ramrod, without disturbinghis next neighbour. 

Among all men-of-war's-men, it is a maxim that over-neat vessels areTartars to the crew: and perhaps it may be safely laid down that, when you see such a ship, some sort of tyranny is not very far off. 

In the Neversink, as in other national ships, the business of_holy-stoning_ the decks was often prolonged, by way of punishmentto the men, particularly of a raw, cold morning. This is one of thepunishments which a lieutenant of the watch may easily inflict uponthe crew, without infringing the statute which places the power ofpunishment solely in the hands of the Captain. 

The abhorrence which men-of-war's-men have for this protracted_holy-stoning_ in cold, comfortless weather--with their bare feetexposed to the splashing inundations--is shown in a strangestory, rife among them, curiously tinctured with their proverbialsuperstitions. 

The First Lieutenant of an English sloop of war, a severedisciplinarian, was uncommonly particular concerning thewhiteness of the quarter-deck. One bitter winter morning at sea, when the crew had washed that part of the vessel, as usual, andput away their holy-stones, this officer came on deck, and afterinspecting it, ordered the _holy-stones_ and _prayer-books_ upagain. Once more slipping off the shoes from their frosted feet, and rolling up their trowsers, the crew kneeled down to theirtask; and in that suppliant posture, silently invoked a curseupon their tyrant; praying, as he went below, that he might nevermore come out of the ward-room alive. The prayer seemed answered:for shortly after being visited with a paralytic stroke at hisbreakfast-table, the First Lieutenant next morning was carriedout of the ward-room feet foremost, dead. As they dropped himover the side--so goes the story--the marine sentry at thegangway turned his back upon the corpse. 

To the credit of the humane and sensible portion of the roll ofAmerican navy-captains, be it added, that _they_ are not soparticular in keeping the decks spotless at all times, and in allweathers; nor do they torment the men with scraping bright-woodand polishing ring-bolts; but give all such gingerbread-work ahearty coat of black paint, which looks more warlike, is a betterpreservative, and exempts the sailors from a perpetual annoyance. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

THEATRICALS IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

The Neversink had summered out her last Christmas on the Equator;she was now destined to winter out the Fourth of July not veryfar from the frigid latitudes of Cape Horn. 

It is sometimes the custom in the American Navy to celebrate thisnational holiday by doubling the allowance of spirits to the men;that is, if the ship happen to be lying in harbour. The effectsof this patriotic plan may be easily imagined: the whole ship isconverted into a dram-shop; and the intoxicated sailors reelabout, on all three decks, singing, howling, and fighting. Thisis the time that, owing to the relaxed discipline of the ship, old and almost forgotten quarrels are revived, under the stimulusof drink; and, fencing themselves up between the guns--so as tobe sure of a clear space with at least three walls--thecombatants, two and two, fight out their hate, cribbed andcabined like soldiers duelling in a sentry-box. In a word, scenesensue which would not for a single instant be tolerated by theofficers upon any other occasion. This is the time that the mostvenerable of quarter-gunners and quarter-masters, together withthe, smallest apprentice boys, and men never known to have beenpreviously intoxicated during the cruise--this is the time thatthey all roll together in the same muddy trough of drunkenness. 

In emulation of the potentates of the Middle Ages, some Captainsaugment the din by authorising a grand jail-delivery of all theprisoners who, on that auspicious Fourth of the month, may happento be confined in the ship's prison--"_the brig_. "

But from scenes like these the Neversink was happily delivered. Besides that she was now approaching a most perilous part of theocean--which would have made it madness to intoxicate thesailors--her complete destitution of _grog_, even for ordinaryconsumption, was an obstacle altogether insuperable, even had theCaptain felt disposed to indulge his man-of-war's-men by the mostcopious libations. 

For several days previous to the advent of the holiday, frequentconferences were held on the gun-deck touching the melancholyprospects before the ship. 

"Too bad--too bad!" cried a top-man, "Think of it, shipmates--aFourth of July without grog!"

"I'll hoist the Commodore's pennant at half-mast that day, "sighed the signal-quarter-master. 

"And I'll turn my best uniform jacket wrong side out, to keepcompany with the pennant, old Ensign, " sympathetically respondedan after-guard's-man. 

"Ay, do!" cried a forecastle-man. "I could almost pipe my eye tothink on't. "

"No grog on de day dat tried men's souls!" blubbered Sunshine, the galley-cook. 

"Who would be a _Jankee_ now?" roared a Hollander of the fore-top, more Dutch than sour-crout. 

"Is this the _riglar_ fruits of liberty?" touchingly inquired anIrish waister of an old Spanish sheet-anchor-man. 

You will generally observe that, of all Americans, your foreign-born citizens are the most patriotic--especially toward theFourth of July. 

But how could Captain Claret, the father of his crew, behold thegrief of his ocean children with indifference? He could not. Three days before the anniversary--it still continuing verypleasant weather for these latitudes--it was publicly announcedthat free permission was given to the sailors to get up any sortof theatricals they desired, wherewith to honour the Fourth. 

Now, some weeks prior to the Neversink's sailing from home--nearly three years before the time here spoken of--some of theseamen had clubbed together, and made up a considerable purse, for the purpose of purchasing a theatrical outfit having in viewto diversify the monotony of lying in foreign harbours for weekstogether, by an occasional display on the boards--though if everthere w-as a continual theatre in the world, playing by night andby day, and without intervals between the acts, a man-of-war isthat theatre, and her planks are the _boards_ indeed. 

The sailors who originated this scheme had served in otherAmerican frigates, where the privilege of having theatricals wasallowed to the crew. What was their chagrin, then, when, uponmaking an application to the Captain, in a Peruvian harbour, forpermission to present the much-admired drama of "_The RuffianBoy_, " under the Captain's personal patronage, that dignitaryassured them that there were already enough _ruffian boys_ onboard, without conjuring up any more from the green-room. 

The theatrical outfit, therefore, was stowed down in the bottomof the sailors' bags, who little anticipated _then_ that it wouldever be dragged out while Captain Claret had the sway. 

But immediately upon the announcement that the embargo was removed, vigorous preparations were at once commenced to celebrate theFourth with unwonted spirit. The half-deck was set apart for thetheatre, and the signal-quarter-master was commanded to loan hisflags to decorate it in the most patriotic style. 

As the stage-struck portion of the crew had frequently during thecruise rehearsed portions of various plays, to while away thetedium of the night-watches, they needed no long time now toperfect themselves in their parts. 

Accordingly, on the very next morning after the indulgence hadbeen granted by the Captain, the following written placard, presenting a broadside of staring capitals, was found tackedagainst the main-mast on the gun-deck. It was as if a Drury-Lanebill had been posted upon the London Monument. 

 CAPE HORN THEATRE. * * * * * * * * _Grand Celebration of the Fourth of July_. DAY PERFORMANCE. UNCOMMON ATTRACTION. THE OLD WAGON PAID OFF! JACK CHASE. . . . PERCY ROYAL-MAST. STARS OF THE FIRST MAGNITUDE. _For this time only_. THE TRUE YANKEE SAILOR. The managers of the Cape Horn Theatre beg leave to inform the inhabitants of the Pacific and Southern Oceans that, on the afternoon of the Fourth of July, 184--, they will have the honour to present the admired drama of

 THE OLD WAGON PAID OFF! Commodore Bougee . . . . _Tom Brown, of the Fore-top_. Captain Spy-glass . . . . _Ned Brace, of the After-Guard_. Commodore's Cockswain. . . _Joe Bunk, of the Launch_. Old Luff . . . . . . . _Quarter-master Coffin. _ Mayor . . . . . . . . _Seafull, of the Forecastle_. PERCY ROYAL-MAST . . . . JACK CHASE. Mrs. Lovelorn . . . . . _Long-locks, of the After-Guard_. Toddy Moll . . . . . . _Frank Jones_. Gin and Sugar Sall. . . . _Dick Dash_. 

 Sailors, Mariners, Bar-keepers, Crimps, Aldermen, Police-officer's, Soldiers, Landsmen generally. * * * * * * * * Long live the Commodore! :: Admission Free. * * * * * * * * To conclude with the much-admired song by Dibdin, altered to suit all American Tars, entitled

 THE TRUE YANKEE SAILOR. True Yankee Sailor (in costume), Patrick Flinegan, Captain of the Head. 

 Performance to commence with "Hail Columbia, " by the Brass Band. Ensign rises at three bells, P. M. No sailor permitted to enter in his shirt-sleeves. Good order is expected to be maintained. The Master-at-arms and Ship's Corporals to be in attendance to keep the peace. 

At the earnest entreaties of the seamen, Lemsford, the gun-deckpoet, had been prevailed upon to draw up this bill. And upon thisone occasion his literary abilities were far from being underrated, even by the least intellectual person on board. Nor must it beomitted that, before the bill was placarded, Captain Claret, enactingthe part of censor and grand chamberlain ran over a manuscript copyof "_The Old Wagon Paid Off_, " to see whether it contained anythingcalculated to breed disaffection against lawful authority among thecrew. He objected to some parts, but in the end let them all pass. 

The morning of The Fourth--most anxiously awaited--dawned clearand fair. The breeze was steady; the air bracing cold; and oneand all the sailors anticipated a gleeful afternoon. And thus wasfalsified the prophecies of certain old growlers averse totheatricals, who had predicted a gale of wind that would squashall the arrangements of the green-room. 

As the men whose regular turns, at the time of the performance, would come round to be stationed in the tops, and at the varioushalyards and running ropes about the spar-deck, could not bepermitted to partake in the celebration, there accordinglyensued, during the morning, many amusing scenes of tars who wereanxious to procure substitutes at their posts. Through the day, many anxious glances were cast to windward; but the weather stillpromised fair. 

At last _the people_ were piped to dinner; two bells struck; andsoon after, all who could be spared from their stations hurriedto the half-deck. The capstan bars were placed on shot-boxes, asat prayers on Sundays, furnishing seats for the audience, while alow stage, rigged by the carpenter's gang, was built at one endof the open space. The curtain was composed of a large ensign, and the bulwarks round about were draperied with the flags of allnations. The ten or twelve members of the brass band were rangedin a row at the foot of the stage, their polished instruments intheir hands, while the consequential Captain of the Band himselfwas elevated upon a gun carriage. 

At three bells precisely a group of ward-room officers emergedfrom the after-hatchway, and seated themselves upon camp-stools, in a central position, with the stars and stripes for a canopy. _That_ was the royal box. The sailors looked round for theCommodore but neither Commodore nor Captain honored _the people_with their presence. 

At the call of a bugle the band struck up _Hail Columbia_, thewhole audience keeping time, as at Drury Lane, when _God Save TheKing_ is played after a great national victory. 

At the discharge of a marine's musket the curtain rose, and foursailors, in the picturesque garb of Maltese mariners, staggeredon the stage in a feigned state of intoxication. The truthfulnessof the representation was much heightened by the roll of the ship. 

"The Commodore, " "Old Luff, " "The Mayor, " and "Gin and SugarSall, " were played to admiration, and received great applause. But at the first appearance of that universal favourite, JackChase, in the chivalric character of _Percy Royal-Mast_, the wholeaudience simultaneously rose to their feet, and greeted hire withthree hearty cheers, that almost took the main-top-sail aback. 

Matchless Jack, _in full fig_, bowed again and again, with truequarter-deck grace and self possession; and when five or sixuntwisted strands of rope and bunches of oakum were thrown tohim, as substitutes for bouquets, he took them one by one, andgallantly hung them from the buttons of his jacket. 

"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!--go on! go on!--stop hollering--hurrah!--go on!--stop hollering--hurrah!" was now heard on all sides, till at last, seeing no end to the enthusiasm of his ardentadmirers, Matchless Jack stepped forward, and, with his lipsmoving in pantomime, plunged into the thick of the part. Silencesoon followed, but was fifty times broken by uncontrollablebursts of applause. At length, when that heart-thrilling scenecame on, where Percy Royal-Mast rescues fifteen oppressed sailorsfrom the watch-house, in the teeth of a posse of constables, theaudience leaped to their feet, overturned the capstan bars, andto a man hurled their hats on the stage in a delirium of delight. Ah Jack, that was a ten-stroke indeed!

The commotion was now terrific; all discipline seemed gone forever; the Lieutenants ran in among the men, the Captain dartedfrom his cabin, and the Commodore nervously questioned the armedsentry at his door as to what the deuce _the people_ were about. In the midst of all this, the trumpet of the officer-of-the-deck, commanding the top-gallant sails to be taken in, was almostcompletely drowned. A black squall was coming down on theweather-bow, and the boat-swain's mates bellowed themselveshoarse at the main-hatchway. There is no knowing what would haveensued, had not the bass drum suddenly been heard, calling allhands to quarters, a summons not to be withstood. The sailorspricked their ears at it, as horses at the sound of a crackingwhip, and confusedly stumbled up the ladders to their stations. The next moment all was silent but the wind, howling like athousand devils in the cordage. 

"Stand by to reef all three top-sails!--settle away the halyards!--haul out--so: make fast!--aloft, top-men! and reef away!"

Thus, in storm and tempest terminated that day's theatricals. Butthe sailors never recovered from the disappointment of not havingthe "_True Yankee Sailor_" sung by the Irish Captain of the Head. 

And here White-jacket must moralize a bit. The unwonted spectacleof the row of gun-room officers mingling with "the people" inapplauding a mere seaman like Jack Chase, filled me at the timewith the most pleasurable emotions. It is a sweet thing, thoughtI, to see these officers confess a human brotherhood with us, after all; a sweet thing to mark their cordial appreciation ofthe manly merits of my matchless Jack. Ah! they are noble fellowsall round, and I do not know but I have wronged them sometimes inmy thoughts. 

Nor was it without similar pleasurable feelings that I witnessedthe temporary rupture of the ship's stern discipline, consequentupon the tumult of the theatricals. I thought to myself, this nowis as it should be. It is good to shake off, now and then, thisiron yoke round our necks. And after having once permitted ussailors to be a little noisy, in a harmless way--somewhat merrilyturbulent--the officers cannot, with any good grace, be soexcessively stern and unyielding as before. I began to think aman-of-war a man-of-peace-and-good-will, after all. But, alas!disappointment came. 

Next morning the same old scene was enacted at the gang-way. Andbeholding the row of uncompromising-looking-officers thereassembled with the Captain, to witness punishment--the sameofficers who had been so cheerfully disposed over night--an oldsailor touched my shoulder and said, "See, White-Jacket, allround they have _shipped their quarter-deck faces again_. Butthis is the way. "

I afterward learned that this was an old man-of-war's-man'sphrase, expressive of the facility with which a sea-officer fallsback upon all the severity of his dignity, after a temporarysuspension of it. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

INTRODUCTORY TO CAPE HORN. 

And now, through drizzling fogs and vapours, and under damp, double-reefed top-sails, our wet-decked frigate drew nearer andnearer to the squally Cape. 

Who has not heard of it? Cape Horn, Cape Horn--a _horn_ indeed, that has tossed many a good ship. Was the descent of Orpheus, Ulysses, or Dante into Hell, one whit more hardy and sublime thanthe first navigator's weathering of that terrible Cape?

Turned on her heel by a fierce West Wind, many an outward-boundship has been driven across the Southern Ocean to the Cape ofGood Hope--_that_ way to seek a passage to the Pacific. And thatstormy Cape, I doubt not, has sent many a fine craft to thebottom, and told no tales. At those ends of the earth are nochronicles. What signify the broken spars and shrouds that, dayafter day, are driven before the prows of more fortunate vessels?or the tall masts, imbedded in icebergs, that are found floatingby? They but hint the old story--of ships that have sailed fromtheir ports, and never more have been heard of. 

Impracticable Cape! You may approach it from this direction orthat--in any way you please--from the East or from the West; withthe wind astern, or abeam, or on the quarter; and still Cape Hornis Cape Horn. Cape Horn it is that takes the conceit out offresh-water sailors, and steeps in a still salter brine thesaltest. Woe betide the tyro; the fool-hardy, Heaven preserve!

Your Mediterranean captain, who with a cargo of oranges hashitherto made merry runs across the Atlantic, without so much asfurling a t'-gallant-sail, oftentimes, off Cape Horn, receives alesson which he carries to the grave; though the grave--as is toooften the case--follows so hard on the, lesson that no benefitcomes from the experience. 

Other strangers who draw nigh to this Patagonia termination ofour Continent, with their souls full of its shipwrecks anddisasters--top-sails cautiously reefed, and everything guardedlysnug--these strangers at first unexpectedly encountering atolerably smooth sea, rashly conclude that the Cape, after all, is but a bugbear; they have been imposed upon by fables, andfounderings and sinkings hereabouts are all cock-and-bullstories. 

"Out reefs, my hearties; fore and aft set t'-gallant-sails! standby to give her the fore-top-mast stun'-sail!"

But, Captain Rash, those sails of yours were much safer in thesail-maker's loft. For now, while the heedless craft is boundingover the billows, a black cloud rises out of the sea; the sundrops down from the sky; a horrible mist far and wide spreadsover the water. 

"Hands by the halyards! Let go! Clew up!"

Too late. 

For ere the ropes' ends can be the east off from the pins, thetornado is blowing down to the bottom of their throats. The mastsare willows, the sails ribbons, the cordage wool; the whole shipis brewed into the yeast of the gale. 

An now, if, when the first green sea breaks over him, CaptainRash is not swept overboard, he has his hands full be sure. Inall probability his three masts have gone by the board, and, ravelled into list, his sails are floating in the air. Or, perhaps, the ship _broaches to_, or is _brought by the lee_. Ineither ease, Heaven help the sailors, their wives and theirlittle ones; and heaven help the underwriters. 

Familiarity with danger makes a brave man braver, but lessdaring. Thus with seamen: he who goes the oftenest round CapeHorn goes the most circumspectly. A veteran mariner is neverdeceived by the treacherous breezes which sometimes waft himpleasantly toward the latitude of the Cape. No sooner does hecome within a certain distance of it--previously fixed in his ownmind--than all hands are turned to setting the ship in storm-trim; and never mind how light the breeze, down come his t'-gallant-yards. He "bends" his strongest storm-sails, and lashesevery-thing on deck securely. The ship is then ready for theworst; and if, in reeling round the headland, she receives abroadside, it generally goes well with her. If ill, all hands goto the bottom with quiet consciences. 

Among sea-captains, there are some who seem to regard the geniusof the Cape as a wilful, capricious jade, that must be courtedand coaxed into complaisance. First, they come along under easysails; do not steer boldly for the headland, but tack this wayand that--sidling up to it, Now they woo the Jezebel with a t'-gallant-studding-sail; anon, they deprecate her wrath withdouble-reefed-topsails. When, at length, her unappeasable fury isfairly aroused, and all round the dismantled ship the storm howlsand howls for days together, they still persevere in theirefforts. First, they try unconditional submission; furling everyrag and _heaving to_: laying like a log, for the tempest to tosswheresoever it pleases. 

This failing, they set a _spencer_ or _try-sail_, and shift onthe other tack. Equally vain! The gale sings as hoarsely as before. At last, the wind comes round fair; they drop the fore-sail; squarethe yards, and scud before it; their implacable foe chasing themwith tornadoes, as if to show her insensibility to the last. 

Other ships, without encountering these terrible gales, spendweek after week endeavouring to turn this boisterous world-corneragainst a continual head-wind. Tacking hither and thither, in thelanguage of sailors they _polish_ the Cape by beating about itsedges so long. 

Le Mair and Schouten, two Dutchmen, were the first navigators whoweathered Cape Born. Previous to this, passages had been made tothe Pacific by the Straits of Magellan; nor, indeed, at thatperiod, was it known to a certainty that there was any otherroute, or that the land now called Terra del Fuego was an island. A few leagues southward from Terra del Fuego is a cluster ofsmall islands, the Diegoes; between which and the former islandare the Straits of Le Mair, so called in honour of theirdiscoverer, who first sailed through them into the Pacific. LeMair and Schouten, in their small, clumsy vessels, encountered aseries of tremendous gales, the prelude to the long train ofsimilar hardships which most of their followers have experienced. It is a significant fact, that Schouten's vessel, the _Horne_, which gave its name to the Cape, was almost lost in weathering it. 

The next navigator round the. Cape was Sir Francis Drake, who, onRaleigh's Expedition, beholding for the first time, from theIsthmus of Darien, the "goodlie South Sea, " like a true-bornEnglishman, vowed, please God, to sail an English ship thereon;which the gallant sailor did, to the sore discomfiture of theSpaniards on the coasts of Chili and Peru. 

But perhaps the greatest hardships on record, in making thiscelebrated passage, were those experienced by Lord Anson'ssquadron in 1736. Three remarkable and most interestingnarratives record their disasters and sufferings. The first, jointly written by the carpenter and gunner of the Wager; thesecond by young Byron, a midshipman in the same ship; the third, by the chaplain of the Centurion. White-Jacket has them all; andthey are fine reading of a boisterous March night, with thecasement rattling in your ear, and the chimney-stacks blowingdown upon the pavement, bubbling with rain-drops. 

But if you want the best idea of Cape Horn, get my friend Dana'sunmatchable "Two Years Before the Mast. " But you can read, and soyou must have read it. His chapters describing Cape Horn musthave been written with an icicle. 

At the present day the horrors of the Cape have somewhat abated. This is owing to a growing familiarity with it; but, more thanall, to the improved condition of ships in all respects, and themeans now generally in use of preserving the health of the crewsin times of severe and prolonged exposure. 

CHAPTER XXV

THE DOG-DAYS OFF CAPE HORN. 

Colder and colder; we are drawing nigh to the Cape. Now gregoes, pea jackets, monkey jackets reefing jackets, storm jackets, oiljackets, paint jackets, round jackets short jackets, longjackets, and all manner of jackets, are the order of the day, notexcepting the immortal white jacket, which begins to be sturdilybuttoned up to the throat, and pulled down vigorously at theskirts, to bring them well over the loins. 

But, alas! those skirts were lamentably scanty; and though, withits quiltings, the jacket was stuffed out about the breasts likea Christmas turkey, and of a dry cold day kept the wearer warmenough in that vicinity, yet about the loins it was shorter thanballet-dancer's skirts; so that while my chest was in thetemperate zone close adjoining the torrid, my hapless thighs werein Nova Zembla, hardly an icicle's toss from the Pole. 

Then, again, the repeated soakings and dryings it had undergone, had by this time made it shrink woefully all over, especially inthe arms, so that the wristbands had gradually crawled up near tothe elbows; and it required an energetic thrust to push the armthrough, in drawing the jacket on. 

I endeavoured to amend these misfortunes by sewing a sort of canvasruffle round the skirts, by way of a continuation or supplement tothe original work, and by doing the same with the wristbands. 

This is the time for oil-skin suits, dread-naughts, tarredtrowsers and overalls, sea-boots, comforters, mittens, woollensocks, Guernsey frocks, Havre shirts, buffalo-robe shirts, andmoose-skin drawers. Every man's jacket is his wigwam, and everyman's hat his caboose. 

Perfect license is now permitted to the men respecting theirclothing. Whatever they can rake and scrape together they puton--swaddling themselves in old sails, and drawing old socks overtheir heads for night-caps. This is the time for smiting yourchest with your hand, and talking loud to keep up the circulation. 

Colder, and colder, and colder, till at last we spoke a fleet oficebergs bound North. After that, it was one incessant "_coldsnap_, " that almost snapped off our fingers and toes. Cold! Itwas cold as _Blue Flujin_, where sailors say fire freezes. 

And now coming up with the latitude of the Cape, we stood southwardto give it a wide berth, and while so doing were becalmed; ay, becalmed off Cape Horn, which is worse, far worse, than beingbecalmed on the Line. 

Here we lay forty-eight hours, during which the cold was intense. I wondered at the liquid sea, which refused to freeze in such atemperature. The clear, cold sky overhead looked like a steel-blue cymbal, that might ring, could you smite it. Our breath cameand went like puffs' of smoke from pipe-bowls. At first there wasa long gauky swell, that obliged us to furl most of the sails, andeven send down t'-gallant-yards, for fear of pitching them overboard. 

Out of sight of land, at this extremity of both the inhabitableand uninhabitable world, our peopled frigate, echoing with thevoices of men, the bleating of lambs, the cackling of fowls, thegruntings of pigs, seemed like Noah's old ark itself, becalmed atthe climax of the Deluge. 

There was nothing to be done but patiently to await the pleasureof the elements, and "whistle for a wind, " the usual practice ofseamen in a calm. No fire was allowed, except for the indispensablepurpose of cooking, and heating bottles of water to toast Selvagee'sfeet. He who possessed the largest stock of vitality, stood thebest chance to escape freezing. It was horrifying. In such weatherany man could have undergone amputation with great ease, and helpedtake up the arteries himself. 

Indeed, this state of affairs had not lasted quite twenty-four hours, when the extreme frigidity of the air, united to our increased tendencyto inactivity, would very soon have rendered some of us subjects forthe surgeon and his mates, had not a humane proceeding of the Captainsuddenly impelled us to vigorous exercise. 

And here be it said, that the appearance of the Boat-swain, withhis silver whistle to his mouth, at the main hatchway of the gun-deck, is always regarded by the crew with the utmost curiosity, for this betokens that some general order is about to bepromulgated through the ship. What now? is the question that runson from man to man. A short preliminary whistle is then given by"Old Yarn, " as they call him, which whistle serves to collectround him, from their various stations, his four mates. ThenYarn, or Pipes, as leader of the orchestra, begins a peculiarcall, in which his assistants join. This over, the order, whatever it may be, is loudly sung out and prolonged, till theremotest corner echoes again. The Boatswain and his mates are thetown-criers of a man-of-war. 

The calm had commenced in the afternoon: and the following morningthe ship's company were electrified by a general order, thus set forthand declared: "_D'ye hear there, for and aft! all hands skylark!_"

This mandate, nowadays never used except upon very rare occasions, produced the same effect upon the men that Exhilarating Gas wouldhave done, or an extra allowance of "grog. " For a time, the wonteddiscipline of the ship was broken through, and perfect licenseallowed. It was a Babel here, a Bedlam there, and a Pandemoniumeverywhere. The Theatricals were nothing compared with it. Then thefaint-hearted and timorous crawled to their hiding-places, and thelusty and bold shouted forth their glee. 

Gangs of men, in all sorts of outlandish habiliments, wild asthose worn at some crazy carnival, rushed to and fro, seizingupon whomsoever they pleased--warrant-officers and dangerouspugilists excepted--pulling and hauling the luckless tars about, till fairly baited into a genial warmth. Some were made fast toand hoisted aloft with a will: others, mounted upon oars, wereridden fore and aft on a rail, to the boisterous mirth of thespectators, any one of whom might be the next victim. Swings wererigged from the tops, or the masts; and the most reluctant wightsbeing purposely selected, spite of all struggles, were swung fromEast to West, in vast arcs of circles, till almost breathless. Hornpipes, fandangoes, Donnybrook-jigs, reels, and quadrilles, were danced under the very nose of the most mighty captain, andupon the very quarter-deck and poop. Sparring and wrestling, too, were all the vogue; _Kentucky bites_ were given, and the _Indianhug_ exchanged. The din frightened the sea-fowl, that flew bywith accelerated wing. 

It is worth mentioning that several casualties occurred, ofwhich, however, I will relate but one. While the "sky-larking"was at its height, one of the fore-top-men--an ugly-tempereddevil of a Portuguese, looking on--swore that he would be thedeath of any man who laid violent hands upon his inviolableperson. This threat being overheard, a band of desperadoes, coming up from behind, tripped him up in an instant, and in thetwinkling of an eye the Portuguese was straddling an oar, bornealoft by an uproarious multitude, who rushed him along the deckat a railroad gallop. The living mass of arms all round andbeneath him was so dense, that every time he inclined one side hewas instantly pushed upright, but only to fall over again, toreceive another push from the contrary direction. Presently, disengaging his hands from those who held them, the enragedseaman drew from his bosom an iron belaying-pin, and recklesslylaid about him to right and left. Most of his persecutors fled;but some eight or ten still stood their ground, and, while bearinghim aloft, endeavoured to wrest the weapon from his hands. In thisattempt, one man was struck on the head, and dropped insensible. He was taken up for dead, and carried below to Cuticle, the surgeon, while the Portuguese was put under guard. But the wound did notprove very serious; and in a few days the man was walking about thedeck, with his head well bandaged. 

This occurrence put an end to the "skylarking, " further head-breaking being strictly prohibited. In due time the Portuguesepaid the penalty of his rashness at the gangway; while once againthe officers _shipped their quarter-deck faces_. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE PITCH OF THE CAPE. 

Ere the calm had yet left us, a sail had been discerned from thefore-top-mast-head, at a great distance, probably three leaguesor more. At first it was a mere speck, altogether out of sightfrom the deck. By the force of attraction, or something else equallyinscrutable, two ships in a calm, and equally affected by thecurrents, will always approximate, more or less. Though there wasnot a breath of wind, it was not a great while before the strangesail was descried from our bulwarks; gradually, it drew still nearer. 

What was she, and whence? There is no object which so excitesinterest and conjecture, and, at the same time, baffles both, asa sail, seen as a mere speck on these remote seas off Cape Horn. A breeze! a breeze! for lo! the stranger is now perceptiblynearing the frigate; the officer's spy-glass pronounces her afull-rigged ship, with all sail set, and coming right down to us, though in our own vicinity the calm still reigns. 

She is bringing the wind with her. Hurrah! Ay, there it is! Beholdhow mincingly it creeps over the sea, just ruffling and crisping it. 

Our top-men were at once sent aloft to loose the sails, andpresently they faintly began to distend. As yet we hardly hadsteerage-way. Toward sunset the stranger bore down before thewind, a complete pyramid of canvas. Never before, I venture tosay, was Cape Horn so audaciously insulted. Stun'-sails alow andaloft; royals, moon-sails, and everything else. She glided underour stern, within hailing distance, and the signal-quarter-masterran up our ensign to the gaff. 

"Ship ahoy!" cried the Lieutenant of the Watch, through his trumpet. 

"Halloa!" bawled an old fellow in a green jacket, clap-ping one handto his mouth, while he held on with the other to the mizzen-shrouds. 

"What ship's that?"

"The Sultan, Indiaman, from New York, and bound to Callao and Canton, sixty days out, all well. What frigate's that?"

"The United States ship Neversink, homeward bound. " "Hurrah!hurrah! hurrah!" yelled our enthusiastic countryman, transportedwith patriotism. 

By this time the Sultan had swept past, but the Lieutenant of theWatch could not withhold a parting admonition. 

"D'ye hear? You'd better take in some of your flying-kites there. Look out for Cape Horn!"

But the friendly advice was lost in the now increasing wind. Witha suddenness by no means unusual in these latitudes, the lightbreeze soon became a succession of sharp squalls, and our sail-proud braggadacio of an India-man was observed to let everythinggo by the run, his t'-gallant stun'-sails and flying-jib takingquick leave of the spars; the flying-jib was swept into the air, rolled together for a few minutes, and tossed about in thesqualls like a foot-ball. But the wind played no such pranks withthe more prudently managed canvas of the Neversink, though beforemany hours it was stirring times with us. 

About midnight, when the starboard watch, to which, I belonged, was below, the boatswain's whistle was heard, followed by theshrill cry of "_All hands take in sail_! jump, men, and save ship!"

Springing from our hammocks, we found the frigate leaning over toit so steeply, that it was with difficulty we could climb theladders leading to the upper deck. 

Here the scene was awful. The vessel seemed to be sailing on herside. The main-deck guns had several days previous been run inand housed, and the port-holes closed, but the lee carronades onthe quarter-deck and forecastle were plunging through the sea, which undulated over them in milk-white billows of foam. Withevery lurch to leeward the yard-arm-ends seemed to dip in thesea, while forward the spray dashed over the bows in cataracts, and drenched the men who were on the fore-yard. By this time thedeck was alive with the whole strength of the ship's company, five hundred men, officers and all, mostly clinging to theweather bulwarks. The occasional phosphorescence of the yeastingsea cast a glare upon their uplifted faces, as a night fire in apopulous city lights up the panic-stricken crowd. 

In a sudden gale, or when a large quantity of sail is suddenly tobe furled, it is the custom for the First Lieutenant to take thetrumpet from whoever happens then to be officer of the deck. ButMad Jack had the trumpet that watch; nor did the First Lieutenantnow seek to wrest it from his hands. Every eye was upon him, asif we had chosen him from among us all, to decide this battlewith the elements, by single combat with the spirit of the Cape;for Mad Jack was the saving genius of the ship, and so provedhimself that night. I owe this right hand, that is this momentflying over my sheet, and all my present being to Mad Jack. Theship's bows were now butting, battering, ramming, and thunderingover and upon the head seas, and with a horrible wallowing soundour whole hull was rolling in the trough of the foam. The galecame athwart the deck, and every sail seemed bursting with itswild breath. 

All the quarter-masters, and several of the forecastle-men, wereswarming round the double-wheel on the quarter-deck. Some jumpingup and down, with their hands upon the spokes; for the whole helmand galvanised keel were fiercely feverish, with the lifeimparted to them by the tempest. 

"Hard _up_ the helm!" shouted Captain Claret, bursting from hiscabin like a ghost in his night-dress. 

"Damn you!" raged Mad Jack to the quarter-masters; "hard down--hard _down_, I say, and be damned to you!"

Contrary orders! but Mad Jack's were obeyed. His object was to throwthe ship into the wind, so as the better to admit of close-reefingthe top-sails. But though the halyards were let go, it was impossibleto clew down the yards, owing to the enormous horizontal strain onthe canvas. It now blew a hurricane. The spray flew over the ship infloods. The gigantic masts seemed about to snap under the world-widestrain of the three entire top-sails. 

"Clew down! clew down!" shouted Mad Jack, husky with excitement, and in a frenzy, beating his trumpet against one of the shrouds. But, owing to the slant of the ship, the thing could not be done. It was obvious that before many minutes something must go--eithersails, rigging, or sticks; perhaps the hull itself, and all hands. 

Presently a voice from the top exclaimed that there was a rent inthe main-top-sail. And instantly we heard a re-port like two orthree muskets discharged together; the vast sail was rent up andclown like the Vail of the Temple. This saved the main-mast; forthe yard was now clewed down with comparative ease, and the top-men laid out to stow the shattered canvas. Soon, the tworemaining top-sails were also clewed down and close reefed. 

Above all the roar of the tempest and the shouts of the crew, washeard the dismal tolling of the ship's bell--almost as large asthat of a village church--which the violent rolling of the shipwas occasioning. Imagination cannot conceive the horror of such asound in a night-tempest at sea. 

"Stop that ghost!" roared Mad Jack; "away, one of you, and wrenchoff the clapper!"

But no sooner was this ghost gagged, than a still more appallingsound was heard, the rolling to and fro of the heavy shot, which, on the gun-deck, had broken loose from the gun-racks, and convertedthat part of the ship into an immense bowling-alley. Some hands weresent down to secure them; but it was as much as their lives wereworth. Several were maimed; and the midshipmen who were ordered tosee the duty performed reported it impossible, until the storm abated. 

The most terrific job of all was to furl the main-sail, which, atthe commencement of the squalls, had been clewed up, coaxed andquieted as much as possible with the bunt-lines and slab-lines. Mad Jack waited some time for a lull, ere he gave an order soperilous to be executed. For to furl this enormous sail, in sucha gale, required at least fifty men on the yard; whose weight, superadded to that of the ponderous stick itself, still furtherjeopardised their lives. But there was no prospect of a cessationof the gale, and the order was at last given. 

At this time a hurricane of slanting sleet and hail was descendingupon us; the rigging was coated with a thin glare of ice, formedwithin the hour. 

"Aloft, main-yard-men! and all you main-top-men! and furl themain-sail!" cried Mad Jack. 

I dashed down my hat, slipped out of my quilted jacket in aninstant, kicked the shoes from my feet, and, with a crowd ofothers, sprang for the rigging. Above the bulwarks (which in afrigate are so high as to afford much protection to those ondeck) the gale was horrible. The sheer force of the windflattened us to the rigging as we ascended, and every hand seemedcongealing to the icy shrouds by which we held. 

"Up--up, my brave hearties!" shouted Mad Jack; and up we got, someway or other, all of us, and groped our way out on the yard-arms. 

"Hold on, every mother's son!" cried an old quarter-gunner at myside. He was bawling at the top of his compass; but in the gale, he seemed to be whispering; and I only heard him from his beingright to windward of me. 

But his hint was unnecessary; I dug my nails into the _jack-stays_, and swore that nothing but death should part me and themuntil I was able to turn round and look to windward. As yet, thiswas impossible; I could scarcely hear the man to leeward at myelbow; the wind seemed to snatch the words from his mouth and flyaway with them to the South Pole. 

All this while the sail itself was flying about, sometimescatching over our heads, and threatening to tear us from the yardin spite of all our hugging. For about three quarters of an hourwe thus hung suspended right over the rampant billows, whichcurled their very crests under the feet of some four or five ofus clinging to the lee-yard-arm, as if to float us from our place. 

Presently, the word passed along the yard from wind-ward, that wewere ordered to come down and leave the sail to blow, since itcould not be furled. A midshipman, it seemed, had been sent up bythe officer of the deck to give the order, as no trumpet could beheard where we were. 

Those on the weather yard-arm managed to crawl upon the spar andscramble down the rigging; but with us, upon the extreme leewardside, this feat was out of the question; it was, literary, likeclimbing a precipice to get to wind-ward in order to reach theshrouds: besides, the entire yard was now encased in ice, and ourhands and feet were so numb that we dared not trust our lives tothem. Nevertheless, by assisting each other, we contrived tothrow ourselves prostrate along the yard, and embrace it with ourarms and legs. In this position, the stun'-sail-booms greatlyassisted in securing our hold. Strange as it may appear, I do notsuppose that, at this moment, the slightest sensation of fear wasfelt by one man on that yard. We clung to it with might and main;but this was instinct. The truth is, that, in circumstances likethese, the sense of fear is annihilated in the unutterable sightsthat fill all the eye, and the sounds that fill all the ear. Youbecome identified with the tempest; your insignificance is lostin the riot of the stormy universe around. 

Below us, our noble frigate seemed thrice its real length--a vastblack wedge, opposing its widest end to the combined fury of thesea and wind. 

At length the first fury of the gale began to abate, and we atonce fell to pounding our hands, as a preliminary operation togoing to work; for a gang of men had now ascended to help securewhat was left of the sail; we somehow packed it away, at last, and came down. 

About noon the next day, the gale so moderated that we shook tworeefs out of the top-sails, set new courses, and stood due east, with the wind astern. 

Thus, all the fine weather we encountered after first weighing anchoron the pleasant Spanish coast, was but the prelude to this one terrificnight; more especially, that treacherous calm immediately preceding it. But how could we reach our long-promised homes without encountering CapeHorn? by what possibility avoid it? And though some ships have weatheredit without these perils, yet by far the greater part must encounterthem. Lucky it is that it comes about midway in the homeward-boundpassage, so that the sailors have time to prepare for it, and time torecover from it after it is astern. 

But, sailor or landsman, there is some sort of a Cape Horn for all. Boys! beware of it; prepare for it in time. Gray-beards! thank God it ispassed. And ye lucky livers, to whom, by some rare fatality, your CapeHorns are placid as Lake Lemans, flatter not yourselves that good luckis judgment and discretion; for all the yolk in your eggs, you mighthave foundered and gone down, had the Spirit of the Cape said the word. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

SOME THOUGHTS GROWING OUT OF MAD JACK'S COUNTERMANDING HISSUPERIOR'S ORDER. 

In time of peril, like the needle to the loadstone, obedience, irrespective of rank, generally flies to him who is best fittedto command. The truth of this seemed evinced in the case of MadJack, during the gale, and especially at that perilous momentwhen he countermanded the Captain's order at the helm. But everyseaman knew, at the time, that the Captain's order was an unwiseone in the extreme; perhaps worse than unwise. 

These two orders given, by the Captain and his Lieutenant, exactly contrasted their characters. By putting the helm _hardup_, the Captain was for _scudding_; that is, for flying awayfrom the gale. Whereas, Mad Jack was for running the ship intoits teeth. It is needless to say that, in almost all cases ofsimilar hard squalls and gales, the latter step, though attendedwith more appalling appearances is, in reality, the safer of thetwo, and the most generally adopted. 

Scudding makes you a slave to the blast, which drives you headlongbefore it; but _running up into the wind's eye_ enables you, in adegree, to hold it at bay. Scudding exposes to the gale your stern, the weakest part of your hull; the contrary course presents to it yourbows, your strongest part. As with ships, so with men; he who turns hisback to his foe gives him an advantage. Whereas, our ribbed chests, likethe ribbed bows of a frigate, are as bulkheads to dam off an onset. 

That night, off the pitch of the Cape, Captain Claret was hurried forthfrom his disguises, and, at a manhood-testing conjuncture, appeared inhis true colours. A thing which every man in the ship had long suspectedthat night was proved true. Hitherto, in going about the ship, andcasting his glances among the men, the peculiarly lustreless repose ofthe Captain's eye--his slow, even, unnecessarily methodical step, andthe forced firmness of his whole demeanour--though, to a casual observer, expressive of the consciousness of command and a desire to strikesubjection among the crew--all this, to some minds, had only been deemedindications of the fact that Captain Claret, while carefully shunningpositive excesses, continually kept himself in an uncertain equilibriobetween soberness and its reverse; which equilibrio might be destroyedby the first sharp vicissitude of events. 

And though this is only a surmise, nevertheless, as having someknowledge of brandy and mankind, White-Jacket will venture to statethat, had Captain Claret been an out-and-out temperance man, he wouldnever have given that most imprudent order to _hard up_ the helm. Hewould either have held his peace, and stayed in his cabin, like hisgracious majesty the Commodore, or else have anticipated Mad Jack'sorder, and thundered forth "Hard down the helm!"

To show how little real sway at times have the severest restrictivelaws, and how spontaneous is the instinct of discretion in some minds, it must here be added, that though Mad Jack, under a hot impulse, hadcountermanded an order of his superior officer before his very face, yet that severe Article of War, to which he thus rendered himselfobnoxious, was never enforced against him. Nor, so far as any of thecrew ever knew, did the Captain even venture to reprimand him for histemerity. 

It has been said that Mad Jack himself was a lover of strongdrink. So he was. But here we only see the virtue of being placedin a station constantly demanding a cool head and steady nerves, and the misfortune of filling a post that does _not_ at all timesdemand these qualities. So exact and methodical in most thingswas the discipline of the frigate, that, to a certain extent, Captain Claret was exempted from personal interposition in manyof its current events, and thereby, perhaps, was he lulled intosecurity, under the enticing lee of his decanter. 

But as for Mad Jack, he must stand his regular watches, and pacethe quarter-deck at night, and keep a sharp eye to windward. Hence, at sea, Mad Jack tried to make a point of keeping sober, though in very fine weather he was sometimes betrayed into aglass too many. But with Cape Horn before him, he took thetemperance pledge outright, till that perilous promontory shouldbe far astern. 

The leading incident of the gale irresistibly invites thequestion, Are there incompetent officers in the American navy?--that is, incompetent to the due performance of whatever dutiesmay devolve upon them. But in that gallant marine, which, duringthe late war, gained so much of what is called _glory_, can therepossibly be to-day incompetent officers?

As in the camp ashore, so on the quarter-deck at sea--the trumpetsof one victory drown the muffled drums of a thousand defeats. And, in degree, this holds true of those events of war which are neuterin their character, neither making renown nor disgrace. Besides, asa long array of ciphers, led by but one solitary numeral, swell, bymere force of aggregation, into an immense arithmetical sum, even so, in some brilliant actions, do a crowd of officers, each inefficientin himself, aggregate renown when banded together, and led by a numeralNelson or a Wellington. And the renown of such heroes, by outlivingthemselves, descends as a heritage to their subordinate survivors. Onelarge brain and one large heart have virtue sufficient to magnetise awhole fleet or an army. And if all the men who, since the beginning ofthe world, have mainly contributed to the warlike successes or reversesof nations, were now mustered together, we should be amazed to beholdbut a handful of heroes. For there is no heroism in merely running inand out a gun at a port-hole, enveloped in smoke or vapour, or infiring off muskets in platoons at the word of command. This kind ofmerely manual valour is often born of trepidation at the heart. Theremay be men, individually craven, who, united, may display even temerity. Yet it would be false to deny that, in some in-stances, the lowestprivates have acquitted themselves with even more gallantry thantheir commodores. True heroism is not in the hand, but in the heartand the head. 

But are there incompetent officers in the gallant American navy?For an American, the question is of no grateful cast. White Jacketmust again evade it, by referring to an historical fact in the historyof a kindred marine, which, from its long standing and magnitude, furnishes many more examples of all kinds than our own. And this isthe only reason why it is ever referred to in this narrative. Ithank God I am free from all national invidiousness. 

It is indirectly on record in the books of the English Admiralty, that in the year 1808--after the death of Lord Nelson--when LordCollingwood commanded on the Mediterranean station, and hisbroken health induced him to solicit a furlough, that out of alist of upward of one hundred admirals, not a single officer wasfound who was deemed qualified to relieve the applicant withcredit to the country. This fact Collingwood sealed with hislife; for, hopeless of being recalled, he shortly after died, worn out, at his post. Now, if this was the case in so renowned amarine as England's, what must be inferred with respect to ourown? But herein no special disgrace is involved. For the truthis, that to be an accomplished and skillful naval generalissimoneeds natural capabilities of an uncommon order. Still more, itmay safely be asserted, that, worthily to command even a frigate, requires a degree of natural heroism, talent, judgment, andintegrity, that is denied to mediocrity. Yet these qualificationsare not only required, but demanded; and no one has a right to bea naval captain unless he possesses them. 

Regarding Lieutenants, there are not a few Selvagees and Paper Jacksin the American navy. Many Commodores know that they have seldomtaken a line-of-battle ship to sea, without feeling more or lessnervousness when some of the Lieutenants have the deck at night. 

According to the last Navy Register (1849), there are now 68Captains in the American navy, collectively drawing about$300, 000 annually from the public treasury; also, 297 Commanders, drawing about $200, 000; and 377 Lieutenants, drawing about half amillion; and 451 Midshipmen (including Passed-midshipmen), alsodrawing nearly half a million. Considering the known facts, thatsome of these officers are seldom or never sent to sea, owing tothe Navy Department being well aware of their inefficiency; thatothers are detailed for pen-and-ink work at observatories, andsolvers of logarithms in the Coast Survey; while the reallymeritorious officers, who are accomplished practical seamen, areknown to be sent from ship to ship, with but small interval of afurlough; considering all this, it is not too much to say, thatno small portion of the million and a half of money abovementioned is annually paid to national pensioners in disguise, who live on the navy without serving it. 

Nothing like this can be even insinuated against the "_forwardofficers_"--Boatswains, Gunners, etc. ; nor against the _pettyofficers_--Captains of the Tops, etc. ; nor against the ableseamen in the navy. For if any of _these_ are found wanting, theyare forthwith disrated or discharged. 

True, all experience teaches that, whenever there is a greatnational establishment, employing large numbers of officials, thepublic must be reconciled to support many incompetent men; forsuch is the favouritism and nepotism always prevailing in thepurlieus of these establishments, that some incompetent personsare always admitted, to the exclusion of many of the worthy. 

Nevertheless, in a country like ours, boasting of the politicalequality of all social conditions, it is a great reproach thatsuch a thing as a common seaman rising to the rank of acommissioned officer in our navy, is nowadays almost unheard-of. Yet, in former times, when officers have so risen to rank, theyhave generally proved of signal usefulness in the service, andsometimes have reflected solid honour upon the country. Instancesin point might be mentioned. 

Is it not well to have our institutions of a piece? Any Americanlandsman may hope to become President of the Union--commodore ofour squadron of states. And every American sailor should beplaced in such a position, that he might freely aspire to commanda squadron of frigates. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

EDGING AWAY. 

Right before the wind! Ay, blow, blow, ye breezes; so long as yestay fair, and we are homeward bound, what care the jolly crew?

It is worth mentioning here that, in nineteen cases out oftwenty, a passage from the Pacific round the Cape is almost sureto be much shorter, and attended with less hardship, than apassage undertaken from the Atlantic. The reason is, that thegales are mostly from the westward, also the currents. 

But, after all, going before the wind in a frigate, in such atempest, has its annoyances and drawbacks, as well as many otherblessings. The disproportionate weight of metal upon the spar andgun decks induces a violent rolling, unknown to merchant ships. We rolled and rolled on our way, like the world in its orbit, shipping green seas on both sides, until the old frigate dippedand went into it like a diving-bell. 

The hatchways of some armed vessels are but poorly secured in badweather. This was peculiarly the ease with those of the Neversink. They were merely spread over with an old tarpaulin, cracked andrent in every direction. 

In fair weather, the ship's company messed on the gun-deck; butas this was now flooded almost continually, we were obliged totake our meals upon the berth-deck, the next one below. One day, the messes of the starboard-watch were seated here at dinner;forming little groups, twelve or fifteen men in each, recliningabout the beef-kids and their pots and pans; when all of a suddenthe ship was seized with such a paroxysm of rolling that, in asingle instant, everything on the berth-deck--pots, kids, sailors, pieces of beef, bread-bags, clothes-bags, and barges--were tossed indiscriminately from side to side. It was impossibleto stay one's self; there was nothing but the bare deck to clingto, which was slippery with the contents of the kids, and heavingunder us as if there were a volcano in the frigate's hold. Whilewe were yet sliding in uproarious crowds--all seated--the windowsof the deck opened, and floods of brine descended, simultaneouslywith a violent lee-roll. The shower was hailed by the recklesstars with a hurricane of yells; although, for an instant, Ireally imagined we were about being swamped in the sea, suchvolumes of water came cascading down. 

A day or two after, we had made sufficient Easting to stand tothe northward, which we did, with the wind astern; thus fairlyturning the corner without abating our rate of progress. Thoughwe had seen no land since leaving Callao, Cape Horn was said tobe somewhere to the west of us; and though there was no positiveevidence of the fact, the weather encountered might be accountedpretty good presumptive proof. 

The land near Cape Horn, however, is well worth seeing, especiallyStaten Land. Upon one occasion, the ship in which I then happenedto be sailing drew near this place from the northward, with a fair, free wind, blowing steadily, through a bright translucent clay, whose air was almost musical with the clear, glittering cold. On our starboard beam, like a pile of glaciers in Switzerland, lay this Staten Land, gleaming in snow-white barrenness andsolitude. Unnumbered white albatross were skimming the sea nearby, and clouds of smaller white wings fell through the air likesnow-flakes. High, towering in their own turbaned snows, thefar-inland pinnacles loomed up, like the border of some otherworld. Flashing walls and crystal battlements, like the diamondwatch-towers along heaven's furthest frontier. 

After leaving the latitude of the Cape, we had several storms ofsnow; one night a considerable quantity laid upon the decks, andsome of the sailors enjoyed the juvenile diversion of snow-balling. Woe unto the "middy" who that night went forward of the booms. Sucha target for snow-balls! The throwers could never be known. By somecurious sleight in hurling the missiles, they seemed to be thrown onboard by some hoydenish sea-nymphs outside the frigate. 

At daybreak Midshipman Pert went below to the surgeon with analarming wound, gallantly received in discharging his perilousduty on the forecastle. The officer of the deck had sent him onan errand, to tell the boatswain that he was wanted in thecaptain's cabin. While in the very act of performing the exploitof delivering the message, Mr. Pert was struck on the nose with asnow-ball of wondrous compactness. Upon being informed of thedisaster, the rogues expressed the liveliest sympathy. Pert wasno favourite. 

After one of these storms, it was a curious sight to see the menrelieving the uppermost deck of its load of snow. It became theduty of the captain of each gun to keep his own station clean;accordingly, with an old broom, or "squilgee, " he proceeded tobusiness, often quarrelling with his next-door neighbours abouttheir scraping their snow on his premises. It was like Broadwayin winter, the morning after a storm, when rival shop-boys are atwork cleaning the sidewalk. 

Now and then, by way of variety, we had a fall of hailstones, sobig that sometimes we found ourselves dodging them. 

The Commodore had a Polynesian servant on board, whose serviceshe had engaged at the Society Islands. Unlike his countrymen, Wooloo was of a sedate, earnest, and philosophic temperament. Having never been outside of the tropics before, he found manyphenomena off Cape Horn, which absorbed his attention, and sethim, like other philosophers, to feign theories corresponding tothe marvels he beheld. At the first snow, when he saw the deckcovered all over with a white powder, as it were, he expanded hiseyes into stewpans; but upon examining the strange substance, hedecided that this must be a species of super-fine flower, such aswas compounded into his master's "_duffs_, " and other dainties. In vain did an experienced natural philosopher belonging to thefore-top maintain before his face, that in this hypothesis Wooloowas mistaken. Wooloo's opinion remained unchanged for some time. 

As for the hailstones, they transported him; he went about with abucket, making collections, and receiving contributions, for thepurpose of carrying them home to his sweethearts for glass beads;but having put his bucket away, and returning to it again, andfinding nothing but a little water, he accused the by-standers ofstealing his precious stones. 

This suggests another story concerning him. The first time he wasgiven a piece of "duff" to eat, he was observed to pick out verycarefully every raisin, and throw it away, with a gestureindicative of the highest disgust. It turned out that he hadtaken the raisins for bugs. 

In our man-of-war, this semi-savage, wandering about the gun-deckin his barbaric robe, seemed a being from some other sphere. Histastes were our abominations: ours his. Our creed he rejected:his we. We thought him a loon: he fancied us fools. Had the casebeen reversed; had we been Polynesians and he an American, ourmutual opinion of each other would still have remained the same. A fact proving that neither was wrong, but both right. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

THE NIGHT-WATCHES. 

Though leaving the Cape behind us, the severe cold still continued, and one of its worst consequences was the almost incurable drowsinessinduced thereby during the long night-watches. All along the decks, huddled between the guns, stretched out on the carronade slides, and in every accessible nook and corner, you would see the sailorswrapped in their monkey jackets, in a state of half-conscioustorpidity, lying still and freezing alive, without the power torise and shake themselves. 

"Up--up, you lazy dogs!" our good-natured Third Lieutenant, aVirginian, would cry, rapping them with his speaking trumpet. "Get up, and stir about. "

But in vain. They would rise for an instant, and as soon as hisback was turned, down they would drop, as if shot through the heart. 

Often I have lain thus when the fact, that if I laid much longerI would actually freeze to death, would come over me with suchoverpowering force as to break the icy spell, and starting to myfeet, I would endeavour to go through the combined manual andpedal exercise to restore the circulation. The first fling of mybenumbed arm generally struck me in the face, instead of smitingmy chest, its true destination. But in these cases one's muscleshave their own way. 

In exercising my other extremities, I was obliged to hold on tosomething, and leap with both feet; for my limbs seemed asdestitute of joints as a pair of canvas pants spread to dry, andfrozen stiff. 

When an order was given to haul the braces--which required thestrength of the entire watch, some two hundred men--a spectatorwould have supposed that all hands had received a stroke of thepalsy. Roused from their state of enchantment, they came haltingand limping across the decks, falling against each other, and, for a few moments, almost unable to handle the ropes. Theslightest exertion seemed intolerable; and frequently a body ofeighty or a hundred men summoned to brace the main-yard, wouldhang over the rope for several minutes, waiting for some activefellow to pick it up and put it into their hands. Even then, itwas some time before they were able to do anything. They made allthe motions usual in hauling a rope, but it was a long timebefore the yard budged an inch. It was to no purpose that theofficers swore at them, or sent the midshipmen among them to findout who those "_horse-marines_" and "_sogers_" were. The sailorswere so enveloped in monkey jackets, that in the dark night therewas no telling one from the other. 

"Here, _you_, sir!" cries little Mr. Pert eagerly catching holdof the skirts of an old sea-dog, and trying to turn him round, soas to peer under his tarpaulin. "Who are _you_, sir? What's yourname?"

"Find out, Milk-and-Water, " was the impertinent rejoinder. 

"Blast you! you old rascal; I'll have you licked for that! Tellme his name, some of you!" turning round to the bystanders. 

"Gammon!" cries a voice at a distance. 

"Hang me, but I know _you_, sir! and here's at you!" and, sosaying, Mr. Pert drops the impenetrable unknown, and makes intothe crowd after the bodiless voice. But the attempt to find anowner for that voice is quite as idle as the effort to discoverthe contents of the monkey jacket. 

And here sorrowful mention must be made of something which, during this state of affairs, most sorely afflicted me. Mostmonkey jackets are of a dark hue; mine, as I have fifty timesrepeated, and say again, was white. And thus, in those long, darknights, when it was my quarter-watch on deck, and not in the top, and others went skulking and "sogering" about the decks, securefrom detection--their identity undiscoverable--my own haplessjacket for ever proclaimed the name of its wearer. It gave memany a hard job, which otherwise I should have escaped. When anofficer wanted a man for any particular duty--running aloft, say, to communicate some slight order to the captains of the tops--howeasy, in that mob of incognitoes, to individualise "_that whitejacket_, " and dispatch him on the errand. Then, it would never dofor me to hang back when the ropes were being pulled. 

Indeed, upon all these occasions, such alacrity and cheerfulnesswas I obliged to display, that I was frequently held up as anillustrious example of activity, which the rest were called uponto emulate. "Pull--pull! you lazy lubbers! Look at White-Jacket, there; pull like him!"

Oh! how I execrated my luckless garment; how often I scoured thedeck with it to give it a tawny hue; how often I supplicated theinexorable Brush, captain of the paint-room, for just onebrushful of his invaluable pigment. Frequently, I meditatedgiving it a toss overboard; but I had not the resolution. Jacketless at sea! Jacketless so near Cape Horn! The thought wasunendurable. And, at least, my garment was a jacket in name, ifnot in utility. 

At length I essayed a "swap. " "Here, Bob, " said I, assuming allpossible suavity, and accosting a mess-mate with a sort ofdiplomatic assumption of superiority, "suppose I was ready topart with this 'grego' of mine, and take yours in exchange--whatwould you give me to boot?"

"Give you to _boot?_" he exclaimed, with horror; "I wouldn'ttake your infernal jacket for a gift!"

How I hailed every snow-squall; for then--blessings on them!--many of the men became _white-jackets_ along with myself; and, powdered with the flakes, we all looked like millers. 

We had six lieutenants, all of whom, with the exception of theFirst Lieutenant, by turns headed the watches. Three of theseofficers, including Mad Jack, were strict disciplinarians, andnever permitted us to lay down on deck during the night. And, totell the truth, though it caused much growling, it was far betterfor our health to be thus kept on our feet. So promenading wasall the vogue. For some of us, however, it was like pacing in adungeon; for, as we had to keep at our stations--some at thehalyards, some at the braces, and elsewhere--and were not allowedto stroll about indefinitely, and fairly take the measure of theship's entire keel, we were fain to confine ourselves to thespace of a very few feet. But the worse of this was soon over. The suddenness of the change in the temperature consequent onleaving Cape Horn, and steering to the northward with a ten-knotbreeze, is a noteworthy thing. To-day, you are assailed by ablast that seems to have edged itself on icebergs; but in alittle more than a week, your jacket may be superfluous. 

One word more about Cape Horn, and we have done with it. 

Years hence, when a ship-canal shall have penetrated the Isthmus ofDarien, and the traveller be taking his seat in the ears at Cape Codfor Astoria, it will be held a thing almost incredible that, for solong a period, vessels bound to the Nor'-west Coast from New Yorkshould, by going round Cape Horn, have lengthened their voyages somethousands of miles. "In those unenlightened days" (I quote, inadvance, the language of some future philosopher), "entire years werefrequently consumed in making the voyage to and from the SpiceIslands, the present fashionable watering-place of the beau-monde ofOregon. " Such must be our national progress. 

Why, sir, that boy of yours will, one of these days, be sending yourgrandson to the salubrious city of Jeddo to spend his summer vacations. 

CHAPTER XXX. 

A PEEP THROUGH A PORT-HOLE AT THE SUBTERRANEAN PARTS OF A MAN-OF-WAR. 

While now running rapidly away from the bitter coast of Patagonia, battling with the night-watches--still cold--as best we may; comeunder the lee of my white-jacket, reader, while I tell of the lesspainful sights to be seen in a frigate. 

A hint has already been conveyed concerning the subterraneandepths of the Neversink's hold. But there is no time here tospeak of the _spirit-room_, a cellar down in the after-hold, where the sailor's "grog" is kept; nor of the _cabletiers_, wherethe great hawsers and chains are piled, as you see them at alarge ship-chandler's on shore; nor of the grocer's vaults, wheretierces of sugar, molasses, vinegar, rice, and flour are snuglystowed; nor of the _sail-room_, full as a sail-maker's loftashore--piled up with great top-sails and top-gallant-sails, allready-folded in their places, like so many white vests in agentleman's wardrobe; nor of the copper and copper-fastened_magazine_, closely packed with kegs of powder, great-gun andsmall-arm cartridges; nor of the immense _shot-lockers_, orsubterranean arsenals, full as a bushel of apples with twenty-four-pound balls; nor of the _bread-room_, a large apartment, tinned all round within to keep out the mice, where the hardbiscuit destined for the consumption of five hundred men on along voyage is stowed away by the cubic yard; nor of the vastiron tanks for fresh water in the hold, like the reservoir lakesat Fairmount, in Philadelphia; nor of the _paint-room_, where thekegs of white-lead, and casks of linseed oil, and all sorts ofpots and brushes, are kept; nor of the _armoror's smithy_, wherethe ship's forges and anvils may be heard ringing at times; I sayI have no time to speak of these things, and many more places of note. 

But there is one very extensive warehouse among the rest thatneeds special mention--_the ship's Yeoman's storeroom_. In theNeversink it was down in the ship's basement, beneath the berth-deck, and you went to it by way of the _Fore-passage_, a verydim, devious corridor, indeed. Entering--say at noonday--you findyourself in a gloomy apartment, lit by a solitary lamp. On oneside are shelves, filled with balls of _marline, ratlin-stuf, seizing-stuff, spun-yarn_, and numerous twines of assorted sizes. In another direction you see large cases containing heaps ofarticles, reminding one of a shoemaker's furnishing-store--wooden_serving-mallets, fids, toggles_, and _heavers:_ iron _prickers_and _marling-spikes;_ in a third quarter you see a sort ofhardware shop--shelves piled with all manner of hooks, bolts, nails, screws, and _thimbles;_ and, in still another direction, you see a block-maker's store, heaped up with lignum-vitaesheeves and wheels. 

Through low arches in the bulkhead beyond, you peep in upondistant vaults and catacombs, obscurely lighted in the far end, and showing immense coils of new ropes, and other bulky articles, stowed in tiers, all savouring of tar. 

But by far the most curious department of these mysterious store-rooms is the armoury, where the spikes, cutlasses, pistols, andbelts, forming the arms of the boarders in time of action, arehung against the walls, and suspended in thick rows from thebeams overhead. Here, too, are to be seen scores of Colt's patentrevolvers, which, though furnished with but one tube, multiplythe fatal bullets, as the naval cat-o'-nine-tails, with acannibal cruelty, in one blow nine times multiplies a culprit'slashes; so that when a sailor is ordered one dozen lashes, thesentence should read one hundred and eight. All these arms arekept in the brightest order, wearing a fine polish, and may trulybe said to _reflect_ credit on the Yeoman and his mates. 

Among the lower grade of officers in a man-of-war, that of Yeomanis not the least important. His responsibilities are denoted byhis pay. While the _petty officers_, quarter-gunners, captains ofthe tops, and others, receive but fifteen and eighteen dollars amonth--but little more than a mere able seamen--the Yeoman in anAmerican line-of-battle ship receives forty dollars, and in afrigate thirty-five dollars per month. 

He is accountable for all the articles under his charge, and onno account must deliver a yard of twine or a ten-penny nail tothe boatswain or carpenter, unless shown a written requisitionand order from the Senior Lieutenant. The Yeoman is to be foundburrowing in his underground store-rooms all the day long, inreadiness to serve licensed customers. But in the counter, behindwhich he usually stands, there is no place for a till to drop theshillings in, which takes away not a little from the most agreeablepart of a storekeeper's duties. Nor, among the musty, old account-booksin his desk, where he registers all expenditures of his stuffs, is thereany cash or check book. 

The Yeoman of the Neversink was a somewhat odd specimen of a Troglodyte. He was a little old man, round-shouldered, bald-headed, with greatgoggle-eyes, looking through portentous round spectacles, which hecalled his _barnacles_. He was imbued with a wonderful zeal for thenaval service, and seemed to think that, in keeping his pistols andcutlasses free from rust, he preserved the national honour untarnished. After _general quarters_, it was amusing to watch his anxious airas the various _petty officers_ restored to him the arms used atthe martial exercises of the crew. As successive bundles would bedeposited on his counter, he would count over the pistols andcutlasses, like an old housekeeper telling over her silver forksand spoons in a pantry before retiring for the night. And often, with a sort of dark lantern in his hand, he might be seen pokinginto his furthest vaults and cellars, and counting over his greatcoils of ropes, as if they were all jolly puncheons of old Portand Madeira. 

By reason of his incessant watchfulness and unaccountable bacheloroddities, it was very difficult for him to retain in his employmentthe various sailors who, from time to time, were billeted with himto do the duty of subalterns. In particular, he was always desirousof having at least one steady, faultless young man, of a literarytaste, to keep an eye to his account-books, and swab out the armouryevery morning. It was an odious business this, to be immured all dayin such a bottomless hole, among tarry old ropes and villainous gunsand pistols. It was with peculiar dread that I one day noticed thegoggle-eyes of _Old Revolver_, as they called him, fastened upon mewith a fatal glance of good-will and approbation. He had somehowheard of my being a very learned person, who could both read and writewith extraordinary facility; and moreover that I was a rather reservedyouth, who kept his modest, unassuming merits in the background. Butthough, from the keen sense of my situation as a man-of-war's-man allthis about my keeping myself in the _back_ ground was true enough, yetI had no idea of hiding my diffident merits _under_ ground. I becamealarmed at the old Yeoman's goggling glances, lest he should drag medown into tarry perdition in his hideous store-rooms. But this fatewas providentially averted, owing to mysterious causes which I nevercould fathom. 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

THE GUNNER UNDER HATCHES. 

Among such a crowd of marked characters as were to be met with onboard our frigate, many of whom moved in mysterious circles beneaththe lowermost deck, and at long intervals flitted into sight likeapparitions, and disappeared again for whole weeks together, therewere some who inordinately excited my curiosity, and whose names, callings, and precise abodes I industriously sought out, in orderto learn something satisfactory concerning them. 

While engaged in these inquiries, often fruitless, or butpartially gratified, I could not but regret that there was nopublic printed Directory for the Neversink, such as they have inlarge towns, containing an alphabetic list of all the crew, andwhere they might be found. Also, in losing myself in some remote, dark corner of the bowels of the frigate, in the vicinity of thevarious store-rooms, shops, and warehouses, I much lamented thatno enterprising tar had yet thought of compiling a _Hand-book ofthe Neversink_, so that the tourist might have a reliable guide. 

Indeed, there were several parts of the ship under hatches shroudedin mystery, and completely inaccessible to the sailor. 

Wondrous old doors, barred and bolted in dingy bulkheads, must haveopened into regions full of interest to a successful explorer. 

They looked like the gloomy entrances to family vaults of burieddead; and when I chanced to see some unknown functionary inserthis key, and enter these inexplicable apartments with a battle-lantern, as if on solemn official business, I almost quaked todive in with him, and satisfy myself whether these vaults indeedcontained the mouldering relics of by-gone old Commodores andPost-captains. But the habitations of the living commodore andcaptain--their spacious and curtained cabins--were themselvesalmost as sealed volumes, and I passed them in hopelesswonderment, like a peasant before a prince's palace. Night andday armed sentries guarded their sacred portals, cutlass in hand;and had I dared to cross their path, I would infallibly have beencut down, as if in battle. Thus, though for a period of more thana year I was an inmate of this floating box of live-oak, yetthere were numberless things in it that, to the last, remainedwrapped in obscurity, or concerning which I could only losemyself in vague speculations. I was as a Roman Jew of the MiddleAges, confined to the Jews' quarter of the town, and forbidden tostray beyond my limits. Or I was as a modern traveller in thesame famous city, forced to quit it at last without gainingingress to the most mysterious haunts--the innermost shrine ofthe Pope, and the dungeons and cells of the Inquisition. 

But among all the persons and things on board that puzzled me, and filled me most with strange emotions of doubt, misgivings andmystery, was the Gunner--a short, square, grim man, his hair andbeard grizzled and singed, as if with gunpowder. His skin was ofa flecky brown, like the stained barrel of a fowling-piece, andhis hollow eyes burned in his head like blue-lights. He it waswho had access to many of those mysterious vaults I have spokenof. Often he might be seen groping his way into them, followed byhis subalterns, the old quarter-gunners, as if intent upon layinga train of powder to blow up the ship. I remembered Guy Fawkesand the Parliament-house, and made earnest inquiry whether thisgunner was a Roman Catholic. I felt relieved when informed thathe was not. 

A little circumstance which one of his _mates_ once told meheightened the gloomy interest with which I regarded his chief. He told me that, at periodical intervals, his master the Gunner, accompanied by his phalanx, entered into the great Magazine underthe Gun-room, of which he had sole custody and kept the key, nearly as big as the key of the Bastile, and provided withlanterns, something like Sir Humphrey Davy's Safety-lamp for coalmines, proceeded to turn, end for end, all the kegs of powder andpackages of cartridges stored in this innermost explosive vault, lined throughout with sheets of copper. In the vestibule of theMagazine, against the panelling, were several pegs for slippers, and, before penetrating further than that vestibule, every man ofthe gunner's gang silently removed his shoes, for fear that thenails in their heels might possibly create a spark, by strikingagainst the coppered floor within. Then, with slippered feet andwith hushed whispers, they stole into the heart of the place. 

This turning of the powder was to preserve its inflammability. And surely it was a business full of direful interest, to beburied so deep below the sun, handling whole barrels of powder, any one of which, touched by the smallest spark, was powerfulenough to blow up a whole street of warehouses. 

The gunner went by the name of _Old Combustibles_, though Ithought this an undignified name for so momentous a personage, who had all our lives in his hand. 

While we lay in Callao, we received from shore several barrels ofpowder. So soon as the _launch_ came alongside with them, orderswere given to extinguish all lights and all fires in the ship;and the master-at-arms and his corporals inspected every deck tosee that this order was obeyed; a very prudent precaution, nodoubt, but not observed at all in the Turkish navy. The Turkishsailors will sit on their gun-carriages, tranquilly smoking, while kegs of powder are being rolled under their ignited pipe-bowls. This shows the great comfort there is in the doctrine ofthese Fatalists, and how such a doctrine, in some things atleast, relieves men from nervous anxieties. But we all areFatalists at bottom. Nor need we so much marvel at the heroism ofthat army officer, who challenged his personal foe to bestride abarrel of powder with him--the match to be placed between them--and be blown up in good company, for it is pretty certain thatthe whole earth itself is a vast hogshead, full of inflammablematerials, and which we are always bestriding; at the same time, that all good Christians believe that at any minute the last daymay come and the terrible combustion of the entire planet ensue. 

As if impressed with a befitting sense of the awfulness of hiscalling, our gunner always wore a fixed expression of solemnity, which was heightened by his grizzled hair and beard. But whatimparted such a sinister look to him, and what wrought so upon myimagination concerning this man, was a frightful scar crossinghis left cheek and forehead. He had been almost mortally wounded, they said, with a sabre-cut, during a frigate engagement in thelast war with Britain. 

He was the most methodical, exact, and punctual of all theforward officers. Among his other duties, it pertained to him, while in harbour, to see that at a certain hour in the eveningone of the great guns was discharged from the forecastle, aceremony only observed in a flag-ship. And always at the precisemoment you might behold him blowing his match, then applying it;and with that booming thunder in his ear, and the smell of thepowder in his hair, he retired to his hammock for the night. Whatdreams he must have had!

The same precision was observed when ordered to fire a gun to_bring to_ some ship at sea; for, true to their name, andpreserving its applicability, even in times of peace, all men-of-war are great bullies on the high seas. They domineer over thepoor merchantmen, and with a hissing hot ball sent bowling acrossthe ocean, compel them to stop their headway at pleasure. 

It was enough to make you a man of method for life, to see thegunner superintending his subalterns, when preparing the main-deck batteries for a great national salute. While lying inharbour, intelligence reached us of the lamentable casualty thatbefell certain high officers of state, including the actingSecretary of the Navy himself, some other member of thePresident's cabinet, a Commodore, and others, all engaged inexperimenting upon a new-fangled engine of war. At the same timewith the receipt of this sad news, orders arrived to fire minute-guns for the deceased head of the naval department. Upon thisoccasion the gunner was more than usually ceremonious, in seeingthat the long twenty-fours were thoroughly loaded and rammeddown, and then accurately marked with chalk, so as to bedischarged in undeviating rotation, first from the larboard side, and then from the starboard. 

But as my ears hummed, and all my bones danced in me with thereverberating din, and my eyes and nostrils were almostsuffocated with the smoke, and when I saw this grim old gunnerfiring away so solemnly, I thought it a strange mode of honouringa man's memory who had himself been slaughtered by a cannon. Onlythe smoke, that, after rolling in at the port-holes, rapidlydrifted away to leeward, and was lost to view, seemed trulyemblematical touching the personage thus honoured, since thatgreat non-combatant, the Bible, assures us that our life is but avapour, that quickly passeth away. 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

A DISH OF DUNDERFUNK. 

In men-of-war, the space on the uppermost deck, round about themain-mast, is the Police-office, Court-house, and yard ofexecution, where all charges are lodged, causes tried, andpunishment administered. In frigate phrase, to be _brought up tothe mast_, is equivalent to being presented before the grand-jury, to see whether a true bill will be found against you. 

From the merciless, inquisitorial _baiting_, which sailors, charged with offences, too often experience _at the mast_, thatvicinity is usually known among them as the _bull-ring_. 

The main-mast, moreover, is the only place where the sailor canhold formal communication with the captain and officers. If anyone has been robbed; if any one has been evilly entreated; if anyone's character has been defamed; if any one has a request topresent; if any one has aught important for the executive of theship to know--straight to the main-mast he repairs; and standsthere--generally with his hat off--waiting the pleasure of theofficer of the deck, to advance and communicate with him. Often, the most ludicrous scenes occur, and the most comical complaintsare made. 

One clear, cold morning, while we were yet running away from theCape, a raw boned, crack-pated Down Easter, belonging to theWaist, made his appearance at the mast, dolefully exhibiting ablackened tin pan, bearing a few crusty traces of some sort of asea-pie, which had been cooked in it. 

"Well, sir, what now?" said the Lieutenant of the Deck, advancing. 

"They stole it, sir; all my nice _dunderfunk_, sir; they did, sir, " whined the Down Easter, ruefully holding up his pan. "Stoleyour _dunderfunk!_ what's that?"

"_Dunderfunk_, sir, _dunderfunk_; a cruel nice dish as ever manput into him. "

"Speak out, sir; what's the matter?"

"My _dunderfunk_, sir--as elegant a dish of _dunderfunk_ as youever see, sir--they stole it, sir!"

"Go forward, you rascal!" cried the Lieutenant, in a toweringrage, "or else stop your whining. Tell me, what's the matter?"

"Why, sir, them 'ere two fellows, Dobs and Hodnose, stole my_dunderfunk_. "

"Once more, sir, I ask what that _dundledunk_ is? Speak!" "Ascruel a nice------"

"Be off, sir! sheer!" and muttering something about _non composmentis_, the Lieutenant stalked away; while the Down Easter beata melancholy retreat, holding up his pan like a tambourine, andmaking dolorous music on it as he went. 

"Where are you going with that tear in your eye, like a travellingrat?" cried a top-man. 

"Oh! he's going home to Down East, " said another; "so fareastward, you know, _shippy_, that they have to pry up the sunwith a handspike. "

To make this anecdote plainer, be it said that, at sea, themonotonous round of salt beef and pork at the messes of thesailors--where but very few of the varieties of the season are tobe found--induces them to adopt many contrivances in order todiversify their meals. Hence the various sea-rolls, made dishes, and Mediterranean pies, well known by men-of-war's-men--_Scouse, Lob-scouse, Soft-Tack, Soft-Tommy, Skillagalee, Burgoo, Dough-boys, Lob-Dominion, Dog's-Body_, and lastly, and least known, _Dunderfunk_; all of which come under the general denomination of_Manavalins_. 

_Dunderfunk_ is made of hard biscuit, hashed and pounded, mixedwith beef fat, molasses, and water, and baked brown in a pan. Andto those who are beyond all reach of shore delicacies, this_dunderfunk_, in the feeling language of the Down Easter, iscertainly "_a cruel nice dish_. "

Now the only way that a sailor, after preparing his _dunderfunk_, could get it cooked on board the Neversink, was by slily going to_Old Coffee_, the ship's cook, and bribing him to put it into hisoven. And as some such dishes or other are well known to be allthe time in the oven, a set of unprincipled gourmands areconstantly on the look-out for the chance of stealing them. Generally, two or three league together, and while one engages_Old Coffee_ in some interesting conversation touching his wifeand family at home, another snatches the first thing he can layhands on in the oven, and rapidly passes it to the third man, whoat his earliest leisure disappears with it. 

In this manner had the Down Easter lost his precious pie, andafterward found the empty pan knocking about the forecastle. 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

A FLOGGING. 

If you begin the day with a laugh, you may, nevertheless, end itwith a sob and a sigh. 

Among the many who were exceedingly diverted with the scenebetween the Down Easter and the Lieutenant, none laughed moreheartily than John, Peter, Mark, and Antone--four sailors of thestarboard-watch. The same evening these four found themselvesprisoners in the "brig, " with a sentry standing over them. Theywere charged with violating a well-known law of the ship--havingbeen engaged in one of those tangled, general fights sometimesoccurring among sailors. They had nothing to anticipate but aflogging, at the captain's pleasure. 

Toward evening of the next day, they were startled by the dreadsummons of the boatswain and his mates at the principal hatchway--a summons that ever sends a shudder through every manly heart ina frigate:

"_All hands witness punishment, ahoy!_"

The hoarseness of the cry, its unrelenting prolongation, itsbeing caught up at different points, and sent through thelowermost depths of the ship; all this produces a most dismaleffect upon every heart not calloused by long habituation to it. 

However much you may desire to absent yourself from the scenethat ensues, yet behold it you must; or, at least, stand near ityou must; for the regulations enjoin the attendance of the entireship's company, from the corpulent Captain himself to thesmallest boy who strikes the bell. 

"_All hands witness punishment, ahoy!_"

To the sensitive seaman that summons sounds like a doom. He knowsthat the same law which impels it--the same law by which the culpritsof the day must suffer; that by that very law he also is liable at anytime to be judged and condemned. And the inevitableness of his ownpresence at the scene; the strong arm that drags him in view of thescourge, and holds him there till all is over; forcing upon his loathingeye and soul the sufferings and groans of men who have familiarlyconsorted with him, eaten with him, battled out watches with him--menof his own type and badge--all this conveys a terrible hint of theomnipotent authority under which he lives. Indeed, to such a man thenaval summons to witness punishment carries a thrill, somewhat akin towhat we may impute to the quick and the dead, when they shall hear theLast Trump, that is to bid them all arise in their ranks, and beholdthe final penalties inflicted upon the sinners of our race. 

But it must not be imagined that to all men-of-war's-men this summonsconveys such poignant emotions; but it is hard to decide whether oneshould be glad or sad that this is not the case; whether it is gratefulto know that so much pain is avoided, or whether it is far sadder tothink that, either from constitutional hard-heartedness or the multipliedsearings of habit, hundreds of men-of-war's-men have been made proofagainst the sense of degradation, pity, and shame. 

As if in sympathy with the scene to be enacted, the sun, which the dayprevious had merrily flashed upon the tin pan of the disconsolate DownEaster, was now setting over the dreary waters, veiling itself invapours. The wind blew hoarsely in the cordage; the seas broke heavilyagainst the bows; and the frigate, staggering under whole top-sails, strained as in agony on her way. 

"_All hands witness punishment, ahoy!_"

At the summons the crew crowded round the main-mast; multitudeseager to obtain a good place on the booms, to overlook the scene;many laughing and chatting, others canvassing the case of theculprits; some maintaining sad, anxious countenances, or carryinga suppressed indignation in their eyes; a few purposely keepingbehind to avoid looking on; in short, among five hundred men, there was every possible shade of character. 

All the officers--midshipmen included--stood together in a groupon the starboard side of the main-mast; the First Lieutenant inadvance, and the surgeon, whose special duty it is to be presentat such times, standing close by his side. 

Presently the Captain came forward from his cabin, and stood inthe centre of this solemn group, with a small paper in his hand. That paper was the daily report of offences, regularly laid uponhis table every morning or evening, like the day's journal placedby a bachelor's napkin at breakfast. 

"Master-at-arms, bring up the prisoners, " he said. 

A few moments elapsed, during which the Captain, now clothed inhis most dreadful attributes, fixed his eyes severely upon thecrew, when suddenly a lane formed through the crowd of seamen, and the prisoners advanced--the master-at-arms, rattan in hand, on one side, and an armed marine on the other--and took up theirstations at the mast. 

"You John, you Peter, you Mark, you Antone, " said the Captain, "were yesterday found fighting on the gun-deck. Have you anythingto say?"

Mark and Antone, two steady, middle-aged men, whom I had oftenadmired for their sobriety, replied that they did not strike thefirst blow; that they had submitted to much before they hadyielded to their passions; but as they acknowledged that they hadat last defended themselves, their excuse was overruled. 

John--a brutal bully, who, it seems, was the real author of thedisturbance--was about entering into a long extenuation, when hewas cut short by being made to confess, irrespective ofcircumstances, that he had been in the fray. 

Peter, a handsome lad about nineteen years old, belonging to themizzen-top, looked pale and tremulous. He was a great favouritein his part of the ship, and especially in his own mess, principally composed of lads of his own age. That morning two ofhis young mess-mates had gone to his bag, taken out his bestclothes, and, obtaining the permission of the marine sentry atthe "brig, " had handed them to him, to be put on against beingsummoned to the mast. This was done to propitiate the Captain, asmost captains love to see a tidy sailor. But it would not do. Toall his supplications the Captain turned a deaf ear. Peterdeclared that he had been struck twice before he had returned ablow. "No matter, " said the Captain, "you struck at last, insteadof reporting the case to an officer. I allow no man to fight onboard here but myself. I do the fighting. "

"Now, men, " he added, "you all admit the charge; you know thepenalty. Strip! Quarter-masters, are the gratings rigged?"

The gratings are square frames of barred wood-work, sometimesplaced over the hatchways. One of these squares was now laid onthe deck, close to the ship's bulwarks, and while the remainingpreparations were being made, the master-at-arms assisted theprisoners in removing their jackets and shirts. This done, theirshirts were loosely thrown over their shoulders. 

At a sign from the Captain, John, with a shameless leer, advanced, and stood passively upon the grating, while the bare-headed old quarter-master, with grey hair streaming in the wind, bound his feet to the cross-bars, and, stretching out his armsover his head, secured them to the hammock-nettings above. Hethen retreated a little space, standing silent. 

Meanwhile, the boatswain stood solemnly on the other side, with agreen bag in his hand, from which, taking four instruments ofpunishment, he gave one to each of his mates; for a fresh "cat"applied by a fresh hand, is the ceremonious privilege accorded toevery man-of-war culprit. 

At another sign from the Captain, the master-at-arms, steppingup, removed the shirt from the prisoner. At this juncture a wavebroke against the ship's side, and clashed the spray over hisexposed back. But though the air was piercing cold, and the waterdrenched him, John stood still, without a shudder. 

The Captain's finger was now lifted, and the first boatswain's-mate advanced, combing out the nine tails of his _cat_ with hishand, and then, sweeping them round his neck, brought them withthe whole force of his body upon the mark. Again, and again, andagain; and at every blow, higher and higher rose the long, purplebars on the prisoner's back. But he only bowed over his head, andstood still. Meantime, some of the crew whispered among themselvesin applause of their ship-mate's nerve; but the greater part werebreathlessly silent as the keen scourge hissed through the wintryair, and fell with a cutting, wiry sound upon the mark. One dozenlashes being applied, the man was taken down, and went among thecrew with a smile, saying, "D----n me! it's nothing when you'reused to it! Who wants to fight?"

The next was Antone, the Portuguese. At every blow he surged fromside to side, pouring out a torrent of involuntary blasphemies. Never before had he been heard to curse. When cut down, he wentamong the men, swearing to have the life of the Captain. Ofcourse, this was unheard by the officers. 

Mark, the third prisoner, only cringed and coughed under hispunishment. He had some pulmonary complaint. He was off duty forseveral days after the flogging; but this was partly to beimputed to his extreme mental misery. It was his first scourging, and he felt the insult more than the injury. He became silent andsullen for the rest of the cruise. 

The fourth and last was Peter, the mizzen-top lad. He had oftenboasted that he had never been degraded at the gangway. The daybefore his cheek had worn its usual red but now no ghost waswhiter. As he was being secured to the gratings, and theshudderings and creepings of his dazlingly white back wererevealed, he turned round his head imploringly; but his weepingentreaties and vows of contrition were of no avail. "I would notforgive God Almighty!" cried the Captain. The fourth boatswain's-mate advanced, and at the first blow, the boy, shouting "_My God!Oh! my God!_" writhed and leaped so as to displace the gratings, and scatter the nine tails of the scourge all over his person. Atthe next blow he howled, leaped, and raged in unendurable torture. 

"What are you stopping for, boatswain's-mate?" cried the Captain. "Lay on!" and the whole dozen was applied. 

"I don't care what happens to me now!" wept Peter, going amongthe crew, with blood-shot eyes, as he put on his shirt. "I havebeen flogged once, and they may do it again, if they will. Letthem look for me now!"

"Pipe down!" cried the Captain, and the crew slowly dispersed. 

Let us have the charity to believe them--as we do--when someCaptains in the Navy say, that the thing of all others mostrepulsive to them, in the routine of what they consider theirduty, is the administration of corporal punishment upon the crew;for, surely, not to feel scarified to the quick at these sceneswould argue a man but a beast. 

You see a human being, stripped like a slave; scourged worse thana hound. And for what? For things not essentially criminal, butonly made so by arbitrary laws. 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

SOME OF THE EVIL EFFECTS OF FLOGGING. 

There are incidental considerations touching this matter offlogging, which exaggerate the evil into a great enormity. Manyillustrations might be given, but let us be content with a few. 

One of the arguments advanced by officers of the Navy in favourof corporal punishment is this: it can be inflicted in a moment;it consumes no valuable time; and when the prisoner's shirt isput on, _that_ is the last of it. Whereas, if another punishmentwere substituted, it would probably occasion a great waste oftime and trouble, besides thereby begetting in the sailor anundue idea of his importance. 

Absurd, or worse than absurd, as it may appear, all this is true;and if you start from the same premises with these officers, you, must admit that they advance an irresistible argument. But inaccordance with this principle, captains in the Navy, to acertain extent, inflict the scourge--which is ever at hand--fornearly all degrees of transgression. In offences not cognisableby a court-martial, little, if any, discrimination is shown. Itis of a piece with the penal laws that prevailed in England somesixty years ago, when one hundred and sixty different offenceswere declared by the statute-book to be capital, and the servant-maid who but pilfered a watch was hung beside the murderer of afamily. 

It is one of the most common punishments for very trivialoffences in the Navy, to "stop" a seaman's _grog_ for a day or aweek. And as most seamen so cling to their _grog_, the loss of itis generally deemed by them a very serious penalty. You willsometimes hear them say, "I would rather have my wind _stopped_than _my grog!_"

But there are some sober seamen that would much rather draw themoney for it, instead of the grog itself, as provided by law; butthey are too often deterred from this by the thought of receivinga scourging for some inconsiderable offence, as a substitute forthe stopping of their spirits. This is a most serious obstacle tothe cause of temperance in the Navy. But, in many cases, even thereluctant drawing of his grog cannot exempt a prudent seaman fromignominy; for besides the formal administering of the "_cat_" atthe gangway for petty offences, he is liable to the "colt, " orrope's-end, a bit of _ratlin-stuff_, indiscriminately applied--without stripping the victim--at any time, and in any part of theship, at the merest wink from the Captain. By an express order ofthat officer, most boatswain's mates carry the "colt" coiled intheir hats, in readiness to be administered at a minute's warningupon any offender. This was the custom in the Neversink. Anduntil so recent a period as the administration of President Polk, when the historian Bancroft, Secretary of the Navy, officiallyinterposed, it was an almost universal thing for the officers ofthe watch, at their own discretion, to inflict chastisement upona sailor, and this, too, in the face of the ordinance restrictingthe power of flogging solely to Captains and Courts Martial. Norwas it a thing unknown for a Lieutenant, in a sudden outburst ofpassion, perhaps inflamed by brandy, or smarting under the senseof being disliked or hated by the seamen, to order a whole watchof two hundred and fifty men, at dead of night, to undergo theindignity of the "colt. "

It is believed that, even at the present day, there are instancesof Commanders still violating the law, by delegating the power ofthe colt to subordinates. At all events, it is certain that, almostto a man, the Lieutenants in the Navy bitterly rail against theofficiousness of Bancroft, in so materially abridging their usurpedfunctions by snatching the colt from their hands. At the time, theypredicted that this rash and most ill-judged interference of theSecretary would end in the breaking up of all discipline in the Navy. But it has not so proved. These officers _now_ predict that, if the"cat" be abolished, the same unfulfilled prediction would be verified. 

Concerning the license with which many captains violate the expresslaws laid down by Congress for the government of the Navy, a glaringinstance may be quoted. For upward of forty years there has been onthe American Statute-book a law prohibiting a captain from inflicting, on his own authority, more than twelve lashes at one time. If more areto be given, the sentence must be passed by a Court-martial. Yet, fornearly half a century, this law has been frequently, and with almostperfect impunity, set at naught: though of late, through the exertionsof Bancroft and others, it has been much better observed than formerly;indeed, at the present day, it is generally respected. Still, whilethe Neversink was lying in a South American port, on the cruise nowwritten of, the seamen belonging to another American frigate informedus that their captain sometimes inflicted, upon his own authority, eighteen and twenty lashes. It is worth while to state that thisfrigate was vastly admired by the shore ladies for her wonderfullyneat appearance. One of her forecastle-men told me that he had used upthree jack-knives (charged to him on the books of the purser) inscraping the belaying-pins and the combings of the hatchways. 

It is singular that while the Lieutenants of the watch in Americanmen-of-war so long usurped the power of inflicting corporal punishmentwith the _colt_, few or no similar abuses were known in the EnglishNavy. And though the captain of an English armed ship is authorisedto inflict, at his own discretion, _more_ than a dozen lashes(I think three dozen), yet it is to be doubted whether, upon thewhole, there is as much flogging at present in the English Navy as inthe American. The chivalric Virginian, John Randolph of Roanoke, declared, in his place in Congress, that on board of the Americanman-of-war that carried him out Ambassador to Russia he had witnessedmore flogging than had taken place on his own plantation of fivehundred African slaves in ten years. Certain it is, from what Ihave personally seen, that the English officers, as a general thing, seem to be less disliked by their crews than the American officersby theirs. The reason probably is, that many of them, from theirstation in life, have been more accustomed to social command;hence, quarter-deck authority sits more naturally on them. A coarse, vulgar man, who happens to rise to high naval rank by the exhibitionof talents not incompatible with vulgarity, invariably proves a tyrantto his crew. It is a thing that American men-of-war's-men have oftenobserved, that the Lieutenants from the Southern States, the descendantsof the old Virginians, are much less severe, and much more gentle andgentlemanly in command, than the Northern officers, as a class. 

According to the present laws and usages of the Navy, a seaman, for the most trivial alleged offences, of which he may beentirely innocent, must, without a trial, undergo a penalty thetraces whereof he carries to the grave; for to a man-of-war's-man's experienced eye the marks of a naval scourging with the"_cat_" are through life discernible. And with these marks on hisback, this image of his Creator must rise at the Last Day. Yet sountouchable is true dignity, that there are cases wherein to beflogged at the gangway is no dishonour; though, to abase and hurldown the last pride of some sailor who has piqued him, be some-times the secret motive, with some malicious officer, inprocuring him to be condemned to the lash. But this feeling ofthe innate dignity remaining untouched, though outwardly the bodybe scarred for the whole term of the natural life, is one of thehushed things, buried among the holiest privacies of the soul; athing between a man's God and himself; and for ever undiscernibleby our fellow-men, who account _that_ a degradation which seemsso to the corporal eye. But what torments must that seamanundergo who, while his back bleeds at the gangway, bleedsagonized drops of shame from his soul! Are we not justified inimmeasurably denouncing this thing? Join hands with me, then;and, in the name of that Being in whose image the flogged sailoris made, let us demand of Legislators, by what right they dareprofane what God himself accounts sacred. 

Is it lawful for you to scourge a man that is a Roman? asks theintrepid Apostle, well knowing, as a Roman citizen, that it wasnot. And now, eighteen hundred years after, is it lawful for you, my countrymen, to scourge a man that is an American? to scourgehim round the world in your frigates?

It is to no purpose that you apologetically appeal to the generaldepravity of the man-of-war's-man. Depravity in the oppressed isno apology for the oppressor; but rather an additional stigma tohim, as being, in a large degree, the effect, and not the causeand justification of oppression. 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

FLOGGING NOT LAWFUL. 

It is next to idle, at the present day, merely to denounce aniniquity. Be ours, then, a different task. 

If there are any three things opposed to the genius of theAmerican Constitution, they are these: irresponsibility in ajudge, unlimited discretionary authority in an executive, and theunion of an irresponsible judge and an unlimited executive in oneperson. 

Yet by virtue of an enactment of Congress, all the Commodores inthe American navy are obnoxious to these three charges, so far asconcerns the punishment of the sailor for alleged misdemeanorsnot particularly set forth in the Articles of War. 

Here is the enactment in question. 

XXXII. _Of the Articles of War_. --"All crimes committed bypersons belonging to the Navy, which are not specified in theforegoing articles, shall be punished according to the laws andcustoms in such cases at sea. "

This is the article that, above all others, puts the scourge intothe hands of the Captain, calls him to no account for itsexercise, and furnishes him with an ample warrant for inflictionsof cruelty upon the common sailor, hardly credible to landsmen. 

By this article the Captain is made a legislator, as well as ajudge and an executive. So far as it goes, it absolutely leavesto his discretion to decide what things shall be consideredcrimes, and what shall be the penalty; whether an accused personhas been guilty of actions by him declared to be crimes; and how, when, and where the penalty shall be inflicted. 

In the American Navy there is an everlasting suspension of theHabeas Corpus. Upon the bare allegation of misconduct there is nolaw to restrain the Captain from imprisoning a seaman, andkeeping him confined at his pleasure. While I was in theNeversink, the Captain of an American sloop of war, fromundoubted motives of personal pique, kept a seaman confined inthe brig for upward of a month. 

Certainly the necessities of navies warrant a code for theirgovernment more stringent than the law that governs the land; butthat code should conform to the spirit of the politicalinstitutions of the country that ordains it. It should notconvert into slaves some of the citizens of a nation of free-men. Such objections cannot be urged against the laws of the Russiannavy (not essentially different from our own), because the lawsof that navy, creating the absolute one-man power in the Captain, and vesting in him the authority to scourge, conform in spirit tothe territorial laws of Russia, which is ruled by an autocrat, and whose courts inflict the _knout_ upon the subjects of theland. But with us it is different. Our institutions claim to bebased upon broad principles of political liberty and equality. Whereas, it would hardly affect one iota the condition onshipboard of an American man-of-war's-man, were he transferred tothe Russian navy and made a subject of the Czar. 

As a sailor, he shares none of our civil immunities; the law ofour soil in no respect accompanies the national floating timbersgrown thereon, and to which he clings as his home. For him ourRevolution was in vain; to him our Declaration of Independence isa lie. 

It is not sufficiently borne in mind, perhaps, that though thenaval code comes under the head of the martial law, yet, in timeof peace, and in the thousand questions arising between man andman on board ship, this code, to a certain extent, may notimproperly be deemed municipal. With its crew of 800 or 1, 000men, a three-decker is a city on the sea. But in most of thesematters between man and man, the Captain instead of being amagistrate, dispensing what the law promulgates, is an absoluteruler, making and unmaking law as he pleases. 

It will be seen that the XXth of the Articles of War provides, that if any person in the Navy negligently perform the dutiesassigned him, he shall suffer such punishment as a court-martialshall adjudge; but if the offender be a private (common sailor)he may, at the discretion of the Captain, be put in irons orflogged. It is needless to say, that in cases where an officercommits a trivial violation of this law, a court-martial isseldom or never called to sit upon his trial; but in the sailor'scase, he is at once condemned to the lash. Thus, one set of sea-citizens is exempted from a law that is hung in terror overothers. What would landsmen think, were the State of New York topass a law against some offence, affixing a fine as a penalty, and then add to that law a section restricting its penaloperation to mechanics and day laborers, exempting all gentlemenwith an income of one thousand dollars? Yet thus, in the spiritof its practical operation, even thus, stands a good part of thenaval laws wherein naval flogging is involved. 

But a law should be "universal, " and include in its possiblepenal operations the very judge himself who gives decisions uponit; nay, the very judge who expounds it. Had Sir WilliamBlackstone violated the laws of England, he would have beenbrought before the bar over which he had presided, and wouldthere have been tried, with the counsel for the crown reading tohim, perhaps, from a copy of his own _Commentaries_. And shouldhe have been found guilty, he would have suffered like themeanest subject, "according to law. "

How is it in an American frigate? Let one example suffice. By theArticles of War, and especially by Article I. , an AmericanCaptain may, and frequently does, inflict a severe and degradingpunishment upon a sailor, while he himself is for ever removedfrom the possibility of undergoing the like disgrace; and, in allprobability, from undergoing any punishment whatever, even ifguilty of the same thing--contention with his equals, forinstance--for which he punishes another. Yet both sailor andcaptain are American citizens. 

Now, in the language of Blackstone, again, there is a law, "coeval with mankind, dictated by God himself, superior inobligation to any other, and no human laws are of any validity ifcontrary to this. " That law is the Law of Nature; among the threegreat principles of which Justinian includes "that to every manshould be rendered his due. " But we have seen that the lawsinvolving flogging in the Navy do _not_ render to every man hisdue, since in some cases they indirectly exclude the officersfrom any punishment whatever, and in all cases protect them fromthe scourge, which is inflicted upon the sailor. Therefore, according to Blackstone and Justinian, those laws have no bindingforce; and every American man-of-war's-man would be morallyjustified in resisting the scourge to the uttermost; and, in soresisting, would be religiously justified in what would bejudicially styled "the act of mutiny" itself. 

If, then, these scourging laws be for any reason necessary, makethem binding upon all who of right come under their sway; and letus see an honest Commodore, duly authorised by Congress, condemning to the lash a transgressing Captain by the side of atransgressing sailor. And if the Commodore himself prove atransgressor, let us see one of his brother Commodores take upthe lash against _him_, even as the boatswain's mates, the navyexecutioners, are often called upon to scourge each other. 

Or will you say that a navy officer is a man, but that anAmerican-born citizen, whose grandsire may have ennobled him bypouring out his blood at Bunker Hill--will you say that, byentering the service of his country as a common seaman, andstanding ready to fight her foes, he thereby loses his manhood atthe very time he most asserts it? Will you say that, by so doing, he degrades himself to the liability of the scourge, but if hetarries ashore in time of danger, he is safe from that indignity?All our linked states, all four continents of mankind, unite indenouncing such a thought. 

We plant the question, then, on the topmost argument of all. Irrespective of incidental considerations, we assert thatflogging in the navy is opposed to the essential dignity, of man, which no legislator has a right to violate; that it is oppressive, and glaringly unequal in its operations; that it is utterlyrepugnant to the spirit of our democratic institutions; indeed, that it involves a lingering trait of the worst times of a barbarousfeudal aristocracy; in a word, we denounce it as religiously, morally, and immutably _wrong_. 

No matter, then, what may be the consequences of its abolition; nomatter if we have to dismantle our fleets, and our unprotectedcommerce should fall a prey to the spoiler, the awful admonitions ofjustice and humanity demand that abolition without procrastination;in a voice that is not to be mistaken, demand that abolition today. It is not a dollar-and-cent question of expediency; it is a matterof _right and wrong_. And if any man can lay his hand on his heart, and solemnly say that this scourging is right, let that man but oncefeel the lash on his own back, and in his agony you will hear theapostate call the seventh heavens to witness that it is _wrong_. And, in the name of immortal manhood, would to God that every manwho upholds this thing were scourged at the gangway till he recanted. 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

FLOGGING NOT NECESSARY. 

But White-Jacket is ready to come down from the lofty mast-head of aneternal principle, and fight you--Commodores and Captains of the navy--on your own quarter-deck, with your own weapons, at your own paces. 

Exempt yourselves from the lash, you take Bible oaths to it thatit is indispensable for others; you swear that, without the lash, no armed ship can be kept in suitable discipline. Be it proved toyou, officers, and stamped upon your foreheads, that herein youare utterly wrong. 

"Send them to Collingwood, " said Lord Nelson, "and _he_ willbring them to order. " This was the language of that renownedAdmiral, when his officers reported to him certain seamen of thefleet as wholly ungovernable. "Send them to Collingwood. " And whowas Collingwood, that, after these navy rebels had beenimprisoned and scourged without being brought to order, Collingwood could convert them to docility?

Who Admiral Colllngwood was, as an historical hero, historyherself will tell you; nor, in whatever triumphal hall they maybe hanging, will the captured flags of Trafalgar fail to rustleat the mention of that name. But what Collingwood was as adisciplinarian on board the ships he commanded perhaps needs tobe said. He was an officer, then, who held in abhorrence allcorporal punishment; who, though seeing more active service thanany sea-officer of his time, yet, for years together, governedhis men without inflicting the lash. 

But these seaman of his must have been most exemplary saints tohave proved docile under so lenient a sway. Were they saints?Answer, ye jails and alms-houses throughout the length andbreadth of Great Britain, which, in Collingwood's time, wereswept clean of the last lingering villain and pauper to man hismajesty's fleets. 

Still more, _that_ was a period when the uttermost resources ofEngland were taxed to the quick; when the masts of her multipliedfleets almost transplanted her forests, all standing to the sea;when British press-gangs not only boarded foreign ships on thehigh seas, and boarded foreign pier-heads, but boarded their ownmerchantmen at the mouth of the Thames, and boarded the veryfire-sides along its banks; when Englishmen were knocked down anddragged into the navy, like cattle into the slaughter-house, withevery mortal provocation to a mad desperation against the servicethat thus ran their unwilling heads into the muzzles of theenemy's cannon. _This_ was the time, and _these_ the men thatCollingwood governed without the lash. 

I know it has been said that Lord Collingwood began by inflictingsevere punishments, and afterward ruling his sailors by the merememory of a by-gone terror, which he could at pleasure revive;and that his sailors knew this, and hence their good behaviourunder a lenient sway. But, granting the quoted assertion to betrue, how comes it that many American Captains, who, afterinflicting as severe punishment as ever Collingwood could haveauthorized--how comes it that _they_, also, have not been able tomaintain good order without subsequent floggings, after onceshowing to the crew with what terrible attributes they wereinvested? But it is notorious, and a thing that I myself, inseveral instances, _know_ to have been the case, that in theAmerican navy, where corporal punishment has been most severe, ithas also been most frequent. 

But it is incredible that, with such crews as Lord Collingwood's--composed, in part, of the most desperate characters, the rakingsof the jails--it is incredible that such a set of men could havebeen governed by the mere _memory_ of the lash. Some otherinfluence must have been brought to bear; mainly, no doubt, theinfluence wrought by a powerful brain, and a determined, intrepidspirit over a miscellaneous rabble. 

It is well known that Lord Nelson himself, in point of policy, was averse to flogging; and that, too, when he had witnessed themutinous effects of government abuses in the navy--unknown in ourtimes--and which, to the terror of all England, developedthemselves at the great mutiny of the Nore: an outbreak that forseveral weeks jeopardised the very existence of the British navy. 

But we may press this thing nearly two centuries further back, for it is a matter of historical doubt whether, in Robert Blake'stime, Cromwell's great admiral, such a thing as flogging wasknown at the gangways of his victorious fleets. And as in thismatter we cannot go further back than to Blake, so we cannotadvance further than to our own time, which shows CommodoreStockton, during the recent war with Mexico, governing theAmerican squadron in the Pacific without employing the scourge. 

But if of three famous English Admirals one has abhorredflogging, another almost governed his ships without it, and tothe third it may be supposed to have been unknown, while anAmerican Commander has, within the present year almost, beenenabled to sustain the good discipline of an entire squadron intime of war without having an instrument of scourging on board, what inevitable inferences must be drawn, and how disastrous tothe mental character of all advocates of navy flogging, who mayhappen to be navy officers themselves. 

It cannot have escaped the discernment of any observer ofmankind, that, in the presence of its conventional inferiors, conscious imbecility in power often seeks to carry off thatimbecility by assumptions of lordly severity. The amount offlogging on board an American man-of-war is, in many cases, inexact proportion to the professional and intellectual incapacityof her officers to command. Thus, in these cases, the law thatauthorises flogging does but put a scourge into the hand of afool. In most calamitous instances this has been shown. 

It is a matter of record, that some English ships of war havefallen a prey to the enemy through the insubordination of thecrew, induced by the witless cruelty of their officers; officersso armed by the law that they could inflict that cruelty withoutrestraint. Nor have there been wanting instances where the seamenhave ran away with their ships, as in the case of the Hermione andDanae, and forever rid themselves of the outrageous inflictions oftheir officers by sacrificing their lives to their fury. 

Events like these aroused the attention of the British public at thetime. But it was a tender theme, the public agitation of which thegovernment was anxious to suppress. Nevertheless, whenever the thingwas privately discussed, these terrific mutinies, together with thethen prevailing insubordination of the men in the navy, were almostuniversally attributed to the exasperating system of flogging. And thenecessity for flogging was generally believed to be directly referableto the impressment of such crowds of dissatisfied men. And in highquarters it was held that if, by any mode, the English fleet could bemanned without resource to coercive measures, then the necessity offlogging would cease. 

"If we abolish either impressment or flogging, the abolition of theother will follow as a matter of course. " This was the language ofthe _Edinburgh Review_, at a still later period, 1824. 

If, then, the necessity of flogging in the British armed marinewas solely attributed to the impressment of the seamen, whatfaintest shadow of reason is there for the continuance of thisbarbarity in the American service, which is wholly freed from thereproach of impressment?

It is true that, during a long period of non-impressment, andeven down to the present day, flogging has been, and still is, the law of the English navy. But in things of this kind Englandshould be nothing to us, except an example to be shunned. Norshould wise legislators wholly govern themselves by precedents, and conclude that, since scourging has so long prevailed, somevirtue must reside in it. Not so. The world has arrived at aperiod which renders it the part of Wisdom to pay homage to theprospective precedents of the Future in preference to those ofthe Past. The Past is dead, and has no resurrection; but theFuture is endowed with such a life, that it lives to us even inanticipation. The Past is, in many things, the foe of mankind;the Future is, in all things, our friend. In the Past is no hope;the Future is both hope and fruition. The Past is the text-bookof tyrants; the Future the Bible of the Free. Those who aresolely governed by the Past stand like Lot's wife, crystallisedin the act of looking backward, and forever incapable of lookingbefore. 

Let us leave the Past, then, to dictate laws to immovable China;let us abandon it to the Chinese Legitimists of Europe. But forus, we will have another captain to rule over us--that captainwho ever marches at the head of his troop and beckons themforward, not lingering in the rear, and impeding their march withlumbering baggage-wagons of old precedents. _This_ is the Past. 

But in many things we Americans are driven to a rejection of themaxims of the Past, seeing that, ere long, the van of the nationsmust, of right, belong to ourselves. There are occasions when itis for America to make precedents, and not to obey them. Weshould, if possible, prove a teacher to posterity, instead ofbeing the pupil of by-gone generations. More shall come after usthan have gone before; the world is not yet middle-aged. 

Escaped from the house of bondage, Israel of old did not followafter the ways of the Egyptians. To her was given an expressdispensation; to her were given new things under the sun. And weAmericans are the peculiar, chosen people--the Israel of ourtime; we bear the ark of the liberties of the world. Seventyyears ago we escaped from thrall; and, besides our firstbirthright--embracing one continent of earth--God has given tous, for a future inheritance, the broad domains of the politicalpagans, that shall yet come and lie down under the shade of ourark, without bloody hands being lifted. God has predestinated, mankind expects, great things from our race; and great things wefeel in our souls. The rest of the nations must soon be in ourrear. We are the pioneers of the world; the advance-guard, senton through the wilderness of untried things, to break a new pathin the New World that is ours. In our youth is our strength; inour inexperience, our wisdom. At a period when other nations havebut lisped, our deep voice is heard afar. Long enough, have webeen skeptics with regard to ourselves, and doubted whether, indeed, the political Messiah had come. But he has come in us, ifwe would but give utterance to his promptings. And let us alwaysremember that with ourselves, almost for the first time in thehistory of earth, national selfishness is unbounded philanthropy;for we can not do a good to America but we give alms to the world. 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

SOME SUPERIOR OLD "LONDON DOCK" FROM THE WINE-COOLERS OF NEPTUNE. 

We had just slid into pleasant weather, drawing near to theTropics, when all hands were thrown into a wonderful excitementby an event that eloquently appealed to many palates. 

A man at the fore-top-sail-yard sung out that there were eight orten dark objects floating on the sea, some three points off ourlee-bow. 

"Keep her off three points!" cried Captain Claret, to thequarter-master at the _cun_. 

And thus, with all our batteries, store-rooms, and five hundredmen, with their baggage, and beds, and provisions, at one move ofa round bit of mahogany, our great-embattled ark edged away forthe strangers, as easily as a boy turns to the right or left inpursuit of insects in the field. 

Directly the man on the top-sail-yard reported the dark objectsto be hogsheads. Instantly all the top-men were straining theireyes, in delirious expectation of having their long _grog fast_broken at last, and that, too, by what seemed an almostmiraculous intervention. It was a curious circumstance that, without knowing the contents of the hogsheads, they yet seemedcertain that the staves encompassed the thing they longed for. 

Sail was now shortened, our headway was stopped, and a cutter waslowered, with orders to tow the fleet of strangers alongside. Themen sprang to their oars with a will, and soon five goodlypuncheons lay wallowing in the sea, just under the main-chains. We got overboard the slings, and hoisted them out of the water. 

It was a sight that Bacchus and his bacchanals would have gloatedover. Each puncheon was of a deep-green color, so covered withminute barnacles and shell-fish, and streaming with sea-weed, that it needed long searching to find out their bung-holes; theylooked like venerable old _loggerhead-turtles. _ How long they hadbeen tossing about, and making voyages for the benefit of theflavour of their contents, no one could tell. In trying to raftthem ashore, or on board of some merchant-ship, they must havedrifted off to sea. This we inferred from the ropes that length-wise united them, and which, from one point of view, made themresemble a long sea-serpent. They were _struck_ into the gun-deck, where, the eager crowd being kept off by sentries, thecooper was called with his tools. 

"Bung up, and bilge free!" he cried, in an ecstasy, flourishinghis driver and hammer. 

Upon clearing away the barnacles and moss, a flat sort of shell-fish was found, closely adhering, like a California-shell, rightover one of the bungs. Doubtless this shell-fish had there takenup his quarters, and thrown his own body into the breach, inorder the better to preserve the precious contents of the cask. The by-standers were breathless, when at last this puncheon wascanted over and a tin-pot held to the orifice. What was to comeforth? salt-water or wine? But a rich purple tide soon settledthe question, and the lieutenant assigned to taste it, with aloud and satisfactory smack of his lips, pronounced it Port!

"Oporto!" cried Mad Jack, "and no mistake!"

But, to the surprise, grief, and consternation of the sailors, anorder now came from the quarter-deck to strike the "strangersdown into the main-hold!" This proceeding occasioned all sorts ofcensorious observations upon the Captain, who, of course, hadauthorised it. 

It must be related here that, on the passage out from home, theNeversink had touched at Madeira; and there, as is often the casewith men-of-war, the Commodore and Captain had laid in a goodlystock of wines for their own private tables, and the benefit oftheir foreign visitors. And although the Commodore was a small, spare man, who evidently emptied but few glasses, yet CaptainClaret was a portly gentleman, with a crimson face, whose fatherhad fought at the battle of the Brandywine, and whose brother hadcommanded the well-known frigate named in honour of thatengagement. And his whole appearance evinced that Captain Clarethimself had fought many Brandywine battles ashore in honour ofhis sire's memory, and commanded in many bloodless Brandywineactions at sea. 

It was therefore with some savour of provocation that the sailorsheld forth on the ungenerous conduct of Captain Claret, instepping in between them and Providence, as it were, which bythis lucky windfall, they held, seemed bent upon relieving theirnecessities; while Captain Claret himself, with an inexhaustiblecellar, emptied his Madeira decanters at his leisure. 

But next day all hands were electrified by the old familiarsound--so long hushed--of the drum rolling to grog. 

After that the port was served out twice a day, till all wasexpended. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

THE CHAPLAIN AND CHAPEL IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

The next day was Sunday; a fact set down in the almanac, spite ofmerchant seamen's maxim, that _there are no Sundays of soundings_. 

_No Sundays off soundings, _indeed! No Sundays on shipboard! Youmay as well say there should be no Sundays in churches; for isnot a ship modeled after a church? has it not three spires--threesteeples? yea, and on the gun-deck, a bell and a belfry? And doesnot that bell merrily peal every Sunday morning, to summon thecrew to devotions?

At any rate, there were Sundays on board this particular frigateof ours, and a clergyman also. He was a slender, middle-aged man, of an amiable deportment and irreproachable conversation; but Imust say, that his sermons were but ill calculated to benefit thecrew. He had drank at the mystic fountain of Plato; his head hadbeen turned by the Germans; and this I will say, that White-Jackethimself saw him with Coleridge's Biographia Literaria in his hand. 

Fancy, now, this transcendental divine standing behind a gun-carriageon the main-deck, and addressing five hundred salt-sea sinners upon thepsychological phenomena of the soul, and the ontological necessity ofevery sailor's saving it at all hazards. He enlarged upon the folliesof the ancient philosophers; learnedly alluded to the Phiedon of Plato;exposed the follies of Simplicius's Commentary on Aristotle's "De Coelo, "by arraying against that clever Pagan author the admired tract ofTertullian--_De Prascriptionibus Haereticorum_--and concluded by aSanscrit invocation. He was particularly hard upon the Gnostics andMarcionites of the second century of the Christian era; but he never, in the remotest manner, attacked the everyday vices of the nineteenthcentury, as eminently illustrated in our man-of-war world. Concerningdrunkenness, fighting, flogging, and oppression--things expressly orimpliedly prohibited by Christianity--he never said aught. But the mostmighty Commodore and Captain sat before him; and in general, if, in amonarchy, the state form the audience of the church, little evangelicalpiety will be preached. Hence, the harmless, non-committal abstrusitiesof our Chaplain were not to be wondered at. He was no Massillon, tothunder forth his ecclesiastical rhetoric, even when a Louis le Grand wasenthroned among his congregation. Nor did the chaplains who preached onthe quarter-deck of Lord Nelson ever allude to the guilty Felix, nor toDelilah, nor practically reason of righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come, when that renowned Admiral sat, sword-belted, before them. 

During these Sunday discourses, the officers always sat in a circle roundthe Chaplain, and, with a business-like air, steadily preserved theutmost propriety. In particular, our old Commodore himself made a pointof looking intensely edified; and not a sailor on board but believedthat the Commodore, being the greatest man present, must alone comprehendthe mystic sentences that fell from our parson's lips. 

Of all the noble lords in the ward-room, this lord-spiritual, with theexception of the Purser, was in the highest favour with the Commodore, who frequently conversed with him in a close and confidential manner. Nor, upon reflection, was this to be marvelled at, seeing howefficacious, in all despotic governments, it is for the throne and altarto go hand-in-hand. 

The accommodations of our chapel were very poor. We had nothingto sit on but the great gun-rammers and capstan-bars, placedhorizontally upon shot-boxes. These seats were exceedinglyuncomfortable, wearing out our trowsers and our tempers, and, nodoubt, impeded the con-version of many valuable souls. 

To say the truth, men-of-war's-men, in general, make but poorauditors upon these occasions, and adopt every possible means toelude them. Often the boatswain's-mates were obliged to drive themen to service, violently swearing upon these occasions, as uponevery other. 

"Go to prayers, d----n you! To prayers, you rascals--to prayers!"In this clerical invitation Captain Claret would frequently unite. 

At this Jack Chase would sometimes make merry. "Come, boys, don'thang back, " he would say; "come, let us go hear the parson talkabout his Lord High Admiral Plato, and Commodore Socrates. "

But, in one instance, grave exception was taken to this summons. A remarkably serious, but bigoted seaman, a sheet-anchor-man--whose private devotions may hereafter be alluded to--once touchedhis hat to the Captain, and respectfully said, "Sir, I am aBaptist; the chaplain is an Episcopalian; his form of worship isnot mine; I do not believe with him, and it is against myconscience to be under his ministry. May I be allowed, sir, _not_to attend service on the half-deck?"

"You will be allowed, sir!" said the Captain, haughtily, "to obeythe laws of the ship. If you absent yourself from prayers onSunday mornings, you know the penalty. "

According to the Articles of War, the Captain was perfectlyright; but if any law requiring an American to attend divineservice against his will be a law respecting the establishment ofreligion, then the Articles of War are, in this one particular, opposed to the American Constitution, which expressly says, "Congress shall make no law respecting the establishment ofreligion, or the free exercise thereof. " But this is only one ofseveral things in which the Articles of War are repugnant to thatinstrument. They will be glanced at in another part of the narrative. 

The motive which prompts the introduction of chaplains into theNavy cannot but be warmly responded to by every Christian. But itdoes not follow, that because chaplains are to be found in men-of-war, that, under the present system, they achieve much good, or that, under any other, they ever will. 

How can it be expected that the religion of peace should flourishin an oaken castle of war? How can it be expected that theclergyman, whose pulpit is a forty-two-pounder, should convertsinners to a faith that enjoins them to turn the right cheek whenthe left is smitten? How is it to be expected that when, according to the XLII. Of the Articles of War, as they now standunrepealed on the Statute-book, "a bounty shall be paid" (to theofficers and crew) "by the United States government of $20 foreach person on board any ship of an enemy which shall be sunk ordestroyed by any United States ship;" and when, by a subsequentsection (vii. ), it is provided, among other apportionings, thatthe chaplain shall receive "two twentieths" of this price paidfor sinking and destroying ships full of human beings? I How isit to be expected that a clergyman, thus provided for, shouldprove efficacious in enlarging upon the criminality of Judas, who, for thirty pieces of silver, betrayed his Master?

Although, by the regulations of the Navy, each seaman's mess onboard the Neversink was furnished with a Bible, these Bibles wereseldom or never to be seen, except on Sunday mornings, when usagedemands that they shall be exhibited by the cooks of the messes, when the master-at-arms goes his rounds on the berth-deck. Atsuch times, they usually surmounted a highly-polished tin-potplaced on the lid of the chest. 

Yet, for all this, the Christianity of men-of-war's men, andtheir disposition to contribute to pious enterprises, are oftenrelied upon. Several times subscription papers were circulatedamong the crew of the Neversink, while in harbour, under thedirect patronage of the Chaplain. One was for the purpose ofbuilding a seaman's chapel in China; another to pay the salary ofa tract-distributor in Greece; a third to raise a fund for thebenefit of an African Colonization Society. 

Where the Captain himself is a moral man, he makes a far betterchaplain for his crew than any clergyman can be. This is sometimesillustrated in the case of sloops of war and armed brigs, which arenot allowed a regular chaplain. I have known one crew, who werewarmly attached to a naval commander worthy of their love, who havemustered even with alacrity to the call to prayer; and when theirCaptain would read the Church of England service to them, wouldpresent a congregation not to be surpassed for earnestness anddevotion by any Scottish Kirk. It seemed like family devotions, where the head of the house is foremost in confessing himselfbefore his Maker. But our own hearts are our best prayer-rooms, and the chaplains who can most help us are ourselves. 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

THE FRIGATE IN HARBOUR. --THE BOATS. --GRAND STATE RECEPTION OF THECOMMODORE. 

In good time we were up with the parallel of Rio de Janeiro, and, standing in for the land, the mist soon cleared; and high aloftthe famed Sugar Loaf pinnacle was seen, our bowsprit pointing forit straight as a die. 

As we glided on toward our anchorage, the bands of the variousmen-of-war in harbour saluted us with national airs, and gallantlylowered their ensigns. Nothing can exceed the courteous etiquetteof these ships, of all nations, in greeting their brethren. Of allmen, your accomplished duellist is generally the most polite. 

We lay in Rio some weeks, lazily taking in stores and otherwisepreparing for the passage home. But though Rio is one of the mostmagnificent bays in the world; though the city itself containsmany striking objects; and though much might be said of the SugarLoaf and Signal Hill heights; and the little islet of Lucia; andthe fortified Ihla Dos Cobras, or Isle of the Snakes (though theonly anacondas and adders now found in the arsenals there aregreat guns and pistols); and Lord Wood's Nose--a lofty eminencesaid by seamen to resemble his lordship's conch-shell; and thePrays do Flamingo--a noble tract of beach, so called from itshaving been the resort, in olden times, of those gorgeous birds;and the charming Bay of Botofogo, which, spite of its name, isfragrant as the neighbouring Larangieros, or Valley of theOranges; and the green Gloria Hill, surmounted by the belfries ofthe queenly Church of Nossa Senora de Gloria; and the iron-grayBenedictine convent near by; and the fine drive and promenade, Passeo Publico; and the massive arch-over-arch aqueduct, Arcos deCarico; and the Emperor's Palace; and the Empress's Gardens; andthe fine Church de Candelaria; and the gilded throne on wheels, drawn by eight silken, silver-belled mules, in which, of pleasantevenings, his Imperial Majesty is driven out of town to hisMoorish villa of St. Christova--ay, though much might be said ofall this, yet must I forbear, if I may, and adhere to my oneproper object, _the world in a man-of-war_. 

Behold, now, the Neversink under a new aspect. With all herbatteries, she is tranquilly lying in harbour, surrounded byEnglish, French, Dutch, Portuguese, and Brazilian seventy-fours, moored in the deep-green water, close under the lee of thatoblong, castellated mass of rock, Ilha Dos Cobras, which, withits port-holes and lofty flag-staffs, looks like another man-of-war, fast anchored in the way. But what is an insular fortress, indeed, but an embattled land-slide into the sea from the worldGibraltars and Quebecs? And what a main-land fortress but a fewdecks of a line-of-battle ship transplanted ashore? They are allone--all, as King David, men-of-war from their youth. 

Ay, behold now the Neversink at her anchors, in many respectspresenting a different appearance from what she presented at sea. Nor is the routine of life on board the same. 

At sea there is more to employ the sailors, and less temptation toviolations of the law. Whereas, in port, unless some particularservice engages them, they lead the laziest of lives, beset by allthe allurements of the shore, though perhaps that shore they maynever touch. 

Unless you happen to belong to one of the numerous boats, which, in a man-of-war in harbour, are continually plying to and fromthe land, you are mostly thrown upon your own resources to whileaway the time. Whole days frequently pass without your beingindividually called upon to lift a finger; for though, in themerchant-service, they make a point of keeping the men alwaysbusy about something or other, yet, to employ five hundredsailors when there is nothing definite to be done whollysurpasses the ingenuity of any First Lieutenant in the Navy. 

As mention has just been made of the numerous boats employed inharbour, something more may as well be put down concerning them. Our frigate carried a very large boat--as big as a small sloop--called a _launch_, which was generally used for getting off wood, water, and other bulky articles. Besides this, she carried fourboats of an arithmetical progression in point of size--the largestbeing known as the first cutter, the next largest the second cutter, then the third and fourth cutters. She also carried a Commodore'sBarge, a Captain's Gig, and a "dingy, " a small yawl, with a crewof apprentice boys. All these boats, except the "dingy, " had theirregular crews, who were subordinate to their cockswains--_pettyofficers_, receiving pay in addition to their seaman's wages. 

The _launch_ was manned by the old Tritons of the fore-castle, who wereno ways particular about their dress, while the other boats--commissionedfor genteeler duties--were rowed by young follows, mostly, who had adandy eye to their personal appearance. Above all, the officers see toit that the Commodore's Barge and the Captain's Gig are manned bygentlemanly youths, who may do credit to their country, and formagreeable objects for the eyes of the Commodore or Captain to reposeupon as he tranquilly sits in the stern, when pulled ashore by hisbarge-men or gig-men, as the case may be. Some sailors are very fond ofbelonging to the boats, and deem it a great honour to be a _Commodore'sbarge-man_; but others, perceiving no particular distinction in thatoffice, do not court it so much. 

On the second day after arriving at Rio, one of the gig-men fellsick, and, to my no small concern, I found myself temporarilyappointed to his place. 

"Come, White-Jacket, rig yourself in white--that's the gig'suniform to-day; you are a gig-man, my boy--give ye joy!" This wasthe first announcement of the fact that I heard; but soon afterit was officially ratified. 

I was about to seek the First Lieutenant, and plead thescantiness of my wardrobe, which wholly disqualified me to fillso distinguished a station, when I heard the bugler call away the"gig;" and, without more ado, I slipped into a clean frock, whicha messmate doffed for my benefit, and soon after found myselfpulling off his High Mightiness, the Captain, to an Englishseventy-four. 

As we were bounding along, the cockswain suddenly cried "Oars!"At the word every oar was suspended in the air, while ourCommodore's barge floated by, bearing that dignitary himself. Atthe sight, Captain Claret removed his chapeau, and salutedprofoundly, our boat lying motionless on the water. But the bargenever stopped; and the Commodore made but a slight return to theobsequious salute he had received. 

We then resumed rowing, and presently I heard "Oars!" again; butfrom another boat, the second cutter, which turned out to becarrying a Lieutenant ashore. If was now Captain Claret's turn tobe honoured. The cutter lay still, and the Lieutenant off hat;while the Captain only nodded, and we kept on our way. 

This naval etiquette is very much like the etiquette at the GrandPorte of Constantinople, where, after washing the Sublime Sultan'sfeet, the Grand Vizier avenges himself on an Emir, who does the sameoffice for him. 

When we arrived aboard the English seventy-four, the Captain wasreceived with the usual honours, and the gig's crew were conductedbelow, and hospitably regaled with some spirits, served out by orderof the officer of the deck. 

Soon after, the English crew went to quarters; and as they stoodup at their guns, all along the main-deck, a row of beef-fedBritons, stalwart-looking fellows, I was struck with the contrastthey afforded to similar sights on board of the Neversink. 

For on board of us our "_quarters_" showed an array of ratherslender, lean-checked chaps. But then I made no doubt, that, in asea-tussle, these lantern-jawed varlets would have approvedthemselves as slender Damascus blades, nimble and flexible;whereas these Britons would have been, perhaps, as sturdybroadswords. Yet every one remembers that story of Saladin andRichard trying their respective blades; how gallant Richard clovean anvil in twain, or something quite as ponderous, and Saladinelegantly severed a cushion; so that the two monarchs were even--each excelling in his way--though, unfortunately for my simile, in apatriotic point of view, Richard whipped Saladin's armies in the end. 

There happened to be a lord on board of this ship--the youngerson of an earl, they told me. He was a fine-looking fellow. Ichanced to stand by when he put a question to an Irish captain ofa gum; upon the seaman's inadvertently saying sir to him, hislordship looked daggers at the slight; and the sailor touchinghis hat a thousand times, said, "Pardon, your honour; I meant tosay _my lord_, sir!"

I was much pleased with an old white-headed musician, who stoodat the main hatchway, with his enormous bass drum full beforehim, and thumping it sturdily to the tune of "God Save the King!"though small mercy did he have on his drum-heads. Two little boyswere clashing cymbals, and another was blowing a fife, with hischeeks puffed out like the plumpest of his country's plum-puddings. 

When we returned from this trip, there again took place thatceremonious reception of our captain on board the vessel hecommanded, which always had struck me as exceedingly diverting. 

In the first place, while in port, one of the quarter-masters isalways stationed on the poop with a spy-glass, to look out forall boats approaching, and report the same to the officer of thedeck; also, who it is that may be coming in them; so thatpreparations may be made accordingly. As soon, then, as the gigtouched the side, a mighty shrill piping was heard, as if someboys were celebrating the Fourth of July with penny whistles. This proceeded from a boatswain's mate, who, standing at thegangway, was thus honouring the Captain's return after his longand perilous absence. 

The Captain then slowly mounted the ladder, and gravely marchingthrough a lane of "_side-boys_, " so called--all in their bestbibs and tuckers, and who stood making sly faces behind hisback--was received by all the Lieutenants in a body, their hats intheir hands, and making a prodigious scraping and bowing, as ifthey had just graduated at a French dancing-school. Meanwhile, preserving an erect, inflexible, and ram-rod carriage, andslightly touching his chapeau, the Captain made his ceremoniousway to the cabin, disappearing behind the scenes, like thepasteboard ghost in Hamlet. 

But these ceremonies are nothing to those in homage of theCommodore's arrival, even should he depart and arrive twentytimes a day. Upon such occasions, the whole marine guard, exceptthe sentries on duty, are marshalled on the quarter-deck, presenting arms as the Commodore passes them; while theircommanding officer gives the military salute with his sword, asif making masonic signs. Meanwhile, the boatswain himself--not a_boatswain's mate_--is keeping up a persevering whistling withhis silver pipe; for the Commodore is never greeted with the rudewhistle of a boatswain's subaltern; _that_ would be positivelyinsulting. All the Lieutenants and Midshipmen, besides theCaptain himself, are drawn up in a phalanx, and off hat together;and the _side-boys_, whose number is now increased to ten ortwelve, make an imposing display at the gangway; while the wholebrass band, elevated upon the poop, strike up "See! theConquering Hero Comes!" At least, this was the tune that ourCaptain always hinted, by a gesture, to the captain of the band, whenever the Commodore arrived from shore. 

It conveyed a complimentary appreciation, on the Captain's part, of the Commodore's heroism during the late war. 

To return to the gig. As I did not relish the idea of being asort of body-servant to Captain Claret--since his gig-men wereoften called upon to scrub his cabin floor, and perform otherduties for him--I made it my particular business to get rid of myappointment in his boat as soon as possible, and the next dayafter receiving it, succeeded in procuring a substitute, who wasglad of the chance to fill the position I so much undervalued. 

And thus, with our counterlikes and dislikes, most of us men-of-war's-men harmoniously dove-tail into each other, and, by ourvery points of opposition, unite in a clever whole, like theparts of a Chinese puzzle. But as, in a Chinese puzzle, manypieces are hard to place, so there are some unfortunate fellowswho can never slip into their proper angles, and thus the wholepuzzle becomes a puzzle indeed, which is the precise condition ofthe greatest puzzle in the world--this man-of-war world itself. 

CHAPTER XL. 

SOME OF THE CEREMONIES IN A MAN-OF-WAR UNNECESSARY AND INJURIOUS. 

The ceremonials of a man-of-war, some of which have been describedin the preceding chapter, may merit a reflection or two. 

The general usages of the American Navy are founded upon the usagesthat prevailed in the navy of monarchical England more than a centuryago; nor have they been materially altered since. And while bothEngland and America have become greatly liberalised in the interval;while shore pomp in high places has come to be regarded by the moreintelligent masses of men as belonging to the absurd, ridiculous, andmock-heroic; while that most truly august of all the majesties ofearth, the President of the United States, may be seen entering hisresidence with his umbrella under his arm, and no brass band ormilitary guard at his heels, and unostentatiously taking his seat bythe side of the meanest citizen in a public conveyance; while this isthe case, there still lingers in American men-of-war all the stiltedetiquette and childish parade of the old-fashioned Spanish court ofMadrid. Indeed, so far as the things that meet the eye are concerned, an American Commodore is by far a greater man than the President oftwenty millions of freemen. 

But we plain people ashore might very willingly be content to leavethese commodores in the unmolested possession of their gilded pennywhistles, rattles, and gewgaws, since they seem to take so muchpleasure in them, were it not that all this is attended by consequencesto their subordinates in the last degree to be deplored. 

While hardly any one will question that a naval officer should besurrounded by circumstances calculated to impart a requisitedignity to his position, it is not the less certain that, by theexcessive pomp he at present maintains, there is naturally andunavoidably generated a feeling of servility and debasement inthe hearts of most of the seamen who continually behold a fellow-mortal flourishing over their heads like the archangel Michaelwith a thousand wings. And as, in degree, this same pomp is observedtoward their inferiors by all the grades of commissioned officers, even down to a midshipman, the evil is proportionately multiplied. 

It would not at all diminish a proper respect for the officers, and subordination to their authority among the seamen, were allthis idle parade--only ministering to the arrogance of theofficers, without at all benefiting the state--completely doneaway. But to do so, we voters and lawgivers ourselves must be norespecters of persons. 

That saying about _levelling upward, and not downward_, may seemvery fine to those who cannot see its self-involved absurdity. But the truth is, that, to gain the true level, in some things, we _must_ cut downward; for how can you make every sailor acommodore? or how raise the valleys, without filling them up withthe superfluous tops of the hills?

Some discreet, but democratic, legislation in this matter is muchto be desired. And by bringing down naval officers, in thesethings at least, without affecting their legitimate dignity andauthority, we shall correspondingly elevate the common sailor, without relaxing the subordination, in which he should by allmeans be retained. 

CHAPTER XLI. 

A MAN-OF-WAR LIBRARY. 

Nowhere does time pass more heavily than with most men-of-war's-menon board their craft in harbour. 

One of my principal antidotes against _ennui_ in Rio, was reading. There was a public library on board, paid for by government, andintrusted to the custody of one of the marine corporals, a little, dried-up man, of a somewhat literary turn. He had once been a clerkin a post-office ashore; and, having been long accustomed to hand overletters when called for, he was now just the man to hand over books. He kept them in a large cask on the berth-deck, and, when seeking aparticular volume, had to capsize it like a barrel of potatoes. Thismade him very cross and irritable, as most all librarians are. Who hadthe selection of these books, I do not know, but some of them must havebeen selected by our Chaplain, who so pranced on Coleridge's "_HighGerman horse_. "

Mason Good's Book of Nature--a very good book, to be sure, butnot precisely adapted to tarry tastes--was one of these volumes;and Machiavel's Art of War--which was very dry fighting; and afolio of Tillotson's Sermons--the best of reading for divines, indeed, but with little relish for a main-top-man; and Locke'sEssays--incomparable essays, everybody knows, but miserable readingat sea; and Plutarch's Lives--super-excellent biographies, which pitGreek against Roman in beautiful style, but then, in a sailor'sestimation, not to be mentioned with the _Lives of the Admirals_;and Blair's Lectures, University Edition--a fine treatise on rhetoric, but having nothing to say about nautical phrases, such as "_splicingthe main-brace_, " "_passing a gammoning_, " "_puddinging the dolphin_, "and "_making a Carrick-bend_;" besides numerous invaluable butunreadable tomes, that might have been purchased cheap at the auctionof some college-professor's library. 

But I found ample entertainment in a few choice old authors, whomI stumbled upon in various parts of the ship, among the inferiorofficers. One was "_Morgan's History of Algiers_, " a famous oldquarto, abounding in picturesque narratives of corsairs, captives, dungeons, and sea-fights; and making mention of a cruelold Dey, who, toward the latter part of his life, was so filledwith remorse for his cruelties and crimes that he could not stayin bed after four o'clock in the morning, but had to rise ingreat trepidation and walk off his bad feelings till breakfasttime. And another venerable octavo, containing a certificate fromSir Christopher Wren to its authenticity, entitled "_Knox'sCaptivity in Ceylon, 1681_"--abounding in stories about theDevil, who was superstitiously supposed to tyrannise over thatunfortunate land: to mollify him, the priests offered upbuttermilk, red cocks, and sausages; and the Devil ran roaringabout in the woods, frightening travellers out of their wits;insomuch that the Islanders bitterly lamented to Knox that theircountry was full of devils, and consequently, there was no hopefor their eventual well-being. Knox swears that he himself heardthe Devil roar, though he did not see his horns; it was aterrible noise, he says, like the baying of a hungry mastiff. 

Then there was Walpole's Letters--very witty, pert, and polite--and some odd volumes of plays, each of which was a preciouscasket of jewels of good things, shaming the trash nowadayspassed off for dramas, containing "The Jew of Malta, " "OldFortunatus, " "The City Madam. " "Volpone, " "The Alchymist, " andother glorious old dramas of the age of Marlow and Jonson, andthat literary Damon and Pythias, the magnificent, mellow oldBeaumont and Fletcher, who have sent the long shadow of theirreputation, side by side with Shakspeare's, far down the endlessvale of posterity. And may that shadow never be less! but as forSt. Shakspeare may his never be more, lest the commentatorsarise, and settling upon his sacred text like unto locusts, devour it clean up, leaving never a dot over an I. 

I diversified this reading of mine, by borrowing Moore's "_Lovesof the Angels_" from Rose-water, who recommended it as "_decharmingest of volumes;_" and a Negro Song-book, containing_Sittin' on a Rail_, _Gumbo Squash_, and _Jim along Josey_, fromBroadbit, a sheet-anchor-man. The sad taste of this old tar, inadmiring such vulgar stuff, was much denounced by Rose-water, whose own predilections were of a more elegant nature, as evincedby his exalted opinion of the literary merits of the "_Loves ofthe Angels_. "

I was by no means the only reader of books on board the Neversink. Several other sailors were diligent readers, though their studiesdid not lie in the way of belles-lettres. Their favourite authorswere such as you may find at the book-stalls around Fulton Market;they were slightly physiological in their nature. My book experienceson board of the frigate proved an example of a fact which everybook-lover must have experienced before me, namely, that though publiclibraries have an imposing air, and doubtless contain invaluablevolumes, yet, somehow, the books that prove most agreeable, grateful, and companionable, are those we pick up by chance here and there;those which seem put into our hands by Providence; those which pretendto little, but abound in much. 

CHAPTER XLII. 

KILLLNG TIME IN A MAN-OF-WAR IN HARBOUR. 

Reading was by no means the only method adopted by my shipmatesin whiling away the long, tedious hours in harbour. In truth, many of them could not have read, had they wanted to ever somuch; in early youth their primers had been sadly neglected. Still, they had other pursuits; some were experts at the needle, and employed their time in making elaborate shirts, stitchingpicturesque eagles, and anchors, and all the stars of thefederated states in the collars thereof; so that when they atlast completed and put on these shirts, they may be said to havehoisted the American colors. 

Others excelled in _tattooing_ or _pricking_, as it is called ina man-of-war. Of these prickers, two had long been celebrated, intheir way, as consummate masters of the art. Each had a small boxfull of tools and colouring matter; and they charged so high fortheir services, that at the end of the cruise they were supposedto have cleared upward of four hundred dollars. They would_prick_ you to order a palm-tree, or an anchor, a crucifix, alady, a lion, an eagle, or anything else you might want. 

The Roman Catholic sailors on board had at least the crucifixpricked on their arms, and for this reason: If they chanced todie in a Catholic land, they would be sure of a decent burial inconsecrated ground, as the priest would be sure to observe thesymbol of Mother Church on their persons. They would not fare asProtestant sailors dying in Callao, who are shoved under thesands of St. Lorenzo, a solitary, volcanic island in the harbour, overrun with rep-tiles, their heretical bodies not beingpermitted to repose in the more genial loam of Lima. 

And many sailors not Catholics were anxious to have the crucifixpainted on them, owing to a curious superstition of theirs. Theyaffirm--some of them--that if you have that mark tattooed upon allfour limbs, you might fall overboard among seven hundred andseventy-five thousand white sharks, all dinnerless, and not oneof them would so much as dare to smell at your little finger. 

We had one fore-top-man on board, who, during the entire cruise, was having an endless cable _pricked_ round and round his waist, so that, when his frock was off, he looked like a capstan with ahawser coiled round about it. This fore-top-man paid eighteenpence per link for the cable, besides being on the smart thewhole cruise, suffering the effects of his repeated puncturings;so he paid very dear for his cable. 

One other mode of passing time while in port was cleaning andpolishing your _bright-work_; for it must be known that, in men-of-war, every sailor has some brass or steel of one kind or otherto keep in high order--like housemaids, whose business it is tokeep well-polished the knobs on the front door railing and theparlour-grates. 

Excepting the ring-bolts, eye-bolts, and belaying-pins scatteredabout the decks, this bright-work, as it is called, is principallyabout the guns, embracing the "_monkey-tails_" of the carronades, the screws, _prickers_, little irons, and other things. 

The portion that fell to my own share I kept in superior order, quite equal in polish to Rogers's best cutlery. I received themost extravagant encomiums from the officers; one of whom offeredto match me against any brazier or brass-polisher in her BritishMajesty's Navy. Indeed, I devoted myself to the work body andsoul, and thought no pains too painful, and no labour toolaborious, to achieve the highest attainable polish possible forus poor lost sons of Adam to reach. 

Upon one occasion, even, when woollen rags were scarce, and noburned-brick was to be had from the ship's Yeoman, I sacrificedthe corners of my woollen shirt, and used some dentrifice I had, as substitutes for the rags and burned-brick. The dentrificeoperated delightfully, and made the threading of my carronadescrew shine and grin again, like a set of false teeth in an eagerheiress-hunter's mouth. 

Still another mode of passing time, was arraying yourself in yourbest "_togs_" and promenading up and down the gun-deck, admiringthe shore scenery from the port-holes, which, in an amphitheatricalbay like Rio--belted about by the most varied and charming sceneryof hill, dale, moss, meadow, court, castle, tower, grove, vine, vineyard, aqueduct, palace, square, island, fort--is very muchlike lounging round a circular cosmorama, and ever and anonlazily peeping through the glasses here and there. Oh! there issomething worth living for, even in our man-of-war world;and one glimpse of a bower of grapes, though a cable's length off, is almost satisfaction for dining off a shank-bone salted down. 

This promenading was chiefly patronised by the marines, andparticularly by Colbrook, a remarkably handsome and verygentlemanly corporal among them. He was a complete lady's man;with fine black eyes, bright red cheeks, glossy jet whiskers, anda refined organisation of the whole man. He used to array himselfin his regimentals, and saunter about like an officer of theColdstream Guards, strolling down to his club in St. James's. Every time he passed me, he would heave a sentimental sigh, andhum to himself "_The girl I left behind me_. " This fine corporalafterward became a representative in the Legislature of the Stateof New Jersey; for I saw his name returned about a year after myreturn home. 

But, after all, there was not much room, while in port, forpromenading, at least on the gun-deck, for the whole larboardside is kept clear for the benefit of the officers, who appreciatethe advantages of having a clear stroll fore and aft; and they wellknow that the sailors had much better be crowded together on theother side than that the set of their own coat-tails should beimpaired by brushing against their tarry trowsers. 

One other way of killing time while in port is playing checkers;that is, when it is permitted; for it is not every navy captainwho will allow such a scandalous proceeding, But, as for CaptainClaret, though he _did_ like his glass of Madeira uncommonlywell, and was an undoubted descendant from the hero of the Battleof the Brandywine, and though he sometimes showed a suspiciouslyflushed face when superintending in person the flogging of asailor for getting intoxicated against his particular orders, yetI will say for Captain Claret that, upon the whole, he was ratherindulgent to his crew, so long as they were perfectly docile. Heallowed them to play checkers as much as they pleased. More thanonce I have known him, when going forward to the forecastle, pickhis way carefully among scores of canvas checker-cloths spreadupon the deck, so as not to tread upon the men--the checker-menand man-of-war's-men included; but, in a certain sense, they wereboth one; for, as the sailors used their checker-men, so, atquarters, their officers used these man-of-war's men. 

But Captain Claret's leniency in permitting checkers on board hisship might have arisen from the following little circumstance, confidentially communicated to me. Soon after the ship had sailedfrom home, checkers were prohibited; whereupon the sailors wereexasperated against the Captain, and one night, when he was walkinground the forecastle, bim! came an iron belaying-pin past his ears;and while he was dodging that, bim! came another, from the other side;so that, it being a very dark night, and nobody to be seen, and itbeing impossible to find out the trespassers, he thought it best toget back into his cabin as soon as possible. Some time after--just asif the belaying-pins had nothing to do with it--it was indirectlyrumoured that the checker-boards might be brought out again, which--asa philosophical shipmate observed--showed that Captain Claret was aman of a ready understanding, and could understand a hint as wellas any other man, even when conveyed by several pounds of iron. 

Some of the sailors were very precise about their checker-cloths, and even went so far that they would not let you play with themunless you first washed your hands, especially if so be you hadjust come from tarring down the rigging. 

Another way of beguiling the tedious hours, is to get a cosy seatsomewhere, and fall into as snug a little reverie as you can. Orif a seat is not to be had--which is frequently the case--thenget a tolerably comfortable _stand-up_ against the bulwarks, andbegin to think about home and bread and butter--always inseparablyconnected to a wanderer--which will very soon bring delicious tearsinto your eyes; for every one knows what a luxury is grief, when youcan get a private closet to enjoy it in, and no Paul Prys intrude. Several of my shore friends, indeed, when suddenly overwhelmed by somedisaster, always make a point of flying to the first oyster-cellar, and shutting themselves up in a box with nothing but a plate of stewedoysters, some crackers, the castor, and a decanter of old port. 

Still another way of killing time in harbour, is to lean over thebulwarks, and speculate upon where, under the sun, you are going to bethat day next year, which is a subject full of interest to every livingsoul; so much so, that there is a particular day of a particular monthof the year, which, from my earliest recollections, I have always keptthe run of, so that I can even now tell just where I was on thatidentical day of every year past since I was twelve years old. And, when I am all alone, to run over this almanac in my mind is almost asentertaining as to read your own diary, and far more interesting thanto peruse a table of logarithms on a rainy afternoon. I always keep theanniversary of that day with lamb and peas, and a pint of sherry, forit comes in Spring. But when it came round in the Neversink, I couldget neither lamb, peas, nor sherry. 

But perhaps the best way to drive the hours before you four-in-hand, is to select a soft plank on the gun-deck, and go to sleep. A finespecific, which seldom fails, unless, to be sure, you have beensleeping all the twenty-four hours beforehand. 

Whenever employed in killing time in harbour, I have liftedmyself up on my elbow and looked around me, and seen so many ofmy shipmates all employed at the same common business; all underlock and key; all hopeless prisoners like myself; all undermartial law; all dieting on salt beef and biscuit; all in oneuniform; all yawning, gaping, and stretching in concert, it wasthen that I used to feel a certain love and affection for them, grounded, doubtless, on a fellow-feeling. 

And though, in a previous part of this narrative, I havementioned that I used to hold myself somewhat aloof from the massof seamen on board the Neversink; and though this was true, andmy real acquaintances were comparatively few, and my intimatesstill fewer, yet, to tell the truth, it is quite impossible tolive so long with five hundred of your fellow-beings, even if notof the best families in the land, and with morals that would notbe spoiled by further cultivation; it is quite impossible, I say, to live with five hundred of your fellow-beings, be they who theymay, without feeling a common sympathy with them at the time, andever after cherishing some sort of interest in their welfare. 

The truth of this was curiously corroborated by a ratherequivocal acquaintance of mine, who, among the men, went by thename of "_Shakings_. " He belonged to the fore-hold, whence, of adark night, he would sometimes emerge to chat with the sailors ondeck. I never liked the man's looks; I protest it was a mereaccident that gave me the honour of his acquaintance, andgenerally I did my best to avoid him, when he would comeskulking, like a jail-bird, out of his den into the liberal, openair of the sky. Nevertheless, the anecdote this _holder_ told meis well worth preserving, more especially the extraordinary franknessevinced in his narrating such a thing to a comparative stranger. 

The substance of his story was as follows: Shakings, it seems, had once been a convict in the New York State's Prison at SingSing, where he had been for years confined for a crime, which hegave me his solemn word of honour he was wholly innocent of. Hetold me that, after his term had expired, and he went out intothe world again, he never could stumble upon any of his old SingSing associates without dropping into a public house and talkingover old times. And when fortune would go hard with him, and hefelt out of sorts, and incensed at matters and things in general, he told me that, at such time, he almost wished he was back againin Sing Sing, where he was relieved from all anxieties about whathe should eat and drink, and was supported, like the President ofthe United States and Prince Albert, at the public charge. Heused to have such a snug little cell, he said, all to himself, and never felt afraid of house-breakers, for the walls wereuncommonly thick, and his door was securely bolted for him, and awatchman was all the time walking up and down in the passage, while he himself was fast asleep and dreaming. To this, insubstance, the _holder_ added, that he narrated this anecdotebecause he thought it applicable to a man-of-war, which hescandalously asserted to be a sort of State Prison afloat. 

Concerning the curious disposition to fraternise and be sociable, which this Shakings mentioned as characteristic of the convictsliberated from his old homestead at Sing Sing, it may well beasked, whether it may not prove to be some feeling, somehow akinto the reminiscent impulses which influenced them, that shallhereafter fraternally reunite all us mortals, when we shall haveexchanged this State's Prison man-of-war world of ours foranother and a better. 

From the foregoing account of the great difficulty we had inkilling time while in port, it must not be inferred that on boardof the Neversink in Rio there was literally no work to be done, at long intervals the _launch_ would come alongside with water-casks, to be emptied into iron tanks in the hold. In this waynearly fifty thousand gallons, as chronicled in the books of themaster's mate, were decanted into the ship's bowels--a ninetyday's allowance. With this huge Lake Ontario in us, the mightyNeversink might be said to resemble the united continent of theEastern Hemisphere--floating in a vast ocean herself, and havinga Mediterranean floating in her. 

CHAPTER XLIII. 

SMUGGLING IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

It is in a good degree owing to the idleness just described, that, while lying in harbour, the man-of-war's-man is exposed tothe most temptations and gets into his saddest scrapes. Forthough his vessel be anchored a mile from the shore, and hersides are patrolled by sentries night and day, yet these thingscannot entirely prevent the seductions of the land from reachinghim. The prime agent in working his calamities in port is his oldarch-enemy, the ever-devilish god of grog. 

Immured as the man-of-war's-man is, serving out his weary threeyears in a sort of sea-Newgate, from which he cannot escape, either by the roof or burrowing underground, he too often fliesto the bottle to seek relief from the intolerable ennui ofnothing to do, and nowhere to go. His ordinary governmentallowance of spirits, one gill per diem, is not enough to give asufficient to his listless senses; he pronounces his grog basely_watered_; he scouts at it as _thinner than muslin;_ he craves amore vigorous _nip at the cable_, a more sturdy _swig at thehalyards;_ and if opium were to be had, many would steepthemselves a thousand fathoms down in the densest fumes of thatoblivious drug. Tell him that the delirium tremens and the mania-a-potu lie in ambush for drunkards, he will say to you, "Let thembear down upon me, then, before the wind; anything that smacks oflife is better than to feel Davy Jones's chest-lid on your nose. "He is reckless as an avalanche; and though his fall destroyhimself and others, yet a ruinous commotion is better than beingfrozen fast in unendurable solitudes. No wonder, then, that hegoes all lengths to procure the thing he craves; no wonder thathe pays the most exorbitant prices, breaks through all law, andbraves the ignominious lash itself, rather than be deprived ofhis stimulus. 

Now, concerning no one thing in a man-of-war, are the regulationsmore severe than respecting the smuggling of grog, and beingfound intoxicated. For either offence there is but one penalty, invariably enforced; and that is the degradation of the gangway. 

All conceivable precautions are taken by most frigate-executivesto guard against the secret admission of spirits into the vessel. In the first place, no shore-boat whatever is allowed to approacha man-of-war in a foreign harbour without permission from theofficer of the deck. Even the _bum-boats_, the small craftlicensed by the officers to bring off fruit for the sailors, tobe bought out of their own money--these are invariably inspectedbefore permitted to hold intercourse with the ship's company. Andnot only this, but every one of the numerous ship's boats--keptalmost continually plying to and from the shore--are similarlyinspected, sometimes each boat twenty times in the day. 

This inspection is thus performed: The boat being descried by thequarter-master from the poop, she is reported to the deckofficer, who thereupon summons the master-at-arms, the ship'schief of police. This functionary now stations himself at thegangway, and as the boat's crew, one by one, come up the side, hepersonally overhauls them, making them take off their hats, andthen, placing both hands upon their heads, draws his palms slowlydown to their feet, carefully feeling all unusual protuberances. If nothing suspicious is felt, the man is let pass; and so on, till the whole boat's crew, averaging about sixteen men, areexamined. The chief of police then descends into the boat, andwalks from stem to stern, eyeing it all over, and poking his longrattan into every nook and cranny. This operation concluded, andnothing found, he mounts the ladder, touches his hat to the deck-officer, and reports the boat _clean_; whereupon she is hauledout to the booms. 

Thus it will be seen that not a man of the ship's company everenters the vessel from shore without it being rendered next toimpossible, apparently, that he should have succeeded in smugglinganything. Those individuals who are permitted to board the shipwithout undergoing this ordeal, are only persons whom it would bepreposterous to search--such as the Commodore himself, the Captain, Lieutenants, etc. , and gentlemen and ladies coming as visitors. 

For anything to be clandestinely thrust through the lower port-holes at night, is rendered very difficult, from the watchfulnessof the quarter-master in hailing all boats that approach, longbefore they draw alongside, and the vigilance of the sentries, posted on platforms overhanging the water, whose orders are tofire into a strange boat which, after being warned to withdraw, should still persist in drawing nigh. Moreover, thirty-two-poundshots are slung to ropes, and suspended over the bows, to drop ahole into and sink any small craft, which, spite of all precautions, by strategy should succeed in getting under the bows with liquor bynight. Indeed, the whole power of martial law is enlisted in thismatter; and every one of the numerous officers of the ship, besideshis general zeal in enforcing the regulations, acids to that apersonal feeling, since the sobriety of the men abridges his owncares and anxieties. 

How then, it will be asked, in the face of an argus-eyed police, and in defiance even of bayonets and bullets, do men-of-war's-mencontrive to smuggle their spirits? Not to enlarge upon minorstratagems--every few days detected, and rendered naught (such asrolling up, in a handkerchief, a long, slender "skin" of grog, like a sausage, and in that manner ascending to the deck out of aboat just from shore; or openly bringing on board cocoa-nuts andmelons, procured from a knavish bum-boat filled with spirits, instead of milk or water)--we will only mention here two or threeother modes, coming under my own observation. 

While in Rio, a fore-top-man, belonging to the second cutter, paid down the money, and made an arrangement with a personencountered at the Palace-landing ashore, to the followingeffect. Of a certain moonless night, he was to bring off threegallons of spirits, _in skins_, and moor them to the frigate'sanchor-buoy--some distance from the vessel--attaching somethingheavy, to sink them out of sight. In the middle watch of thenight, the fore-top-man slips out of his hammock, and by creepingalong in the shadows, eludes the vigilance of the master-at-armsand his mates, gains a port-hole, and softly lowers himself intothe water, almost without creating a ripple--the sentriesmarching to and fro on their overhanging platform above him. Heis an expert swimmer, and paddles along under the surface, everynow and then rising a little, and lying motionless on his back tobreathe--little but his nose exposed. The buoy gained, he cutsthe skins adrift, ties them round his body, and in the sameadroit manner makes good his return. 

This feat is very seldom attempted, for it needs the utmostcaution, address, and dexterity; and no one but a super-expertburglar, and faultless Leander of a swimmer, could achieve it. 

From the greater privileges which they enjoy, the "_forwardofficers_, " that is, the Gunner, Boatswain, etc. , have muchgreater opportunities for successful smuggling than the commonseamen. Coming alongside one night in a cutter, Yarn, ourboatswain, in some inexplicable way, contrived to slip severalskins of brandy through the air-port of his own state-room. Thefeat, however, must have been perceived by one of the boat'screw, who immediately, on gaining the deck, sprung down theladders, stole into the boatswain's room, and made away with theprize, not three minutes before the rightful owner entered toclaim it. Though, from certain circumstances, the thief was knownto the aggrieved party, yet the latter could say nothing, sincehe himself had infringed the law. But the next day, in thecapacity of captain of the ship's executioners, Yarn had thesatisfaction (it was so to him) of standing over the robber atthe gangway; for, being found intoxicated with the very liquorthe boatswain himself had smuggled, the man had been condemned toa flogging. 

This recalls another instance, still more illustrative of theknotted, trebly intertwisted villainy, accumulating at a sort ofcompound interest in a man-of-war. The cockswain of the Commodore'sbarge takes his crew apart, one by one, and cautiously sounds themas to their fidelity--not to the United States of America, but tohimself. Three individuals, whom he deems doubtful--that is, faithfulto the United States of America--he procures to be discharged fromthe barge, and men of his own selection are substituted; for he isalways an influential character, this cockswain of the Commodore'sbarge. Previous to this, however, he has seen to it well, that noTemperance men--that is, sailors who do not draw their governmentration of grog, but take the money for it--he has seen to it, thatnone of these _balkers_ are numbered among his crew. Having now provedhis men, he divulges his plan to the assembled body; a solemn oath ofsecrecy is obtained, and he waits the first fit opportunity to carryinto execution his nefarious designs. 

At last it comes. One afternoon the barge carries the Commodoreacross the Bay to a fine water-side settlement of noblemen'sseats, called Praya Grande. The Commodore is visiting aPortuguese marquis, and the pair linger long over their dinner inan arbour in the garden. Meanwhile, the cockswain has liberty toroam about where he pleases. He searches out a place where somechoice _red-eye_ (brandy) is to be had, purchases six largebottles, and conceals them among the trees. Under the pretence offilling the boat-keg with water, which is always kept in thebarge to refresh the crew, he now carries it off into the grove, knocks out the head, puts the bottles inside, reheads the keg, fills it with water, carries it down to the boat, and audaciouslyrestores it to its conspicuous position in the middle, with itsbung-hole up. When the Commodore comes down to the beach, andthey pull off for the ship, the cockswain, in a loud voice, commands the nearest man to take that bung out of the keg--thatprecious water will spoil. Arrived alongside the frigate, theboat's crew are overhauled, as usual, at the gangway; and nothingbeing found on them, are passed. The master-at-arms nowdescending into the barge, and finding nothing suspicious, reports it _clean_, having put his finger into the open bung ofthe keg and tasted that the water was pure. The barge is orderedout to the booms, and deep night is waited for, ere the cockswainessays to snatch the bottles from the keg. 

But, unfortunately for the success of this masterly smuggler, oneof his crew is a weak-pated fellow, who, having drank somewhatfreely ashore, goes about the gun-deck throwing out profound, tipsy hints concerning some unutterable proceeding on the ship'sanvil. A knowing old sheet-anchor-man, an unprincipled fellow, putting this, that, and the other together, ferrets out themystery; and straightway resolves to reap the goodly harvestwhich the cockswain has sowed. He seeks him out, takes him to oneside, and addresses him thus:

"Cockswain, you have been smuggling off some _red-eye_, which atthis moment is in your barge at the booms. Now, cockswain, I havestationed two of my mess-mates at the port-holes, on that side ofthe ship; and if they report to me that you, or any of yourbargemen, offer to enter that barge before morning, I willimmediately report you as a smuggler to the officer of the deck. "

The cockswain is astounded; for, to be reported to the deck-officer as a smuggler, would inevitably procure him a soundflogging, and be the disgraceful _breaking_ of him as a pettyofficer, receiving four dollars a month beyond his pay as an ableseaman. He attempts to bribe the other to secrecy, by promisinghalf the profits of the enterprise; but the sheet-anchor-man'sintegrity is like a rock; he is no mercenary, to be bought up fora song. The cockswain, therefore, is forced to swear that neitherhimself, nor any of his crew, shall enter the barge beforemorning. This done, the sheet-anchor-man goes to his confidants, and arranges his plans. In a word, he succeeds in introducing thesix brandy bottles into the ship; five of which he sells at eightdollars a bottle; and then, with the sixth, between two guns, hesecretly regales himself and confederates; while the helplesscockswain, stifling his rage, bitterly eyes them from afar. 

Thus, though they say that there is honour among thieves, thereis little among man-of-war smugglers. 

CHAPTER XLIV. 

A KNAVE IN OFFICE IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

The last smuggling story now about to be related also occurredwhile we lay in Rio. It is the more particularly presented, sinceit furnishes the most curious evidence of the almost incrediblecorruption pervading nearly all ranks in some men-of-war. 

For some days, the number of intoxicated sailors collared andbrought up to the mast by the master-at-arms, to be reported tothe deck-officers--previous to a flogging at the gangway--had, inthe last degree, excited the surprise and vexation of the Captainand senior officers. So strict were the Captain's regulationsconcerning the suppression of grog-smuggling, and so particularhad he been in charging the matter upon all the Lieutenants, andevery understrapper official in the frigate, that he was whollyat a loss how so large a quantity of spirits could have beenspirited into the ship, in the face of all these checks, guards, and precautions. 

Still additional steps were adopted to detect the smugglers; andBland, the master-at-arms, together with his corporals, were publiclyharangued at the mast by the Captain in person, and charged to exerttheir best powers in suppressing the traffic. Crowds were present atthe time, and saw the master-at-arms touch his cap in obsequioushomage, as he solemnly assured the Captain that he would stillcontinue to do his best; as, indeed, he said he had always done. He concluded with a pious ejaculation expressive of his personalabhorrence of smuggling and drunkenness, and his fixed resolution, so help him Heaven, to spend his last wink in sitting up by night, to spy out all deeds of darkness. 

"I do not doubt you, master-at-arms, " returned the Captain; "now goto your duty. " This master-at-arms was a favourite of the Captain's. 

The next morning, before breakfast, when the market-boat came off(that is, one of the ship's boats regularly deputed to bring offthe daily fresh provisions for the officers)--when this boat cameoff, the master-at-arms, as usual, after carefully examining bothher and her crew, reported them to the deck-officer to be freefrom suspicion. The provisions were then hoisted out, and amongthem came a good-sized wooden box, addressed to "Mr. ------ Purserof the United States ship Neversink. " Of course, any privatematter of this sort, destined for a gentleman of the ward-room, was sacred from examination, and the master-at-arms commanded oneof his corporals to carry it down into the Purser's state-room. But recent occurrences had sharpened the vigilance of the deck-officer to an unwonted degree, and seeing the box going down thehatchway, he demanded what that was, and whom it was for. 

"All right, sir, " said the master-at-arms, touching his cap;"stores for the Purser, sir. "

"Let it remain on deck, " said the Lieutenant. "Mr. Montgomery!"calling a midshipman, "ask the Purser whether there is any boxcoming off for him this morning. "

"Ay, ay, sir, " said the middy, touching his cap. 

Presently he returned, saying that the Purser was ashore. 

"Very good, then; Mr. Montgomery, have that box put into the 'brig, 'with strict orders to the sentry not to suffer any one to touch it. "

"Had I not better take it down into my mess, sir, till the Pursercomes off?" said the master-at-arms, deferentially. 

"I have given my orders, sir!" said the Lieutenant, turning away. 

When the Purser came on board, it turned out that he knew nothing atall about the box. He had never so much as heard of it in his life. So it was again brought up before the deck-officer, who immediatelysummoned the master-at-arms. 

"Break open that box!"

"Certainly, sir!" said the master-at-arms; and, wrenching off thecover, twenty-five brown jugs like a litter of twenty-five brown pigs, were found snugly nestled in a bed of straw. 

"The smugglers are at work, sir, " said the master-at-arms, looking up. 

"Uncork and taste it, " said the officer. 

The master-at-arms did so; and, smacking his lips after a puzzledfashion, was a little doubtful whether it was American whisky orHolland gin; but he said he was not used to liquor. 

"Brandy; I know it by the smell, " said the officer; "return thebox to the brig. "

"Ay, ay, sir, " said the master-at-arms, redoubling his activity. 

The affair was at once reported to the Captain, who, incensed atthe audacity of the thing, adopted every plan to detect theguilty parties. Inquiries were made ashore; but by whom the boxhad been brought down to the market-boat there was no findingout. Here the matter rested for a time. 

Some days after, one of the boys of the mizzen-top was flogged fordrunkenness, and, while suspended in agony at the gratings, was madeto reveal from whom he had procured his spirits. The man was called, and turned out to be an old superannuated marine, one Scriggs, who didthe cooking for the marine-sergeants and masters-at-arms' mess. Thismarine was one of the most villainous-looking fellows in the ship, with a squinting, pick-lock, gray eye, and hang-dog gallows gait. Howsuch a most unmartial vagabond had insinuated himself into thehonourable marine corps was a perfect mystery. He had always beennoted for his personal uncleanliness, and among all hands, fore andaft, had the reputation of being a notorious old miser, who deniedhimself the few comforts, and many of the common necessaries of aman-of-war life. 

Seeing no escape, Scriggs fell on his knees before the Captain, and confessed the charge of the boy. Observing the fellow to bein an agony of fear at the sight of the boat-swain's mates andtheir lashes, and all the striking parade of public punishment, the Captain must have thought this a good opportunity forcompletely pumping him of all his secrets. This terrified marinewas at length forced to reveal his having been for some time anaccomplice in a complicated system of underhand villainy, thehead of which was no less a personage than the indefatigablechief of police, the master-at-arms himself. It appeared thatthis official had his confidential agents ashore, who suppliedhim with spirits, and in various boxes, packages, and bundles--addressed to the Purser and others--brought them down to thefrigate's boats at the landing. Ordinarily, the appearance ofthese things for the Purser and other ward-room gentlemenoccasioned no surprise; for almost every day some bundle or otheris coming off for them, especially for the Purser; and, as themaster-at-arms was always present on these occasions, it was aneasy matter for him to hurry the smuggled liquor out of sight, and, under pretence of carrying the box or bundle down to thePurser's room, hide it away upon his own premises. 

The miserly marine, Scriggs, with the pick-lock eye, was the manwho clandestinely sold the spirits to the sailors, thuscompletely keeping the master-at-arms in the background. Theliquor sold at the most exorbitant prices; at one time reachingtwelve dollars the bottle in cash, and thirty dollars a bottle inorders upon the Purser, to be honored upon the frigate's arrivalhome. It may seem incredible that such prices should have beengiven by the sailors; but when some man-of-war's-men craveliquor, and it is hard to procure, they would almost barter tenyears of their life-time for but one solitary "_tot_" if they could. 

The sailors who became intoxicated with the liquor thus smuggled onboard by the master-at-arms, were, in almost numberless instances, officially seized by that functionary and scourged at the gangway. In a previous place it has been shown how conspicuous a part themaster-at-arms enacts at this scene. 

The ample profits of this iniquitous business were divided, between all the parties concerned in it; Scriggs, the marine, coming in for one third. His cook's mess-chest being brought ondeck, four canvas bags of silver were found in it, amounting to asum something short of as many hundred dollars. 

The guilty parties were scourged, double-ironed, and for severalweeks were confined in the "brig" under a sentry; all but themaster-at-arms, who was merely cashiered and imprisoned for atime; with bracelets at his wrists. Upon being liberated, he wasturned adrift among the ship's company; and by way of disgracinghim still more, was thrust into the _waist_, the most ingloriousdivision of the ship. 

Upon going to dinner one day, I found him soberly seated at myown mess; and at first I could not but feel some very seriousscruples about dining with him. Nevertheless, he was a man tostudy and digest; so, upon a little reflection; I was notdispleased at his presence. It amazed me, however, that he hadwormed himself into the mess, since so many of the other messeshad declined the honour, until at last, I ascertained that he hadinduced a mess-mate of ours, a distant relation of his, to prevailupon the cook to admit him. 

Now it would not have answered for hardly any other mess in theship to have received this man among them, for it would have torna huge rent in their reputation; but our mess, A. No. 1--theForty-two-pounder Club--was composed of so fine a set of fellows;so many captains of tops, and quarter-masters--men of undeniablemark on board ship--of long-established standing and considerationon the gun-deck; that, with impunity, we could do so many equivocalthings, utterly inadmissible for messes of inferior pretension. Besides, though we all abhorred the monster of Sin itself, yet, fromour social superiority, highly rarified education in our lofty top, and large and liberal sweep of the aggregate of things, we were ina good degree free from those useless, personal prejudices, andgalling hatreds against conspicuous _sinners_, not _Sin_--which sowidely prevail among men of warped understandings and unchristian anduncharitable hearts. No; the superstitions and dogmas concerning Sinhad not laid their withering maxims upon our hearts. We perceived howthat evil was but good disguised, and a knave a saint in his way;how that in other planets, perhaps, what we deem wrong, may therebe deemed right; even as some substances, without undergoing anymutations in themselves utterly change their colour, according tothe light thrown upon them. We perceived that the anticipatedmillennium must have begun upon the morning the first words werecreated; and that, taken all in all, our man-of-war world itselfwas as eligible a round-sterned craft as any to be found in theMilky Way. And we fancied that though some of us, of the gun-deck, were at times condemned to sufferings and blights, and allmanner of tribulation and anguish, yet, no doubt, it was only ourmisapprehension of these things that made us take them for woefulpains instead of the most agreeable pleasures. I have dreamed ofa sphere, says Pinzella, where to break a man on the wheel isheld the most exquisite of delights you can confer upon him;where for one gentleman in any way to vanquish another isaccounted an everlasting dishonour; where to tumble one into apit after death, and then throw cold clods upon his upturnedface, is a species of contumely, only inflicted upon the mostnotorious criminals. 

But whatever we mess-mates thought, in whatever circumstances wefound ourselves, we never forgot that our frigate, had as it was, was homeward-bound. Such, at least, were our reveries at times, though sorely jarred, now and then, by events that took ourphilosophy aback. For after all, philosophy--that is, the bestwisdom that has ever in any way been revealed to our man-of-warworld--is but a slough and a mire, with a few tufts of goodfooting here and there. 

But there was one man in the mess who would have naught to dowith our philosophy--a churlish, ill-tempered, unphilosophical, superstitious old bear of a quarter-gunner; a believer in Tophet, for which he was accordingly preparing himself. Priming was hisname; but methinks I have spoken of him before. 

Besides, this Bland, the master-at-arms, was no vulgar, dirty knave. In him--to modify Burke's phrase--vice _seemed_, but only seemed, tolose half its seeming evil by losing all its apparent grossness. Hewas a neat and gentlemanly villain, and broke his biscuit with adainty hand. There was a fine polish about his whole person, and apliant, insinuating style in his conversation, that was, socially, quite irresistible. Save my noble captain, Jack Chase, he provedhimself the most entertaining, I had almost said the most companionableman in the mess. Nothing but his mouth, that was somewhat small, Moorish-arched, and wickedly delicate, and his snaky, black eye, thatat times shone like a dark-lantern in a jeweller-shop at midnight, betokened the accomplished scoundrel within. But in his conversationthere was no trace of evil; nothing equivocal; he studiously shunnedan indelicacy, never swore, and chiefly abounded in passing puns andwitticisms, varied with humorous contrasts between ship and shorelife, and many agreeable and racy anecdotes, very tastefully narrated. In short--in a merely psychological point of view, at least--he was acharming blackleg. Ashore, such a man might have been an irreproachablemercantile swindler, circulating in polite society. 

But he was still more than this. Indeed, I claim for this master-at-arms a lofty and honourable niche in the Newgate Calendar ofhistory. His intrepidity, coolness, and wonderful self-possession in calmly resigning himself to a fate that thrust himfrom an office in which he had tyrannised over five hundredmortals, many of whom hated and loathed him, passed all belief;his intrepidity, I say, in now fearlessly gliding among them, like a disarmed swordfish among ferocious white-sharks; this, surely, bespoke no ordinary man. While in office, even, his lifehad often been secretly attempted by the seamen whom he hadbrought to the gangway. Of dark nights they had dropped shot downthe hatchways, destined "to damage his pepper-box, " as theyphrased it; they had made ropes with a hangman's noose at the endand tried to _lasso_ him in dark corners. And now he was adriftamong them, under notorious circumstances of superlativevillainy, at last dragged to light; and yet he blandly smiled, politely offered his cigar-holder to a perfect stranger, andlaughed and chatted to right and left, as if springy, buoyant, and elastic, with an angelic conscience, and sure of kind friendswherever he went, both in this life and the life to come. 

While he was lying ironed in the "brig, " gangs of the men weresometimes overheard whispering about the terrible reception theywould give him when he should be set at large. Nevertheless, whenliberated, they seemed confounded by his erect and cordial assurance, his gentlemanly sociability and fearless companionableness. Frombeing an implacable policeman, vigilant, cruel, and remorseless inhis office, however polished in his phrases, he was now become adisinterested, sauntering man of leisure, winking at all improprieties, and ready to laugh and make merry with any one. Still, at first, themen gave him a wide berth, and returned scowls for his smiles; butwho can forever resist the very Devil himself, when he comes in theguise of a gentleman, free, fine, and frank? Though Goethe's piousMargaret hates the Devil in his horns and harpooner's tail, yet shesmiles and nods to the engaging fiend in the persuasive, _winning_, oily, wholly harmless Mephistopheles. But, however it was, I, for one, regarded this master-at-arms with mixed feelings of detestation, pity, admiration, and something op-posed to enmity. I could not butabominate him when I thought of his conduct; but I pitied the continualgnawing which, under all his deftly-donned disguises, I saw lying atthe bottom of his soul. I admired his heroism in sustaining himselfso well under such reverses. And when I thought how arbitrary the_Articles of War_ are in defining a man-of-war villain; how muchundetected guilt might be sheltered by the aristocratic awning of ourquarter-deck; how many florid pursers, ornaments of the ward-room, hadbeen legally protected in defrauding _the people_, I could not but sayto myself, Well, after all, though this man is a most wicked one indeed, yet is he even more luckless than depraved. 

Besides, a studied observation of Bland convinced me that he was anorganic and irreclaimable scoundrel, who did wicked deeds as thecattle browse the herbage, because wicked deeds seemed thelegitimate operation of his whole infernal organisation. Phrenologically, he was without a soul. Is it to be wondered at, that the devils are irreligious? What, then, thought I, who is toblame in this matter? For one, I will not take the Day ofJudgment upon me by authoritatively pronouncing upon theessential criminality of any man-of-war's-man; and Christianityhas taught me that, at the last day, man-of-war's-men will not bejudged by the _Articles of War_, nor by the _United StatesStatutes at Large_, but by immutable laws, ineffably beyond thecomprehension of the honourable Board of Commodores and NavyCommissioners. But though I will stand by even a man-of-warthief, and defend him from being seized up at the gangway, if Ican--remembering that my Saviour once hung between two thieves, promising one life-eternal--yet I would not, after the plainconviction of a villain, again let him entirely loose to preyupon honest seamen, fore and aft all three decks. But this didCaptain Claret; and though the thing may not perhaps be credited, nevertheless, here it shall be recorded. 

After the master-at-arms had been adrift among the ship's companyfor several weeks, and we were within a few days' sail of home, he was summoned to the mast, and publicly reinstated in hisoffice as the ship's chief of police. Perhaps Captain Claret hadread the Memoirs of Vidocq, and believed in the old saying, _seta rogue to catch a rogue_. Or, perhaps, he was a man of verytender feelings, highly susceptible to the soft emotions ofgratitude, and could not bear to leave in disgrace a person who, out of the generosity of his heart, had, about a year previous, presented him with a rare snuff-box, fabricated from a sperm-whale's tooth, with a curious silver hinge, and cunningly wroughtin the shape of a whale; also a splendid gold-mounted cane, of acostly Brazilian wood, with a gold plate, bearing the Captain'sname and rank in the service, the place and time of his birth, and with a vacancy underneath--no doubt providentially left forhis heirs to record his decease. 

Certain it was that, some months previous to the master-at-arms'disgrace, he had presented these articles to the Captain, withhis best love and compliments; and the Captain had received them, and seldom went ashore without the cane, and never took snuff butout of that box. With some Captains, a sense of propriety mighthave induced them to return these presents, when the generousdonor had proved himself unworthy of having them retained; but itwas not Captain Claret who would inflict such a cutting woundupon any officer's sensibilities, though long-established navalcustoms had habituated him to scourging _the people_ upon anemergency. 

Now had Captain Claret deemed himself constitutionally bound todecline all presents from his subordinates, the sense ofgratitude would not have operated to the prejudice of justice. And, as some of the subordinates of a man-of-war captain are aptto invoke his good wishes and mollify his conscience by makinghim friendly gifts, it would perhaps _have_ been an excellentthing for him to adopt the plan pursued by the President of theUnited States, when he received a present of lions and Arabianchargers from the Sultan of Muscat. Being forbidden by hissovereign lords and masters, the imperial people, to accept ofany gifts from foreign powers, the President sent them to anauctioneer, and the proceeds were deposited in the Treasury. Inthe same manner, when Captain Claret received his snuff-box andcane, he might have accepted them very kindly, and then sold themoff to the highest bidder, perhaps to the donor himself, who inthat case would never have tempted him again. 

Upon his return home, Bland was paid off for his full term, notdeducting the period of his suspension. He again entered theservice in his old capacity. 

As no further allusion will be made to this affair, it may aswell be stated now that, for the very brief period elapsingbetween his restoration and being paid off in port by the Purser, the master-at-arms conducted himself with infinite discretion, artfully steering between any relaxation of discipline--whichwould have awakened the displeasure of the officers--and anyunwise severity--which would have revived, in tenfold force, allthe old grudges of the seamen under his command. 

Never did he show so much talent and tact as when vibrating inthis his most delicate predicament; and plenty of cause was therefor the exercise of his cunningest abilities; for, upon thedischarge of our man-of-war's-men at home, should he _then_ beheld by them as an enemy, as free and independent citizens theywould waylay him in the public streets, and take purple vengeancefor all his iniquities, past, present, and possible in thefuture. More than once a master-at-arms ashore has been seized bynight by an exasperated crew, and served as Origen servedhimself, or as his enemies served Abelard. 

But though, under extreme provocation, _the people_ of a man-of-war have been guilty of the maddest vengeance, yet, at othertimes, they are very placable and milky-hearted, even to thosewho may have outrageously abused them; many things in point mightbe related, but I forbear. 

This account of the master-at-arms cannot better be concludedthan by denominating him, in the vivid language of the Captain ofthe Fore-top, as "_the two ends and middle of the thrice-laidstrand of a bloody rascal_, " which was intended for a terse, well-knit, and all-comprehensive assertion, without omission orreservation. It was also asserted that, had Tophet itself beenraked with a fine-tooth comb, such another ineffable villaincould not by any possibility have been caught. 

CHAPTER XLV. 

PUBLISHING POETRY IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

A day or two after our arrival in Rio, a rather amusing incidentoccurred to a particular acquaintance of mine, young Lemsford, the gun-deck bard. 

The great guns of an armed ship have blocks of wood, called_tompions_, painted black, inserted in their muzzles, to keep outthe spray of the sea. These tompions slip in and out veryhandily, like covers to butter firkins. 

By advice of a friend, Lemsford, alarmed for the fate of his boxof poetry, had latterly made use of a particular gun on the main-deck, in the tube of which he thrust his manuscripts, by simplycrawling partly out of the porthole, removing the tompion, inserting his papers, tightly rolled, and making all snug again. 

Breakfast over, he and I were reclining in the main-top--where, by permission of my noble master, Jack Chase, I had invited him--when, of a sudden, we heard a cannonading. It was our own ship. 

"Ah!" said a top-man, "returning the shore salute they gave usyesterday. "

"O Lord!" cried Lemsford, "my _Songs of the Sirens!_" and he randown the rigging to the batteries; but just as he touched thegun-deck, gun No. 20--his literary strong-box--went off with aterrific report. 

"Well, my after-guard Virgil, " said Jack Chase to him, as heslowly returned up the rigging, "did you get it? You need notanswer; I see you were too late. But never mind, my boy: noprinter could do the business for you better. That's the way topublish, White-Jacket, " turning to me--"fire it right into 'em;every canto a twenty-four-pound shot; _hull_ the blockheads, whether they will or no. And mind you, Lemsford, when your shotdoes the most execution, your hear the least from the foe. Akilled man cannot even lisp. "

"Glorious Jack!" cried Lemsford, running up and snatching him bythe hand, "say that again, Jack! look me in the eyes. By all theHomers, Jack, you have made my soul mount like a balloon! Jack, I'm a poor devil of a poet. Not two months before I shippedaboard here, I published a volume of poems, very aggressive onthe world, Jack. Heaven knows what it cost me. I published it, Jack, and the cursed publisher sued me for damages; my friendslooked sheepish; one or two who liked it were non-committal; andas for the addle-pated mob and rabble, they thought they hadfound out a fool. Blast them, Jack, what they call the public isa monster, like the idol we saw in Owhyhee, with the head of ajackass, the body of a baboon, and the tail of a scorpion!"

"I don't like that, " said Jack; "when I'm ashore, I myself ampart of the public. "

"Your pardon, Jack; you are not, you are then a part of thepeople, just as you are aboard the frigate here. The public isone thing, Jack, and the people another. "

"You are right, " said Jack; "right as this leg. Virgil, you are atrump; you are a jewel, my boy. The public and the people! Ay, ay, my lads, let us hate the one and cleave to the other. "

CHAPTER XLVI. 

THE COMMODORE ON THE POOP, AND ONE OF "THE PEOPLE" UNDER THEHANDS OF THE SURGEON. 

A day or two after the publication of Lemsford's "Songs of theSirens, " a sad accident befell a mess-mate of mine, one of thecaptains of the mizzen-top. He was a fine little Scot, who, fromthe premature loss of the hair on the top of his head, alwayswent by the name of _Baldy_. This baldness was no doubt, in greatpart, attributable to the same cause that early thins the locksof most man-of-war's-men--namely, the hard, unyielding, andponderous man-of-war and navy-regulation tarpaulin hat, which, when new, is stiff enough to sit upon, and indeed, in lieu of histhumb, sometimes serves the common sailor for a bench. 

Now, there is nothing upon which the Commodore of a squadron moreprides himself than upon the celerity with which his men can handlethe sails, and go through with all the evolutions pertaining thereto. This is especially manifested in harbour, when other vessels of hissquadron are near, and perhaps the armed ships of rival nations. 

Upon these occasions, surrounded by his post-captain sa-traps--each of whom in his own floating island is king--the Commodoredomineers over all--emperor of the whole oaken archipelago; yea, magisterial and magnificent as the Sultan of the Isles of Sooloo. 

But, even as so potent an emperor and Caesar to boot as the greatDon of Germany, Charles the Fifth, was used to divert himself inhis dotage by watching the gyrations of the springs and cogs of along row of clocks, even so does an elderly Commodore while awayhis leisure in harbour, by what is called "_exercising guns_, "and also "_exercising yards and sails;_" causing the variousspars of all the ships under his command to be "braced, ""topped, " and "cock billed" in concert, while the Commodorehimself sits, something like King Canute, on an arm-chest on thepoop of his flag-ship. 

But far more regal than any descendant of Charlemagne, more haughtythan any Mogul of the East, and almost mysterious and voicelessin his authority as the Great Spirit of the Five Nations, theCommodore deigns not to verbalise his commands; they are impartedby signal. 

And as for old Charles the Fifth, again, the gay-pranked, coloured suits of cards were invented, to while away his dotage, even so, doubtless, must these pretty little signals of blue andred spotted _bunting_ have been devised to cheer the old age ofall Commodores. 

By the Commodore's side stands the signal-midshipman, with a sea-green bag swung on his shoulder (as a sportsman bears his game-bag), the signal-book in one hand, and the signal spy-glass inthe other. As this signal-book contains the Masonic signs andtokens of the navy, and would there-fore be invaluable to anenemy, its binding is always bordered with lead, so as to insureits sinking in case the ship should be captured. Not the onlybook this, that might appropriately be bound in lead, thoughthere be many where the author, and not the bookbinder, furnishesthe metal. 

As White-Jacket understands it, these signals consist ofvariously-coloured flags, each standing for a certain number. Saythere are ten flags, representing the cardinal numbers--the redflag, No. 1; the blue flag, No. 2; the green flag, No. 3, and soforth; then, by mounting the blue flag over the red, that wouldstand for No. 21: if the green flag were set underneath, it wouldthen stand for 213. How easy, then, by endless transpositions, tomultiply the various numbers that may be exhibited at the mizzen-peak, even by only three or four of these flags. 

To each number a particular meaning is applied. No. 100, forinstance, may mean, "_Beat to quarters_. " No. 150, "_All hands togrog_. " No. 2000, "_Strike top-gallant-yards_. " No. 2110, "_Seeanything to windward?_" No. 2800, "_No_. "

And as every man-of-war is furnished with a signal-book, whereall these things are set down in order, therefore, though twoAmerican frigates--almost perfect strangers to each other--camefrom the opposite Poles, yet at a distance of more than a milethey could carry on a very liberal conversation in the air. 

When several men-of-war of one nation lie at anchor in one port, forming a wide circle round their lord and master, the flag-ship, it is a very interesting sight to see them all obeying theCommodore's orders, who meanwhile never opens his lips. 

Thus was it with us in Rio, and hereby hangs the story of my poormessmate Bally. 

One morning, in obedience to a signal from our flag-ship, thevarious vessels belonging to the American squadron then inharbour simultaneously loosened their sails to dry. In theevening, the signal was set to furl them. Upon such occasions, great rivalry exists between the First Lieutenants of thedifferent ships; they vie with each other who shall first havehis sails stowed on the yards. And this rivalry is shared betweenall the officers of each vessel, who are respectively placed overthe different top-men; so that the main-mast is all eagerness tovanquish the fore-mast, and the mizzen-mast to vanquish themboth. Stimulated by the shouts of their officers, the sailorsthroughout the squadron exert themselves to the utmost. 

"Aloft, topmen! lay out! furl!" cried the First Lieutenant ofthe Neversink. 

At the word the men sprang into the rigging, and on all threemasts were soon climbing about the yards, in reckless haste, toexecute their orders. 

Now, in furling top-sails or courses, the point of honour, andthe hardest work, is in the _bunt_, or middle of the yard; thispost belongs to the first captain of the top. 

"What are you 'bout there, mizzen-top-men?" roared the FirstLieutenant, through his trumpet. "D----n you, you are clumsy asRussian bears! don't you see the main--top-men are nearly off theyard? Bear a hand, bear a hand, or I'll stop your grog all round!You, Baldy! are you going to sleep there in the bunt?"

While this was being said, poor Baldy--his hat off, his facestreaming with perspiration--was frantically exerting himself, piling up the ponderous folds of canvas in the middle of theyard; ever and anon glancing at victorious Jack Chase, hard atwork at the main-top-sail-yard before him. 

At last, the sail being well piled up, Baldy jumped with bothfeet into the _bunt_, holding on with one hand to the chain"_tie_, " and in that manner was violently treading down thecanvas, to pack it close. 

"D----n you, Baldy, why don't you move, you crawling caterpillar;"roared the First Lieutenant. 

Baldy brought his whole weight to bear on the rebellious sail, and in his frenzied heedlessness let go his hold on the _tie_. 

"You, Baldy! are you afraid of falling?" cried the First Lieutenant. 

At that moment, with all his force, Baldy jumped down upon thesail; the _bunt gasket_ parted; and a dark form dropped throughthe air. Lighting upon the _top-rim_, it rolled off; and the nextinstant, with a horrid crash of all his bones, Baldy came, like athunderbolt, upon the deck. 

Aboard of most large men-of-war there is a stout oaken platform, about four feet square, on each side of the quarter-deck. Youascend to it by three or four steps; on top, it is railed in atthe sides, with horizontal brass bars. It is called _the HorseBlock;_ and there the officer of the deck usually stands, ingiving his orders at sea. 

It was one of these horse blocks, now unoccupied, that broke poorBaldy's fall. He fell lengthwise across the brass bars, bendingthem into elbows, and crushing the whole oaken platform, stepsand all, right down to the deck in a thousand splinters. 

He was picked up for dead, and carried below to the surgeon. Hisbones seemed like those of a man broken on the wheel, and no onethought he would survive the night. But with the surgeon'sskillful treatment he soon promised recovery. Surgeon Cuticledevoted all his science to this case. 

A curious frame-work of wood was made for the maimed man; andplaced in this, with all his limbs stretched out, Baldy lay flaton the floor of the Sick-bay, for many weeks. Upon our arrivalhome, he was able to hobble ashore on crutches; but from a hale, hearty man, with bronzed cheeks, he was become a mere dislocatedskeleton, white as foam; but ere this, perhaps, his broken bonesare healed and whole in the last repose of the man-of-war's-man. 

Not many days after Baldy's accident in furling sails--in thissame frenzied manner, under the stimulus of a shouting officer--aseaman fell from the main-royal-yard of an English line-of-battleship near us, and buried his ankle-bones in the deck, leaving twoindentations there, as if scooped out by a carpenter's gouge. 

The royal-yard forms a cross with the mast, and falling from thatlofty cross in a line-of-battle ship is almost like falling fromthe cross of St. Paul's; almost like falling as Lucifer from thewell-spring of morning down to the Phlegethon of night. 

In some cases, a man, hurled thus from a yard, has fallen uponhis own shipmates in the tops, and dragged them down with him tothe same destruction with himself. 

Hardly ever will you hear of a man-of-war returning home after acruise, without the loss of some of her crew from aloft, whereassimilar accidents in the merchant service--considering the muchgreater number of men employed in it--are comparatively few. 

Why mince the matter? The death of most of these man-of-war's-menlies at the door of the souls of those officers, who, whilesafely standing on deck themselves, scruple not to sacrifice animmortal man or two, in order to show off the excellingdiscipline of the ship. And thus do _the people_ of the gun-decksuffer, that the Commodore on the poop may be glorified. 

CHAPTER XLVII. 

AN AUCTION IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

Some allusion has been made to the weariness experienced by theman-of-war's-men while lying at anchor; but there are scenes nowand then that serve to relieve it. Chief among these are thePurser's auctions, taking place while in harbour. Some weeks, orperhaps months, after a sailor dies in an armed vessel, his bagof clothes is in this manner sold, and the proceeds transferredto the account of his heirs or executors. 

One of these auctions came off in Rio, shortly after the sadaccident of Baldy. 

It was a dreamy, quiet afternoon, and the crew were listlesslylying 'around, when suddenly the Boatswain's whistle was heard, followed by the announcement, "D'ye hear there, fore and aft?Purser's auction on the spar-deck!"

At the sound, the sailors sprang to their feet and mustered roundthe main-mast. Presently up came the Purser's steward, marshallingbefore him three or four of his subordinates, carrying several clothes'bags, which were deposited at the base of the mast. 

Our Purser's steward was a rather gentlemanly man in his way. Like many young Americans of his class, he had at various timesassumed the most opposite functions for a livelihood, turningfrom one to the other with all the facility of a light-hearted, clever adventurer. He had been a clerk in a steamer on theMississippi River; an auctioneer in Ohio; a stock actor at theOlympic Theatre in New York; and now he was Purser's steward inthe Navy. In the course of this deversified career his naturalwit and waggery had been highly spiced, and every way improved;and he had acquired the last and most difficult art of the joker, the art of lengthening his own face while widening those of hishearers, preserving the utmost solemnity while setting them allin a roar. He was quite a favourite with the sailors, which, in agood degree, was owing to his humour; but likewise to his off-hand, irresistible, romantic, theatrical manner of addressing them. 

With a dignified air, he now mounted the pedestal of the main-top-sail sheet-bitts, imposing silence by a theatrical wave ofhis hand; meantime, his subordinates were rummaging the bags, and assorting their contents before him. 

"Now, my noble hearties, " he began, "we will open this auction byoffering to your impartial competition a very superior pair ofold boots;" and so saying, he dangled aloft one clumsy cowhidecylinder, almost as large as a fire bucket, as a specimen of thecomplete pair. 

"What shall I have now, my noble tars, for this superior pair ofsea-boots?"

"Where's t'other boot?" cried a suspicious-eyed waister. "I rememberthem 'ere boots. They were old Bob's the quarter-gunner's; there wastwo on 'em, too. I want to see t'other boot. "

"My sweet and pleasant fellow, " said the auctioneer, with hisblandest accents, "the other boot is not just at hand, but I giveyou my word of honour that it in all respects cor-responds to theone you here see--it does, I assure you. And I solemnly guarantee, my noble sea-faring fencibles, " he added, turning round upon all, "that the other boot is the exact counterpart of this. Now, then, saythe word, my fine fellows. What shall I have? Ten dollars, did yousay?" politely bowing toward some indefinite person in the background. 

"No; ten cents, " responded a voice. 

"Ten cents! ten cents! gallant sailors, for this noble pair ofboots, " exclaimed the auctioneer, with affected horror; "I mustclose the auction, my tars of Columbia; this will never do. Butlet's have another bid; now, come, " he added, coaxingly andsoothingly. "What is it? One dollar, one dollar then--onedollar; going at one dollar; going, going--going. Just see how itvibrates"--swinging the boot to and fro--"this superior pair ofsea-boots vibrating at one dollar; wouldn't pay for the nails intheir heels; going, going--gone!" And down went the boots. 

"Ah, what a sacrifice! what a sacrifice!" he sighed, tearfullyeyeing the solitary fire-bucket, and then glancing round thecompany for sympathy. 

"A sacrifice, indeed!" exclaimed Jack Chase, who stood by; "Purser'sSteward, you are Mark Antony over the body of Julius Cesar. "

"So I am, so I am, " said the auctioneer, without moving a muscle. "And look!" he exclaimed, suddenly seizing the boot, andexhibiting it on high, "look, my noble tars, if you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this boot. I rememberthe first time ever old Bob put it on. 'Twas on a winter evening, off Cape Horn, between the starboard carronades--that day hisprecious grog was stopped. Look! in this place a mouse hasnibbled through; see what a rent some envious rat has made, through this another filed, and, as he plucked his cursed raspaway, mark how the bootleg gaped. This was the unkindest cut ofall. But whose are the boots?" suddenly assuming a business-likeair; "yours? yours? yours?"

But not a friend of the lamented Bob stood by. 

"Tars of Columbia, " said the auctioneer, imperatively, "theseboots must be sold; and if I can't sell them one way, I must sellthem another. How much _a pound_, now, for this superior pair ofold boots? going by _the pound_ now, remember, my gallant sailors!what shall I have? one cent, do I hear? going now at one cent apound--going--going--going--_gone!_"

"Whose are they? Yours, Captain of the Waist? Well, my sweet andpleasant friend, I will have them weighed out to you when theauction is over. "

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

Having been present at this auction, though not a purchaser, andseeing with what facility the most dismantled old garments wentoff, through the magical cleverness of the accomplished auctioneer, the thought occurred to me, that if ever I calmly and positivelydecided to dispose of my famous white jacket, this would be the veryway 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 everagain need such a thing as a heavy quilted jacket--and such ajacket as the white one, too--seemed almost impossible. Yet Iremembered the American coast, and that it would probably beAutumn when we should arrive there. Yes, I thought of all that, to be sure; nevertheless, the ungovernable whim seized me tosacrifice my jacket and recklessly abide the consequences. Besides, was it not a horrible jacket? To how many annoyances hadit subjected me? How many scrapes had it dragged me into? Nay, had it not once jeopardised my very existence? And I had adreadful presentiment that, if I persisted in retaining it, itwould do so again. Enough! I will sell it, I muttered; and somuttering, I thrust my hands further down in my waistband, andwalked the main-top in the stern concentration of an inflexiblepurpose. Next day, hearing that another auction was shortly totake place, I repaired to the office of the Purser's steward, with whom I was upon rather friendly terms. After vaguely anddelicately hinting at the object of my visit, I came roundly tothe point, and asked him whether he could slip my jacket into oneof the bags of clothes next to be sold, and so dispose of it bypublic auction. He kindly acquiesced and the thing was done. 

In due time all hands were again summoned round the main-mast;the Purser's steward mounted his post, and the ceremony began. Meantime, I lingered out of sight, but still within hearing, onthe gun-deck below, gazing up, un-perceived, at the scene. 

As it is now so long ago, I will here frankly make confessionthat I had privately retained the services of a friend--Williams, the Yankee pedagogue and peddler--whose business it would be tolinger near the scene of the auction, and, if the bids on thejacket loitered, to start it roundly himself; and if the biddingthen became brisk, he was continually to strike in with the mostpertinacious and infatuated bids, and so exasperate competitioninto the maddest and most extravagant overtures. 

A variety of other articles having been put up, the white jacketwas slowly produced, and, held high aloft between the auctioneer'sthumb and fore-finger, was submitted to the inspection of thediscriminating public. 

Here it behooves me once again to describe my jacket; for, as aportrait taken at one period of life will not answer for a laterstage; much more this jacket of mine, undergoing so many changes, needs to be painted again and again, in order truly to presentits actual appearance at any given period. 

A premature old age had now settled upon it; all over it boremelancholy sears of the masoned-up pockets that had once trenchedit in various directions. Some parts of it were slightly mildewedfrom dampness; on one side several of the buttons were gone, andothers were broken or cracked; while, alas! my many mad endeavoursto rub it black on the decks had now imparted to the whole garmentan exceedingly untidy appearance. Such as it was, with all itsfaults, the auctioneer displayed it. 

"You, venerable sheet-anchor-men! and you, gallant fore-top-men!and you, my fine waisters! what do you say now for this superiorold jacket? Buttons and sleeves, lining and skirts, it must thisday be sold without reservation. How much for it, my gallant tarsof Columbia? say the word, and how much?"

"My eyes!" exclaimed a fore-top-man, "don't that 'ere bunch ofold swabs belong to Jack Chase's pet? Aren't that _the white jacket?_"

"_The white jacket!_" cried fifty voices in response; "_the whitejacket!_" The cry ran fore and aft the ship like a slogan, completely overwhelming the solitary voice of my private friendWilliams, while all hands gazed at it with straining eyes, wondering how it came among the bags of deceased mariners. 

"Ay, noble tars, " said the auctioneer, "you may well stare at it;you will not find another jacket like this on either side of CapeHorn, I assure you. Why, just look at it! How much, now? _Give_ mea bid--but don't be rash; be prudent, be prudent, men; remember yourPurser's accounts, and don't be betrayed into extravagant bids. "

"Purser's Steward!" cried Grummet, one of the quarter-gunners, slowly shifting his quid from one cheek to the other, like aballast-stone, "I won't bid on that 'ere bunch of old swabs, unless you put up ten pounds of soap with it. "

"Don't mind that old fellow, " said the auctioneer. "How much forthe jacket, my noble tars?"

"Jacket;" cried a dandy _bone polisher_ of the gun-room. "Thesail-maker was the tailor, then. How many fathoms of canvas init, Purser's Steward?"

"How much for this _jacket_?" reiterated the auctioneer, emphatically. 

"_Jacket_, do you call it!" cried a captain of the hold. 

"Why not call it a white-washed man-of-war schooner? Look at theport-holes, to let in the air of cold nights. "

"A reg'lar herring-net, " chimed in Grummet. 

"Gives me the _fever nagur_ to look at it, " echoed a mizzen-top-man. 

"Silence!" cried the auctioneer. "Start it now--start it, boys;anything you please, my fine fellows! it _must_ be sold. Come, what ought I to have on it, now?"

"Why, Purser's Steward, " cried a waister, "you ought to have newsleeves, a new lining, and a new body on it, afore you try toshove it off on a greenhorn. "

"What are you, 'busin' that 'ere garment for?" cried an oldsheet-anchor-man. "Don't you see it's a 'uniform musteringjacket'--three buttons on one side, and none on t'other?"

"Silence!" again cried the auctioneer. "How much, my sea-fencibles, for this superior old jacket?"

"Well, " said Grummet, "I'll take it for cleaning-rags at one cent. "

"Oh, come, give us a bid! say something, Colombians. "

"Well, then, " said Grummet, all at once bursting into genuineindignation, "if you want us to say something, then heave thatbunch of old swabs overboard, _say I_, and show us somethingworth looking at. "

"No one will give me a bid, then? Very good; here, shove itaside. Let's have something else there. "

While this scene was going forward, and my white jacket was thusbeing abused, how my heart swelled within me! Thrice was I on thepoint of rushing out of my hiding-place, and bearing it off fromderision; but I lingered, still flattering myself that all wouldbe well, and the jacket find a purchaser at last. But no, alas!there was no getting rid of it, except by rolling a forty-two-pound shot in it, and committing it to the deep. But though, inmy desperation, I had once contemplated something of that sort, yet I had now become unaccountably averse to it, from certaininvoluntary superstitious considerations. If I sink my jacket, thought I, it will be sure to spread itself into a bed at thebottom of the sea, upon which I shall sooner or later recline, adead man. So, unable to conjure it into the possession ofanother, and withheld from burying it out of sight for ever, myjacket stuck to me like the fatal shirt on Nessus. 

CHAPTER XLVIII. 

PURSER, PURSER'S STEWARD, AND POSTMASTER IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

As the Purser's steward so conspicuously figured at the unsuccessfulauction of my jacket, it reminds me of how important a personage thatofficial is on board of all men-of-war. He is the right-hand man andconfidential deputy and clerk of the Purser, who intrusts to him allhis accounts with the crew, while, in most cases, he himself, snug andcomfortable in his state-room, glances over a file of newspapersinstead of overhauling his ledgers. 

Of all the non-combatants of a man-of-war, the Purser, perhaps, standsforemost in importance. Though he is but a member of the gun-room mess, yet usage seems to assign him a conventional station somewhat abovethat of his equals in navy rank--the Chaplain, Surgeon, and Professor. Moreover, he is frequently to be seen in close conversation with theCommodore, who, in the Neversink, was more than once known to beslightly jocular with our Purser. Upon several occasions, also, he wascalled into the Commodore's cabin, and remained closeted there forseveral minutes together. Nor do I remember that there ever happened acabinet meeting of the ward-room barons, the Lieutenants, in theCommodore's cabin, but the Purser made one of the party. Doubtlessthe important fact of the Purser having under his charge all thefinancial affairs of a man-of-war, imparts to him the great importancehe enjoys. Indeed, we find in every government--monarchies andrepublics alike--that the personage at the head of the financesinvariably occupies a commanding position. Thus, in point of station, the Secretary of the Treasury of the United States is deemed superiorto the other heads of departments. Also, in England, the real officeheld by the great Premier himself is--as every one knows--that ofFirst Lord of the Treasury. 

Now, under this high functionary of state, the official known asthe Purser's Steward was head clerk of the frigate's fiscalaffairs. Upon the berth-deck he had a regular counting-room, fullof ledgers, journals, and day-books. His desk was as muchlittered with papers as any Pearl Street merchant's, and muchtime was devoted to his accounts. For hours together you wouldsee him, through the window of his subterranean office, writingby the light of his perpetual lamp. 

_Ex-officio_, the Purser's Steward of most ships is a sort ofpostmaster, and his office the post-office. When the letter-bagsfor the squadron--almost as large as those of the United Statesmail--arrived on board the Neversink, it was the Purser's Stewardthat sat at his little window on the berth-deck and handed youyour letter or paper--if any there were to your address. Somedisappointed applicants among the sailors would offer to buy theepistles of their more fortunate shipmates, while yet the sealwas unbroken--maintaining that the sole and confidential readingof a fond, long, domestic letter from any man's home, was farbetter than no letter at all. 

In the vicinity of the office of the Purser's Steward are theprincipal store-rooms of the Purser, where large quantities ofgoods of every description are to be found. On board of those shipswhere goods are permitted to be served out to the crew for thepurpose of selling them ashore, to raise money, more business istransacted at the office of a Purser's Steward in one _Liberty-day_morning than all the dry goods shops in a considerable villagewould transact in a week. 

Once a month, with undeviating regularity, this official has hishands more than usually full. For, once a month, certain printedbills, called Mess-bills, are circulated among the crew, andwhatever you may want from the Purser--be it tobacco, soap, duck, dungaree, needles, thread, knives, belts, calico, ribbon, pipes, paper, pens, hats, ink, shoes, socks, or whatever it may be--downit goes on the mess-bill, which, being the next day returned tothe office of the Steward, the "slops, " as they are called, areserved out to the men and charged to their accounts. 

Lucky is it for man-of-war's-men that the outrageous impositionsto which, but a very few years ago, they were subjected from theabuses in this department of the service, and the unscrupulouscupidity of many of the pursers--lucky is it for them that _now_these things are in a great degree done away. The Pursers, insteadof being at liberty to make almost what they pleased from the saleof their wares, are now paid by regular stipends laid down by law. 

Under the exploded system, the profits of some of these officerswere almost incredible. In one cruise up the Mediterranean, thePurser of an American line-of-battle ship was, on good authority, said to have cleared the sum of $50, 000. Upon that he quitted theservice, and retired into the country. Shortly after, his threedaughters--not very lovely--married extremely well. 

The ideas that sailors entertain of Pursers is expressed in arather inelegant but expressive saying of theirs: "The Purser isa conjurer; he can make a dead man chew tobacco"--insinuatingthat the accounts of a dead man are sometimes subjected to post-mortem charges. Among sailors, also, Pursers commonly go by thename of _nip-cheeses_. 

No wonder that on board of the old frigate Java, upon her returnfrom a cruise extending over a period of more than four years, onethousand dollars paid off eighty of her crew, though the aggregatewages of the eighty for the voyage must have amounted to about sixtythousand dollars. Even under the present system, the Purser of aline-of-battle ship, for instance, is far better paid than any otherofficer, short of Captain or Commodore. While the Lieutenant commonlyreceives but eighteen hundred dollars, the Surgeon of the fleet butfifteen hundred, the Chaplain twelve hundred, the Purser of a line-of-battle ship receives thirty-five hundred dollars. In considering hissalary, however, his responsibilities are not to be over-looked; theyare by no means insignificant. 

There are Pursers in the Navy whom the sailors exempt from theinsinuations above mentioned, nor, as a class, are they soobnoxious to them now as formerly; for one, the florid old Purserof the Neversink--never coming into disciplinary contact with theseamen, and being withal a jovial and apparently good-heartedgentleman--was something of a favourite with many of the crew. 

CHAPTER XLIX. 

RUMOURS OF A WAR, AND HOW THEY WERE RECEIVED BY THE POPULATION OFTHE NEVERSINK. 

While lying in the harbour of Callao, in Peru, certain rumourshad come to us touching a war with England, growing out of thelong-vexed Northeastern Boundary Question. In Rio these rumourswere increased; and the probability of hostilities induced ourCommodore to authorize proceedings that closely brought home toevery man on board the Neversink his liability at any time to bekilled at his gun. 

Among other things, a number of men were detailed to pass up therusty cannon-balls from the shot-lockers in the hold, and scrapethem clean for service. The Commodore was a very neat gentleman, and would not fire a dirty shot into his foe. 

It was an interesting occasion for a tranquil observer; nor wasit altogether neglected. Not to recite the precise remarks madeby the seamen while pitching the shot up the hatchway from handto hand, like schoolboys playing ball ashore, it will be enoughto say that, from the general drift of their discourse--jocularas it was--it was manifest that, almost to a man, they abhorredthe idea of going into action. 

And why should they desire a war? Would their wages be raised?Not a cent. The prize-money, though, ought to have been aninducement. But of all the "rewards of virtue, " prize-money isthe most uncertain; and this the man-of-war's-man knows. What, then, has he to expect from war? What but harder work, and harderusage than in peace; a wooden leg or arm; mortal wounds, anddeath? Enough, however, that by far the majority of the commonsailors of the Neversink were plainly concerned at the prospectof war, and were plainly averse to it. 

But with the officers of the quarter-deck it was just thereverse. None of them, to be sure, in my hearing at least, verbally expressed their gratification; but it was unavoidablybetrayed by the increased cheerfulness of their demeanour towardeach other, their frequent fraternal conferences, and theirunwonted animation for several clays in issuing their orders. Thevoice of Mad Jack--always a belfry to hear--now resounded likethat famous bell of England, Great Tom of Oxford. As forSelvagee, he wore his sword with a jaunty air, and his servantdaily polished the blade. 

But why this contrast between the forecastle and the quarter-deck, between the man-of-war's-man and his officer? Because, though war would equally jeopardize the lives of both, yet, whileit held out to the sailor no promise of promotion, and what iscalled _glory_, these things fired the breast of his officers. 

It is no pleasing task, nor a thankful one, to dive into thesouls of some men; but there are occasions when, to bring up themud from the bottom, reveals to us on what soundings we are, onwhat coast we adjoin. 

How were these officers to gain glory? How but by a distinguishedslaughtering of their fellow-men. How were they to be promoted?How but over the buried heads of killed comrades and mess-mates. 

This hostile contrast between the feelings with which the commonseamen and the officers of the Neversink looked forward to thismore than possible war, is one of many instances that might bequoted to show the antagonism of their interests, the incurableantagonism in which they dwell. But can men, whose interests arediverse, ever hope to live together in a harmony uncoerced? Canthe brotherhood of the race of mankind ever hope to prevail in aman-of-war, where one man's bane is almost another's blessing? Byabolishing the scourge, shall we do away tyranny; _that_ tyrannywhich must ever prevail, where of two essentially antagonisticclasses in perpetual contact, one is immeasurably the stronger?Surely it seems all but impossible. And as the very object of aman-of-war, as its name implies, is to fight the very battles sonaturally averse to the seamen; so long as a man-of-war exists, it must ever remain a picture of much that is tyrannical andrepelling in human nature. 

Being an establishment much more extensive than the AmericanNavy, the English armed marine furnishes a yet more strikingexample of this thing, especially as the existence of warproduces so vast an augmentation of her naval force compared withwhat it is in time of peace. It is well known what joy the newsof Bonaparte's sudden return from Elba created among crowds ofBritish naval officers, who had previously been expecting to besent ashore on half-pay. Thus, when all the world wailed, theseofficers found occasion for thanksgiving. I urge it not againstthem as men--their feelings belonged to their profession. Hadthey not been naval officers, they had not been rejoicers in themidst of despair. 

When shall the time come, how much longer will God postpone it, when the clouds, which at times gather over the horizons ofnations, shall not be hailed by any class of humanity, andinvoked to burst as a bomb? Standing navies, as well as standingarmies, serve to keep alive the spirit of war even in the meekheart of peace. In its very embers and smoulderings, they nourishthat fatal fire, and half-pay officers, as the priests of Mars, yet guard the temple, though no god be there. 

CHAPTER L. 

THE BAY OF ALL BEAUTIES. 

I have said that I must pass over Rio without a description; butjust now such a flood of scented reminiscences steals over me, that I must needs yield and recant, as I inhale that musky air. 

More than one hundred and fifty miles' circuit of living greenhills embosoms a translucent expanse, so gemmed in by sierras ofgrass, that among the Indian tribes the place was known as "TheHidden Water. " On all sides, in the distance, rise high conicalpeaks, which at sunrise and sunset burn like vast tapers; anddown from the interior, through vineyards and forests, flowradiating streams, all emptying into the harbour. 

Talk not of Bahia de Todos os Santos--the Bay of All Saints; forthough that be a glorious haven, yet Rio is the Bay of allRivers--the Bay of all Delights--the Bay of all Beauties. Fromcircumjacent hill-sides, untiring summer hangs perpetually interraces of vivid verdure; and, embossed with old mosses, conventand castle nestle in valley and glen. 

All round, deep inlets run into the green mountain land, and, overhung with wild Highlands, more resemble Loch Katrines thanLake Lemans. And though Loch Katrine has been sung by thebonneted Scott, and Lake Leman by the coroneted Byron; yet here, in Rio, both the loch and the lake are but two wild flowers in aprospect that is almost unlimited. For, behold! far away andaway, stretches the broad blue of the water, to yonder soft-swelling hills of light green, backed by the purple pinnaclesand pipes of the grand Organ Mountains; fitly so called, for inthunder-time they roll cannonades down the bay, drowning theblended bass of all the cathedrals in Rio. Shout amain, exaltyour voices, stamp your feet, jubilate, Organ Mountains! and rollyour Te Deums round the world!

What though, for more than five thousand five hundred years, thisgrand harbour of Rio lay hid in the hills, unknown by the CatholicPortuguese? Centuries ere Haydn performed before emperors and kings, these Organ Mountains played his Oratorio of the Creation, beforethe Creator himself. But nervous Haydn could not have endured thatcannonading choir, since this composer of thunderbolts himself died atlast through the crashing commotion of Napoleon's bombardment of Vienna. 

But all mountains are Organ Mountains: the Alps and the Himalayas;the Appalachian Chain, the Ural, the Andes, the Green Hills and theWhite. All of them play anthems forever: The Messiah, and Samson, andIsrael in Egypt, and Saul, and Judas Maccabeus, and Solomon. 

Archipelago Rio! ere Noah on old Ararat anchored his ark, therelay anchored in you all these green, rocky isles I now see. ButGod did not build on you, isles! those long lines of batteries;nor did our blessed Saviour stand godfather at the christening ofyon frowning fortress of Santa Cruz, though named in honour ofhimself, the divine Prince of Peace!

Amphitheatrical Rio! in your broad expanse might be held theResurrection and Judgment-day of the whole world's men-of-war, represented by the flag-ships of fleets--the flag-ships of thePhoenician armed galleys of Tyre and Sidon; of King Solomon'sannual squadrons that sailed to Ophir; whence in after times, perhaps, sailed the Acapulco fleets of the Spaniards, withgolden ingots for ballasting; the flag-ships of all the Greek andPersian craft that exchanged the war-hug at Salamis; of all theRoman and Egyptian galleys that, eagle-like, with blood-drippingprows, beaked each other at Actium; of all the Danish keels ofthe Vikings; of all the musquito craft of Abba Thule, king of thePelaws, when he went to vanquish Artinsall; of all the Venetian, Genoese, and Papal fleets that came to the shock at Lepanto; ofboth horns of the crescent of the Spanish Armada; of thePortuguese squadron that, under the gallant Gama, chastised theMoors, and discovered the Moluccas; of all the Dutch navies redby Van Tromp, and sunk by Admiral Hawke; of the forty-sevenFrench and Spanish sail-of-the-line that, for three months, essayed to batter down Gibraltar; of all Nelson's seventy-foursthat thunder-bolted off St. Vincent's, at the Nile, Copenhagen, and Trafalgar; of all the frigate-merchantmen of the East IndiaCompany; of Perry's war-brigs, sloops, and schooners thatscattered the British armament on Lake Erie; of all the Barbarycorsairs captured by Bainbridge; of the war-canoes of thePolynesian kings, Tammahammaha and Pomare--ay! one and all, withCommodore Noah for their Lord High Admiral--in this abounding Bayof Rio these flag-ships might all come to anchor, and swing roundin concert to the first of the flood. 

Rio is a small Mediterranean; and what was fabled of the entranceto that sea, in Rio is partly made true; for here, at the mouth, stands one of Hercules' Pillars, the Sugar-Loaf Mountain, onethousand feet high, inclining over a little, like the LeaningTower of Pisa. At its base crouch, like mastiffs, the batteriesof Jose and Theodosia; while opposite, you are menaced by a rock-founded fort. 

The channel between--the sole inlet to the bay--seems but abiscuit's toss over; you see naught of the land-locked sea withintill fairly in the strait. But, then, what a sight is beheld!Diversified as the harbour of Constantinople, but a thousand-foldgrander. When the Neversink swept in, word was passed, "Aloft, top-men! and furl t'-gallant-sails and royals!"

At the sound I sprang into the rigging, and was soon at my perch. How I hung over that main-royal-yard in a rapture High in air, poised over that magnificent bay, a new world to my ravishedeyes, I felt like the foremost of a flight of angels, new-lightedupon earth, from some star in the Milky Way. 

CHAPTER LI. 

ONE OF "THE PEOPLE" HAS AN AUDIENCE WITH THE COMMODORE AND THECAPTAIN ON THE QUARTER-DECK. 

We had not lain in Rio long, when in the innermost recesses ofthe mighty soul of my noble Captain of the Top--incomparable JackChase--the deliberate opinion was formed, and rock-founded, thatour ship's company must have at least one day's "_liberty_" to goashore ere we weighed anchor for home. 

Here it must be mentioned that, concerning anything of this kind, no sailor in a man-of-war ever presumes to be an agitator, unlesshe is of a rank superior to a mere able-seaman; and no one shortof a petty officer--that is, a captain of the top, a quarter-gunner, or boatswain's mate--ever dreams of being a spokesman tothe supreme authority of the vessel in soliciting any kind offavor for himself and shipmates. 

After canvassing the matter thoroughly with several old quarter-masters and other dignified sea-fencibles, Jack, hat in hand, made his appearance, one fine evening, at the mast, and, waitingtill Captain Claret drew nigh, bowed, and addressed him in hisown off-hand, polished, and poetical style. In his intercoursewith the quarter-deck, he always presumed upon his being such auniversal favourite. 

"Sir, this Rio is a charming harbour, and we poor mariners--yourtrusty sea-warriors, valiant Captain! who, with _you_ at theirhead, would board the Rock of Gibraltar itself, and carry it bystorm--we poor fellows, valiant Captain! have gazed round uponthis ravishing landscape till we can gaze no more. Will CaptainClaret vouchsafe one day's liberty, and so assure himself ofeternal felicity, since, in our flowing cups, he will be everafter freshly remembered?"

As Jack thus rounded off with a snatch from Shakspeare, hesaluted the Captain with a gallant flourish of his tarpaulin, andthen, bringing the rim to his mouth, with his head bowed, and hisbody thrown into a fine negligent attitude, stood a picture ofeloquent but passive appeal. He seemed to say, MagnanimousCaptain Claret, we fine fellows, and hearts of oak, throwourselves upon your unparalleled goodness. 

"And what do you want to go ashore for?" asked the Captain, evasively, and trying to conceal his admiration of Jack byaffecting some haughtiness. 

"Ah! sir, " sighed Jack, "why do the thirsty camels of the desertdesire to lap the waters of the fountain and roll in the greengrass of the oasis? Are we not but just from the ocean Sahara?and is not this Rio a verdant spot, noble Captain? Surely youwill not keep us always tethered at anchor, when a little morecable would admit of our cropping the herbage! And it is a wearything, Captain Claret, to be imprisoned month after month on thegun-deck, without so much as smelling a citron. Ah! Captain Claret, what sings sweet Waller: 'But who can always on the billows lie? The watery wilderness yields no supply. 'compared with such a prisoner, noble Captain, 'Happy, thrice happy, who, in battle slain, Press'd in Atrides' cause the Trojan pain!'Pope's version, sir, not the original Greek. "

And so saying, Jack once more brought his hat-rim to his mouth, and slightly bending forward, stood mute. 

At this juncture the Most Serene Commodore himself happened toemerge from the after-gangway, his gilded buttons, epaulets, andthe gold lace on his chapeau glittering in the flooding sunset. Attracted by the scene between Captain Claret and so well-knownand admired a commoner as Jack Chase he approached, and assumingfor the moment an air of pleasant condescension--never shown tohis noble barons the officers of the ward-room--he said, with asmile, "Well, Jack, you and your shipmates are after some favour, I suppose--a day's liberty, is it not?"

Whether it was the horizontal setting sun, streaming along thedeck, that blinded Jack, or whether it was in sun-worshippinghomage of the mighty Commodore, there is no telling; but just atthis juncture noble Jack was standing reverentially holding hishat to his brow, like a man with weak eyes. 

"Valiant Commodore, " said he, at last, "this audience is indeedan honour undeserved. I almost sink beneath it. Yes, valiantCommodore, your sagacious mind has truly divined our object. Liberty, sir; liberty is, indeed, our humble prayer. I trust yourhonourable wound, received in glorious battle, valiant Comodore, pains you less today than common. "

"Ah! cunning Jack!" cried the Commodore, by no means blind to thebold sortie of his flattery, but not at all displeased with it. In more respects than one, our Commodore's wound was his weak side. 

"I think we must give them liberty, " he added, turning to CaptainClaret; who thereupon, waving Jack further off, fell intoconfidential discourse with his superior. 

"Well, Jack, we will see about it, " at last cried the Commodore, advancing. "I think we must let you go. "

"To your duty, captain of the main-top!" said the Captain, ratherstiffly. He wished to neutralise somewhat the effect of theCommodore's condescension. Besides, he had much rather theCommodore had been in his cabin. His presence, for the time, affected his own supremacy in his ship. But Jack was nowise castdown by the Captain's coldness; he felt safe enough; so heproceeded to offer his acknowledgments. 

"'Kind gentlemen, '" he sighed, "your pains are registered whereevery day I turn the leaf to read'--Macbeth, valiant Commodore andCaptain!--what the Thane says to the noble lords, Ross and Angus. "

And long and lingeringly bowing to the two noble officers, Jackbacked away from their presence, still shading his eyes with thebroad rim of his hat. 

"Jack Chase for ever!" cried his shipmates, as he carried thegrateful news of liberty to them on the forecastle. "Who can talkto Commodores like our matchless Jack!"

CHAPTER LII. 

SOMETHING CONCERNING MIDSHIPMEN. 

It was the next morning after matchless Jack's interview with theCommodore and Captain, that a little incident occurred, soonforgotten by the crew at large, but long remembered by the fewseamen who were in the habit of closely scrutinising every-dayproceedings. Upon the face of it, it was but a common event--atleast in a man-of-war--the flogging of a man at the gangway. Butthe under-current of circumstances in the case were of a naturethat magnified this particular flogging into a matter of nosmall importance. The story itself cannot here be related; itwould not well bear recital: enough that the person flogged was amiddle-aged man of the Waist--a forlorn, broken-down, miserableobject, truly; one of those wretched landsmen sometimes driveninto the Navy by their unfitness for all things else, even asothers are driven into the workhouse. He was flogged at thecomplaint of a midshipman; and hereby hangs the drift of thething. For though this waister was so ignoble a mortal, yet hisbeing scourged on this one occasion indirectly proceeded from themere wanton spite and unscrupulousness of the midshipman inquestion--a youth, who was apt to indulge at times in undignifiedfamiliarities with some of the men, who, sooner or later, almostalways suffered from his capricious preferences. 

But the leading principle that was involved in this affair is far toomischievous to be lightly dismissed. 

In most cases, it would seem to be a cardinal principle with a NavyCaptain that his subordinates are disintegrated parts of himself, detached from the main body on special service, and that the order ofthe minutest midshipman must be as deferentially obeyed by the seamenas if proceeding from the Commodore on the poop. This principle wasonce emphasised in a remarkable manner by the valiant and handsomeSir Peter Parker, upon whose death, on a national arson expedition onthe shores of Chesapeake Bay, in 1812 or 1813, Lord Byron wrote hiswell-known stanzas. "By the god of war!" said Sir Peter to his sailors, "I'll make you touch your hat to a midshipman's coat, if it's onlyhung on a broomstick to dry!"

That the king, in the eye of the law, can do no wrong, is the well-known fiction of despotic states; but it has remained for the naviesof Constitutional Monarchies and Republics to magnify this fiction, by indirectly extending it to all the quarter-deck subordinates of anarmed ship's chief magistrate. And though judicially unrecognised, andunacknowledged by the officers themselves, yet this is the principlethat pervades the fleet; this is the principle that is every houracted upon, and to sustain which, thousands of seamen have been floggedat the gangway. 

However childish, ignorant, stupid, or idiotic a midshipman, if he butorders a sailor to perform even the most absurd action, that man is notonly bound to render instant and unanswering obedience, but he wouldrefuse at his peril. And if, having obeyed, he should then complain tothe Captain, and the Captain, in his own mind, should be thoroughlyconvinced of the impropriety, perhaps of the illegality of the order, yet, in nine cases out of ten, he would not publicly reprimand themidshipman, nor by the slightest token admit before the complainantthat, in this particular thing, the midshipman had done otherwisethan perfectly right. 

Upon a midshipman's complaining of a seaman to Lord Collingwood, when Captain of a line-of-battle ship, he ordered the man forpunishment; and, in the interval, calling the midshipman aside, said to him, "In all probability, now, the fault is yours--youknow; therefore, when the man is brought to the mast, you hadbetter ask for his pardon. "

Accordingly, upon the lad's public intercession, Collingwood, turning to the culprit, said, "This young gentleman has pleadedso humanely for you, that, in hope you feel a due gratitude tohim for his benevolence, I will, for this time, overlook youroffence. " This story is related by the editor of the Admiral's"Correspondence, " to show the Admiral's kindheartedness. 

Now Collingood was, in reality, one of the most just, humane, andbenevolent admirals that ever hoisted a flag. For a sea-officer, Collingwood was a man in a million. But if a man like him, swayed byold usages, could thus violate the commonest principle of justice--with however good motives at bottom--what must be expected from otherCaptains not so eminently gifted with noble traits as Collingwood?

And if the corps of American midshipmen is mostly replenishedfrom the nursery, the counter, and the lap of unrestrainedindulgence at home: and if most of them at least, by theirimpotency as officers, in all important functions at sea, bytheir boyish and overweening conceit of their gold lace, by theiroverbearing manner toward the seamen, and by their peculiaraptitude to construe the merest trivialities of manner into setaffronts against their dignity; if by all this they sometimescontract the ill-will of the seamen; and if, in a thousand ways, the seamen cannot but betray it--how easy for any of thesemidshipmen, who may happen to be unrestrained by moral principle, to resort to spiteful practices in procuring vengeance upon theoffenders, in many instances to the extremity of the lash; since, as we have seen, the tacit principle in the Navy seems to bethat, in his ordinary intercourse with the sailors, a midshipmancan do nothing obnoxious to the public censure of his superiors. 

"You fellow, I'll get you _licked_ before long, " is often heardfrom a midshipman to a sailor who, in some way not open to thejudicial action of the Captain, has chanced to offend him. 

At times you will see one of these lads, not five feet high, gazing up with inflamed eye at some venerable six-footer of aforecastle man, cursing and insulting him by every epithet deemedmost scandalous and unendurable among men. Yet that man'sindignant tongue is treble-knotted by the law, that suspendsdeath itself over his head should his passion discharge theslightest blow at the boy-worm that spits at his feet. 

But since what human nature is, and what it must for ever continue tobe, is well enough understood for most practical purposes, it needs nospecial example to prove that, where the merest boys, indiscriminatelysnatched from the human family, are given such authority over maturemen, the results must be proportionable in monstrousness to the customthat authorises this worse than cruel absurdity. 

Nor is it unworthy of remark that, while the noblest-minded andmost heroic sea-officers--men of the topmost stature, includingLord Nelson himself--have regarded flogging in the Navy with thedeepest concern, and not without weighty scruples touching itsgeneral necessity, still, one who has seen much of midshipmen cantruly say that he has seen but few midshipmen who were notenthusiastic advocates and admirers of scourging. It would almostseem that they themselves, having so recently escaped theposterior discipline of the nursery and the infant school, areimpatient to recover from those smarting reminiscences by mincingthe backs of full-grown American freemen. 

It should not to be omitted here, that the midshipmen in theEnglish Navy are not permitted to be quite so imperious as in theAmerican ships. They are divided into three (I think) probationaryclasses of "volunteers, " instead of being at once advanced to awarrant. Nor will you fail to remark, when you see an Englishcutter officered by one of those volunteers, that the boy doesnot so strut and slap his dirk-hilt with a Bobadil air, andanticipatingly feel of the place where his warlike whiskersare going to be, and sputter out oaths so at the men, as is toooften the case with the little boys wearing best-bower anchors ontheir lapels in the American Navy. 

Yet it must he confessed that at times you see midshipmen who arenoble little fellows, and not at all disliked by the crew. Besidesthree gallant youths, one black-eyed little lad in particular, in theNeversink, was such a one. From his diminutiveness, he went by the nameof _Boat Plug_ among the seamen. Without being exactly familiar withthem, he had yet become a general favourite, by reason of his kindnessof manner, and never cursing them. It was amusing to hear some of theolder Tritons invoke blessings upon the youngster, when his kind tonesfell on their weather-beaten ears. "Ah, good luck to you, sir!" touchingtheir hats to the little man; "you have a soul to be saved, sir!" Therewas a wonderful deal of meaning involved in the latter sentence. _Youhave a soul to be saved_, is the phrase which a man-of-war's-manpeculiarly applies to a humane and kind-hearted officer. It also impliesthat the majority of quarter-deck officers are regarded by them in sucha light that they deny to them the possession of souls. Ah! but theseplebeians sometimes have a sublime vengeance upon patricians. Imagine anoutcast old sailor seriously cherishing the purely speculative conceitthat some bully in epaulets, who orders him to and fro like a slave, isof an organization immeasurably inferior to himself; must at last perishwith the brutes, while he goes to his immortality in heaven. 

But from what has been said in this chapter, it must not be inferredthat a midshipman leads a lord's life in a man-of-war. Far from it. He lords it over those below him, while lorded over himself by hissuperiors. It is as if with one hand a school-boy snapped his fingersat a dog, and at the same time received upon the other the disciplineof the usher's ferule. And though, by the American Articles of War, aNavy Captain cannot, of his own authority, legally punish a midshipman, otherwise than by suspension from duty (the same as with respect to theWard-room officers), yet this is one of those sea-statutes which theCaptain, to a certain extent, observes or disregards at his pleasure. Many instances might be related of the petty mortifications and officialinsults inflicted by some Captains upon their midshipmen; far moresevere, in one sense, than the old-fashioned punishment of sending themto the mast-head, though not so arbitrary as sending them before themast, to do duty with the common sailors--a custom, in former times, pursued by Captains in the English Navy. 

Captain Claret himself had no special fondness for midshipmen. Atall, overgrown young midshipman, about sixteen years old, havingfallen under his displeasure, he interrupted the humble apologieshe was making, by saying, "Not a word, sir! I'll not hear a word!Mount the netting, sir, and stand there till you are ordered tocome down!"

The midshipman obeyed; and, in full sight of the entire ship'scompany, Captain Claret promenaded to and fro below his loftyperch, reading him a most aggravating lecture upon his allegedmisconduct. To a lad of sensibility, such treatment must havebeen almost as stinging as the lash itself would have been. 

It is to be remembered that, wherever these chapters treat ofmidshipmen, the officers known as passed-midshipmen are not atall referred to. In the American Navy, these officers form aclass of young men, who, having seen sufficient service at sea asmidshipmen to pass an examination before a Board of Commodores, are promoted to the rank of passed-midshipmen, introductory tothat of lieutenant. They are supposed to be qualified to do dutyas lieutenants, and in some cases temporarily serve as such. Thedifference between a passed-midshipman and a midshipman may bealso inferred from their respective rates of pay. The former, upon sea-service, receives $750 a year; the latter, $400. Therewere no passed-midshipmen in the Neversink. 

CHAPTER LIII. 

SEAFARING PERSONS PECULIARLY SUBJECT TO BEING UNDER THE WEATHER. --THE EFFECTS OF THIS UPON A MAN-OF-WAR CAPTAIN. 

It has been said that some midshipmen, in certain cases, areguilty of spiteful practices against the man-of-war's-man. But asthese midshipmen are presumed to have received the liberal andlofty breeding of gentlemen, it would seem all but incrediblethat any of their corps could descend to the paltriness ofcherishing personal malice against so conventionally degraded abeing as a sailor. So, indeed, it would seem. But when all thecircumstances are considered, it will not appear extraordinarythat some of them should thus cast discredit upon the warrantsthey wear. Title, and rank, and wealth, and education cannotunmake human nature; the same in cabin-boy and commodore, itsonly differences lie in the different modes of development. 

At sea, a frigate houses and homes five hundred mortals in aspace so contracted that they can hardly so much as move but theytouch. Cut off from all those outward passing things which ashoreemploy the eyes, tongues, and thoughts of landsmen, the inmatesof a frigate are thrown upon themselves and each other, and alltheir ponderings are introspective. A morbidness of mind is oftenthe consequence, especially upon long voyages, accompanied by foulweather, calms, or head-winds. Nor does this exempt from its evilinfluence any rank on board. Indeed, high station only ministersto it the more, since the higher the rank in a man-of-war, theless companionship. 

It is an odious, unthankful, repugnant thing to dwell upon asubject like this; nevertheless, be it said, that, through thesejaundiced influences, even the captain of a frigate is, in somecases, indirectly induced to the infliction of corporal punishmentupon a seaman. Never sail under a navy captain whom you suspectof being dyspeptic, or constitutionally prone to hypochondria. 

The manifestation of these things is sometimes remarkable. In theearlier part of the cruise, while making a long, tedious run fromMazatlan to Callao on the Main, baffled by light head winds andfrequent intermitting calms, when all hands were heartily weariedby the torrid, monotonous sea, a good-natured fore-top-man, bythe name of Candy--quite a character in his way--standing in thewaist among a crowd of seamen, touched me, and said, "D'ye seethe old man there, White-Jacket, walking the poop? Well, don't helook as if he wanted to flog someone? Look at him once. "

But to me, at least, no such indications were visible in thedeportment of the Captain, though his thrashing the arm-chestwith the slack of the spanker-out-haul looked a little suspicious. But any one might have been doing that to pass away a calm. 

"Depend on it, " said the top-man, "he must somehow have thought Iwas making sport of _him_ a while ago, when I was only taking offold Priming, the gunner's mate. Just look at him once, White-Jacket, while I make believe coil this here rope; if there arn't a dozen inthat 'ere Captain's top-lights, my name is _horse-marine_. If I couldonly touch my tile to him now, and take my Bible oath on it, that Iwas only taking off Priming, and not _him_, he wouldn't have suchhard thoughts of me. But that can't be done; he'd think I meant toinsult him. Well, it can't be helped; I suppose I must look out fora baker's dozen afore long. "

I had an incredulous laugh at this. But two days afterward, whenwe were hoisting the main-top-mast stun'-sail, and the Lieutenantof the Watch was reprimanding the crowd of seamen at the halyardsfor their laziness--for the sail was but just crawling up to itsplace, owing to the languor of the men, induced by the heat--theCaptain, who had been impatiently walking the deck, suddenlystopped short, and darting his eyes among the seamen, suddenlyfixed them, crying out, "You, Candy, and be damned to you, youdon't pull an ounce, you blackguard! Stand up to that gun, sir;I'll teach you to be grinning over a rope that way, withoutlending your pound of beef to it. Boatswain's mate, where's your_colt?_ Give that man a dozen. "

Removing his hat, the boatswain's mate looked into the crown aghast;the coiled rope, usually worn there, was not to be found; but thenext instant it slid from the top of his head to the deck. Pickingit up, and straightening it out, he advanced toward the sailor. 

"Sir, " said Candy, touching and retouching his cap to the Captain, "I was pulling, sir, as much as the rest, sir; I was, indeed, sir. "

"Stand up to that gun, " cried the Captain. "Boatswain's mate, doyour duty. "

Three stripes were given, when the Captain raised his finger. "You------, [3] do you dare stand up to be flogged with your hat on!Take it off, sir, instantly. "

----[FOOTNOTE-3] The phrase here used I have never seen either writtenor printed, and should not like to be the first person to introduceit to the public. ----

Candy dropped it on deck. 

"Now go on, boatswain's mate. " And the sailor received his dozen. 

With his hand to his back he came up to me, where I stood amongthe by-standers, saying, "O Lord, O Lord! that boatswain's mate, too, had a spite agin me; he always thought it was _me_ that setafloat that yarn about his wife in Norfolk. O Lord! just run yourhand under my shirt will you, White-Jacket? There!! didn't hehave a spite agin me, to raise such bars as them? And my shirtall cut to pieces, too--arn't it, White-Jacket? Damn me, butthese coltings puts the tin in the Purser's pocket. O Lord! myback feels as if there was a red-hot gridiron lashed to it. But Itold you so--a widow's curse on him, say I--he thought I meant_him_, and not Priming. "

CHAPTER LIV. 

"THE PEOPLE" ARE GIVEN "LIBERTY. "

Whenever, in intervals of mild benevolence, or yielding to merepolitic dictates, Kings and Commodores relax the yoke ofservitude, they should see to it well that the concession seemnot too sudden or unqualified; for, in the commoner's estimation, that might argue feebleness or fear. 

Hence it was, perhaps, that, though noble Jack had carried theday captive in his audience at the mast, yet more than thirty-sixhours elapsed ere anything official was heard of the "liberty"his shipmates so earnestly coveted. Some of the people began togrowl and grumble. 

"It's turned out all gammon, Jack, " said one. 

"Blast the Commodore!" cried another, "he bamboozled you, Jack. "

"Lay on your oars a while, " answered Jack, "and we shall see;we've struck for liberty, and liberty we'll have! I'm yourtribune, boys; I'm your Rienzi. The Commodore must keep his word. "

Next day, about breakfast-time, a mighty whistling and piping washeard at the main-hatchway, and presently the boatswain's voicewas heard: "D'ye hear there, fore and aft! all you starboard-quarter watch! get ready to go ashore on liberty!"

In a paroxysm of delight, a young mizzen-top-man, standing by atthe time, whipped the tarpaulin from his head, and smashed itlike a pancake on the deck. "Liberty!" he shouted, leaping downinto the berth-deck after his bag. 

At the appointed hour, the quarter-watch mustered round thecapstan, at which stood our old First Lord of the Treasury andPay-Master-General, the Purser, with several goodly buck-skinbags of dollars, piled up on the capstan. He helped us all roundto half a handful or so, and then the boats were manned, and, like so many Esterhazys, we were pulled ashore by our shipmates. All their lives lords may live in listless state; but give thecommoners a holiday, and they outlord the Commodore himself. 

The ship's company were divided into four sections or quarter-watches, only one of which were on shore at a time, the restremaining to garrison the frigate--the term of liberty for eachbeing twenty-four hours. 

With Jack Chase and a few other discreet and gentlemanly top-men, I went ashore on the first day, with the first quarter-watch. Our own little party had a charming time; we saw many finesights; fell in--as all sailors must--with dashing adventures. But, though not a few good chapters might be written on thishead, I must again forbear; for in this book I have nothing to dowith the shore further than to glance at it, now and then, fromthe water; my man-of-war world alone must supply me with thestaple of my matter; I have taken an oath to keep afloat to thelast letter of my narrative. 

Had they all been as punctual as Jack Chase's party, the wholequarter-watch of liberty-men had been safe on board the frigateat the expiration of the twenty-four hours. But this was not thecase; and during the entire day succeeding, the midshipmen andothers were engaged in ferreting them out of their hiding-places onshore, and bringing them off in scattered detachments to the ship. 

They came in all imaginable stages of intoxication; some withblackened eyes and broken heads; some still more severelyinjured, having been stabbed in frays with the Portuguesesoldiers. Others, unharmed, were immediately dropped on the gun-deck, between the guns, where they lay snoring for the rest ofthe day. As a considerable degree of license is invariablypermitted to man-of-war's-men just "off liberty, " and as man-of-war's-men well know this to be the case, they occasionally availthemselves of the privilege to talk very frankly to the officerswhen they first cross the gangway, taking care, meanwhile, toreel about very industriously, so that there shall be no doubtabout their being seriously intoxicated, and altogether _noncompos_ for the time. And though but few of them have cause tofeign intoxication, yet some individuals may be suspected ofenacting a studied part upon these occasions. Indeed--judging bycertain symptoms--even when really inebriated, some of thesailors must have previously determined upon their conduct; justas some persons who, before taking the exhilarating gas, secretlymake up their minds to perform certain mad feats while under itsinfluence, which feats consequently come to pass precisely as ifthe actors were not accountable for them. 

For several days, while the other quarter-watches were given liberty, the Neversink presented a sad scene. She was more like a madhousethan a frigate; the gun-deck resounded with frantic fights, shouts, and songs. All visitors from shore were kept at a cable's length. 

These scenes, however, are nothing to those which have repeatedlybeen enacted in American men-of-war upon other stations. But thecustom of introducing women on board, in harbour, is now prettymuch discontinued, both in the English and American Navy, unlessa ship, commanded by some dissolute Captain, happens to lie insome far away, outlandish port, in the Pacific or Indian Ocean. 

The British line-of-battle ship, Royal George, which in 1782 sunkat her anchors at Spithead, carried down three hundred Englishwomen among the one thousand souls that were drowned on thatmemorable morning. 

When, at last, after all the mad tumult and contention of "Liberty, "the reaction came, our frigate presented a very different scene. The men looked jaded and wan, lethargic and lazy; and many an oldmariner, with hand upon abdomen, called upon the Flag-staff towitness that there were more _hot coppers_ in the Neversink thanthose in the ship's galley. 

Such are the lamentable effects of suddenly and completelyreleasing "_the people_" of a man-of-war from arbitrarydiscipline. It shows that, to such, "liberty, " at first, must beadministered in small and moderate quantities, increasing withthe patient's capacity to make good use of it. 

Of course while we lay in Rio, our officers frequently wentashore for pleasure, and, as a general thing, conductedthemselves with propriety. But it is a sad thing to say, that, asfor Lieutenant Mad Jack, he enjoyed himself so delightfully forthree consecutive days in the town, that, upon returning to theship, he sent his card to the Surgeon, with his compliments, begging him to drop into his state-room the first time hehappened to pass that way in the ward-room. 

But one of our Surgeon's mates, a young medico of fine family butslender fortune, must have created by far the strongestimpression among the hidalgoes of Rio. He had read Don Quixote, and, instead of curing him of his Quixotism, as it ought to havedone, it only made him still more Quixotic. Indeed, there aresome natures concerning whose moral maladies the grand maxim ofMr. Similia Similibus Curantur Hahneman does not hold true, since, with them, _like cures_ not _like_, but only aggravates_like_. Though, on the other hand, so incurable are the moralmaladies of such persons, that the antagonist maxim, _contrariacontrariis curantar_, often proves equally false. 

Of a warm tropical day, this Surgeon's mate must needs go ashorein his blue cloth boat-cloak, wearing it, with a gallant Spanishtoss, over his cavalier shoulder. By noon, he perspired veryfreely; but then his cloak attracted all eyes, and that was hugesatisfaction. Nevertheless, his being knock-kneed, and spavinedof one leg, sorely impaired the effect of this hidalgo cloak, which, by-the-way, was some-what rusty in front, where his chinrubbed against it, and a good deal bedraggled all over, from hishaving used it as a counterpane off Cape Horn. 

As for the midshipmen, there is no knowing what their mammaswould have said to their conduct in Rio. Three of them drank agood deal too much; and when they came on board, the Captainordered them to be sewed up in their hammocks, to cut short theirobstreperous capers till sober. 

This shows how unwise it is to allow children yet in their teensto wander so far from home. It more especially illustrates thefolly of giving them long holidays in a foreign land, full ofseductive dissipation. Port for men, claret for boys, cried Dr. Johnson. Even so, men only should drink the strong drink oftravel; boys should still be kept on milk and water at home. Middies! you may despise your mother's leading-strings, but theyare the _man-ropes_ my lads, by which many youngsters havesteadied the giddiness of youth, and saved themselves fromlamentable falls. And middies! know this, that as infants, beingtoo early put on their feet, grow up bandy-legged, and curtailedof their fair proportions, even so, my dear middies, does itmorally prove with some of you, who prematurely are sent off to sea. 

These admonitions are solely addressed to the more diminutive class ofmidshipmen--those under five feet high, and under seven stone in weight. 

Truly, the records of the steerages of men-of-war are full of mostmelancholy examples of early dissipation, disease, disgrace, and death. Answer, ye shades of fine boys, who in the soils of all climes, theround world over, far away sleep from your homes. 

Mothers of men! If your hearts have been cast down when your boyshave fallen in the way of temptations ashore, how much more burstingyour grief, did you know that those boys were far from your arms, cabined and cribbed in by all manner of iniquities. But this some ofyou cannot believe. It is, perhaps, well that it is so. 

But hold them fast--all those who have not yet weighed their anchorsfor the Navy-round and round, hitch over hitch, bind your leading-strings on them, and clinching a ring-bolt into your chimmey-jam, moor your boys fast to that best of harbours, the hearth-stone. 

But if youth be giddy, old age is staid; even as young saplings, in the litheness of their limbs, toss to their roots in the freshmorning air; but, stiff and unyielding with age, mossy trunksnever bend. With pride and pleasure be it said, that, as for ourold Commodore, though he might treat himself to as many "_libertydays_" as he pleased, yet throughout our stay in Rio he conductedhimself with the utmost discretion. 

But he was an old, old man; physically, a very small man; hisspine was as an unloaded musket-barrel--not only attenuated, butdestitute of a solitary cartridge, and his ribs were as the ribsof a weasel. 

Besides, he was Commodore of the fleet, supreme lord of the Commonsin Blue. It beseemed him, therefore, to erect himself into an ensampleof virtue, and show the gun-deck what virtue was. But alas! when Virtuesits high aloft on a frigate's poop, when Virtue is crowned in thecabin a Commodore, when Virtue rules by compulsion, and domineers overVice as a slave, then Virtue, though her mandates be outwardlyobserved, bears little interior sway. To be efficacious, Virtue mustcome down from aloft, even as our blessed Redeemer came down to redeemour whole man-of-war world; to that end, mixing with its sailors andsinners as equals. 

CHAPTER LV. 

MIDSHIPMEN ENTERING THE NAVY EARLY. 

The allusion in the preceding chapter to the early age at whichsome of the midshipmen enter the Navy, suggests some thoughtsrelative to more important considerations. 

A very general modern impression seems to be, that, in order tolearn the profession of a sea-officer, a boy can hardly be sentto sea too early. To a certain extent, this may be a mistake. Other professions, involving a knowledge of technicalities andthings restricted to one particular field of action, are frequentlymastered by men who begin after the age of twenty-one, or even at alater period of life. It was only about the middle of the seventeenthcentury that the British military and naval services were kept distinct. Previous to that epoch the king's officers commanded indifferentlyeither by sea or by land. 

Robert Blake, perhaps one of the most accomplished, and certainlyone of the most successful Admirals that ever hoisted a flag, wasmore than half a century old (fifty-one years) before he enteredthe naval service, or had aught to do, professionally, with aship. He was of a studious turn, and, after leaving Oxford, resided quietly on his estate, a country gentleman, till hisforty-second year, soon after which he became connected with theParliamentary army. 

The historian Clarendon says of him, "He was the first man thatmade it manifest that the science (seamanship) might he attainedin less time than was imagined. " And doubtless it was to hisshore sympathies that the well-known humanity and kindness whichBlake evinced in his intercourse with the sailors is in a largedegree to be imputed. 

Midshipmen sent into the Navy at a very early age are exposed tothe passive reception of all the prejudices of the quarter-deckin favour of ancient usages, however useless or pernicious; thoseprejudices grow up with them, and solidify with their very bones. As they rise in rank, they naturally carry them up, whence theinveterate repugnance of many Commodores and Captains to theslightest innovations in the service, however salutary they mayappear to landsmen. 

It is hardly to be doubted that, in matters connected with thegeneral welfare of the Navy, government has paid rather too muchdeference to the opinions of the officers of the Navy, consideringthem as men almost born to the service, and therefore far betterqualified to judge concerning any and all questions touching itthan people on shore. But in a nation under a liberal Constitution, it must ever be unwise to make too distinct and peculiar theprofession of either branch of its military men. True, in acountry like ours, nothing is at present to be apprehended oftheir gaining political rule; but not a little is to beapprehended concerning their perpetuating or creating abusesamong their subordinates, unless civilians have full cognisanceof their administrative affairs, and account themselves competentto the complete overlooking and ordering them. 

We do wrong when we in any way contribute to the prevailingmystification that has been thrown about the internal affairs ofthe national sea-service. Hitherto those affairs have beenregarded even by some high state functionaries as things beyondtheir insight--altogether too technical and mysterious to befully comprehended by landsmen. And this it is that hasperpetuated in the Navy many evils that otherwise would have beenabolished in the general amelioration of other things. The armyis sometimes remodelled, but the Navy goes down from generationto generation almost untouched and unquestioned, as if its codewere infallible, and itself a piece of perfection that nostatesman could improve. When a Secretary of the Navy ventures toinnovate upon its established customs, you hear some of the Navyofficers say, "What does this landsman know about our affairs?Did he ever head a watch? He does not know starboard fromlarboard, girt-line from back-stay. "

While we deferentially and cheerfully leave to Navy officers thesole conduct of making and shortening sail, tacking ship, andperforming other nautical manoeuvres, as may seem to them best;let us beware of abandoning to their discretion those generalmunicipal regulations touching the well-being of the great bodyof men before the mast; let us beware of being too muchinfluenced by their opinions in matters where it is but naturalto suppose that their long-established prejudices are enlisted. 

CHAPTER LVI. 

A SHORE EMPEROR ON BOARD A MAN-OF-WAR. 

While we lay in Rio, we sometimes had company from shore; but anunforeseen honour awaited us. One day, the young Emperor, DonPedro II. , and suite--making a circuit of the harbour, andvisiting all the men-of-war in rotation--at last condescendinglyvisited the Neversink. 

He came in a splendid barge, rowed by thirty African slaves, who, after the Brazilian manner, in concert rose upright to their oarsat every stroke; then sank backward again to their seats with asimultaneous groan. 

He reclined under a canopy of yellow silk, looped with tassels ofgreen, the national colours. At the stern waved the Brazilianflag, bearing a large diamond figure in the centre, emblematical, perhaps, of the mines of precious stones in the interior; or, itmay be, a magnified portrait of the famous "Portuguese diamond"itself, which was found in Brazil, in the district of Tejuco, onthe banks of the Rio Belmonte. 

We gave them a grand salute, which almost made the ship's live-oak _knees_ knock together with the tremendous concussions. Wemanned the yards, and went through a long ceremonial of payingthe Emperor homage. Republicans are often more courteous toroyalty than royalists themselves. But doubtless this springsfrom a noble magnanimity. 

At the gangway, the Emperor was received by our Commodore inperson, arrayed in his most resplendent coat and finest Frenchepaulets. His servant had devoted himself to polishing everybutton that morning with rotten-stone and rags--your sea air is asworn foe to metallic glosses; whence it comes that the swords ofsea-officers have, of late, so rusted in their scabbards thatthey are with difficulty drawn. 

It was a fine sight to see this Emperor and Commodore complimentingeach other. Both were _chapeaux-de-bras_, and both continually wavedthem. By instinct, the Emperor knew that the venerable personage beforehim was as much a monarch afloat as he himself was ashore. Did not ourCommodore carry the sword of state by his side? For though not bornebefore him, it must have been a sword of state, since it looked farto lustrous to have been his fighting sword. _That_ was naught but alimber steel blade, with a plain, serviceable handle, like the handleof a slaughter-house knife. 

Who ever saw a star when the noon sun was in sight? But you seldom seea king without satellites. In the suite of the youthful Emperor came aprincely train; so brilliant with gems, that they seemed just emergedfrom the mines of the Rio Belmonte. 

You have seen cones of crystallised salt? Just so flashed thesePortuguese Barons, Marquises, Viscounts, and Counts. Were it notfor their titles, and being seen in the train of their lord, youwould have sworn they were eldest sons of jewelers all, who hadrun away with their fathers' cases on their backs. 

Contrasted with these lamp-lustres of Barons of Brazil, how wanedthe gold lace of our barons of the frigate, the officers of thegun-room! and compared with the long, jewel-hilted rapiers of theMarquises, the little dirks of our cadets of noble houses--themiddies--looked like gilded tenpenny nails in their girdles. 

But there they stood! Commodore and Emperor, Lieutenants andMarquises, middies and pages! The brazen band on the poop struckup; the marine guard presented arms; and high aloft, looking downon this scene, all _the people_ vigorously hurraed. A top-mannext me on the main-royal-yard removed his hat, and diligentlymanipulated his head in honour of the event; but he was so farout of sight in the clouds, that this ceremony went for nothing. 

A great pity it was, that in addition to all these honours, thatadmirer of Portuguese literature, Viscount Strangford, of GreatBritain--who, I believe, once went out Ambassador Extraordinaryto the Brazils--it was a pity that he was not present on thisoccasion, to yield his tribute of "A Stanza to Braganza!" For ourroyal visitor was an undoubted Braganza, allied to nearly all thegreat families of Europe. His grandfather, John VI. , had beenKing of Portugal; his own sister, Maria, was now its queen. Hewas, indeed, a distinguished young gentleman, entitled to highconsideration, and that consideration was most cheerfullyaccorded him. 

He wore a green dress-coat, with one regal morning-star at thebreast, and white pantaloons. In his chapeau was a single, bright, golden-hued feather of the Imperial Toucan fowl, amagnificent, omnivorous, broad-billed bandit bird of prey, anative of Brazil. Its perch is on the loftiest trees, whence itlooks down upon all humbler fowls, and, hawk-like, flies at theirthroats. The Toucan once formed part of the savage regalia of theIndian caciques of the country, and upon the establishment of theempire, was symbolically retained by the Portuguese sovereigns. 

His Imperial Majesty was yet in his youth; rather corpulent, ifanything, with a care-free, pleasant face, and a polite, indifferent, and easy address. His manners, indeed, were entirely unexceptionable. 

Now here, thought I, is a very fine lad, with very fine prospectsbefore him. He is supreme Emperor of all these Brazils; he has nostormy night-watches to stand; he can lay abed of mornings justas long as he pleases. Any gentleman in Rio would be proud of hispersonal acquaintance, and the prettiest girl in all SouthAmerica would deem herself honoured with the least glance fromthe acutest angle of his eye. 

Yes: this young Emperor will have a fine time of this life, evenso long as he condescends to exist. Every one jumps to obey him;and see, as I live, there is an old nobleman in his suit--theMarquis d'Acarty they call him, old enough to be his grandfather--who, in the hot sun, is standing bareheaded before him, whilethe Emperor carries his hat on his head. 

"I suppose that old gentleman, now, " said a young New England tarbeside me, "would consider it a great honour to put on his RoyalMajesty's boots; and yet, White-Jacket, if yonder Emperor and Iwere to strip and jump overboard for a bath, it would be hardtelling which was of the blood royal when we should once be inthe water. Look you, Don Pedro II. , " he added, "how do you cometo be Emperor? Tell me that. You cannot pull as many pounds as Ion the main-topsail-halyards; you are not as tall as I: your noseis a pug, and mine is a cut-water; and how do you come to be a'_brigand_, ' with that thin pair of spars? A _brigand_, indeed!"

"_Braganza_, you mean, " said I, willing to correct the rhetoric ofso fierce a republican, and, by so doing, chastise his censoriousness. 

"Braganza! _bragger_ it is, " he replied; "and a bragger, indeed. Seethat feather in his cap! See how he struts in that coat! He may wellwear a green one, top-mates--he's a green-looking swab at the best. "

"Hush, Jonathan, " said I; "there's the _First Duff_ looking up. Bestill! the Emperor will hear you;" and I put my hand on his mouth. 

"Take your hand away, White-Jacket, " he cried; "there's no law upaloft here. I say, you Emperor--you greenhorn in the green coat, there--look you, you can't raise a pair of whiskers yet; and seewhat a pair of homeward-bounders I have on my jowls! _Don Pedro_, eh? What's that, after all, but plain Peter--reckoned a shabby namein my country. Damn me, White-Jacket, I wouldn't call my dog Peter!"

"Clap a stopper on your jaw-tackle, will you?" cried Ringbolt, thesailor on the other side of him. "You'll be getting us all intodarbies for this. "

"I won't trice up my red rag for nobody, " retorted Jonathan. "So youhad better take a round turn with yours, Ringbolt, and let me alone, or I'll fetch you such a swat over your figure-head, you'll think aLong Wharf truck-horse kicked you with all four shoes on one hoof!You Emperor--you counter-jumping son of a gun--cock your weather eyeup aloft here, and see your betters! I say, top-mates, he ain't anyEmperor at all--I'm the rightful Emperor. Yes, by the Commodore's boots!they stole me out of my cradle here in the palace of Rio, and put thatgreen-horn in my place. Ay, you timber-head, you, I'm Don Pedro II. , and by good rights you ought to be a main-top-man here, with your fistin a tar-bucket! Look you, I say, that crown of yours ought to be on myhead; or, if you don't believe _that_, just heave it into the ring once, and see who's the best man. "

"What's this hurra's nest here aloft?" cried Jack Chase, coming up thet'-gallant rigging from the top-sail yard. "Can't you behave yourself, royal-yard-men, when an Emperor's on board?"

"It's this here Jonathan, " answered Ringbolt; "he's been blackguardingthe young nob in the green coat, there. He says Don Pedro stole his hat. "

"How?"

"Crown, he means, noble Jack, " said a top-man. 

"Jonathan don't call himself an Emperor, does he?" asked Jack. 

"Yes, " cried Jonathan; "that greenhorn, standing there by theCommodore, is sailing under false colours; he's an impostor, I say;he wears my crown. "

"Ha! ha!" laughed Jack, now seeing into the joke, and willing tohumour it; "though I'm born a Briton, boys, yet, by the mast!these Don Pedros are all Perkin Warbecks. But I say, Jonathan, mylad, don't pipe your eye now about the loss of your crown; for, look you, we all wear crowns, from our cradles to our graves, andthough in _double-darbies_ in the _brig_, the Commodore himselfcan't unking us. "

"A riddle, noble Jack. "

"Not a bit; every man who has a sole to his foot has a crown tohis head. Here's mine;" and so saying, Jack, removing histarpaulin, exhibited a bald spot, just about the bigness of acrown-piece, on the summit of his curly and classical head. 

CHAPTER LVII. 

THE EMPEROR REVIEWS THE PEOPLE AT QUARTERS. 

I Beg their Royal Highnesses' pardons all round, but I had almostforgotten to chronicle the fact, that with the Emperor cameseveral other royal Princes--kings for aught we knew--since itwas just after the celebration of the nuptials of a youngersister of the Brazilian monarch to some European royalty. Indeed, the Emperor and his suite formed a sort of bridal party, only thebride herself was absent. 

The first reception over, the smoke of the cannonading salutehaving cleared away, and the martial outburst of the brass bandhaving also rolled off to leeward, the people were called downfrom the yards, and the drum beat to quarters. 

To quarters we went; and there we stood up by our iron bull-dogs, while our royal and noble visitors promenaded along the batteries, breaking out into frequent exclamations at our warlike array, theextreme neatness of our garments, and, above all, the extraordinarypolish of the _bright-work_ about the great guns, and the marvellouswhiteness of the decks. 

"Que gosto!" cried a Marquis, with several dry goods samples ofribbon, tallied with bright buttons, hanging from his breast. 

"Que gloria!" cried a crooked, coffee-coloured Viscount, spreadingboth palms. 

"Que alegria!" cried a little Count, mincingly circumnavigating ashot-box. 

"Que contentamento he o meu!" cried the Emperor himself, complacentlyfolding his royal arms, and serenely gazing along our ranks. 

_Pleasure, Glory_, and _Joy_--this was the burden of the three noblecourtiers. _And very pleasing indeed_--was the simple rendering ofDon Pedro's imperial remark. 

"Ay, ay, " growled a grim rammer-and-sponger behind me; "it's alldevilish fine for you nobs to look at; but what would you say ifyou had to holy-stone the deck yourselves, and wear out yourelbows in polishing this cursed old iron, besides getting a dozenat the gangway, if you dropped a grease-spot on deck in yourmess? Ay, ay, devilish fine for you, but devilish dull for us!"

In due time the drums beat the retreat, and the ship's companyscattered over the decks. 

Some of the officers now assumed the part of cicerones, to showthe distinguished strangers the bowels of the frigate, concerningwhich several of them showed a good deal of intelligentcuriosity. A guard of honour, detached from the marine corps, accompanied them, and they made the circuit of the berth-deck, where, at a judicious distance, the Emperor peeped down into thecable-tier, a very subterranean vault. 

The Captain of the Main-Hold, who there presided, made a politebow in the twilight, and respectfully expressed a desire for HisRoyal Majesty to step down and honour him with a call; but, withhis handkerchief to his Imperial nose, his Majesty declined. Theparty then commenced the ascent to the spar-deck; which, from sogreat a depth in a frigate, is something like getting up to thetop of Bunker Hill Monument from the basement. 

While a crowd of people was gathered about the forward part ofthe booms, a sudden cry was heard from below; a lieutenant camerunning forward to learn the cause, when an old sheet-anchor-man, standing by, after touching his hat hitched up his waistbands, and replied, "I don't know, sir, but I'm thinking as how one o'them 'ere kings has been tumblin' down the hatchway. "

And something like this it turned out. In ascending one of thenarrow ladders leading from the berth-deck to the gun-deck, theMost Noble Marquis of Silva, in the act of elevating the Imperialcoat-tails, so as to protect them from rubbing against the newly-painted combings of the hatchway, this noble marquis's sword, being an uncommonly long one, had caught between his legs, andtripped him head over heels down into the fore-passage. 

"Onde ides?" (where are you going?) said his royal master, tranquillypeeping down toward the falling Marquis; "and what did you let go of mycoat-tails for?" he suddenly added, in a passion, glancing round at thesame time, to see if they had suffered from the unfaithfulness of histrain bearer. 

"Oh, Lord!" sighed the Captain of the Fore-top, "who would be a Marquisof Silva?"

Upon being assisted to the spar-deck, the unfortunate Marquis wasfound to have escaped without serious harm; but, from the markedcoolness of his royal master, when the Marquis drew near toapologise for his awkwardness, it was plain that he was condemnedto languish for a time under the royal displeasure. 

Shortly after, the Imperial party withdrew, under another grandnational salute. 

CHAPTER LVIII. 

A QUARTER-DECK OFFICER BEFORE THE MAST. 

As we were somewhat short-handed while we lay in Rio, we receiveda small draft of men from a United States sloop of war, whosethree years' term of service would expire about the time of ourarrival in America. 

Under guard of an armed Lieutenant and four midshipmen, they cameon board in the afternoon. They were immediately mustered in thestarboard gangway, that Mr. Bridewell, our First Lieutenant, mighttake down their names, and assign them their stations. 

They stood in a mute and solemn row; the officer advanced, with hismemorandum-book and pencil. 

My casual friend, Shakings, the holder, happened to be by at thetime. Touching my arm, he said, "White-Jacket, this here remindsme of Sing-Sing, when a draft of fellows in darbies, came on fromthe State Prison at Auburn for a change of scene like, you know!"

After taking down four or five names, Mr. Bridewell accosted thenext man, a rather good-looking person, but, from his haggardcheek and sunken eye, he seemed to have been in the sad habit, all his life, of sitting up rather late at night; and though allsailors do certainly keep late hours enough--standing watches atmidnight--yet there is no small difference between keeping latehours at sea and keeping late hours ashore. 

"What's your name?" asked the officer, of this rather rakish-looking recruit. 

"Mandeville, sir, " said the man, courteously touching his cap. "You must remember me, sir, " he added, in a low, confidentialtone, strangely dashed with servility; "we sailed together oncein the old Macedonian, sir. I wore an epaulet then; we had thesame state-room, you know, sir. I'm your old chum, Mandeville, sir, " and he again touched his cap. 

"I remember an _officer_ by that name, " said the First Lieutenant, emphatically, "and I know _you_, fellow. But I know you henceforthfor a common sailor. I can show no favouritism here. If you everviolate the ship's rules, you shall be flogged like any otherseaman. I place you in the fore-top; go forward to your duty. "

It seemed this Mandeville had entered the Navy when very young, and had risen to be a lieutenant, as he said. But brandy had beenhis bane. One night, when he had the deck of a line-of-battleship, in the Mediterranean, he was seized with a fit of mania-a-potu, and being out of his senses for the time, went below andturned into his berth, leaving the deck without a commandingofficer. For this unpardonable offence he was broken. 

Having no fortune, and no other profession than the sea, upon hisdisgrace he entered the merchant-service as a chief mate; but his loveof strong drink still pursuing him, he was again cashiered at sea, anddegraded before the mast by the Captain. After this, in a state ofintoxication, he re-entered the Navy at Pensacola as a common sailor. But all these lessons, so biting-bitter to learn, could not cure himof his sin. He had hardly been a week on board the Neversink, when hewas found intoxicated with smuggled spirits. They lashed him to thegratings, and ignominiously scourged him under the eye of his oldfriend and comrade, the First Lieutenant. 

This took place while we lay in port, which reminds me of thecircumstance, that when punishment is about to be inflicted inharbour, all strangers are ordered ashore; and the sentries at theside have it in strict charge to waive off all boats drawing near. 

CHAPTER LIX. 

A MAN-OF-WAR BUTTON DIVIDES TWO BROTHERS. 

The conduct of Mandeville, in claiming the acquaintance of theFirst Lieutenant under such disreputable circumstances wasstrongly contrasted by the behaviour of another person on board, placed for a time in a somewhat similar situation. 

Among the genteel youths of the after-guard was a lad of aboutsixteen, a very handsome young fellow, with starry eyes, curlyhair of a golden colour, and a bright, sunshiny complexion: hemust have been the son of some goldsmith. He was one of the fewsailors--not in the main-top--whom I used to single out foroccasional conversation. After several friendly interviews hebecame quite frank, and communicated certain portions of hishistory. There is some charm in the sea, which induces mostpersons to be very communicative concerning themselves. 

We had lain in Rio but a day, when I observed that this lad--whomI shall here call Frank--wore an unwonted expression of sadness, mixed with apprehension. I questioned him as to the cause, but hechose to conceal it. Not three days after, he abruptly accostedme on the gun-deck, where I happened to be taking a promenade. 

"I can't keep it to myself any more, " he said; "I must have aconfidant, or I shall go mad!"

"What is the matter?" said I, in alarm. 

"Matter enough--look at this!" and he handed me a torn half sheetof an old New York _Herald_, putting his finger upon a particularword in a particular paragraph. It was the announcement of thesailing from the Brooklyn Navy-yard of a United States store ship, with provisions for the squadron in Rio. It was upon a particularname, in the list of officers and midshipmen, that Frank's fingerswas placed. 

"That is my own brother, " said he; "he must have got a reefer'swarrant since I left home. Now, White-Jacket, what's to be done?I have calculated that the store ship may be expected here everyday; my brother will then see me--he an officer and I a miserablesailor that any moment may be flogged at the gangway, before hisvery eyes. Heavens! White-Jacket, what shall I do? Would you run?Do you think there is any chance to desert? I won't see him, byHeaven, with this sailor's frock on, and he with the anchor button!"

"Why, Frank, " said I, "I do not really see sufficient cause forthis fit you are in. Your brother is an of officer--very good;and you are nothing but a sailor--but that is no disgrace. If hecomes on board here, go up to him, and take him by the hand;believe me, he will be glad enough to see you!"

Frank started from his desponding attitude, and fixing his eyesfull upon mine, with clasped hands exclaimed, "White-Jacket, Ihave been from home nearly three years; in that time I have neverheard one word from my family, and, though God knows how I lovethem, yet I swear to you, that though my brother can tell mewhether my sisters are still alive, yet, rather than accost himin this _lined-frock_, I would go ten centuries without hearingone syllable from home?"

Amazed at his earnestness, and hardly able to account for italtogether, I stood silent a moment; then said, "Why, Frank, thismidshipman is your own brother, you say; now, do you really thinkthat your own flesh and blood is going to give himself airs overyou, simply because he sports large brass buttons on his coat?Never believe it. If he does, he can be no brother, and ought tobe hanged--that's all!"

"Don't say that again, " said Frank, resentfully; "my brother is anoble-hearted fellow; I love him as I do myself. You don'tunderstand me, White-Jacket; don't you see, that when my brotherarrives, he must consort more or less with our chuckle-headedreefers on board here? There's that namby-pamby Miss Nancy of awhite-face, Stribbles, who, the other day, when Mad Jack's backwas turned, ordered me to hand him the spy-glass, as if he were aCommodore. Do you suppose, now, I want my brother to see me alackey abroad here? By Heaven it is enough to drive one distracted!What's to be done?" he cried, fiercely. 

Much more passed between us, but all my philosophy was in vain, and at last Frank departed, his head hanging down in despondency. 

For several days after, whenever the quarter-master reported asail entering the harbour, Frank was foremost in the rigging toobserve it. At length, one afternoon, a vessel drawing near wasreported to be the long-expected store ship. I looked round forFrank on the spar-deck, but he was nowhere to be seen. He musthave been below, gazing out of a port-hole. The vessel was hailedfrom our poop, and came to anchor within a biscuit's toss of ourbatteries. 

That evening I heard that Frank had ineffectually endeavoured toget removed from his place as an oarsman in the First-Cutter--aboat which, from its size, is generally employed with the launchin carrying ship-stores. When I thought that, the very next day, perhaps, this boat would be plying between the store ship and ourfrigate, I was at no loss to account for Frank's attempts to getrid of his oar, and felt heartily grieved at their failure. 

Next morning the bugler called away the First-Cutter's crew, andFrank entered the boat with his hat slouched over his eyes. Uponhis return, I was all eagerness to learn what had happened, and, as the communication of his feelings was a grateful relief, hepoured his whole story into my ear. 

It seemed that, with his comrades, he mounted the store ship'sside, and hurried forward to the forecastle. Then, turninganxiously toward the quarter-deck, he spied two midshipmenleaning against the bulwarks, conversing. One was the officer ofhis boat--was the other his brother? No; he was too tall--toolarge. Thank Heaven! it was not him. And perhaps his brother hadnot sailed from home, after all; there might have been somemistake. But suddenly the strange midshipman laughed aloud, andthat laugh Frank had heard a thousand times before. It was afree, hearty laugh--a brother's laugh; but it carried a pang tothe heart of poor Frank. 

He was now ordered down to the main-deck to assist in removingthe stores. The boat being loaded, he was ordered into her, when, looking toward the gangway, he perceived the two midshipmenlounging upon each side of it, so that no one could pass themwithout brushing their persons. But again pulling his hat overhis eyes, Frank, darting between them, gained his oar. "How myheart thumped, " he said, "when I actually, felt him so near me;but I wouldn't look at him--no! I'd have died first!"

To Frank's great relief, the store ship at last moved further upthe bay, and it fortunately happened that he saw no more of hisbrother while in Rio; and while there, he never in any way madehimself known to him. 

CHAPTER LX. 

A MAN-OF-WAR'S-MAN SHOT AT. 

There was a seaman belonging to the fore-top--a mess-mate, thoughnot a top-mate of mine, and no favourite of the Captain's, --who, for certain venial transgressions, had been prohibited from goingashore on liberty when the ship's company went. Enraged at thedeprivation--for he had not touched earth in upward of a year--he, some nights after, lowered himself overboard, with the viewof gaining a canoe, attached by a robe to a Dutch galiot somecables'-lengths distant. In this canoe he proposed paddlinghimself ashore. Not being a very expert swimmer, the commotion hemade in the water attracted the ear of the sentry on that side ofthe ship, who, turning about in his walk, perceived the faintwhite spot where the fugitive was swimming in the frigate'sshadow. He hailed it; but no reply. 

"Give the word, or I fire!"

Not a word was heard. 

The next instant there was a red flash, and, before it hadcompletely ceased illuminating the night the white spot waschanged into crimson. Some of the officers, returning from aparty at the Beach of the Flamingoes, happened to be drawing nearthe ship in one of her cutters. They saw the flash, and thebounding body it revealed. In a moment the topman was draggedinto the boat, a handkerchief was used for a tourniquet, and thewounded fugitive was soon on board the frigate, when, the surgeonbeing called, the necessary attentions were rendered. 

Now, it appeared, that at the moment the sentry fired, the top-man--in order to elude discovery, by manifesting the completestquietude--was floating on the water, straight and horizontal, asif reposing on a bed. As he was not far from the ship at thetime, and the sentry was considerably elevated above him--pacinghis platform, on a level with the upper part of the hammock-nettings--the ball struck with great force, with a downwardobliquity, entering the right thigh just above the knee, and, penetrating some inches, glanced upward along the bone, buryingitself somewhere, so that it could not be felt by outwardmanipulation. There was no dusky discoloration to mark itsinternal track, as in the case when a partly-spent ball--obliquely hitting--after entering the skin, courses on, justbeneath the surface, without penetrating further. Nor was thereany mark on the opposite part of the thigh to denote its place, as when a ball forces itself straight through a limb, and lodges, perhaps, close to the skin on the other side. Nothing was visiblebut a small, ragged puncture, bluish about the edges, as if therough point of a tenpenny nail had been forced into the flesh, and withdrawn. It seemed almost impossible, that through so smallan aperture, a musket-bullet could have penetrated. 

The extreme misery and general prostration of the man, caused bythe great effusion of blood--though, strange to say, at first hesaid he felt no pain from the wound itself--induced the Surgeon, very reluctantly, to forego an immediate search for the ball, toextract it, as that would have involved the dilating of the woundby the knife; an operation which, at that juncture, would havebeen almost certainly attended with fatal results. A day or two, therefore, was permitted to pass, while simple dressings wereapplied. 

The Surgeon of the other American ships of war in harbouroccasionally visited the Neversink, to examine the patient, andincidentally to listen to the expositions of our own Surgeon, theirsenior in rank. But Cadwallader Cuticle, who, as yet, has beenbut incidentally alluded to, now deserves a chapter by himself. 

CHAPTER LXI. 

THE SURGEON OF THE FLEET. 

Cadwallader Cuticle, M. D. , and Honorary Member of the mostdistinguished Colleges of Surgeons both in Europe and America, was our Surgeon of the Fleet. Nor was he at all blind to thedignity of his position; to which, indeed, he was renderedpeculiarly competent, if the reputation he enjoyed was deserved. He had the name of being the foremost Surgeon in the Navy, agentleman of remarkable science, and a veteran practitioner. 

He was a small, withered man, nearly, perhaps quite, sixty yearsof age. His chest was shallow, his shoulders bent, his pantaloonshung round skeleton legs, and his face was singularly attenuated. In truth, the corporeal vitality of this man seemed, in a gooddegree, to have died out of him. He walked abroad, a curiouspatch-work of life and death, with a wig, one glass eye, and aset of false teeth, while his voice was husky and thick; but hismind seemed undebilitated as in youth; it shone out of hisremaining eye with basilisk brilliancy. 

Like most old physicians and surgeons who have seen much service, and have been promoted to high professional place for theirscientific attainments, this Cuticle was an enthusiast in hiscalling. In private, he had once been heard to say, confidentially, that he would rather cut off a man's arm than dismember the wing ofthe most delicate pheasant. In particular, the department of MorbidAnatomy was his peculiar love; and in his state-room below he had amost unsightly collection of Parisian casts, in plaster and wax, representing all imaginable malformations of the human members, bothorganic and induced by disease. Chief among these was a cast, oftento be met with in the Anatomical Museums of Europe, and no doubt anunexaggerated copy of a genuine original; it was the head of anelderly woman, with an aspect singularly gentle and meek, but at thesame time wonderfully expressive of a gnawing sorrow, never to berelieved. You would almost have thought it the face of some abbess, for some unspeakable crime voluntarily sequestered from humansociety, and leading a life of agonised penitence without hope; somarvellously sad and tearfully pitiable was this head. But when youfirst beheld it, no such emotions ever crossed your mind. All youreyes and all your horrified soul were fast fascinated and frozen bythe sight of a hideous, crumpled horn, like that of a ram, downwardgrowing out from the forehead, and partly shadowing the face; but asyou gazed, the freezing fascination of its horribleness graduallywaned, and then your whole heart burst with sorrow, as youcontemplated those aged features, ashy pale and wan. The horn seemedthe mark of a curse for some mysterious sin, conceived and committedbefore the spirit had entered the flesh. Yet that sin seemed somethingimposed, and not voluntarily sought; some sin growing out of theheartless necessities of the predestination of things; some sin underwhich the sinner sank in sinless woe. 

But no pang of pain, not the slightest touch of concern, evercrossed the bosom of Cuticle when he looked on this cast. It wasimmovably fixed to a bracket, against the partition of his state-room, so that it was the first object that greeted his eyes whenhe opened them from his nightly sleep. Nor was it to hide the face, that upon retiring, he always hung his Navy cap upon the upwardcurling extremity of the horn, for that obscured it but little. 

The Surgeon's cot-boy, the lad who made up his swinging bed andtook care of his room, often told us of the horror he sometimesfelt when he would find himself alone in ins master's retreat. Attimes he was seized with the idea that Cuticle was a preternaturalbeing; and once entering his room in the middle watch of the night, he started at finding it enveloped in a thick, bluish vapour, andstifling with the odours of brimstone. Upon hearing a low groanfrom the smoke, with a wild cry he darted from the place, and, rousing the occupants of the neighbouring state-rooms, it wasfound that the vapour proceeded from smouldering bunches of lucifermatches, which had become ignited through the carelessness of theSurgeon. Cuticle, almost dead, was dragged from the suffocatingatmosphere, and it was several days ere he completely recoveredfrom its effects. This accident took place immediately over thepowder magazine; but as Cuticle, during his sickness, paid dearlyenough for transgressing the laws prohibiting combustibles in thegun-room, the Captain contented himself with privately remonstratingwith him. 

Well knowing the enthusiasm of the Surgeon for all specimens ofmorbid anatomy, some of the ward-room officers used to play uponhis credulity, though, in every case, Cuticle was not long indiscovering their deceptions. Once, when they had some sagopudding for dinner, and Cuticle chanced to be ashore, they madeup a neat parcel of this bluish-white, firm, jelly-likepreparation, and placing it in a tin box, carefully sealed withwax, they deposited it on the gun-room table, with a note, purporting to come from an eminent physician in Rio, connectedwith the Grand National Museum on the Praca d' Acclamacao, begging leave to present the scientific Senhor Cuticle--with thedonor's compliments--an uncommonly fine specimen of a cancer. 

Descending to the ward-room, Cuticle spied the note, and nosooner read it, than, clutching the case, he opened it, andexclaimed, "Beautiful! splendid! I have never seen a finerspecimen of this most interesting disease. "

"What have you there, Surgeon Cuticle?" said a Lieutenant, advancing. 

"Why, sir, look at it; did you ever see anything more exquisite?"

"Very exquisite indeed; let me have a bit of it, will you, Cuticle?"

"Let you have a bit of it!" shrieked the Surgeon, starting back. "Let you have one of my limbs! I wouldn't mar so large a specimenfor a hundred dollars; but what can you want of it? You are notmaking collections!"

"I'm fond of the article, " said the Lieutenant; "it's a fine coldrelish to bacon or ham. You know, I was in New Zealand lastcruise, Cuticle, and got into sad dissipation there among thecannibals; come, let's have a bit, if it's only a mouthful. "

"Why, you infernal Feejee!" shouted Cuticle, eyeing the otherwith a confounded expression; "you don't really mean to eat apiece of this cancer?"

"Hand it to me, and see whether I will not, " was the reply. 

"In God's name, take it!" cried the Surgeon, putting the caseinto his hands, and then standing with his own uplifted. 

"Steward!" cried the Lieutenant, "the castor--quick! I always useplenty of pepper with this dish, Surgeon; it's oystery. Ah! thisis really delicious, " he added, smacking his lips over amouthful. "Try it now, Surgeon, and you'll never keep such afine dish as this, lying uneaten on your hands, as a merescientific curiosity. "

Cuticle's whole countenance changed; and, slowly walking up tothe table, he put his nose close to the tin case, then touchedits contents with his finger and tasted it. Enough. Buttoning uphis coat, in all the tremblings of an old man's rage he burstfrom the ward-room, and, calling for a boat, was not seen againfor twenty-four hours. 

But though, like all other mortals, Cuticle was subject at timesto these fits of passion--at least under outrageous provocation--nothing could exceed his coolness when actually employed in hisimminent vocation. Surrounded by moans and shrieks, by featuresdistorted with anguish inflicted by himself, he yet maintained acountenance almost supernaturally calm; and unless the intenseinterest of the operation flushed his wan face with a momentarytinge of professional enthusiasm, he toiled away, untouched bythe keenest misery coming under a fleet-surgeon's eye. Indeed, long habituation to the dissecting-room and the amputation-tablehad made him seemingly impervious to the ordinary emotions ofhumanity. Yet you could not say that Cuticle was essentially acruel-hearted man. His apparent heartlessness must have been of apurely scientific origin. It is not to be imagined even thatCuticle would have harmed a fly, unless he could procure amicroscope powerful enough to assist him in experimenting on theminute vitals of the creature. 

But notwithstanding his marvellous indifference to the sufferingsof his patients, and spite even of his enthusiasm in hisvocation--not cooled by frosting old age itself--Cuticle, on someoccasions, would effect a certain disrelish of his profession, and declaim against the necessity that forced a man of hishumanity to perform a surgical operation. Especially was it aptto be thus with him, when the case was one of more than ordinaryinterest. In discussing it previous to setting about it, he wouldveil his eagerness under an aspect of great circumspection, curiously marred, however, by continual sallies of unsuppressibleimpatience. But the knife once in his hand, the compassionlesssurgeon himself, undisguised, stood before you. Such wasCadwallader Cuticle, our Surgeon of the Fleet. 

CHAPTER LXII. 

A CONSULTATION OF MAN-OF-WAR SURGEONS. 

It seems customary for the Surgeon of the Fleet, when any importantoperation in his department is on the anvil, and there is nothing toabsorb professional attention from it, to invite his brother surgeons, if at hand at the time, to a ceremonious consultation upon it. Andthis, in courtesy, his brother surgeons expect. 

In pursuance of this custom, then, the surgeons of the neighbouringAmerican ships of war were requested to visit the Neversink in a body, to advise concerning the case of the top-man, whose situation had nowbecome critical. They assembled on the half-deck, and were soon joinedby their respected senior, Cuticle. In a body they bowed as heapproached, and accosted him with deferential regard. 

"Gentlemen, " said Cuticle, unostentatiously seating himself on acamp-stool, handed him by his cot-boy, "we have here an extremelyinteresting case. You have all seen the patient, I believe. Atfirst I had hopes that I should have been able to cut down to theball, and remove it; but the state of the patient forbade. Sincethen, the inflammation and sloughing of the part has beenattended with a copious suppuration, great loss of substance, extreme debility and emaciation. From this, I am convinced thatthe ball has shattered and deadened the bone, and now liesimpacted in the medullary canal. In fact, there can be no doubtthat the wound is incurable, and that amputation is the onlyresource. But, gentlemen, I find myself placed in a very delicatepredicament. I assure you I feel no professional anxiety toperform the operation. I desire your advice, and if you will nowagain visit the patient with me, we can then return here anddecide what is best to be done. Once more, let me say, that Ifeel no personal anxiety whatever to use the knife. "

The assembled surgeons listened to this address with the mostserious attention, and, in accordance with their superior'sdesire, now descended to the sick-bay, where the patient waslanguishing. The examination concluded, they returned to thehalf-deck, and the consultation was renewed. 

"Gentlemen, " began Cuticle, again seating himself, "you have nowjust inspected the limb; you have seen that there is no resourcebut amputation; and now, gentlemen, what do you say? SurgeonBandage, of the Mohawk, will you express your opinion?"

"The wound is a very serious one, " said Bandage--a corpulent man, with a high German forehead--shaking his head solemnly. 

"Can anything save him but amputation?" demanded Cuticle. 

"His constitutional debility is extreme, " observed Bandage, "but I have seen more dangerous cases. "

"Surgeon Wedge, of the Malay, " said Cuticle, in a pet, "be pleasedto give _your_ opinion; and let it be definitive, I entreat:" thiswas said with a severe glance toward Bandage. 

"If I thought, " began Wedge, a very spare, tall man, elevatinghimself still higher on his toes, "that the ball had shatteredand divided the whole _femur_, including the _Greater_ and_Lesser Trochanter_ the _Linear aspera_ the _Digital fossa_, andthe _Intertrochanteric_, I should certainly be in favour ofamputation; but that, sir, permit me to observe, is not myopinion. "

"Surgeon Sawyer, of the Buccaneer, " said Cuticle, drawing in histhin lower lip with vexation, and turning to a round-faced, florid, frank, sensible-looking man, whose uniform coat veryhandsomely fitted him, and was adorned with an unusual quantityof gold lace; "Surgeon Sawyer, of the Buccaneer, let us now hear_your_ opinion, if you please. Is not amputation the onlyresource, sir?"

"Excuse me, " said Sawyer, "I am decidedly opposed to it; for ifhitherto the patient has not been strong enough to undergo theextraction of the ball, I do not see how he can be expected toendure a far more severe operation. As there is no immediatedanger of mortification, and you say the ball cannot be reachedwithout making large incisions, I should support him, I think, for the present, with tonics, and gentle antiphlogistics, locallyapplied. On no account would I proceed to amputation until furthersymptoms are exhibited. "

"Surgeon Patella, of the Algerine, " said Cuticle, in an ill-suppressedpassion, abruptly turning round on the person addressed, "will _you_have the kindness to say whether _you_ do not think that amputation isthe only resource?"

Now Patella was the youngest of the company, a modest man, filled witha profound reverence for the science of Cuticle, and desirous ofgaining his good opinion, yet not wishing to commit himself altogetherby a decided reply, though, like Surgeon Sawyer, in his own mind hemight have been clearly against the operation. 

"What you have remarked, Mr. Surgeon of the Fleet, " said Patella, respectfully hemming, "concerning the dangerous condition of thelimb, seems obvious enough; amputation would certainly be a cureto the wound; but then, as, notwithstanding his present debility, the patient seems to have a strong constitution, he might rallyas it is, and by your scientific treatment, Mr. Surgeon of theFleet"--bowing--"be entirely made whole, without risking anamputation. Still, it is a very critical case, and amputation may beindispensable; and if it is to be performed, there ought to be no delaywhatever. That is my view of the case, Mr. Surgeon of the Fleet. "

"Surgeon Patella, then, gentlemen, " said Cuticle, turning roundtriumphantly, "is clearly of opinion that amputation should beimmediately performed. For my own part--individually, I mean, andwithout respect to the patient--I am sorry to have it so decided. Butthis settles the question, gentlemen--in my own mind, however, it wassettled before. At ten o'clock to-morrow morning the operation will beperformed. I shall be happy to see you all on the occasion, and alsoyour juniors" (alluding to the absent _Assistant Surgeons_). "Good-morning, gentlemen; at ten o'clock, remember. "

And Cuticle retreated to the Ward-room. 

CHAPTER LXIII. 

THE OPERATION. 

Next morning, at the appointed hour, the surgeons arrived in abody. They were accompanied by their juniors, young men rangingin age from nineteen years to thirty. Like the senior surgeons, these young gentlemen were arrayed in their blue navy uniforms, displaying a profusion of bright buttons, and several broad barsof gold lace about the wristbands. As in honour of the occasion, they had put on their best coats; they looked exceedingly brilliant. 

The whole party immediately descended to the half-deck, wherepreparations had been made for the operation. A large garrison-ensign was stretched across the ship by the main-mast, so ascompletely to screen the space behind. This space included thewhole extent aft to the bulk-head of the Commodore's cabin, atthe door of which the marine-orderly paced, in plain sight, cutlass in hand. 

Upon two gun-carriages, dragged amidships, the Death-board (usedfor burials at sea) was horizontally placed, covered with an oldroyal-stun'-sail. Upon this occasion, to do duty as an amputation-table, it was widened by an additional plank. Two match-tubs, near by, placedone upon another, at either end supported another plank, distinct fromthe table, whereon was exhibited an array of saws and knives of variousand peculiar shapes and sizes; also, a sort of steel, something like thedinner-table implement, together with long needles, crooked at the endfor taking up the arteries, and large darning-needles, thread andbee's-wax, for sewing up a wound. 

At the end nearest the larger table was a tin basin of water, surrounded by small sponges, placed at mathematical intervals. From the long horizontal pole of a great-gun rammer--fixed in itsusual place overhead--hung a number of towels, with "U. S. " markedin the corners. 

All these arrangements had been made by the "Surgeon's steward, "a person whose important functions in a man-of-war will, in afuture chapter, be entered upon at large. Upon the presentoccasion, he was bustling about, adjusting and readjusting theknives, needles, and carver, like an over-conscientious butlerfidgeting over a dinner-table just before the convivialists enter. 

But by far the most striking object to be seen behind the ensignwas a human skeleton, whose every joint articulated with wires. By a rivet at the apex of the skull, it hung dangling from ahammock-hook fixed in a beam above. Why this object was here, will presently be seen; but why it was placed immediately at thefoot of the amputation-table, only Surgeon Cuticle can tell. 

While the final preparations were being made, Cuticle stoodconversing with the assembled Surgeons and Assistant Surgeons, his invited guests. 

"Gentlemen, " said he, taking up one of the glittering knives andartistically drawing the steel across it; "Gentlemen, thoughthese scenes are very unpleasant, and in some moods, I may say, repulsive to me--yet how much better for our patient to have thecontusions and lacerations of his present wound--with all itsdangerous symptoms--converted into a clean incision, free fromthese objections, and occasioning so much less subsequent anxietyto himself and the Surgeon. Yes, " he added, tenderly feeling theedge of his knife, "amputation is our only resource. Is it notso, Surgeon Patella?" turning toward that gentleman, as if relyingupon some sort of an assent, however clogged with conditions. 

"Certainly, " said Patella, "amputation is your only resource, Mr. Surgeon of the Fleet; that is, I mean, if you are fully persuadedof its necessity. "

The other surgeons said nothing, maintaining a somewhat reservedair, as if conscious that they had no positive authority in thecase, whatever might be their own private opinions; but theyseemed willing to behold, and, if called upon, to assist at theoperation, since it could not now be averted. 

The young men, their Assistants, looked very eager, and castfrequent glances of awe upon so distinguished a practitioner asthe venerable Cuticle. 

"They say he can drop a leg in one minute and ten seconds fromthe moment the knife touches it, " whispered one of them to another. 

"We shall see, " was the reply, and the speaker clapped his handto his fob, to see if his watch would be forthcoming when wanted. 

"Are you all ready here?" demanded Cuticle, now advancing to hissteward; "have not those fellows got through yet?" pointing tothree men of the carpenter's gang, who were placing bits of woodunder the gun-carriages supporting the central table. 

"They are just through, sir, " respectfully answered the steward, touching his hand to his forehead, as if there were a cap-front there. 

"Bring up the patient, then, " said Cuticle. 

"Young gentlemen, " he added, turning to the row of AssistantSurgeons, "seeing you here reminds me of the classes of studentsonce under my instruction at the Philadelphia College ofPhysicians and Surgeons. Ah, those were happy days!" he sighed, applying the extreme corner of his handkerchief to his glass-eye. "Excuse an old man's emotions, young gentlemen; but when I thinkof the numerous rare cases that then came under my treatment, Icannot but give way to my feelings. The town, the city, themetropolis, young gentlemen, is the place for you students; atleast in these dull times of peace, when the army and navyfurnish no inducements for a youth ambitious of rising in ourhonourable profession. Take an old man's advice, and if the warnow threatening between the States and Mexico should break out, exchange your navy commissions for commissions in the army. Fromhaving no military marine herself, Mexico has always beenbackward in furnishing subjects for the amputation-tables offoreign navies. The cause of science has languished in her hands. The army, young gentlemen, is your best school; depend upon it. You will hardly believe it, Surgeon Bandage, " turning to thatgentleman, "but this is my first important case of surgery in anearly three years' cruise. I have been almost wholly confined inthis ship to doctor's practice prescribing for fevers and fluxes. True, the other day a man fell from the mizzen-top-sail-yard; butthat was merely an aggravated case of dislocations and bonessplintered and broken. No one, sir, could have made an amputationof it, without severely contusing his conscience. And mine--I maysay it, gentlemen, without ostentation is--peculiarly susceptible. "

And so saying, the knife and carver touchingly dropped to hissides, and he stood for a moment fixed in a tender reverie but acommotion being heard beyond the curtain, he started, and, briskly crossing and recrossing the knife and carver, exclaimed, "Ali, here comes our patient; surgeons, this side of the table, ifyou please; young gentlemen, a little further off, I beg. Steward, take off my coat--so; my neckerchief now; I must be perfectlyunencumbered, Surgeon Patella, or I can do nothing whatever. "

These articles being removed, he snatched off his wig, placing iton the gun-deck capstan; then took out his set of false teeth, and placed it by the side of the wig; and, lastly, putting hisforefinger to the inner angle of his blind eye, spirited out theglass optic with professional dexterity, and deposited that, also, next to the wig and false teeth. 

Thus divested of nearly all inorganic appurtenances, what was leftof the Surgeon slightly shook itself, to see whether anything morecould be spared to advantage. 

"Carpenter's mates, " he now cried, "will you never get through withthat job?"

"Almost through, sir--just through, " they replied, staring round insearch of the strange, unearthly voice that addressed them; for theabsence of his teeth had not at all improved the conversational tonesof the Surgeon of the Fleet. 

With natural curiosity, these men had purposely been lingering, to see all they could; but now, having no further excuse, theysnatched up their hammers and chisels, and--like the stage-builders decamping from a public meeting at the eleventh hour, after just completing the rostrum in time for the first speaker--the Carpenter's gang withdrew. 

The broad ensign now lifted, revealing a glimpse of the crowd ofman-of-war's-men outside, and the patient, borne in the arms oftwo of his mess-mates, entered the place. He was much emaciated, weak as an infant, and every limb visibly trembled, or ratherjarred, like the head of a man with the palsy. As if an organicand involuntary apprehension of death had seized the wounded leg, its nervous motions were so violent that one of the mess-mateswas obliged to keep his hand upon it. 

The top-man was immediately stretched upon the table, theattendants steadying his limbs, when, slowly opening his eyes, heglanced about at the glittering knives and saws, the towels andsponges, the armed sentry at the Commodore's cabin-door, the rowof eager-eyed students, the meagre death's-head of a Cuticle, nowwith his shirt sleeves rolled up upon his withered arms, andknife in hand, and, finally, his eyes settled in horror upon theskeleton, slowly vibrating and jingling before him, with theslow, slight roll of the frigate in the water. 

"I would advise perfect repose of your every limb, my man, " saidCuticle, addressing him; "the precision of an operation is oftenimpaired by the inconsiderate restlessness of the patient. But ifyou consider, my good fellow, " he added, in a patronising andalmost sympathetic tone, and slightly pressing his hand on thelimb, "if you consider how much better it is to live with threelimbs than to die with four, and especially if you but knew towhat torments both sailors and soldiers were subjected before thetime of Celsus, owing to the lamentable ignorance of surgery thenprevailing, you would certainly thank God from the bottom of yourheart that _your_ operation has been postponed to the period ofthis enlightened age, blessed with a Bell, a Brodie, and a Lally. My man, before Celsus's time, such was the general ignorance ofour noble science, that, in order to prevent the excessiveeffusion of blood, it was deemed indispensable to operate with ared-hot knife"--making a professional movement toward the thigh--"and pour scalding oil upon the parts"--elevating his elbow, asif with a tea-pot in his hand--"still further to sear them, afteramputation had been performed. "

"He is fainting!" said one of his mess-mates; "quick! some water!"The steward immediately hurried to the top-man with the basin. 

Cuticle took the top-man by the wrist, and feeling it a while, observed, "Don't be alarmed, men, " addressing the two mess-mates;"he'll recover presently; this fainting very generally takesplace. " And he stood for a moment, tranquilly eyeing the patient. 

Now the Surgeon of the Fleet and the top-man presented a spectaclewhich, to a reflecting mind, was better than a church-yard sermon onthe mortality of man. 

Here was a sailor, who four days previous, had stood erect--a pillarof life--with an arm like a royal-mast and a thigh like a windlass. But the slightest conceivable finger-touch of a bit of crooked triggerhad eventuated in stretching him out, more helpless than an hour-oldbabe, with a blasted thigh, utterly drained of its brawn. And who wasit that now stood over him like a superior being, and, as if clothedhimself with the attributes of immortality, indifferently discoursedof carving up his broken flesh, and thus piecing out his abbreviateddays. Who was it, that in capacity of Surgeon, seemed enacting the partof a Regenerator of life? The withered, shrunken, one-eyed, toothless, hairless Cuticle; with a trunk half dead--a _memento mori_ to behold!

And while, in those soul-sinking and panic-striking premonitions ofspeedy death which almost invariably accompany a severe gun-shot wound, even with the most intrepid spirits; while thus drooping and dying, this once robust top-man's eye was now waning in his head like a Laplandmoon being eclipsed in clouds--Cuticle, who for years had still lived inhis withered tabernacle of a body--Cuticle, no doubt sharing in thecommon self-delusion of old age--Cuticle must have felt his hold oflife as secure as the grim hug of a grizzly bear. Verily, Life is moreawful than Death; and let no man, though his live heart beat in himlike a cannon--let him not hug his life to himself; for, in thepredestinated necessities of things, that bounding life of his isnot a whit more secure than the life of a man on his death-bed. To-day we inhale the air with expanding lungs, and life runs throughus like a thousand Niles; but to-morrow we may collapse in death, and all our veins be dry as the Brook Kedron in a drought. 

"And now, young gentlemen, " said Cuticle, turning to the AssistantSurgeons, "while the patient is coming to, permit me to describeto you the highly-interesting operation I am about to perform. "

"Mr. Surgeon of the Fleet, " said Surgeon Bandage, "if you areabout to lecture, permit me to present you with your teeth; theywill make your discourse more readily understood. " And so saying, Bandage, with a bow, placed the two semicircles of ivory intoCuticle's hands. 

"Thank you, Surgeon Bandage, " said Cuticle, and slipped the ivoryinto its place. 

"In the first place, now, young gentlemen, let me direct yourattention to the excellent preparation before you. I have had itunpacked from its case, and set up here from my state-room, whereit occupies the spare berth; and all this for your expressbenefit, young gentlemen. This skeleton I procured in person fromthe Hunterian department of the Royal College of Surgeons inLondon. It is a masterpiece of art. But we have no time toexamine it now. Delicacy forbids that I should amplify at ajuncture like this"--casting an almost benignant glance towardthe patient, now beginning to open his eyes; "but let me pointout to you upon this thigh-bone"--disengaging it from the skeleton, with a gentle twist--"the precise place where I propose to performthe operation. _Here_, young gentlemen, _here_ is the place. Youperceive it is very near the point of articulation with the trunk. "

"Yes, " interposed Surgeon Wedge, rising on his toes, "yes, younggentlemen, the point of articulation with the _acetabulum_ of the_os innominatum_. "

"Where's your Bell on Bones, Dick?" whispered one of the assistants tothe student next him. "Wedge has been spending the whole morning overit, getting out the hard names. "

"Surgeon Wedge, " said Cuticle, looking round severely, "we willdispense with your commentaries, if you please, at present. Now, young gentlemen, you cannot but perceive, that the point ofoperation being so near the trunk and the vitals, it becomes anunusually beautiful one, demanding a steady hand and a true eye;and, after all, the patient may die under my hands. "

"Quick, Steward! water, water; he's fainting again!" cried thetwo mess-mates. 

"Don't be alarmed for your comrade; men, " said Cuticle, turninground. "I tell you it is not an uncommon thing for the patient tobetray some emotion upon these occasions--most usually manifestedby swooning; it is quite natural it should be so. But we must notdelay the operation. Steward, that knife--no, the next one--there, that's it. He is coming to, I think"--feeling the top-man's wrist. "Are you all ready, sir?"

This last observation was addressed to one of the Never-sink'sassistant surgeons, a tall, lank, cadaverous young man, arrayedin a sort of shroud of white canvas, pinned about his throat, andcompletely enveloping his person. He was seated on a match-tub--the skeleton swinging near his head--at the foot of the table, inreadiness to grasp the limb, as when a plank is being severed bya carpenter and his apprentice. 

"The sponges, Steward, " said Cuticle, for the last time taking out histeeth, and drawing up his shirt sleeves still further. Then, taking thepatient by the wrist, "Stand by, now, you mess-mates; keep hold of hisarms; pin him down. Steward, put your hand on the artery; I shallcommence as soon as his pulse begins to--_now, now!_" Letting fall thewrist, feeling the thigh carefully, and bowing over it an instant, hedrew the fatal knife unerringly across the flesh. As it first touchedthe part, the row of surgeons simultaneously dropped their eyes to thewatches in their hands while the patient lay, with eyes horriblydistended, in a kind of waking trance. Not a breath was heard; but asthe quivering flesh parted in a long, lingering gash, a spring of bloodwelled up between the living walls of the wounds, and two thick streams, in opposite directions, coursed down the thigh. The sponges wereinstantly dipped in the purple pool; every face present was pinched to apoint with suspense; the limb writhed; the man shrieked; his mess-matespinioned him; while round and round the leg went the unpitying cut. 

"The saw!" said Cuticle. 

Instantly it was in his hand. 

Full of the operation, he was about to apply it, when, lookingup, and turning to the assistant surgeons, he said, "Would any ofyou young gentlemen like to apply the saw? A splendid subject!"

Several volunteered; when, selecting one, Cuticle surrendered theinstrument to him, saying, "Don't be hurried, now; be steady. "

While the rest of the assistants looked upon their comrade withglances of envy, he went rather timidly to work; and Cuticle, whowas earnestly regarding him, suddenly snatched the saw from hishand. "Away, butcher! you disgrace the profession. Look at _me!_"

For a few moments the thrilling, rasping sound was heard; andthen the top-man seemed parted in twain at the hip, as the legslowly slid into the arms of the pale, gaunt man in the shroud, who at once made away with it, and tucked it out of sight underone of the guns. 

"Surgeon Sawyer, " now said Cuticle, courteously turning to thesurgeon of the Mohawk, "would you like to take up the arteries?They are quite at your service, sir. "

"Do, Sawyer; be prevailed upon, " said Surgeon Bandage. 

Sawyer complied; and while, with some modesty he was conductingthe operation, Cuticle, turning to the row of assistants said, "Young gentlemen, we will now proceed with our Illustration. Handme that bone, Steward. " And taking the thigh-bone in his stillbloody hands, and holding it conspicuously before his auditors, the Surgeon of the Fleet began:

"Young gentlemen, you will perceive that precisely at this spot--_here_--to which I previously directed your attention--at thecorresponding spot precisely--the operation has been performed. About here, young gentlemen, here"--lifting his hand some inchesfrom the bone--"about _here_ the great artery was. But younoticed that I did not use the tourniquet; I never do. Theforefinger of my steward is far better than a tourniquet, beingso much more manageable, and leaving the smaller veins uncompressed. But I have been told, young gentlemen, that a certain SeigniorSeignioroni, a surgeon of Seville, has recently invented an admirablesubstitute for the clumsy, old-fashioned tourniquet. As I understandit, it is something like a pair of _calipers_, working with a smallArchimedes screw--a very clever invention, according to all accounts. For the padded points at the end of the arches"--arching his forefingerand thumb--"can be so worked as to approximate in such a way, as to--butyou don't attend to me, young gentlemen, " he added, all at once starting. 

Being more interested in the active proceedings of Surgeon Sawyer, whowas now threading a needle to sew up the overlapping of the stump, theyoung gentlemen had not scrupled to turn away their attention altogetherfrom the lecturer. 

A few moments more, and the top-man, in a swoon, was removed below intothe sick-bay. As the curtain settled again after the patient haddisappeared, Cuticle, still holding the thigh-bone of the skeleton inhis ensanguined hands, proceeded with his remarks upon it; and havingconcluded them, added, "Now, young gentlemen, not the least interestingconsequence of this operation will be the finding of the ball, which, in case of non-amputation, might have long eluded the most carefulsearch. That ball, young gentlemen, must have taken a most circuitousroute. Nor, in cases where the direction is oblique, is this at allunusual. Indeed, the learned Henner gives us a most remarkable--I hadalmost said an incredible--case of a soldier's neck, where the bullet, entering at the part called Adam's Apple--"

"Yes, " said Surgeon Wedge, elevating himself, "the _pomum Adami_. "

"Entering the point called _Adam's Apple_, " continued Cuticle, severely emphasising the last two words, "ran completely roundthe neck, and, emerging at the same hole it had entered, shot thenext man in the ranks. It was afterward extracted, says Renner, from the second man, and pieces of the other's skin were foundadhering to it. But examples of foreign substances being receivedinto the body with a ball, young gentlemen, are frequentlyobserved. Being attached to a United States ship at the time, Ihappened to be near the spot of the battle of Ayacucho, in Peru. The day after the action, I saw in the barracks of the wounded atrooper, who, having been severely injured in the brain, wentcrazy, and, with his own holster-pistol, committed suicide in thehospital. The ball drove inward a portion of his woollen night-cap----"

"In the form of a _cul-de-sac_, doubtless, " said the undaunted Wedge. 

"For once, Surgeon Wedge, you use the only term that can beemployed; and let me avail myself of this opportunity to say toyou, young gentlemen, that a man of true science"--expanding hisshallow chest a little--"uses but few hard words, and those onlywhen none other will answer his purpose; whereas the smatterer inscience"--slightly glancing toward Wedge--"thinks, that bymouthing hard words, he proves that he understands hard things. Let this sink deep in your minds, young gentlemen; and, SurgeonWedge "--with a stiff bow--"permit me to submit the reflectionto yourself. Well, young gentlemen, the bullet was afterwardextracted by pulling upon the external parts of the _cul-de-sac_--a simple, but exceedingly beautiful operation. There is a fineexample, somewhat similar, related in Guthrie; but, of course, you must have met with it, in so well-known a work as hisTreatise upon Gun-shot Wounds. When, upward of twenty years ago, I was with Lord Cochrane, then Admiral of the fleets of this verycountry"--pointing shoreward, out of a port-hole--"a sailor ofthe vessel to which I was attached, during the blockade of Bahia, had his leg----" But by this time the fidgets had completely takenpossession of his auditors, especially of the senior surgeons;and turning upon them abruptly, he added, "But I will not detainyou longer, gentlemen"--turning round upon all the surgeons--"your dinners must be waiting you on board your respective ships. But, Surgeon Sawyer, perhaps you may desire to wash your handsbefore you go. There is the basin, sir; you will find a clean towelon the rammer. For myself, I seldom use them"--taking out hishandkerchief. "I must leave you now, gentlemen"--bowing. "To-morrow, at ten, the limb will be upon the table, and I shall be happy tosee you all upon the occasion. Who's there?" turning to the curtain, which then rustled. 

"Please, sir, " said the Steward, entering, "the patient is dead. "

"The body also, gentlemen, at ten precisely, " said Cuticle, oncemore turning round upon his guests. "I predicted that theoperation might prove fatal; he was very much run down. Good-morning;" and Cuticle departed. 

"He does not, surely, mean to touch the body?" exclaimed SurgeonSawyer, with much excitement. 

"Oh, no!" said Patella, "that's only his way; he means, doubtless, that it may be inspected previous to being taken ashore for burial. "

The assemblage of gold-laced surgeons now ascended to the quarter-deck;the second cutter was called away by the bugler, and, one by one, theywere dropped aboard of their respective ships. 

The following evening the mess-mates of the top-man rowed his remainsashore, and buried them in the ever-vernal Protestant cemetery, hardby the Beach of the Flamingoes, in plain sight from the bay. 

CHAPTER LXIV. 

MAN-OF-WAR TROPHIES. 

When the second cutter pulled about among the ships, dropping thesurgeons aboard the American men-of-war here and there--as apilot-boat distributes her pilots at the mouth of the harbour--she passed several foreign frigates, two of which, an Englishmanand a Frenchman, had excited not a little remark on board theNeversink. These vessels often loosed their sails and exercisedyards simultaneously with ourselves, as if desirous of comparingthe respective efficiency of the crews. 

When we were nearly ready for sea, the English frigate, weighingher anchor, made all sail with the sea-breeze, and began showingoff her paces by gliding about among all the men-of-war inharbour, and particularly by running down under the Neversink'sstern. Every time she drew near, we complimented her by loweringour ensign a little, and invariably she courteously returned thesalute. She was inviting us to a sailing-match; and it wasrumoured that, when we should leave the bay, our Captain wouldhave no objections to gratify her; for, be it known, theNeversink was accounted the fleetest keeled craft sailing underthe American long-pennant. Perhaps this was the reason why thestranger challenged us. 

It may have been that a portion of our crew were the more anxiousto race with this frigate, from a little circumstance which a fewof them deemed rather galling. Not many cables'-length distantfrom our Commodore's cabin lay the frigate President, with thered cross of St. George flying from her peak. As its nameimported, this fine craft was an American born; but having beencaptured during the last war with Britain, she now sailed thesalt seas as a trophy. 

Think of it, my gallant countrymen, one and all, down the sea-coast and along the endless banks of the Ohio and Columbia--thinkof the twinges we sea-patriots must have felt to behold the live-oak of the Floridas and the pines of green Maine built into theoaken walls of Old England! But, to some of the sailors, therewas a counterbalancing thought, as grateful as the other wasgalling, and that was, that somewhere, sailing under the starsand stripes, was the frigate Macedonian, a British-born craftwhich had once sported the battle-banner of Britain. 

It has ever been the custom to spend almost any amount of moneyin repairing a captured vessel, in order that she may longsurvive to commemorate the heroism of the conqueror. Thus, in theEnglish Navy, there are many Monsieurs of seventy-fours won fromthe Gaul. But we Americans can show but few similar trophies, though, no doubt, we would much like to be able so to do. 

But I never have beheld any of thee floating trophies withoutbeing reminded of a scene once witnessed in a pioneer village onthe western bank of the Mississippi. Not far from this village, where the stumps of aboriginal trees yet stand in the market-place, some years ago lived a portion of the remnant tribes ofthe Sioux Indians, who frequently visited the white settlementsto purchase trinkets and cloths. 

One florid crimson evening in July, when the red-hot sun wasgoing down in a blaze, and I was leaning against a corner in myhuntsman's frock, lo! there came stalking out of the crimson Westa gigantic red-man, erect as a pine, with his glitteringtomahawk, big as a broad-ax, folded in martial repose across hischest, Moodily wrapped in his blanket, and striding like a kingon the stage, he promenaded up and down the rustic streets, exhibiting on the back of his blanket a crowd of human hands, rudely delineated in red; one of them seemed recently drawn. 

"Who is this warrior?" asked I; "and why marches he here? and forwhat are these bloody hands?"

"That warrior is the _Red-Hot Coal_, " said a pioneer in moccasins, by my side. "He marches here to show-off his last trophy; everyone of those hands attests a foe scalped by his tomahawk; and hehas just emerged from Ben Brown's, the painter, who has sketchedthe last red hand that you see; for last night this _Red-Hot Coal_outburned the _Yellow Torch_, the chief of a band of the Foxes. "

Poor savage thought I; and is this the cause of your lofty gait?Do you straighten yourself to think that you have committed amurder, when a chance-falling stone has often done the same? Isit a proud thing to topple down six feet perpendicular of immortalmanhood, though that lofty living tower needed perhaps thirty goodgrowing summers to bring it to maturity? Poor savage! And you accountit so glorious, do you, to mutilate and destroy what God himself wasmore than a quarter of a century in building?

And yet, fellow-Christians, what is the American frigate Macedonian, or the English frigate President, but as two bloody red hands paintedon this poor savage's blanket?

Are there no Moravians in the Moon, that not a missionary has yetvisited this poor pagan planet of ours, to civilise civilisation andchristianise Christendom?

CHAPTER LXV. 

A M A N-O F-W A R RACE. 

We lay in Rio so long--for what reason the Commodore only knows--thata saying went abroad among the impatient sailors that our frigate wouldat last ground on the beef-bones daily thrown overboard by the cooks. 

But at last good tidings came. "All hands up anchor, ahoy!" And brightand early in the morning up came our old iron, as the sun rose in theEast. 

The land-breezes at Rio--by which alone vessels may emerge from thebay--is ever languid and faint. It comes from gardens of citrons andcloves, spiced with all the spices of the Tropic of Capricorn. And, like that old exquisite, Mohammed, who so much loved to snuff perfumesand essences, and used to lounge out of the conservatories of Khadija, his wife, to give battle to the robust sons of Koriesh; even so thisRio land-breeze comes jaded with sweet-smelling savours, to wrestlewith the wild Tartar breezes of the sea. 

Slowly we dropped and dropped down the bay, glided like a stately swanthrough the outlet, and were gradually rolled by the smooth, slidingbillows broad out upon the deep. Straight in our wake came the tallmain-mast of the English fighting-frigate, terminating, like a steepledcathedral, in the bannered cross of the religion of peace; and straightafter _her_ came the rainbow banner of France, sporting God's tokenthat no more would he make war on the earth. 

Both Englishmen and Frenchmen were resolved upon a race; and weYankees swore by our top-sails and royals to sink their blazingbanners that night among the Southern constellations we shoulddaily be extinguishing behind us in our run to the North. 

"Ay, " said Mad Jack, "St. George's banner shall be as the_Southern Cross_, out of sight, leagues down the horizon, whileour gallant stars, my brave boys, shall burn all alone in theNorth, like the Great Bear at the Pole! Come on, Rainbow and Cross!"

But the wind was long languid and faint, not yet recovered from itsnight's dissipation ashore, and noon advanced, with the Sugar-Loafpinnacle in sight. 

Now it is not with ships as with horses; for though, if a horsewalk well and fast, it generally furnishes good token that he isnot bad at a gallop, yet the ship that in a light breeze isoutstripped, may sweep the stakes, so soon as a t'gallant breezeenables her to strike into a canter. Thus fared it with us. First, the Englishman glided ahead, and bluffly passed on; thenthe Frenchman politely bade us adieu, while the old Neversinklingered behind, railing at the effeminate breeze. At one time, all three frigates were irregularly abreast, forming a diagonalline; and so near were all three, that the stately officers onthe poops stiffly saluted by touching their caps, thoughrefraining from any further civilities. At this juncture, it wasa noble sight to behold those fine frigates, with drippingbreast-hooks, all rearing and nodding in concert, and to lookthrough their tall spars and wilderness of rigging, that seemedlike inextricably-entangled, gigantic cobwebs against the sky. 

Toward sundown the ocean pawed its white hoofs to the spur of itshelter-skelter rider, a strong blast from the Eastward, and, giving three cheers from decks, yards, and tops, we crowded allsail on St. George and St. Denis. 

But it is harder to overtake than outstrip; night fell upon us, still in the rear--still where the little boat was, which, at theeleventh hour, according to a Rabbinical tradition, pushed afterthe ark of old Noah. 

It was a misty, cloudy night; and though at first our look-outskept the chase in dim sight, yet at last so thick became theatmosphere, that no sign of a strange spar was to be seen. Butthe worst of it was that, when last discerned, the Frenchman wasbroad on our weather-bow, and the Englishman gallantly leadinghis van. 

The breeze blew fresher and fresher; but, with even our main-royal set, we dashed along through a cream-coloured ocean ofilluminated foam. White-Jacket was then in the top; and it wasglorious to look down and see our black hull butting the whitesea with its broad bows like a ram. 

"We must beat them with such a breeze, dear Jack, " said I to ournoble Captain of the Top. 

"But the same breeze blows for John Bull, remember, " repliedJack, who, being a Briton, perhaps favoured the Englishman morethan the Neversink. 

"But how we boom through the billows!" cried Jack, gazing overthe top-rail; then, flinging forth his arm, recited, "'Aslope, and gliding on the leeward side, The bounding vessel cuts the roaring tide. '

Camoens! White-Jacket, Camoens! Did you ever read him? TheLusiad, I mean? It's the man-of-war epic of the world, my lad. Give me Gama for a Commodore, say I--Noble Gama! And Mickle, White-Jacket, did you ever read of him? William Julius Mickle?Camoens's Translator? A disappointed man though, White-Jacket. Besides his version of the Lusiad, he wrote many forgottenthings. Did you ever see his ballad of Cumnor Hall?--No?--Why, itgave Sir Walter Scott the hint of Kenilworth. My father knewMickle when he went to sea on board the old Romney man-of-war. How many great men have been sailors, White-Jacket! They sayHomer himself was once a tar, even as his hero, Ulysses, was botha sailor and a shipwright. I'll swear Shakspeare was once acaptain of the forecastle. Do you mind the first scene in _TheTempest_, White-Jacket? And the world-finder, ChristopherColumbus, was a sailor! and so was Camoens, who went to sea withGama, else we had never had the Lusiad, White-Jacket. Yes, I'vesailed over the very track that Camoens sailed--round the EastCape into the Indian Ocean. I've been in Don Jose's garden, too, in Macao, and bathed my feet in the blessed dew of the walkswhere Camoens wandered before me. Yes, White-Jacket, and I haveseen and sat in the cave at the end of the flowery, winding way, where Camoens, according to tradition, composed certain parts ofhis Lusiad. Ay, Camoens was a sailor once! Then, there'sFalconer, whose 'Ship-wreck' will never founder, though hehimself, poor fellow, was lost at sea in the Aurora frigate. OldNoah was the first sailor. And St. Paul, too, knew how to box thecompass, my lad! mind you that chapter in Acts? I couldn't spinthe yarn better myself. Were you ever in Malta? They called itMelita in the Apostle's day. I have been in Paul's cave there, White-Jacket. They say a piece of it is good for a charm againstshipwreck; but I never tried it. There's Shelley, he was quite asailor. Shelley--poor lad! a Percy, too--but they ought to havelet him sleep in his sailor's grave--he was drowned in theMediterranean, you know, near Leghorn--and not burn his body, asthey did, as if he had been a bloody Turk. But many peoplethought him so, White-Jacket, because he didn't go to mass, andbecause he wrote Queen Mab. Trelawney was by at the burning; andhe was an ocean-rover, too! Ay, and Byron helped put a piece of akeel on the fire; for it was made of bits of a wreck, they say;one wreck burning another! And was not Byron a sailor? an amateurforecastle-man, White-Jacket, so he was; else how bid the oceanheave and fall in that grand, majestic way? I say, White-Jacket, d'ye mind me? there never was a very great man yet who spent allhis life inland. A snuff of the sea, my boy, is inspiration; andhaving been once out of sight of land, has been the making ofmany a true poet and the blasting of many pretenders; for, d'yesee, there's no gammon about the ocean; it knocks the false keelright off a pretender's bows; it tells him just what he is, andmakes him feel it, too. A sailor's life, I say, is the thing tobring us mortals out. What does the blessed Bible say? Don't itsay that we main-top-men alone see the marvellous sights andwonders? Don't deny the blessed Bible, now! don't do it! How itrocks up here, my boy!" holding on to a shroud; "but it onlyproves what I've been saying--the sea is the place to cradlegenius! Heave and fall, old sea!"

"And _you_, also, noble Jack, " said I, "what are you but a sailor?"

"You're merry, my boy, " said Jack, looking up with a glance likethat of a sentimental archangel doomed to drag out his eternityin disgrace. "But mind you, White-Jacket, there are many greatmen in the world besides Commodores and Captains. I've that here, White-Jacket"--touching his forehead--"which, under happierskies--perhaps in you solitary star there, peeping down fromthose clouds--might have made a Homer of me. But Fate is Fate, White-Jacket; and we Homers who happen to be captains of topsmust write our odes in our hearts, and publish them in our heads. But look! the Captain's on the poop. "

It was now midnight; but all the officers were on deck. 

"Jib-boom, there!" cried the Lieutenant of the Watch, going forward andhailing the headmost look-out. "D'ye see anything of those fellows now?"

"See nothing, sir. "

"See nothing, sir, " said the Lieutenant, approaching the Captain, andtouching his cap. 

"Call all hands!" roared the Captain. "This keel sha'n't be beat whileI stride it. "

All hands were called, and the hammocks stowed in the nettings forthe rest of the night, so that no one could lie between blankets. 

Now, in order to explain the means adopted by the Captain toinsure us the race, it needs to be said of the Neversink, that, for some years after being launched, she was accounted one of theslowest vessels in the American Navy. But it chanced upon a time, that, being on a cruise in the Mediterranean, she happened tosail out of Port Mahon in what was then supposed to be very badtrim for the sea. Her bows were rooting in the water, and herstern kicking up its heels in the air. But, wonderful to tell, itwas soon discovered that in this comical posture she sailed likea shooting-star; she outstripped every vessel on the station. Thenceforward all her Captains, on all cruises, _trimmed her bythe head;_ and the Neversink gained the name of a clipper. 

To return. All hands being called, they were now made use of byCaptain Claret as make-weights, to trim the ship, scientifically, to her most approved bearings. Some were sent forward on thespar-deck, with twenty-four-pound shot in their hands, and werejudiciously scattered about here and there, with strict ordersnot to budge an inch from their stations, for fear of marring theCaptain's plans. Others were distributed along the gun and berth-decks, with similar orders; and, to crown all, several carronadeguns were unshipped from their carriages, and swung in theirbreechings from the beams of the main-deck, so as to impart asort of vibratory briskness and oscillating buoyancy to the frigate. 

And thus we five hundred make-weights stood out that whole night, some of us exposed to a drenching rain, in order that theNeversink might not be beaten. But the comfort and consolation ofall make-weights is as dust in the balance in the estimation ofthe rulers of our man-of-war world. 

The long, anxious night at last came to an end, and, with thefirst peep of day, the look-out on the jib-boom was hailed; butnothing was in sight. At last it was broad day; yet still not abow was to be seen in our rear, nor a stern in our van. 

"Where are they?" cried the Captain. 

"Out of sight, astern, to be sure, sir, " said the officer of the deck. 

"Out of sight, _ahead_, to be sure, sir, " muttered Jack Chase, in the top. 

Precisely thus stood the question: whether we beat them, orwhether they beat us, no mortal can tell to this hour, since wenever saw them again; but for one, White-Jacket will lay his twohands on the bow chasers of the Neversink, and take his ship'soath that we Yankees carried the day. 

CHAPTER LXVI. 

FUN IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

After the race (our man-of-war Derby) we had many days fineweather, during which we continued running before the Tradestoward the north. Exhilarated by the thought of being homeward-bound, many of the seamen became joyous, and the discipline ofthe ship, if anything, became a little relaxed. Many pastimesserved to while away the _Dog-Watches_ in particular. These_Dog-Watches_ (embracing two hours in the early part of theevening) form the only authorised play-time for the crews of mostships at sea. 

Among other diversions at present licensed by authority in theNeversink, were those of single-stick, sparring, hammer-and-anvil, and head-bumping. All these were under the directpatronage of the Captain, otherwise--seeing the consequences theysometimes led to--they would undoubtedly have been strictlyprohibited. It is a curious coincidence, that when a navy captaindoes not happen to be an admirer of the _Fistiana_ his crewseldom amuse themselves in that way. 

_Single-stick_, as every one knows, is a delightful pastime, which consists in two men standing a few feet apart, and rappingeach other over the head with long poles. There is a good deal offun in it, so long as you are not hit; but a hit--in the judgmentof discreet persons--spoils the sport completely. When thispastime is practiced by connoisseurs ashore, they wear heavy, wired helmets, to break the force of the blows. But the onlyhelmets of our tars were those with which nature had furnishedthem. They played with great gun-rammers. 

_Sparring_ consists in playing single-stick with bone polesinstead of wooden ones. Two men stand apart, and pommel eachother with their fists (a hard bunch of knuckles permanentlyattached to the arms, and made globular, or extended into a palm, at the pleasure of the proprietor), till one of them, findinghimself sufficiently thrashed, cries _enough_. 

_Hammer-and-anvil_ is thus practised by amateurs: Patient No. 1gets on all-fours, and stays so; while patient No. 2 is taken upby his arms and legs, and his base is swung against the base ofpatient No. 1, till patient No. 1, with the force of the finalblow, is sent flying along the deck. 

_Head-bumping_, as patronised by Captain Claret, consists in twonegroes (whites will not answer) butting at each other like rams. This pastime was an especial favourite with the Captain. In thedog-watches, Rose-water and May-day were repeatedly summonedinto the lee waist to tilt at each other, for the benefit ofthe Captain's health. 

May-day was a full-blooded "_bull-negro_, " so the sailors calledhim, with a skull like an iron tea-kettle, wherefore May-day muchfancied the sport. But Rose-water, he was a slender and ratherhandsome mulatto, and abhorred the pastime. Nevertheless, theCaptain must be obeyed; so at the word poor Rose-water was fainto put himself in a posture of defence, else May-day wouldincontinently have bumped him out of a port-hole into the sea. Iused to pity poor Rose-water from the bottom of my heart. But mypity was almost aroused into indignation at a sad sequel to oneof these gladiatorial scenes. 

It seems that, lifted up by the unaffected, though verballyunexpressed applause of the Captain, May-day had begun to despiseRose-water as a poltroon--a fellow all brains and no skull;whereas he himself was a great warrior, all skull and no brains. 

Accordingly, after they had been bumping one evening to theCaptain's content, May-day confidentially told Rose-water that heconsidered him a "_nigger_, " which, among some blacks, is held agreat term of reproach. Fired at the insult, Rose-water gave May-day to understand that he utterly erred; for his mother, a blackslave, had been one of the mistresses of a Virginia planterbelonging to one of the oldest families in that state. Anotherinsulting remark followed this innocent disclosure; retortfollowed retort; in a word, at last they came together in mortalcombat. 

The master-at-arms caught them in the act, and brought them up tothe mast. The Captain advanced. 

"Please, sir, " said poor Rose-water, "it all came of dat 'arbumping; May-day, here, aggrawated me 'bout it. "

"Master-at-arms, " said the Captain, "did you see them fighting?"

"Ay, sir, " said the master-at-arms, touching his cap. 

"Rig the gratings, " said the Captain. "I'll teach you two men that, though I now and then permit you to _play_, I will have no _fighting_. Do your duty, boatswain's mate!" And the negroes were flogged. 

Justice commands that the fact of the Captain's not showing anyleniency to May-day--a decided favourite of his, at least whilein the ring--should not be passed over. He flogged both culpritsin the most impartial manner. 

As in the matter of the scene at the gangway, shortly after theCape Horn theatricals, when my attention had been directed to thefact that the officers had _shipped their quarter-deck faces_--upon that occasion, I say, it was seen with what facility a sea-officer assumes his wonted severity of demeanour after a casualrelaxation of it. This was especially the case with CaptainClaret upon the present occasion. For any landsman to have beheldhim in the lee waist, of a pleasant dog-watch, with a genial, good-humoured countenance, observing the gladiators in the ring, and now and then indulging in a playful remark--that landsmanwould have deemed Captain Claret the indulgent father of hiscrew, perhaps permitting the excess of his kind-heartedness toencroach upon the appropriate dignity of his station. He wouldhave deemed Captain Claret a fine illustration of those two well-known poetical comparisons between a sea-captain and a father, and between a sea-captain and the master of apprentices, instituted by those eminent maritime jurists, the noble LordsTenterden and Stowell. 

But surely, if there is anything hateful, it is this _shipping ofthe quarter-deck face_ after wearing a merry and good-naturedone. How can they have the heart? Methinks, if but once I smiledupon a man--never mind how much beneath me--I could not bringmyself to condemn him to the shocking misery of the lash. Ohofficers! all round the world, if this quarter-deck face you wearat all, then never unship it for another, to be merely sportedfor a moment. Of all insults, the temporary condescension of amaster to a slave is the most outrageous and galling. Thatpotentate who most condescends, mark him well; for thatpotentate, if occasion come, will prove your uttermost tyrant. 

CHAPTER LXVII. 

WHITE-JACKET ARRAIGNED AT THE MAST. 

When with five hundred others I made one of the compelledspectators at the scourging of poor Rose-water, I little thoughtwhat Fate had ordained for myself the next day. 

Poor mulatto! thought I, one of an oppressed race, they degradeyou like a hound. Thank God! I am a white. Yet I had seen whitesalso scourged; for, black or white, all my shipmates were liableto that. Still, there is something in us, somehow, that in themost degraded condition, we snatch at a chance to deceiveourselves into a fancied superiority to others, whom we supposelower in the scale than ourselves. 

Poor Rose-water! thought I; poor mulatto! Heaven send you arelease from your humiliation!

To make plain the thing about to be related, it needs to repeatwhat has somewhere been previously mentioned, that in _tackingship_ every seaman in a man-of-war has a particular stationassigned him. What that station is, should be made known to himby the First Lieutenant; and when the word is passed to _tack_ or_wear_, it is every seaman's duty to be found at his post. Butamong the various _numbers and stations_ given to me by thesenior Lieutenant, when I first came on board the frigate, he hadaltogether omitted informing me of my particular place at thosetimes, and, up to the precise period now written of, I had hardlyknown that I should have had any special place then at all. Forthe rest of the men, they seemed to me to catch hold of the firstrope that offered, as in a merchant-man upon similar occasions. Indeed, I subsequently discovered, that such was the state ofdiscipline--in this one particular, at least--that very few ofthe seamen could tell where their proper stations were, at_tacking or wearing_. 

"All hands tack ship, ahoy!" such was the announcement made by theboatswain's mates at the hatchways the morning after the hard fate ofRose-water. It was just eight bells--noon, and springing from my whitejacket, which I had spread between the guns for a bed on the main-deck, I ran up the ladders, and, as usual, seized hold of the main-brace, which fifty hands were streaming along forward. When _main-top-sailhaul!_ was given through the trumpet, I pulled at this brace with suchheartiness and good-will, that I almost flattered myself that myinstrumentality in getting the frigate round on the other tack, deserveda public vote of thanks, and a silver tankard from Congress. 

But something happened to be in the way aloft when the yards swunground; a little confusion ensued; and, with anger on his brow, CaptainClaret came forward to see what occasioned it. No one to let go theweather-lift of the main-yard! The rope was cast off, however, by ahand, and the yards unobstructed, came round. 

When the last rope was coiled, away, the Captain desired to knowof the First Lieutenant who it might be that was stationed at theweather (then the starboard) main-lift. With a vexed expressionof countenance the First Lieutenant sent a midshipman for theStation Bill, when, upon glancing it over, my own name was foundput down at the post in question. 

At the time I was on the gun-deck below, and did not know ofthese proceedings; but a moment after, I heard the boatswain'smates bawling my name at all the hatch-ways, and along all threedecks. It was the first time I had ever heard it so sent throughthe furthest recesses of the ship, and well knowing what thisgenerally betokened to other seamen, my heart jumped to mythroat, and I hurriedly asked Flute, the boatswain's-mate at thefore-hatchway, what was wanted of me. 

"Captain wants ye at the mast, " he replied. "Going to flog ye, I guess. "

"What for?"

"My eyes! you've been chalking your face, hain't ye?"

"What am I wanted for?" I repeated. 

But at that instant my name was again thundered forth by the otherboatswain's mate, and Flute hurried me away, hinting that I would soonfind out what the Captain desired of me. 

I swallowed down my heart in me as I touched the spar-deck, for asingle instant balanced myself on my best centre, and then, whollyignorant of what was going to be alleged against me, advanced tothe dread tribunal of the frigate. 

As I passed through the gangway, I saw the quarter-master riggingthe gratings; the boatswain with his green bag of scourges; themaster-at-arms ready to help off some one's shirt. 

Again I made a desperate swallow of my whole soul in me, andfound myself standing before Captain Claret. His flushed faceobviously showed him in ill-humour. Among the group of officersby his side was the First Lieutenant, who, as I came aft, eyed mein such a manner, that I plainly perceived him to be extremelyvexed at me for having been the innocent means of reflecting uponthe manner in which he kept up the discipline of the ship. 

"Why were you not at your station, sir?" asked the Captain. 

"What station do you mean, sir?" said I. 

It is generally the custom with man-of-war's-men to standobsequiously touching their hat at every sentence they address tothe Captain. But as this was not obligatory upon me by theArticles of War, I did not do so upon the present occasion, andpreviously, I had never had the dangerous honour of a personalinterview with Captain Claret. 

He quickly noticed my omission of the homage usually renderedhim, and instinct told me, that to a certain extent, it set hisheart against me. 

"What station, sir, do you mean?" said I. 

"You pretend ignorance, " he replied; "it will not help you, sir. "

Glancing at the Captain, the First Lieutenant now produced theStation Bill, and read my name in connection with that of thestarboard main-lift. 

"Captain Claret, " said I, "it is the first time I ever heard ofmy being assigned to that post. "

"How is this, Mr. Bridewell?" he said, turning to the FirstLieutenant, with a fault-finding expression. 

"It is impossible, sir, " said that officer, striving to hide hisvexation, "but this man must have known his station. "

"I have never known it before this moment, Captain Claret, " said I. 

"Do you contradict my officer?" he returned. "I shall flog you. "

I had now been on board the frigate upward of a year, and remainedunscourged; the ship was homeward-bound, and in a few weeks, at most, I would be a free man. And now, after making a hermit of myself insome things, in order to avoid the possibility of the scourge, here itwas hanging over me for a thing utterly unforeseen, for a crime of whichI was as utterly innocent. But all that was as naught. I saw that mycase was hopeless; my solemn disclaimer was thrown in my teeth, andthe boatswain's mate stood curling his fingers through the _cat_. 

There are times when wild thoughts enter a man's heart, when he seemsalmost irresponsible for his act and his deed. The Captain stood on theweather-side of the deck. Sideways, on an unobstructed line with him, was the opening of the lee-gangway, where the side-ladders are suspendedin port. Nothing but a slight bit of sinnate-stuff served to rail inthis opening, which was cut right down to the level of the Captain'sfeet, showing the far sea beyond. I stood a little to windward of him, and, though he was a large, powerful man, it was certain that a suddenrush against him, along the slanting deck, would infallibly pitch himheadforemost into the ocean, though he who so rushed must needs go overwith him. My blood seemed clotting in my veins; I felt icy cold at thetips of my fingers, and a dimness was before my eyes. But through thatdimness the boatswain's mate, scourge in hand, loomed like a giant, andCaptain Claret, and the blue sea seen through the opening at thegangway, showed with an awful vividness. I cannot analyse my heart, though it then stood still within me. But the thing that swayed me tomy purpose was not altogether the thought that Captain Claret was aboutto degrade me, and that I had taken an oath with my soul that he shouldnot. No, I felt my man's manhood so bottomless within me, that no word, no blow, no scourge of Captain Claret could cut me deep enough forthat. I but swung to an instinct in me--the instinct diffused throughall animated nature, the same that prompts even a worm to turn underthe heel. Locking souls-with him, I meant to drag Captain Claret fromthis earthly tribunal of his to that of Jehovah and let Him decidebetween us. No other way could I escape the scourge. 

Nature has not implanted any power in man that was not meant to beexercised at times, though too often our powers have been abused. Theprivilege, inborn and inalienable, that every man has of dying himself, and inflicting death upon another, was not given to us without a purpose. These are the last resources of an insulted and unendurable existence. 

"To the gratings, sir!" said Captain Claret; "do you hear?"

My eye was measuring the distance between him and the sea. 

"Captain Claret, " said a voice advancing from the crowd. I turnedto see who this might be, that audaciously interposed at a juncturelike this. It was the same remarkably handsome and gentlemanlycorporal of marines, Colbrook, who has been previously alluded to, in the chapter describing killing time in a man-of-war. 

"I know that man, " said Colbrook, touching his cap, and speaking in amild, firm, but extremely deferential manner; "and I know that hewould not be found absent from his station, if he knew where it was. "

This speech was almost unprecedented. Seldom or never before hada marine dared to speak to the Captain of a frigate in behalf ofa seaman at the mast. But there was something so unostentatiouslycommanding in the calm manner of the man, that the Captain, though astounded, did not in any way reprimand him. The veryunusualness of his interference seemed Colbrook's protection. 

Taking heart, perhaps, from Colbrook's example, Jack Chaseinterposed, and in a manly but carefully respectful manner, insubstance repeated the corporal's remark, adding that he hadnever found me wanting in the top. 

The Captain looked from Chase to Colbrook, and from Colbrook toChase--one the foremost man among the seamen, the other theforemost man among the soldiers--then all round upon the packedand silent crew, and, as if a slave to Fate, though supremeCaptain of a frigate, he turned to the First Lieutenant, madesome indifferent remark, and saying to me _you may go_, saunteredaft into his cabin; while I, who, in the desperation of my soul, had but just escaped being a murderer and a suicide, almost burstinto tears of thanks-giving where I stood. 

CHAPTER LXIII. 

A MAN-OF-WAR FOUNTAIN, AND OTHER THINGS. 

Let us forget the scourge and the gangway a while, and jot downin our memories a few little things pertaining to our man-of-warworld. I let nothing slip, however small; and feel myselfactuated by the same motive which has prompted many worthy oldchroniclers, to set down the merest trifles concerning thingsthat are destined to pass away entirely from the earth, andwhich, if not preserved in the nick of time, must infalliblyperish from the memories of man. Who knows that this humblenarrative may not hereafter prove the history of an obsoletebarbarism? Who knows that, when men-of-war shall be no more, "White-Jacket" may not be quoted to show to the people in theMillennium what a man-of-war was? God hasten the time! Lo! yeyears, escort it hither, and bless our eyes ere we die. 

There is no part of a frigate where you will see more going andcoming of strangers, and overhear more greetings and gossipingsof acquaintances, than in the immediate vicinity of the scuttle-butt, just forward of the main-hatchway, on the gun-deck. 

The scuttle-butt is a goodly, round, painted cask, standing onend, and with its upper head removed, showing a narrow, circularshelf within, where rest a number of tin cups for the accommodationof drinkers. Central, within the scuttle-butt itself, stands an ironpump, which, connecting with the immense water-tanks in the hold, furnishes an unfailing supply of the much-admired Pale Ale, firstbrewed in the brooks of the garden of Eden, and stamped with the_brand_ of our old father Adam, who never knew what wine was. Weare indebted to the old vintner Noah for that. The scuttle-buttis the only fountain in the ship; and here alone can you drink, unless at your meals. Night and day an armed sentry paces beforeit, bayonet in hand, to see that no water is taken away, exceptaccording to law. I wonder that they station no sentries at theport-holes, to see that no air is breathed, except according toNavy regulations. 

As five hundred men come to drink at this scuttle-butt; as it isoften surrounded by officers' servants drawing water for theirmasters to wash; by the cooks of the range, who hither come tofill their coffee-pots; and by the cooks of the ship's messes toprocure water for their _duffs_; the scuttle-butt may bedenominated the town-pump of the ship. And would that my finecountryman, Hawthorne of Salem, had but served on board a man-of-war in his time, that he might give us the reading of a "_rill_"from the scuttle-butt. 

 * * * * *

As in all extensive establishments--abbeys, arsenals, colleges, treasuries, metropolitan post-offices, and monasteries--there are manysnug little niches, wherein are ensconced certain superannuated oldpensioner officials; and, more especially, as in most ecclesiasticalestablishments, a few choice prebendary stalls are to be found, furnished with well-filled mangers and racks; so, in a man-of-war, there are a variety of similar snuggeries for the benefit of decrepitor rheumatic old tars. Chief among these is the office of _mast-man_. 

There is a stout rail on deck, at the base of each mast, where anumber of _braces, lifts_, and _buntlines_ are belayed to thepins. It is the sole duty of the mast-man to see that these ropesare always kept clear, to preserve his premises in a state of thegreatest attainable neatness, and every Sunday morning to disposehis ropes in neat _Flemish coils_. 

The _main-mast-man_ of the Neversink was a very aged seaman, whowell deserved his comfortable berth. He had seen more than half acentury of the most active service, and, through all, had provedhimself a good and faithful man. He furnished one of the veryrare examples of a sailor in a green old age; for, with mostsailors, old age comes in youth, and Hardship and Vice carry themon an early bier to the grave. 

As in the evening of life, and at the close of the day, oldAbraham sat at the door of his tent, biding his time to die, sosits our old mast-man on the _coat of the mast_, glancing roundhim with patriarchal benignity. And that mild expression of hissets off very strangely a face that has been burned almost blackby the torrid suns that shone fifty years ago--a face that isseamed with three sabre cuts. You would almost think this oldmast-man had been blown out of Vesuvius, to look alone at hisscarred, blackened forehead, chin, and cheeks. But gaze down intohis eye, and though all the snows of Time have drifted higher andhigher upon his brow, yet deep down in that eye you behold aninfantile, sinless look, the same that answered the glance ofthis old man's mother when first she cried for the babe to belaid by her side. That look is the fadeless, ever infantileimmortality within. 

 * * * * *

The Lord Nelsons of the sea, though but Barons in the state, yetoftentimes prove more potent than their royal masters; and atsuch scenes as Trafalgar--dethroning this Emperor and reinstatingthat--enact on the ocean the proud part of mighty Richard Neville, the king-making Earl of the land. And as Richard Neville entrenchedhimself in his moated old man-of-war castle of Warwick, which, underground, was traversed with vaults, hewn out of the solid rock, and intricate as the wards of the old keys of Calais surrendered toEdward III. ; even so do these King-Commodores house themselves in theirwater-rimmed, cannon-sentried frigates, oaken dug, deck under deck, ascell under cell. And as the old Middle-Age warders of Warwick, everynight at curfew, patrolled the battlements, and dove down into thevaults to see that all lights were extinguished, even so do themaster-at-arms and ship's corporals of a frigate perambulate all thedecks of a man-of-war, blowing out all tapers but those burning in thelegalized battle-lanterns. Yea, in these things, so potent is theauthority of these sea-wardens, that, though almost the lowestsubalterns in the ship, yet should they find the Senior Lieutenanthimself sitting up late in his state-room, reading Bowditch's Navigator, or D'Anton "_On Gunpowder and Fire-arms_, " they would infallibly blowthe light out under his very nose; nor durst that Grand-Vizier resentthe indignity. 

But, unwittingly, I have ennobled, by grand historical comparisons, this prying, pettifogging, Irish-informer of a master-at-arms. 

You have seen some slim, slip-shod housekeeper, at midnightferreting over a rambling old house in the country, startling atfancied witches and ghosts, yet intent on seeing every doorbolted, every smouldering ember in the fireplaces smothered, every loitering domestic abed, and every light made dark. This isthe master-at-arms taking his night-rounds in a frigate. 

 * * * * *

It may be thought that but little is seen of the Commodore inthese chapters, and that, since he so seldom appears on thestage, he cannot be so august a personage, after all. But themightiest potentates keep the most behind the veil. You mighttarry in Constantinople a month, and never catch a glimpse of theSultan. The grand Lama of Thibet, according to some accounts, isnever beheld by the people. But if any one doubts the majesty ofa Commodore, let him know that, according to XLII. Of the Articlesof War, he is invested with a prerogative which, according tomonarchical jurists, is inseparable from the throne--the plenarypardoning power. He may pardon all offences committed in thesquadron under his command. 

But this prerogative is only his while at sea, or on a foreignstation. A circumstance peculiarly significant of the greatdifference between the stately absolutism of a Commodoreenthroned on his poop in a foreign harbour, and an unlacedCommodore negligently reclining in an easy-chair in the bosom ofhis family at home. 

CHAPTER LXIX. 

PRAYERS AT THE GUNS. 

The training-days, or general quarters, now and then taking place inour frigate, have already been described, also the Sunday devotionson the half-deck; but nothing has yet been said concerning the dailymorning and evening quarters, when the men silently stand at their guns, and the chaplain simply offers up a prayer. 

Let us now enlarge upon this matter. We have plenty of time; theoccasion invites; for behold! the homeward-bound Neversink bowlsalong over a jubilant sea. 

Shortly after breakfast the drum beats to quarters; and amongfive hundred men, scattered over all three decks, and engaged inall manner of ways, that sudden rolling march is magical as themonitory sound to which every good Mussulman at sunset drops tothe ground whatsoever his hands might have found to do, and, throughout all Turkey, the people in concert kneel toward theirholy Mecca. 

The sailors run to and fro-some up the deck-ladders, some down--to gain their respective stations in the shortest possible time. In three minutes all is composed. One by one, the variousofficers stationed over the separate divisions of the ship thenapproach the First Lieutenant on the quarter-deck, and reporttheir respective men at their quarters. It is curious to watchtheir countenances at this time. A profound silence prevails;and, emerging through the hatchway, from one of the lower decks, a slender young officer appears, hugging his sword to his thigh, and advances through the long lanes of sailors at their guns, hisserious eye all the time fixed upon the First Lieutenant's--hispolar star. Sometimes he essays a stately and graduated step, anerect and martial bearing, and seems full of the vast nationalimportance of what he is about to communicate. 

But when at last he gains his destination, you are amazed toperceive that all he has to say is imparted by a Freemason touchof his cap, and a bow. He then turns and makes off to hisdivision, perhaps passing several brother Lieutenants, all boundon the same errand he himself has just achieved. For about fiveminutes these officers are coming and going, bringing inthrilling intelligence from all quarters of the frigate; moststoically received, however, by the First Lieutenant. With his legsapart, so as to give a broad foundation for the superstructure of hisdignity, this gentleman stands stiff as a pike-staff on the quarter-deck. One hand holds his sabre--an appurtenance altogether unnecessaryat the time; and which he accordingly tucks, point backward, under hisarm, like an umbrella on a sun-shiny day. The other hand is continuallybobbing up and down to the leather front of his cap, in response to thereports and salute of his subordinates, to whom he never deigns tovouchsafe a syllable, merely going through the motions of acceptingtheir news, without bestowing thanks for their pains. 

This continual touching of caps between officers on board a man-of-war is the reason why you invariably notice that the glazedfronts of their caps look jaded, lack-lustre, and worn; sometimesslightly oleaginous--though, in other respects, the cap mayappear glossy and fresh. But as for the First Lieutenant, heought to have extra pay allowed to him, on account of hisextraordinary outlays in cap fronts; for he it is to whom, allday long, reports of various kinds are incessantly being made bythe junior Lieutenants; and no report is made by them, howevertrivial, but caps are touched on the occasion. It is obvious thatthese individual salutes must be greatly multiplied andaggregated upon the senior Lieutenant, who must return them all. Indeed, when a subordinate officer is first promoted to thatrank, he generally complains of the same exhaustion about theshoulder and elbow that La Fayette mourned over, when, invisiting America, he did little else but shake the sturdy handsof patriotic farmers from sunrise to sunset. 

The various officers of divisions having presented theirrespects, and made good their return to their stations, the FirstLieutenant turns round, and, marching aft, endeavours to catchthe eye of the Captain, in order to touch his own cap to thatpersonage, and thereby, without adding a word of explanation, communicate the fact of all hands being at their gun's. He is asort of retort, or receiver-general, to concentrate the whole sumof the information imparted to him, and discharge it upon hissuperior at one touch of his cap front. 

But sometimes the Captain feels out of sorts, or in ill-humour, or is pleased to be somewhat capricious, or has a fancy to show atouch of his omnipotent supremacy; or, peradventure, it has sohappened that the First Lieutenant has, in some way, piqued oroffended him, and he is not unwilling to show a slight specimenof his dominion over him, even before the eyes of all hands; atall events, only by some one of these suppositions can thesingular circumstance be accounted for, that frequently CaptainClaret would pertinaciously promenade up and down the poop, purposely averting his eye from the First Lieutenant, who wouldstand below in the most awkward suspense, waiting the first winkfrom his superior's eye. 

"Now I have him!" he must have said to himself, as the Captainwould turn toward him in his walk; "now's my time!" and up wouldgo his hand to his cap; but, alas! the Captain was off again; andthe men at the guns would cast sly winks at each other as theembarrassed Lieutenant would bite his lips with suppressed vexation. 

Upon some occasions this scene would be repeated several times, till at last Captain Claret, thinking, that in the eyes of allhands, his dignity must by this time be pretty well bolstered, would stalk towards his subordinate, looking him full in theeyes; whereupon up goes his hand to the cap front, and the Captain, nodding his acceptance of the report, descends from his perch tothe quarter-deck. 

By this time the stately Commodore slowly emerges from his cabin, and soon stands leaning alone against the brass rails of theafter-hatchway. In passing him, the Captain makes a profoundsalutation, which his superior returns, in token that the Captainis at perfect liberty to proceed with the ceremonies of the hour. 

Marching on, Captain Claret at last halts near the main-mast, atthe head of a group of the ward-room officers, and by the side ofthe Chaplain. At a sign from his finger, the brass band strikesup the Portuguese hymn. This over, from Commodore to hammock-boy, all hands uncover, and the Chaplain reads a prayer. Upon itsconclusion, the drum beats the retreat, and the ship's companydisappear from the guns. At sea or in harbour, this ceremony isrepeated every morning and evening. 

By those stationed on the quarter-deck the Chaplain is distinctlyheard; but the quarter-deck gun division embraces but a tenthpart of the ship's company, many of whom are below, on the main-deck, where not one syllable of the prayer can be heard. Thisseemed a great misfortune; for I well knew myself how blessed andsoothing it was to mingle twice every day in these peacefuldevotions, and, with the Commodore, and Captain, and smallestboy, unite in acknowledging Almighty God. There was also a touchof the temporary equality of the Church about it, exceedinglygrateful to a man-of-war's-man like me. 

My carronade-gun happened to be directly opposite the brassrailing against which the Commodore invariably leaned at prayers. Brought so close together, twice every day, for more than a year, we could not but become intimately acquainted with each other'sfaces. To this fortunate circumstance it is to be ascribed, thatsome time after reaching home, we were able to recognise eachother when we chanced to meet in Washington, at a ball given bythe Russian Minister, the Baron de Bodisco. And though, while onboard the frigate, the Commodore never in any manner personallyaddressed me--nor did I him--yet, at the Minister's socialentertainment, we _there_ became exceedingly chatty; nor did Ifail to observe, among that crowd of foreign dignitaries andmagnates from all parts of America, that my worthy friend did notappear so exalted as when leaning, in solitary state, against thebrass railing of the Neversink's quarter-deck. Like many othergentlemen, he appeared to the best advantage, and was treatedwith the most deference in the bosom of his home, the frigate. 

Our morning and evening quarters were agreeably diversified forsome weeks by a little circumstance, which to some of us atleast, always seemed very pleasing. 

At Callao, half of the Commodore's cabin had been hospitablyyielded to the family of a certain aristocratic-looking magnate, who was going ambassador from Peru to the Court of the Brazils, at Rio. This dignified diplomatist sported a long, twirlingmustache, that almost enveloped his mouth. The sailors said helooked like a rat with his teeth through a bunch of oakum, or aSt. Jago monkey peeping through a prickly-pear bush. 

He was accompanied by a very beautiful wife, and a still morebeautiful little daughter, about six years old. Between thisdark-eyed little gipsy and our chaplain there soon sprung up acordial love and good feeling, so much so, that they were seldomapart. And whenever the drum beat to quarters, and the sailorswere hurrying to their stations, this little signorita wouldoutrun them all to gain her own quarters at the capstan, whereshe would stand by the chaplain's side, grasping his hand, andlooking up archly in his face. 

It was a sweet relief from the domineering sternness of ourmartial discipline--a sternness not relaxed even at our devotionsbefore the altar of the common God of commodore and cabin-boy--tosee that lovely little girl standing among the thirty-twopounders, and now and then casting a wondering, commiseratingglance at the array of grim seamen around her. 

CHAPTER LXX. 

MONTHLY MUSTER ROUND THE CAPSTAN. 

Besides general quarters, and the regular morning and eveningquarters for prayers on board the Neversink, on the first Sundayof every month we had a grand "_muster round the capstan_, " whenwe passed in solemn review before the Captain and officers, whoclosely scanned our frocks and trowsers, to see whether they wereaccording to the Navy cut. In some ships, every man is requiredto bring his bag and hammock along for inspection. 

This ceremony acquires its chief solemnity, and, to a novice, isrendered even terrible, by the reading of the Articles of War bythe Captain's clerk before the assembled ship's company, who intestimony of their enforced reverence for the code, standbareheaded till the last sentence is pronounced. 

To a mere amateur reader the quiet perusal of these Articles ofWar would be attended with some nervous emotions. Imagine, then, what _my_ feelings must have been, when, with my hat deferentiallyin my hand, I stood before my lord and master, Captain Claret, andheard these Articles read as the law and gospel, the infallible, unappealable dispensation and code, whereby I lived, and moved, and had my being on board of the United States ship Neversink. 

Of some twenty offences--made penal--that a seaman may commit, andwhich are specified in this code, thirteen are punishable by death. 

"_Shall suffer death!_" This was the burden of nearly everyArticle read by the Captain's clerk; for he seemed to have beeninstructed to omit the longer Articles, and only present thosewhich were brief and to the point. 

"_Shall suffer death!_" The repeated announcement falls on yourear like the intermitting discharge of artillery. After it hasbeen repeated again and again, you listen to the reader as hedeliberately begins a new paragraph; you hear him reciting theinvolved, but comprehensive and clear arrangement of thesentence, detailing all possible particulars of the offencedescribed, and you breathlessly await, whether _that_ clause alsois going to be concluded by the discharge of the terrible minute-gun. When, lo! it again booms on your ear--_shall suffer death!_No reservations, no contingencies; not the remotest promise ofpardon or reprieve; not a glimpse of commutation of the sentence;all hope and consolation is shut out--_shall suffer death!_ thatis the simple fact for you to digest; and it is a tougher morsel, believe White-Jacket when he says it, than a forty-two-poundcannon-ball. 

But there is a glimmering of an alternative to the sailor whoinfringes these Articles. Some of them thus terminates: "_Shallsuffer death, or such punishment as a court-martial shalladjudge_. " But hints this at a penalty still more serious?Perhaps it means "_death, or worse punishment_. "

Your honours of the Spanish Inquisition, Loyola and Torquemada!produce, reverend gentlemen, your most secret code, and matchthese Articles of War, if you can. Jack Ketch, _you_ also areexperienced in these things! Thou most benevolent of mortals, whostandest by us, and hangest round our necks, when all the rest ofthis world are against us--tell us, hangman, what punishment isthis, horribly hinted at as being worse than death? Is it, uponan empty stomach, to read the Articles of War every morning, forthe term of one's natural life? Or is it to be imprisoned in acell, with its walls papered from floor to ceiling with printedcopies, in italics, of these Articles of War?

But it needs not to dilate upon the pure, bubbling milk of humankindness, and Christian charity, and forgiveness of injurieswhich pervade this charming document, so thoroughly imbued, as aChristian code, with the benignant spirit of the Sermon on theMount. But as it is very nearly alike in the foremost states ofChristendom, and as it is nationally set forth by those states, it indirectly becomes an index to the true condition of thepresent civilization of the world. 

As, month after month, I would stand bareheaded among myshipmates, and hear this document read, I have thought to myself, Well, well, White-Jacket, you are in a sad box, indeed. But prickyour ears, there goes another minute-gun. It admonishes you totake all bad usage in good part, and never to join in any publicmeeting that may be held on the gun-deck for a redress ofgrievances. Listen:

Art. XIII. "If any person in the navy shall make, or attempt tomake, any mutinous assembly, he shall, on conviction thereof by acourt martial, suffer death. "

Bless me, White-Jacket, are you a great gun yourself, that you sorecoil, to the extremity of your breechings, at that discharge?

But give ear again. Here goes another minute-gun. It indirectlyadmonishes you to receive the grossest insult, and stand stillunder it:

Art. XIV. "No private in the navy shall disobey the lawful ordersof his superior officer, or strike him, or draw, or offer todraw, or raise any weapon against him, while in the execution ofthe duties of his office, on pain of death. "

Do not hang back there by the bulwarks, White-Jacket; come up tothe mark once more; for here goes still another minute-gun, whichadmonishes you never to be caught napping:

Part of Art. XX. "If any person in the navy shall sleep upon hiswatch, he shall suffer death. "

Murderous! But then, in time of peace, they do not enforce theseblood-thirsty laws? Do they not, indeed? What happened to thosethree sailors on board an American armed vessel a few years ago, quite within your memory, White-Jacket; yea, while you yourselfwere yet serving on board this very frigate, the Neversink? Whathappened to those three Americans, White-Jacket--those threesailors, even as you, who once were alive, but now are dead?"_Shall suffer death!_" those were the three words that hungthose three sailors. 

Have a care, then, have a care, lest you come to a sad end, eventhe end of a rope; lest, with a black-and-blue throat, you turn adumb diver after pearl-shells; put to bed for ever, and tuckedin, in your own hammock, at the bottom of the sea. And there youwill lie, White-Jacket, while hostile navies are playing cannon-ball billiards over your grave. 

By the main-mast! then, in a time of profound peace, I am subjectto the cut-throat martial law. And when my own brother, whohappens to be dwelling ashore, and does not serve his country asI am now doing--when _he_ is at liberty to call personally uponthe President of the United States, and express his disapprobationof the whole national administration, here am I, liable at any timeto be run up at the yard-arm, with a necklace, made by no jeweler, round my neck!

A hard case, truly, White-Jacket; but it cannot be helped. Yes;you live under this same martial law. Does not everything aroundyou din the fact in your ears? Twice every day do you not jump toyour quarters at the sound of a drum? Every morning, in port, areyou not roused from your hammock by the _reveille_, and sent toit again at nightfall by the _tattoo?_ Every Sunday are you notcommanded in the mere matter of the very dress you shall wearthrough that blessed day? Can your shipmates so much as drinktheir "tot of grog?" nay, can they even drink but a cup of waterat the scuttle-butt, without an armed sentry standing over them?Does not every officer wear a sword instead of a cane? You liveand move among twenty-four-pounders. White-Jacket; the verycannon-balls are deemed an ornament around you, serving toembellish the hatchways; and should you come to die at sea, White-Jacket, still two cannon-balls would bear you company whenyou would be committed to the deep. Yea, by all methods, anddevices, and inventions, you are momentarily admonished of thefact that you live under the Articles of War. And by virtue ofthem it is, White-Jacket, that, without a hearing and without atrial, you may, at a wink from the Captain, be condemned to thescourge. 

Speak you true? Then let me fly!

Nay, White-Jacket, the landless horizon hoops you in. 

Some tempest, then, surge all the sea against us! hidden reefsand rocks, arise and dash the ships to chips! I was not born aserf, and will not live a slave! Quick! cork-screw whirlpools, suck us down! world's end whelm us!

Nay, White-Jacket, though this frigate laid her broken bones uponthe Antarctic shores of Palmer's Land; though not two planksadhered; though all her guns were spiked by sword-fish blades, and at her yawning hatchways mouth-yawning sharks swam in andout; yet, should you escape the wreck and scramble to the beach, this Martial Law would meet you still, and snatch you by thethroat. Hark!

Art. XLII. Part of Sec. 3. -"In all cases where the crews of theships or vessels of the United States shall be separated fromtheir vessels by the latter being wrecked, lost, or destroyed, all the command, power, and authority given to the officers ofsuch ships or vessels shall remain, and be in full force, aseffectually as if such ship or vessel were not so wrecked, lostor destroyed. "

Hear you that, White-Jacket! I tell you there is no escape. Afloat or wrecked the Martial Law relaxes not its gripe. Andthough, by that self-same warrant, for some offence therein setdown, you were indeed to "suffer death, " even then the MartialLaw might hunt you straight through the other world, and outagain at its other end, following you through all eternity, likean endless thread on the inevitable track of its own point, passing unnumbered needles through. 

CHAPTER LXLXXI. 

THE GENEALOGY OF THE ARTICLES OF WAR. 

As the Articles of War form the ark and constitution of the penallaws of the American Navy, in all sobriety and earnestness it maybe well to glance at their origin. Whence came they? And how isit that one arm of the national defences of a Republic comes tobe ruled by a Turkish code, whose every section almost, like eachof the tubes of a revolving pistol, fires nothing short of deathinto the heart of an offender? How comes it that, by virtue of alaw solemnly ratified by a Congress of freemen, the representativesof freemen, thousands of Americans are subjected to the most despoticusages, and, from the dockyards of a republic, absolute monarchiesare launched, with the "glorious stars and stripes" for an ensign?By what unparalleled anomaly, by what monstrous grafting of tyrannyupon freedom did these Articles of War ever come to be so much asheard of in the American Navy?

Whence came they? They cannot be the indigenous growth of thosepolitical institutions, which are based upon that arch-democratThomas Jefferson's Declaration of Independence? No; they are animportation from abroad, even from Britain, whose laws weAmericans hurled off as tyrannical, and yet retained the mosttyrannical of all. 

But we stop not here; for these Articles of War had theircongenial origin in a period of the history of Britain when thePuritan Republic had yielded to a monarchy restored; when ahangman Judge Jeffreys sentenced a world's champion like AlgernonSidney to the block; when one of a race by some deemed accursedof God--even a Stuart, was on the throne; and a Stuart, also, wasat the head of the Navy, as Lord High Admiral. One, the son of aKing beheaded for encroachments upon the rights of his people, and the other, his own brother, afterward a king, James II. , whowas hurled from the throne for his tyranny. This is the origin ofthe Articles of War; and it carries with it an unmistakable clewto their despotism. [4]

----[FOOTNOTE-4] The first Naval Articles of War in the English language werepassed in the thirteenth year of the reign of Charles the Second, under the title of "_An act for establishing Articles and Ordersfor the regulating and better Government of his Majesty's Navies, Ships-of-War, and Forces by Sea_. " This act was repealed, and, sofar as concerned the officers, a modification of it substituted, in the twenty-second year of the reign of George the Second, shortly after the Peace of Aix la Chapelle, just one century ago. This last act, it is believed, comprises, in substance, theArticles of War at this day in force in the British Navy. It isnot a little curious, nor without meaning, that neither of theseacts explicitly empowers an officer to inflict the lash. It wouldalmost seem as if, in this case, the British lawgivers werewilling to leave such a stigma out of an organic statute, andbestow the power of the lash in some less solemn, and perhapsless public manner. Indeed, the only broad enactments directlysanctioning naval scourging at sea are to be found in the UnitedStates Statute Book and in the "Sea Laws" of the absolutemonarch, Louis le Grand, of France. [4. 1]

Taking for their basis the above-mentioned British Naval Code, and ingrafting upon it the positive scourging laws, which Britainwas loth to recognise as organic statutes, our Americanlawgivers, in the year 1800, framed the Articles of War nowgoverning the American Navy. They may be found in the secondvolume of the "United States Statutes at Large, " under chapterxxxiii. --"An act for the _better_ government of the Navy of theUnited States. "

[4. 1] For reference to the latter (L'Ord. De la Marine), _vide_Curtis's "Treatise on the Rights and Duties of Merchant-Seamen, according to the General Maritime Law, " Part ii. , c. I. ----

Nor is it a dumb thing that the men who, in democratic Cromwell'stime, first proved to the nations the toughness of the Britishoak and the hardihood of the British sailor--that in Cromwell'stime, whose fleets struck terror into the cruisers of France, Spain, Portugal, and Holland, and the corsairs of Algiers and theLevant; in Cromwell's time, when Robert Blake swept the NarrowSeas of all the keels of a Dutch Admiral who insultingly carrieda broom at his fore-mast; it is not a dumb thing that, at aperiod deemed so glorious to the British Navy, these Articles ofWar were unknown. 

Nevertheless, it is granted that some laws or other must havegoverned Blake's sailors at that period; but they must have beenfar less severe than those laid down in the written code whichsuperseded them, since, according to the father-in-law of JamesII. , the Historian of the Rebellion, the English Navy, prior tothe enforcement of the new code, was full of officers and sailorswho, of all men, were the most republican. Moreover, the sameauthor informs us that the first work undertaken by his respectedson-in-law, then Duke of York, upon entering on the duties ofLord High Admiral, was to have a grand re-christening of the men-of-war, which still carried on their sterns names too democraticto suit his high-tory ears. 

But if these Articles of War were unknown in Blake's time, andalso during the most brilliant period of Admiral Benbow's career, what inference must follow? That such tyrannical ordinances arenot indispensable--even during war--to the highest possibleefficiency of a military marine. 

CHAPTER LXXII. 

"HEREIN ARE THE GOOD ORDINANCES OF THE SEA, WHICH WISE MEN, WHOVOYAGED ROUND THE WORLD, GAVE TO OUR ANCESTORS, AND WHICH CONSTITUTETHE BOOKS OF THE SCIENCE OF GOOD CUSTOMS. " --_The Consulate of the Sea_. 

The present usages of the American Navy are such that, though thereis no government enactment to that effect, yet, in many respect, itsCommanders seem virtually invested with the power to observe orviolate, as seems to them fit, several of the Articles of War. 

According to Article XV. , "_No person in the Navy shall quarrelwith any other person in the Navy, nor use provoking orreproachful words, gestures, or menaces, on pain of suchpunishment as a court-martial shall adjudge_. "

"_Provoking or reproachful words!_" Officers of the Navy, answerme! Have you not, many of you, a thousand times violated thislaw, and addressed to men, whose tongues were tied by this veryArticle, language which no landsman would ever hearken to withoutflying at the throat of his insulter? I know that worse wordsthan _you_ ever used are to be heard addressed by a merchant-captain to his crew; but the merchant-captain does not live underthis XVth Article of War. 

Not to make an example of him, nor to gratify any personalfeeling, but to furnish one certain illustration of what is hereasserted, I honestly declare that Captain Claret, of theNeversink, repeatedly violated this law in his own proper person. 

According to Article III. , no officer, or other person in theNavy, shall be guilty of "oppression, fraud, profane swearing, drunkenness, or any other scandalous conduct. "

Again let me ask you, officers of the Navy, whether many of youhave not repeatedly, and in more than one particular, violatedthis law? And here, again, as a certain illustration, I must oncemore cite Captain Claret as an offender, especially in the matterof profane swearing. I must also cite four of the lieutenants, some eight of the midshipmen, and nearly all the seamen. 

Additional Articles might be quoted that are habitually violatedby the officers, while nearly all those _exclusively_ referringto the sailors are unscrupulously enforced. Yet those Articles, by which the sailor is scourged at the gangway, are not one whitmore laws than those _other_ Articles, binding upon the officers, that have become obsolete from immemorial disuse; while stillother Articles, to which the sailors alone are obnoxious, areobserved or violated at the caprice of the Captain. Now, if it benot so much the severity as the certainty of punishment thatdeters from transgression, how fatal to all proper reverence forthe enactments of Congress must be this disregard of its statutes. 

Still more. This violation of the law, on the part of theofficers, in many cases involves oppression to the sailor. Butthroughout the whole naval code, which so hems in the mariner bylaw upon law, and which invests the Captain with so much judicialand administrative authority over him--in most cases entirelydiscretionary--not one solitary clause is to be found which inany way provides means for a seaman deeming himself aggrieved toobtain redress. Indeed, both the written and unwritten laws ofthe American Navy are as destitute of individual guarantees tothe mass of seamen as the Statute Book of the despotic Empireof Russia. 

Who put this great gulf between the American Captain and theAmerican sailor? Or is the Captain a creature of like passionswith ourselves? Or is he an infallible archangel, incapable ofthe shadow of error? Or has a sailor no mark of humanity, noattribute of manhood, that, bound hand and foot, he is cast intoan American frigate shorn of all rights and defences, while thenotorious lawlessness of the Commander has passed into a proverb, familiar to man-of-war's-men, _the law was not made for theCaptain!_ Indeed, he may almost be said to put off the citizenwhen he touches his quarter-deck; and, almost exempt from the lawof the land himself, he comes down upon others with a judicialseverity unknown on the national soil. With the Articles of Warin one hand, and the cat-o'-nine-tails in the other, he stands anundignified parody upon Mohammed enforcing Moslemism with thesword and the Koran. 

The concluding sections of the Articles of War treat of the navalcourts-martial before which officers are tried for seriousoffences as well as the seamen. The oath administered to membersof these courts--which sometimes sit upon matters of life anddeath--explicitly enjoins that the members shall not "at any timedivulge the vote or opinion of any particular member of thecourt, unless required so to do before a court of justice in duecourse of law. "

Here, then, is a Council of Ten and a Star Chamber indeed!Remember, also, that though the sailor is sometimes tried for hislife before a tribunal like this, in no case do his fellow-sailors, his peers, form part of the court. Yet that a man shouldbe tried by his peers is the fundamental principle of allcivilised jurisprudence. And not only tried by his peers, but hispeers must be unanimous to render a verdict; whereas, in a court-martial, the concurrence of a majority of conventional and socialsuperiors is all that is requisite. 

In the English Navy, it is said, they had a law which authorisedthe sailor to appeal, if he chose, from the decision of theCaptain--even in a comparatively trivial case--to the highertribunal of a court-martial. It was an English seaman who relatedthis to me. When I said that such a law must be a fatal clog tothe exercise of the penal power in the Captain, he, in substance, told me the following story. 

A top-man guilty of drunkenness being sent to the gratings, andthe scourge about to be inflicted, he turned round and demanded acourt-martial. The Captain smiled, and ordered him to be takendown and put into the "brig, " There he was kept in irons someweeks, when, despairing of being liberated, he offered tocompromise at two dozen lashes. "Sick of your bargain, then, areyou?" said the Captain. "No, no! a court-martial you demanded, and a court-martial you shall have!" Being at last tried beforethe bar of quarter-deck officers, he was condemned to two hundredlashes. What for? for his having been drunk? No! for his havinghad the insolence to appeal from an authority, in maintainingwhich the men who tried and condemned him had so strong asympathetic interest. 

Whether this story be wholly true or not, or whether the particularlaw involved prevails, or ever did prevail, in the English Navy, the thing, nevertheless, illustrates the ideas that man-of-war's-menthemselves have touching the tribunals in question. 

What can be expected from a court whose deeds are done in thedarkness of the recluse courts of the Spanish Inquisition? whenthat darkness is solemnised by an oath on the Bible? when anoligarchy of epaulets sits upon the bench, and a plebeian top-man, without a jury, stands judicially naked at the bar?

In view of these things, and especially in view of the fact that, in several cases, the degree of punishment inflicted upon a man-of-war's-man is absolutely left to the discretion of the court, what shame should American legislators take to themselves, thatwith perfect truth we may apply to the entire body of theAmerican man-of-war's-men that infallible principle of Sir EdwardCoke: "It is one of the genuine marks of servitude to have thelaw either concealed or precarious. " But still better may wesubscribe to the saying of Sir Matthew Hale in his History of theCommon Law, that "the Martial Law, being based upon no settledprinciples, is, in truth and reality, no law, but somethingindulged rather than allowed as a law. "

I know it may be said that the whole nature of this naval code ispurposely adapted to the war exigencies of the Navy. But waivingthe grave question that might be raised concerning the moral, notjudicial, lawfulness of this arbitrary code, even in time of war;be it asked, why it is in force during a time of peace? TheUnited States has now existed as a nation upward of seventyyears, and in all that time the alleged necessity for theoperation of the naval code--in cases deemed capital--has onlyexisted during a period of two or three years at most. 

Some may urge that the severest operations of the code aretacitly made null in time of peace. But though with respect toseveral of the Articles this holds true, yet at any time any andall of them may be legally enforced. Nor have there been wantingrecent instances, illustrating the spirit of this code, even incases where the letter of the code was not altogether observed. The well-known case of a United States brig furnishes a memorableexample, which at any moment may be repeated. Three men, in atime of peace, were then hung at the yard-arm, merely because, inthe Captain's judgment, it became necessary to hang them. To thisday the question of their complete guilt is socially discussed. 

How shall we characterise such a deed? Says Black-stone, "If anyone that hath commission of martial authority doth, in time ofpeace, hang, or otherwise execute any man by colour of martiallaw, this is murder; for it is against Magna Charta. "*[* Commentaries, b. I. , c. Xiii. ]

Magna Charta! We moderns, who may be landsmen, may justly boastof civil immunities not possessed by our forefathers; but ourremoter forefathers who happened to be mariners may straightenthemselves even in their ashes to think that their lawgivers werewiser and more humane in their generation than our lawgivers inours. Compare the sea-laws of our Navy with the Roman and Rhodianocean ordinances; compare them with the "Consulate of the Sea;"compare them with the Laws of the Hanse Towns; compare them withthe ancient Wisbury laws. In the last we find that they wereocean democrats in those days. "If he strikes, he ought toreceive blow for blow. " Thus speak out the Wisbury lawsconcerning a Gothland sea-captain. 

In final reference to all that has been said in previous chapterstouching the severity and unusualness of the laws of the AmericanNavy, and the large authority vested in its commanding officers, be it here observed, that White-Jacket is not unaware of thefact, that the responsibility of an officer commanding at sea--whether in the merchant service or the national marine--isunparalleled by that of any other relation in which man may standto man. Nor is he unmindful that both wisdom and humanity dictatethat, from the peculiarity of his position, a sea-officer incommand should be clothed with a degree of authority anddiscretion inadmissible in any master ashore. But, at the sametime, these principles--recognised by all writers on maritimelaw--have undoubtedly furnished warrant for clothing modern sea-commanders and naval courts-martial with powers which exceed thedue limits of reason and necessity. Nor is this the only instancewhere right and salutary principles, in themselves almost self-evident and infallible, have been advanced in justification ofthings, which in themselves are just as self-evidently wrong andpernicious. 

Be it here, once and for all, understood, that no sentimental andtheoretic love for the common sailor; no romantic belief in thatpeculiar noble-heartedness and exaggerated generosity ofdisposition fictitiously imputed to him in novels; and noprevailing desire to gain the reputation of being his friend, have actuated me in anything I have said, in any part of thiswork, touching the gross oppression under which I know that thesailors suffers. Indifferent as to who may be the partiesconcerned, I but desire to see wrong things righted, and equaljustice administered to all. 

Nor, as has been elsewhere hinted, is the general ignorance ordepravity of any race of men to be alleged as an apology fortyranny over them. On the contrary, it cannot admit of areasonable doubt, in any unbiased mind conversant with theinterior life of a man-of-war, that most of the sailor iniquitiespractised therein are indirectly to be ascribed to the morallydebasing effects of the unjust, despotic, and degrading lawsunder which the man-of-war's-man lives. 

CHAPTER LXXIII. 

NIGHT AND DAY GAMBLING IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

Mention has been made that the game of draughts, or checkers, waspermitted to be played on board the Neversink. At the presenttime, while there was little or no shipwork to be done, and allhands, in high spirits, were sailing homeward over the warmsmooth sea of the tropics; so numerous became the players, scattered about the decks, that our First Lieutenant usedironically to say that it was a pity they were not tesselatedwith squares of white and black marble, for the express benefitand convenience of the players. Had this gentleman had his way, our checker-boards would very soon have been pitched out of theports. But the Captain--usually lenient in some things--permittedthem, and so Mr. Bridewell was fain to hold his peace. 

But, although this one game was allowable in the frigate, allkinds of gambling were strictly interdicted, under the penalty ofthe gangway; nor were cards or dice tolerated in any way whatever. This regulation was indispensable, for, of all human beings, man-of-war's-men are perhaps the most inclined to gambling. Thereason must be obvious to any one who reflects upon their conditionon shipboard. And gambling--the most mischievous of vices anywhere--ina man-of-war operates still more perniciously than on shore. But quiteas often as the law against smuggling spirits is transgressed by theunscrupulous sailors, the statutes against cards and dice are evaded. 

Sable night, which, since the beginning of the world, has winked andlooked on at so many deeds of iniquity--night is the time usuallyselected for their operations by man-of-war gamblers. The placepitched upon is generally the berth-deck, where the hammocks areswung, and which is lighted so stintedly as not to disturb thesleeping seamen with any obtruding glare. In so spacious an area thetwo lanterns swinging from the stanchions diffuse a subduedillumination, like a night-taper in the apartment of some invalid. Owing to their position, also, these lanterns are far from sheddingan impartial light, however dim, but fling long angular rays here andthere, like burglar's dark-lanterns in the fifty-acre vaults of theWest India Docks on the Thames. 

It may well be imagined, therefore, how well adapted is thismysterious and subterranean Hall of Eblis to the clandestineproceedings of gamblers, especially as the hammocks not only hangthickly, but many of them swing very low, within two feet of thefloor, thus forming innumerable little canvas glens, grottoes, nooks, corners, and crannies, where a good deal of wickedness maybe practiced by the wary with considerable impunity. 

Now the master-at-arms, assisted by his mates, the ship'scorporals, reigns supreme in these bowels of the ship. Throughoutthe night these policemen relieve each other at standing guardover the premises; and, except when the watches are called, theysit in the midst of a profound silence, only invaded by trumpeters'snores, or the ramblings of some old sheet-anchor-man in his sleep. 

The two ship's corporals went among the sailors by the names ofLeggs and Pounce; Pounce had been a policeman, it was said, inLiverpool; Leggs, a turnkey attached to "The Tombs" in New York. Hence their education eminently fitted them for their stations;and Bland, the master-at-arms, ravished with their dexterity inprying out offenders, used to call them his two right hands. 

When man-of-war's-men desire to gamble, they appoint the hour, and select some certain corner, in some certain shadow, behindsome certain hammock. They then contribute a small sum toward ajoint fund, to be invested in a bribe for some argus-eyedshipmate, who shall play the part of a spy upon the master-at-arms and corporals while the gaming is in progress. In nine casesout of ten these arrangements are so cunning and comprehensive, that the gamblers, eluding all vigilance, conclude their gameunmolested. But now and then, seduced into unwariness, orperhaps, from parsimony, being unwilling to employ the servicesof a spy, they are suddenly lighted upon by the constables, remorselessly collared, and dragged into the brig there to awaita dozen lashes in the morning. 

Several times at midnight I have been startled out of a soundsleep by a sudden, violent rush under my hammock, caused by theabrupt breaking up of some nest of gamblers, who have scatteredin all directions, brushing under the tiers of swinging pallets, and setting them all in a rocking commotion. 

It is, however, while laying in port that gambling most thrivesin a man-of-war. Then the men frequently practice their darkdeeds in the light of the day, and the additional guards which, at such times, they deem indispensable, are not unworthy of note. More especially, their extra precautions in engaging the services ofseveral spies, necessitate a considerable expenditure, so that, inport, the diversion of gambling rises to the dignity of a nabob luxury. 

During the day the master-at-arms and his corporals are continuallyprowling about on all three decks, eager to spy out iniquities. At onetime, for example, you see Leggs switching his magisterial rattan, andlurking round the fore-mast on the spar-deck; the next moment, perhaps, he is three decks down, out of sight, prowling among the cable-tiers. Just so with his master, and Pounce his coadjutor; they are here, there, and everywhere, seemingly gifted with ubiquity. 

In order successfully to carry on their proceedings by day, thegamblers must see to it that each of these constables is relentlesslydogged wherever he goes; so that, in case of his approach toward thespot where themselves are engaged, they may be warned of the fact intime to make good their escape. Accordingly, light and active scoutsare selected to follow the constable about. From their youthfulalertness and activity, the boys of the mizzen-top are generallychosen for this purpose. 

But this is not all. Onboard of most men-of-war there is a set ofsly, knavish foxes among the crew, destitute of every principleof honour, and on a par with Irish informers. In man-of-warparlance, they come under the denomination of _fancy-men_ and_white-mice_, They are called _fancy-men_ because, from theirzeal in craftily reporting offenders, they are presumed to beregarded with high favour by some of the officers. Though it isseldom that these informers can be certainly individualised, sosecret and subtle are they in laying their information, yetcertain of the crew, and especially certain of the marines, areinvariably suspected to be _fancy-men_ and _white-mice_, and areaccordingly more or less hated by their comrades. 

Now, in addition to having an eye on the master-at-arms and hisaids, the day-gamblers must see to it, that every personsuspected of being a _white-mouse_ or _fancy-man_, is like-wisedogged wherever he goes. Additional scouts are retainedconstantly to snuff at their trail. But the mysteries of man-of-war vice are wonderful; and it is now to be recorded, that, fromlong habit and observation, and familiarity with the _guardomoves_ and _manoeuvres_ of a frigate, the master-at-arms and hisaids can almost invariably tell when any gambling is going on byday; though, in the crowded vessel, abounding in decks, tops, dark places, and outlandish corners of all sorts, they may not beable to pounce upon the identical spot where the gamblers are hidden. 

During the period that Bland was suspended from his office asmaster-at-arms, a person who, among the sailors, went by the nameof Sneak, having been long suspected to have been a _white-mouse_, was put in Bland's place. He proved a hangdog, sidelongcatch-thief, but gifted with a marvellous perseverance inferreting out culprits; following in their track like aninevitable Cuba blood-hound, with his noiseless nose. Whendisconcerted, however, you sometimes heard his bay. 

"The muffled dice are somewhere around, " Sneak would say to hisaids; "there are them three chaps, there, been dogging me aboutfor the last half-hour. I say, Pounce, has any one been scoutingaround _you_ this morning?"

"Four on 'em, " says Pounce. "I know'd it; I know'd the muffleddice was rattlin'!"

"Leggs!" says the master-at-arms to his other aid, "Leggs, how isit with _you_--any spies?"

"Ten on' em, " says Leggs. "There's one on 'em now--that fellowstitching a hat. "

"Halloo, you, sir!" cried the master-at-arms, "top your boom andsail large, now. If I see you about me again, I'll have you up tothe mast. "

"What am I a-doin' now?" says the hat-stitcher, with a face aslong as a rope-walk. "Can't a feller be workin' here, withoutbeing 'spected of Tom Coxe's traverse, up one ladder and downt'other?"

"Oh, I know the moves, sir; I have been on board a _guardo_. Topyour boom, I say, and be off, or I'll have you hauled up andriveted in a clinch--both fore-tacks over the main-yard, and nobloody knife to cut the seizing. Sheer! or I'll pitch into youlike a shin of beef into a beggar's wallet. "

It is often observable, that, in vessels of all kinds, the menwho talk the most sailor lingo are the least sailor-like inreality. You may sometimes hear even marines jerk out more saltphrases than the Captain of the Forecastle himself. On the otherhand, when not actively engaged in his vocation, you would takethe best specimen of a seaman for a landsman. When you see afellow yawning about the docks like a homeward-bound Indiaman, along Commodore's pennant of black ribbon flying from his mast-head, and fetching up at a grog-shop with a slew of his hull, asif an Admiral were coming alongside a three-decker in his barge;you may put that man down for what man-of-war's-men call a _damn-my-eyes-tar_, that is, a humbug. And many damn-my-eyes hum-bugsthere are in this man-of-war world of ours. 

CHAPTER LXXIV. 

THE MAIN-TOP AT NIGHT. 

The whole of our run from Rio to the Line was one delightful yachting, so far as fine weather and the ship's sailing were concerned. It wasespecially pleasant when our quarter-watch lounged in the main-top, diverting ourselves in many agreeable ways. Removed from the immediatepresence of the officers, we there harmlessly enjoyed ourselves, morethan in any other part of the ship. By day, many of us were veryindustrious, making hats or mending our clothes. But by night webecame more romantically inclined. 

Often Jack Chase, an enthusiastic admirer of sea-scenery, woulddirect our attention to the moonlight on the waves, by finesnatches from his catalogue of poets. I shall never forget thelyric air with which, one morning, at dawn of day, when all theEast was flushed with red and gold, he stood leaning against thetop-mast shrouds, and stretching his bold hand over the sea, exclaimed, "Here comes Aurora: top-mates, see!" And, in a liquid, long-lingering tone, he recited the lines, "With gentle hand, as seeming oft to pause, The purple curtains of the morn she draws. "

"Commodore Camoens, White-Jacket. --But bear a hand there; we mustrig out that stun'-sail boom--the wind is shifting. "

From our lofty perch, of a moonlight night, the frigate itselfwas a glorious sight. She was going large before the wind, herstun'-sails set on both sides, so that the canvas on the main-mast and fore-mast presented the appearance of majestic, taperingpyramids, more than a hundred feet broad at the base, andterminating in the clouds with the light copestone of the royals. That immense area of snow-white canvas sliding along the sea wasindeed a magnificent spectacle. The three shrouded masts lookedlike the apparitions of three gigantic Turkish Emirs stridingover the ocean. 

Nor, at times, was the sound of music wanting, to augment thepoetry of the scene. The whole band would be assembled on thepoop, regaling the officers, and incidentally ourselves, withtheir fine old airs. To these, some of us would occasionallydance in the _top_, which was almost as large as an ordinarysized parlour. When the instrumental melody of the band was notto be had, our nightingales mustered their voices, and gave us asong. 

Upon these occasions Jack Chase was often called out, and regaledus, in his own free and noble style, with the "_Spanish Ladies_"--a favourite thing with British man-of-war's-men--and many othersalt-sea ballads and ditties, including, "Sir Patrick Spens was the best sailor That ever sailed the sea. "

also, "And three times around spun our gallant ship; Three times around spun she; Three times around spun our gallant ship, And she went to the bottom of the sea-- The sea, the sea, the sea, And she went to the bottom of the sea!"

These songs would be varied by sundry _yarns_ and _twisters_ ofthe top-men. And it was at these times that I always endeavouredto draw out the oldest Tritons into narratives of the war-servicethey had seen. There were but few of them, it is true, who had beenin action; but that only made their narratives the more valuable. 

There was an old negro, who went by the name of Tawney, a sheet-anchor-man, whom we often invited into our top of tranquilnights, to hear him discourse. He was a staid and sober seaman, very intelligent, with a fine, frank bearing, one of the best menin the ship, and held in high estimation by every one. 

It seems that, during the last war between England and America, he had, with several others, been "impressed" upon the high seas, out of a New England merchantman. The ship that impressed him wasan English frigate, the Macedonian, afterward taken by theNeversink, the ship in which we were sailing. 

It was the holy Sabbath, according to Tawney, and, as the Britonbore down on the American--her men at their quarters--Tawney andhis countrymen, who happened to be stationed at the quarter-deckbattery, respectfully accosted the captain--an old man by thename of Cardan--as he passed them, in his rapid promenade, hisspy-glass under his arm. Again they assured him that they werenot Englishmen, and that it was a most bitter thing to lift theirhands against the flag of that country which harboured themothers that bore them. They conjured him to release them fromtheir guns, and allow them to remain neutral during the conflict. But when a ship of any nation is running into action, it is notime for argument, small time for justice, and not much time forhumanity. Snatching a pistol from the belt of a boarder standingby, the Captain levelled it at the heads of the three sailors, and commanded them instantly to their quarters, under penalty ofbeing shot on the spot. So, side by side with his country's foes, Tawney and his companions toiled at the guns, and fought out thefight to the last; with the exception of one of them, who waskilled at his post by one of his own country's balls. 

At length, having lost her fore and main-top-masts, and hermizzen-mast having been shot away to the deck, and her fore-yardlying in two pieces on her shattered forecastle, and in a hundredplaces having been _hulled_ with round shot, the English frigatewas reduced to the last extremity. Captain Cardan ordered hissignal quarter-master to strike the flag. 

Tawney was one of those who, at last, helped pull him on boardthe Neversink. As he touched the deck, Cardan saluted Decatur, the hostile commander, and offered his sword; but it wascourteously declined. Perhaps the victor remembered the dinnerparties that he and the Englishman had enjoyed together inNorfolk, just previous to the breaking out of hostilities--andwhile both were in command of the very frigates now crippled onthe sea. The Macedonian, it seems, had gone into Norfolk withdispatches. _Then_ they had laughed and joked over their wine, and a wager of a beaver hat was said to have been made betweenthem upon the event of the hostile meeting of their ships. 

Gazing upon the heavy batteries before him, Cardan said toDecatur, "This is a seventy-four, not a frigate; no wonder theday is yours!"

This remark was founded upon the Neversink's superiority in guns. The Neversink's main-deck-batteries then consisted, as now, oftwenty-four-pounders; the Macedonian's of only eighteens. In all, theNeversink numbered fifty-four guns and four hundred and fifty men; theMacedonian, forty-nine guns and three hundred men; a very greatdisparity, which, united to the other circumstances of this action, deprives the victory of all claims to glory beyond those that mightbe set up by a river-horse getting the better of a seal. 

But if Tawney spoke truth--and he was a truth-telling man thisfact seemed counterbalanced by a circumstance he related. Whenthe guns of the Englishman were examined, after the engagement, in more than one instance the wad was found rammed against thecartridge, without intercepting the ball. And though, in afrantic sea-fight, such a thing might be imputed to hurry andremissness, yet Tawney, a stickler for his tribe, always ascribedit to quite a different and less honourable cause. But, evengranting the cause he assigned to have been the true one, it doesnot involve anything inimical to the general valour displayed bythe British crew. Yet, from all that may be learned from candidpersons who have been in sea-fights, there can be but littledoubt that on board of all ships, of whatever nation, in time ofaction, no very small number of the men are exceedingly nervous, to say the least, at the guns; ramming and sponging at a venture. And what special patriotic interest could an impressed man, forinstance, take in a fight, into which he had been dragged fromthe arms of his wife? Or is it to be wondered at that impressedEnglish seamen have not scrupled, in time of war, to cripple thearm that has enslaved them?

During the same general war which prevailed at and previous tothe period of the frigate-action here spoken of, a British flag-officer, in writing to the Admiralty, said, "Everything appearsto be quiet in the fleet; but, in preparing for battle last week, several of the guns in the after part of the ship were found tobe spiked;" that is to say, rendered useless. Who had spikedthem? The dissatisfied seamen. Is it altogether improbable, then, that the guns to which Tawney referred were manned by men whopurposely refrained from making them tell on the foe; that, inthis one action, the victory America gained was partly won forher by the sulky insubordination of the enemy himself?

During this same period of general war, it was frequently thecase that the guns of English armed ships were found in themornings with their breechings cut over night. This maiming ofthe guns, and for the time incapacitating them, was only to beimputed to that secret spirit of hatred to the service whichinduced the spiking above referred to. But even in cases where nodeep-seated dissatisfaction was presumed to prevail among thecrew, and where a seaman, in time of action, impelled by purefear, "shirked from his gun;" it seems but flying in the face ofHim who made such a seaman what he constitutionally was, to sew_coward_ upon his back, and degrade and agonise the alreadytrembling wretch in numberless other ways. Nor seems it apractice warranted by the Sermon on the Mount, for the officer ofa battery, in time of battle, to stand over the men with hisdrawn sword (as was done in the Macedonian), and run through onthe spot the first seaman who showed a semblance of fear. Tawneytold me that he distinctly heard this order given by the EnglishCaptain to his officers of divisions. Were the secret history ofall sea-fights written, the laurels of sea-heroes would turn toashes on their brows. 

And how nationally disgraceful, in every conceivable point of view, is the IV. Of our American Articles of War: "If any person in the Navyshall pusillanimously cry for quarter, he shall suffer death. " Thus, with death before his face from the foe, and death behind his back fromhis countrymen, the best valour of a man-of-war's-man can never assumethe merit of a noble spontaneousness. In this, as in every other case, the Articles of War hold out no reward for good conduct, but onlycompel the sailor to fight, like a hired murderer, for his pay, bydigging his grave before his eyes if he hesitates. 

But this Article IV. Is open to still graver objections. Courageis the most common and vulgar of the virtues; the only one sharedwith us by the beasts of the field; the one most apt, by excess, to run into viciousness. And since Nature generally takes away withone hand to counter-balance her gifts with the other, excessiveanimal courage, in many cases, only finds room in a character vacatedof loftier things. But in a naval officer, animal courage is exaltedto the loftiest merit, and often procures him a distinguished command. 

Hence, if some brainless bravo be Captain of a frigate in action, he may fight her against invincible odds, and seek to crownhimself with the glory of the shambles, by permitting hishopeless crew to be butchered before his eyes, while at the sametime that crew must consent to be slaughtered by the foe, underpenalty of being murdered by the law. Look at the engagementbetween the American frigate Essex with the two English cruisers, the Phoebe and Cherub, off the Bay of Valparaiso, during the latewar. It is admitted on all hands that the American Captaincontinued to fight his crippled ship against a greatly superiorforce; and when, at last, it became physically impossible that hecould ever be otherwise than vanquished in the end; and when, from peculiarly unfortunate circumstances, his men merely stoodup to their nearly useless batteries to be dismembered and blownto pieces by the incessant fire of the enemy's long guns. Nor, bythus continuing to fight, did this American frigate, one iota, promote the true interests of her country. I seek not tounderrate any reputation which the American Captain may havegained by this battle. He was a brave man; _that_ no sailor willdeny. But the whole world is made up of brave men. Yet I wouldnot be at all understood as impugning his special good name. Nevertheless, it is not to be doubted, that if there were anycommon-sense sailors at the guns of the Essex, however valiantthey may have been, those common-sense sailors must have greatlypreferred to strike their flag, when they saw the day was fairlylost, than postpone that inevitable act till there were fewAmerican arms left to assist in hauling it down. Yet had thesemen, under these circumstances, "pusillanimously cried for quarter, "by the IV. Article of War they might have been legally hung. 

According to the negro, Tawney, when the Captain of theMacedonian--seeing that the Neversink had his vessel completelyin her power--gave the word to strike the flag, one of hisofficers, a man hated by the seamen for his tyranny, howled outthe most terrific remonstrances, swearing that, for his part, hewould not give up, but was for sinking the Macedonian alongsidethe enemy. Had he been Captain, doubtless he would have done so;thereby gaining the name of a hero in this world;--but what wouldthey have called him in the next?

But as the whole matter of war is a thing that smites common-senseand Christianity in the face; so everything connected with it isutterly foolish, unchristian, barbarous, brutal, and savouring ofthe Feejee Islands, cannibalism, saltpetre, and the devil. 

It is generally the case in a man-of-war when she strikes herflag that all discipline is at an end, and the men for a time areungovernable. This was so on board of the English frigate. Thespirit-room was broken open, and buckets of grog were passedalong the decks, where many of the wounded were lying between theguns. These mariners seized the buckets, and, spite of allremonstrances, gulped down the burning spirits, till, as Tawneysaid, the blood suddenly spirted out of their wounds, and theyfell dead to the deck. 

The negro had many more stories to tell of this fight; andfrequently he would escort me along our main-deck batteries--still mounting the same guns used in the battle--pointing outtheir ineffaceable indentations and scars. Coated over with theaccumulated paint of more than thirty years, they were almostinvisible to a casual eye; but Tawney knew them all by heart; forhe had returned home in the Neversink, and had beheld these scarsshortly after the engagement. 

One afternoon, I was walking with him along the gun-deck, when hepaused abreast of the main-mast. "This part of the ship, " saidhe, "we called the _slaughter-house_ on board the Macedonian. Here the men fell, five and six at a time. An enemy alwaysdirects its shot here, in order to hurl over the mast, ifpossible. The beams and carlines overhead in the Macedonian_slaughter-house_ were spattered with blood and brains. About thehatchways it looked like a butcher's stall; bits of human fleshsticking in the ring-bolts. A pig that ran about the decksescaped unharmed, but his hide was so clotted with blood, fromrooting among the pools of gore, that when the ship struck thesailors hove the animal overboard, swearing that it would be rankcannibalism to eat him. "

Another quadruped, a goat, lost its fore legs in this fight. 

The sailors who were killed--according to the usual custom--wereordered to be thrown overboard as soon as they fell; no doubt, asthe negro said, that the sight of so many corpses lying aroundmight not appall the survivors at the guns. Among otherinstances, he related the following. A shot entering one of theport-holes, dashed dead two thirds of a gun's crew. The captainof the next gun, dropping his lock-string, which he had justpulled, turned over the heap of bodies to see who they were;when, perceiving an old messmate, who had sailed with him in manycruises, he burst into tears, and, taking the corpse up in hisarms, and going with it to the side, held it over the water amoment, and eying it, cried, "Oh God! Tom!"--"D----n yourprayers over that thing! overboard with it, and down to yourgun!" roared a wounded Lieutenant. The order was obeyed, and theheart-stricken sailor returned to his post. 

Tawney's recitals were enough to snap this man-of-war world'ssword in its scabbard. And thinking of all the cruel carnal glorywrought out by naval heroes in scenes like these, I asked myselfwhether, indeed, that was a glorious coffin in which Lord Nelsonwas entombed--a coffin presented to him, during life, by CaptainHallowell; it had been dug out of the main-most of the Frenchline-of-battle ship L'Orient, which, burning up with Britishfire, destroyed hundreds of Frenchmen at the battle of the Nile. 

Peace to Lord Nelson where he sleeps in his mouldering mast! butrather would I be urned in the trunk of some green tree, and evenin death have the vital sap circulating round me, giving of mydead body to the living foliage that shaded my peaceful tomb. 

CHAPTER LXXV. 

"SINK, BURN, AND DESTROY. " _Printed Admiralty orders in time of war_. 

Among innumerable "_yarns and twisters_" reeled off in our main-top during our pleasant run to the North, none could match thoseof Jack Chase, our captain. 

Never was there better company than ever-glorious Jack. Thethings which most men only read of, or dream about, he had seenand experienced. He had been a dashing smuggler in his day, andcould tell of a long nine-pounder rammed home with wads of Frenchsilks; of cartridges stuffed with the finest gunpowder tea; ofcannister-shot full of West India sweetmeats; of sailor frocksand trowsers, quilted inside with costly laces; and table legs, hollow as musket barrels, compactly stowed with rare drugs andspices. He could tell of a wicked widow, too--a beautifulreceiver of smuggled goods upon the English coast--who smiled sosweetly upon the smugglers when they sold her silks and laces, cheap as tape and ginghams. She called them gallant fellows, hearts of game; and bade them bring her more. 

He could tell of desperate fights with his British majesty'scutters, in midnight coves upon a stormy coast; of the capture ofa reckless band, and their being drafted on board a man-of-war;of their swearing that their chief was slain; of a writ of habeascorpus sent on board for one of them for a debt--a reserved andhandsome man--and his going ashore, strongly suspected of being theslaughtered captain, and this a successful scheme for his escape. 

But more than all, Jack could tell of the battle of Navarino, forhe had been a captain of one of the main-deck guns on boardAdmiral Codrington's flag-ship, the Asia. Were mine the style ofstout old Chapman's Homer, even then I would scarce venture togive noble Jack's own version of this fight, wherein, on the 20thof October, A. D. 1827, thirty-two sail of Englishmen, Frenchmen, and Russians, attacked and vanquished in the Levant an Ottomanfleet of three ships-of-the line, twenty-five frigates, and aswarm of fire ships and hornet craft. 

"We bayed to be at them, " said Jack; "and when we _did_ openfire, we were like dolphin among the flying-fish. 'Every man takehis bird' was the cry, when we trained our guns. And those gunsall smoked like rows of Dutch pipe-bowls, my hearties! My gun'screw carried small flags in their bosoms, to nail to the mast incase the ship's colours were shot away. Stripped to thewaistbands, we fought like skinned tigers, and bowled down theTurkish frigates like nine-pins. Among their shrouds--swarmingthick with small-arm men, like flights of pigeons lighted onpine-trees--our marines sent their leaden pease and goose-berries, like a shower of hail-stones in Labrador. It was astormy time, my hearties! The blasted Turks pitched into the oldAsia's hull a whole quarry of marble shot, each ball one hundredand fifty pounds. They knocked three port-holes into one. But wegave them better than they sent. 'Up and at them, my bull-dog!'said I, patting my gun on the breech; 'tear open hatchways intheir Moslem sides! White-Jacket, my lad, you ought to have beenthere. The bay was covered with masts and yards, as I have seen araft of snags in the Arkansas River. Showers of burned rice andolives from the exploding foe fell upon us like manna in thewilderness. '_Allah! Allah! Mohammed! Mohammed!_' split the air;some cried it out from the Turkish port-holes; others shrieked itforth from the drowning waters, their top-knots floating on theirshaven skulls, like black snakes on half-tide rocks. By thosetop-knots they believed that their Prophet would drag them up toParadise, but they sank fifty fathoms, my hearties, to the bottomof the bay. 'Ain't the bloody 'Hometons going to strike yet?'cried my first loader, a Guernsey man, thrusting his neck out ofthe port-hole, and looking at the Turkish line-of-battle-shipnear by. That instant his head blew by me like a bursting Paixhanshot, and the flag of Neb Knowles himself was hauled down forever. We dragged his hull to one side, and avenged him with thecooper's anvil, which, endways, we rammed home; a mess-mateshoved in the dead man's bloody Scotch cap for the wad, and sentit flying into the line-of-battle ship. By the god of war! boys, we hardly left enough of that craft to boil a pot of water with. It was a hard day's work--a sad day's work, my hearties. Thatnight, when all was over, I slept sound enough, with a box ofcannister shot for my pillow! But you ought to have seen theboat-load of Turkish flags one of our captains carried home; heswore to dress his father's orchard in colours with them, just asour spars are dressed for a gala day. "

"Though you tormented the Turks at Navarino, noble Jack, yet youcame off yourself with only the loss of a splinter, it seems, "said a top-man, glancing at our cap-tain's maimed hand. 

"Yes; but I and one of the Lieutenants had a narrower escape thanthat. A shot struck the side of my port-hole, and sent thesplinters right and left. One took off my hat rim clean to mybrow; another _razed_ the Lieutenant's left boot, by slicing offthe heel; a third shot killed my powder-monkey without touchinghim. "

"How, Jack?"

"It _whizzed_ the poor babe dead. He was seated on a _cheese ofwads_ at the time, and after the dust of the pow-dered bulwarkshad blown away, I noticed he yet sat still, his eyes wide open. '_My little hero!_' cried I, and I clapped him on the back; buthe fell on his face at my feet. I touched his heart, and found hewas dead. There was not a little finger mark on him. "

Silence now fell upon the listeners for a time, broken at last bythe Second Captain of the Top. 

"Noble Jack, I know you never brag, but tell us what you didyourself that day?"

"Why, my hearties, I did not do quite as much as my gun. But Iflatter myself it was that gun that brought clown the TurkishAdmiral's main-mast; and the stump left wasn't long enough tomake a wooden leg for Lord Nelson. "

"How? but I thought, by the way you pull a lock-string on boardhere, and look along the sight, that you can steer a shot aboutright--hey, Jack?"

"It was the Admiral of the fleet--God Almighty--who directed theshot that dismasted the Turkish Admiral, " said Jack; "I onlypointed the gun. "

"But how did you feel, Jack, when the musket-ball carried awayone of your hooks there?"

"Feel! only a finger the lighter. I have seven more left, besidesthumbs; and they did good service, too, in the torn rigging theday after the fight; for you must know, my hearties, that thehardest work comes after the guns are run in. Three days I helpedwork, with one hand, in the rigging, in the same trowsers that Iwore in the action; the blood had dried and stiffened; theylooked like glazed red morocco. "

Now, this Jack Chase had a heart in him like a mastodon's. I haveseen him weep when a man has been flogged at the gangway; yet, inrelating the story of the Battle of Navarino, he plainly showedthat he held the God of the blessed Bible to have been theBritish Commodore in the Levant, on the bloody 20th of October, A. D. 1827. And thus it would seem that war almost makesblasphemers of the best of men, and brings them all down to theFeejee standard of humanity. Some man-of-war's-men have confessedto me, that as a battle has raged more and more, their heartshave hardened in infernal harmony; and, like their own guns, theyhave fought without a thought. 

Soldier or sailor, the fighting man is but a fiend; and the staffand body-guard of the Devil musters many a baton. But war attimes is inevitable. Must the national honour be trampled underfoot by an insolent foe?

Say on, say on; but know you this, and lay it to heart, war-voting Bench of Bishops, that He on whom we believe _himself_ hasenjoined us to turn the left cheek if the right be smitten. Nevermind what follows. That passage you can not expunge from theBible; that passage is as binding upon us as any other; thatpassage embodies the soul and substance of the Christian faith;without it, Christianity were like any other faith. And thatpassage will yet, by the blessing of God, turn the world. But insome things we must turn Quakers first. 

But though unlike most scenes of carnage, which have proveduseless murders of men, Admiral Codrington's victory undoubtedlyachieved the emancipation of Greece, and terminated the Turkishatrocities in that tomahawked state, yet who shall lift his handand swear that a Divine Providence led the van of the combinedfleets of England, France, and Russia at the battle of Navarino?For if this be so, then it led the van against the Church's ownelect--the persecuted Waldenses in Switzerland--and kindled theSmithfield fires in bloody Mary's time. 

But all events are mixed in a fusion indistinguishable. What wecall Fate is even, heartless, and impartial; not a fiend tokindle bigot flames, nor a philanthropist to espouse the cause ofGreece. We may fret, fume, and fight; but the thing called Fateeverlastingly sustains an armed neutrality. 

Yet though all this be so, nevertheless, in our own hearts, wemould the whole world's hereafters; and in our own hearts wefashion our own gods. Each mortal casts his vote for whom he willto rule the worlds; I have a voice that helps to shape eternity;and my volitions stir the orbits of the furthest suns. In twosenses, we are precisely what we worship. Ourselves are Fate. 

CHAPTER LXXVI. 

THE CHAINS. 

When wearied with the tumult and occasional contention of thegun-deck of our frigate, I have often retreated to a port-hole, and calmed myself down by gazing broad off upon a placid sea. After the battle-din of the last two chapters, let us now do thelike, and, in the sequestered fore-chains of the Neversink, tranquillise ourselves, if we may. 

Notwithstanding the domestic communism to which the seamen in aman-of-war are condemned, and the publicity in which actions themost diffident and retiring in their nature must be performed, there is yet an odd corner or two where you may sometimes stealaway, and, for a few moments, almost be private. 

Chief among these places is the _chains_, to which I wouldsometimes hie during our pleasant homeward-bound glide over thosepensive tropical latitudes. After hearing my fill of the wildyarns of our top, here would I recline--if not disturbed--serenely concocting information into wisdom. 

The chains designates the small platform outside of the hull, atthe base of the large shrouds leading down from the three mast-heads to the bulwarks. At present they seem to be getting out ofvogue among merchant-vessels, along with the fine, old-fashionedquarter-galleries, little turret-like ap-purtenances, which, inthe days of the old Admirals, set off the angles of an armedship's stern. Here a naval officer might lounge away an hourafter action, smoking a cigar, to drive out of his whiskers thevillainous smoke of the gun-powder. The picturesque, delightfulstern-gallery, also, a broad balcony overhanging the sea, andentered from the Captain's cabin, much as you might enter a bowerfrom a lady's chamber; this charming balcony, where, sailing oversummer seas in the days of the old Peruvian viceroys, the Spanishcavalier Mendanna, of Lima, made love to the Lady Isabella, asthey voyaged in quest of the Solomon Islands, the fabulous Ophir, the Grand Cyclades; and the Lady Isabella, at sunset, blushedlike the Orient, and gazed down to the gold-fish and silver-huedflying-fish, that wove the woof and warp of their wakes inbright, scaly tartans and plaids underneath where the Ladyreclined; this charming balcony--exquisite retreat--has been cutaway by Vandalic innovations. Ay, that claw-footed old gallery isno longer in fashion; in Commodore's eyes, is no longer genteel. 

Out on all furniture fashions but those that are past! Give me mygrandfather's old arm-chair, planted upon four carved frogs, asthe Hindoos fabled the world to be supported upon four tortoises;give me his cane, with the gold-loaded top--a cane that, like themusket of General Washington's father and the broadsword ofWilliam Wallace, would break down the back of the switch-carryingdandies of these spindle-shank days; give me his broad-breastedvest, coming bravely down over the hips, and furnished with twostrong-boxes of pockets to keep guineas in; toss this topplingcylinder of a beaver overboard, and give me my grandfather'sgallant, gable-ended, cocked hat. 

But though the quarter-galleries and the stern-gallery of a man-of-war are departed, yet the _chains_ still linger; nor can therebe imagined a more agreeable retreat. The huge blocks andlanyards forming the pedestals of the shrouds divide the chainsinto numerous little chapels, alcoves, niches, and altars, whereyou lazily lounge--outside of the ship, though on board. Butthere are plenty to divide a good thing with you in this man-of-war world. Often, when snugly seated in one of these littlealcoves, gazing off to the horizon, and thinking of Cathay, Ihave been startled from my repose by some old quarter-gunner, who, having newly painted a parcel of match-tubs, wanted to setthem to dry. 

At other times, one of the tattooing artists would crawl over thebulwarks, followed by his sitter; and then a bare arm or legwould be extended, and the disagreeable business of "_pricking_"commence, right under my eyes; or an irruption of tars, withditty-bags or sea-reticules, and piles of old trowsers to mend, would break in upon my seclusion, and, forming a sewing-circle, drive me off with their chatter. 

But once--it was a Sunday afternoon--I was pleasantly recliningin a particularly shady and secluded little niche between twolanyards, when I heard a low, supplicating voice. Peeping throughthe narrow space between the ropes, I perceived an aged seaman onhis knees, his face turned seaward, with closed eyes, buried inprayer. Softly rising, I stole through a port-hole, and left thevenerable worshipper alone. 

He was a sheet-anchor-man, an earnest Baptist, and was wellknown, in his own part of the ship, to be constant in hissolitary devotions in the _chains_. He reminded me of St. Anthonygoing out into the wilderness to pray. 

This man was captain of the starboard bow-chaser, one of the twolong twenty-four-pounders on the forecastle. In time of action, the command of that iron Thalaba the Destroyer would devolveupon _him_. It would be his business to "train" it properly; tosee it well loaded; the grape and cannister rammed home; also, to"prick the cartridge, " "take the sight, " and give the word forthe match-man to apply his wand; bidding a sudden hell to flashforth from the muzzle, in wide combustion and death. 

Now, this captain of the bow-chaser was an upright old man, asincere, humble believer, and he but earned his bread in beingcaptain of that gun; but how, with those hands of his begrimedwith powder, could he break that _other_ and most peaceful andpenitent bread of the Supper? though in that hallowed sacrament, it seemed, he had often partaken ashore. The omission of thisrite in a man-of-war--though there is a chaplain to preside overit, and at least a few communicants to partake--must be ascribed toa sense of religious propriety, in the last degree to be commended. 

Ah! the best righteousness of our man-of-war world seems but anunrealised ideal, after all; and those maxims which, in the hopeof bringing about a Millennium, we busily teach to the heathen, we Christians ourselves disregard. In view of the whole presentsocial frame-work of our world, so ill adapted to the practicaladoption of the meekness of Christianity, there seems almost someground for the thought, that although our blessed Saviour wasfull of the wisdom of heaven, yet his gospel seems lacking in thepractical wisdom of earth--in a due appreciation of thenecessities of nations at times demanding bloody massacres andwars; in a proper estimation of the value of rank, title, andmoney. But all this only the more crowns the divine consistencyof Jesus; since Burnet and the best theologians demonstrate, that his nature was not merely human--was not that of a mere manof the world. 

CHAPTER LXXVII. 

THE HOSPITAL IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

After running with a fine steady breeze up to the Line, it fellcalm, and there we lay, three days enchanted on the sea. We werea most puissant man-of-war, no doubt, with our five hundred men, Commodore and Captain, backed by our long batteries of thirty-twoand twenty-four pounders; yet, for all that, there we lay rocking, helpless as an infant in the cradle. Had it only been a gale insteadof a calm, gladly would we have charged upon it with our gallantbowsprit, as with a stout lance in rest; but, as with man-kind, thisserene, passive foe--unresisting and irresistible--lived it out, unconquered to the last. 

All these three days the heat was excessive; the sun drew the tarfrom the seams of the ship; the awnings were spread fore and aft;the decks were kept constantly sprinkled with water. It wasduring this period that a sad event occurred, though not anunusual one on shipboard. But in order to prepare for itsnarration, some account of a part of the ship called the "_sick-bay_" must needs be presented. 

The "_sick-bay_" is that part of a man-of-war where the invalidseamen are placed; in many respects it answers to a publichospital ashore. As with most frigates, the sick-bay of theNeversink was on the berth-deck--the third deck from above. Itwas in the extreme forward part of that deck, embracing thetriangular area in the bows of the ship. It was, therefore, asubterranean vault, into which scarce a ray of heaven's gladlight ever penetrated, even at noon. 

In a sea-going frigate that has all her armament and stores onboard, the floor of the berth-deck is partly below the surface ofthe water. But in a smooth harbour, some circulation of air ismaintained by opening large auger-holes in the upper portion ofthe sides, called "air-ports, " not much above the water level. Before going to sea, however, these air-ports must be closed, caulked, and the seams hermetically sealed with pitch. Theseplaces for ventilation being shut, the sick-bay is entirelybarred against the free, natural admission of fresh air. In theNeversink a few lungsful were forced down by artificial means. But as the ordinary _wind-sail_ was the only method adopted, thequantity of fresh air sent down was regulated by the force of thewind. In a calm there was none to be had, while in a severe galethe wind-sail had to be hauled up, on account of the violentdraught flowing full upon the cots of the sick. An open-workpartition divided our sick-bay from the rest of the deck, wherethe hammocks of the watch were slung; it, therefore, was exposedto all the uproar that ensued upon the watches being relieved. 

An official, called the surgeon's steward, assisted by subordinates, presided over the place. He was the same individual alluded to asofficiating at the amputation of the top-man. He was always to befound at his post, by night and by day. 

This surgeon's steward deserves a description. He was a small, pale, hollow-eyed young man, with that peculiar Lazarus-likeexpression so often noticed in hospital attendants. Seldom ornever did you see him on deck, and when he _did_ emerge into thelight of the sun, it was with an abashed look, and an uneasy, winking eye. The sun was not made for _him_. His nervousorganization was confounded by the sight of the robust old sea-dogs on the forecastle and the general tumult of the spar-deck, and he mostly buried himself below in an atmosphere which longhabit had made congenial. 

This young man never indulged in frivolous conversation; he onlytalked of the surgeon's prescriptions; his every word was abolus. He never was known to smile; nor did he even look sober inthe ordinary way; but his countenance ever wore an aspect ofcadaverous resignation to his fate. Strange! that so many ofthose who would fain minister to our own health should look somuch like invalids themselves. 

Connected with the sick-bay, over which the surgeon's stewardpresided--but removed from it in place, being next door to thecounting-room of the purser's steward--was a regular apothecary'sshop, of which he kept the key. It was fitted up precisely likean apothecary's on shore, dis-playing tiers of shelves on allfour sides filled with green bottles and gallipots; beneath weremultitudinous drawers bearing incomprehensible gilded inscriptionsin abbreviated Latin. 

He generally opened his shop for an hour or two every morning andevening. There was a Venetian blind in the upper part of thedoor, which he threw up when inside so as to admit a little air. And there you would see him, with a green shade over his eyes, seated on a stool, and pounding his pestle in a great iron mortarthat looked like a howitzer, mixing some jallapy compound. Asmoky lamp shed a flickering, yellow-fever tinge upon his pallidface and the closely-packed regiments of gallipots. 

Several times when I felt in need of a little medicine, but wasnot ill enough to report myself to the surgeon at his levees, Iwould call of a morning upon his steward at the Sign of theMortar, and beg him to give me what I wanted; when, withoutspeaking a word, this cadaverous young man would mix me my potionin a tin cup, and hand it out through the little opening in hisdoor, like the boxed-up treasurer giving you your change at theticket-office of a theatre. 

But there was a little shelf against the wall of the door, andupon this I would set the tin cup for a while, and survey it;for I never was a Julius Caesar at taking medicine; and to takeit in this way, without a single attempt at dis-guising it; withno counteracting little morsel to hurry down after it; in shortto go to the very apothecary's in person, and there, at thecounter, swallow down your dose, as if it were a nice mint-juleptaken at the bar of a hotel--_this_ was a bitter bolus indeed. But, then, this pallid young apothecary charged nothing for it, and _that_ was no small satisfaction; for is it not remarkable, tosay the least, that a shore apothecary should actually charge youmoney--round dollars and cents--for giving you a horrible nausea?

My tin cup would wait a long time on that little shelf; yet"Pills, " as the sailors called him, never heeded my lingering, but in sober, silent sadness continued pounding his mortar orfolding up his powders; until at last some other customer wouldappear, and then in a sudden frenzy of resolution, I would gulpclown my sherry-cobbler, and carry its unspeakable flavour withme far up into the frigate's main-top. I do not know whether itwas the wide roll of the ship, as felt in that giddy perch, thatoccasioned it, but I always got sea-sick after taking medicine andgoing aloft with it. Seldom or never did it do me any lasting good. 

Now the Surgeon's steward was only a subordinate of SurgeonCuticle himself, who lived in the ward-room among the Lieutenants, Sailing-master, Chaplain, and Purser. 

The Surgeon is, by law, charged with the business of overlookingthe general sanitary affairs of the ship. If anything is going onin any of its departments which he judges to be detrimental tothe healthfulness of the crew, he has a right to protest againstit formally to the Captain. When a man is being scourged at thegangway, the Surgeon stands by; and if he thinks that thepunishment is becoming more than the culprit's constitution canwell bear, he has a right to interfere and demand its cessationfor the time. 

But though the Navy regulations nominally vest him with this highdiscretionary authority over the very Commodore himself, howseldom does he exercise it in cases where humanity demands it?Three years is a long time to spend in one ship, and to be atswords' points with its Captain and Lieutenants during such aperiod, must be very unsocial and every way irksome. No otherwisethan thus, at least, can the remissness of some surgeons inremonstrating against cruelty be accounted for. 

Not to speak again of the continual dampness of the decksconsequent upon flooding them with salt water, when we weredriving near to Cape Horn, it needs only to be mentioned that, onboard of the Neversink, men known to be in consumptions gaspedunder the scourge of the boatswain's mate, when the Surgeon andhis two attendants stood by and never interposed. But where theunscrupulousness of martial discipline is maintained, it is invain to attempt softening its rigour by the ordaining ofhumanitarian laws. Sooner might you tame the grizzly bear ofMissouri than humanise a thing so essentially cruel and heartless. 

But the Surgeon has yet other duties to perform. Not a seamanenters the Navy without undergoing a corporal examination, totest his soundness in wind and limb. 

One of the first places into which I was introduced when I firstentered on board the Neversink was the sick-bay, where I foundone of the Assistant Surgeons seated at a green-baize table. Itwas his turn for visiting the apartment. Having been commandedby the deck officer to report my business to the functionarybefore me, I accordingly hemmed, to attract his attention, andthen catching his eye, politely intimated that I called upon himfor the purpose of being accurately laid out and surveyed. 

"Strip!" was the answer, and, rolling up his gold-laced cuff, heproceeded to manipulate me. He punched me in the ribs, smote meacross the chest, commanded me to stand on one leg and hold outthe other horizontally. He asked me whether any of my family wereconsumptive; whether I ever felt a tendency to a rush of blood tothe head; whether I was gouty; how often I had been bled duringmy life; how long I had been ashore; how long I had been afloat;with several other questions which have altogether slipped mymemory. He concluded his interrogatories with this extraordinaryand unwarranted one--"Are you pious?"

It was a leading question which somewhat staggered me, but I saidnot a word; when, feeling of my calves, he looked up andincomprehensibly said, "I am afraid you are not. "

At length he declared me a sound animal, and wrote a certificateto that effect, with which I returned to the deck. 

This Assistant Surgeon turned out to be a very singular character, and when I became more acquainted with him, I ceased to marvel atthe curious question with which he had concluded his examinationof my person. 

He was a thin, knock-kneed man, with a sour, saturnine expression, rendered the more peculiar from his shaving his beard so remorselessly, that his chin and cheeks always looked blue, as if pinched with cold. His long familiarity with nautical invalids seemed to have filled himfull of theological hypoes concerning the state of their souls. He wasat once the physician and priest of the sick, washing down his boluseswith ghostly consolation, and among the sailors went by the name of ThePelican, a fowl whose hanging pouch imparts to it a most chop-fallen, lugubrious expression. 

The privilege of going off duty and lying by when you are sick, is one of the few points in which a man-of-war is far better forthe sailor than a merchantman. But, as with every other matter inthe Navy, the whole thing is subject to the general discipline ofthe vessel, and is conducted with a severe, unyielding method andregularity, making no allowances for exceptions to rules. 

During the half-hour preceding morning quarters, the Surgeon of afrigate is to be found in the sick-bay, where, after going hisrounds among the invalids, he holds a levee for the benefit ofall new candidates for the sick-list. If, after looking at yourtongue, and feeling of your pulse, he pronounces you a propercandidate, his secretary puts you down on his books, and you arethenceforth relieved from all duty, and have abundant leisure inwhich to recover your health. Let the boatswain blow; let thedeck officer bellow; let the captain of your gun hunt you up;yet, if it can be answered by your mess-mates that you are "_downon the list_, " you ride it all out with impunity. The Commodorehimself has then no authority over you. But you must not be toomuch elated, for your immunities are only secure while you areimmured in the dark hospital below. Should you venture to get amouthful of fresh air on the spar-deck, and be there discoveredby an officer, you will in vain plead your illness; for it isquite impossible, it seems, that any true man-of-war invalid canbe hearty enough to crawl up the ladders. Besides, the raw seaair, as they will tell you, is not good for the sick. 

But, notwithstanding all this, notwithstanding the darkness andcloseness of the sick-bay, in which an alleged invalid must becontent to shut himself up till the Surgeon pronounces him cured, many instances occur, especially in protracted bad weather, wherepretended invalids will sub-mit to this dismal hospital durance, in order to escape hard work and wet jackets. 

There is a story told somewhere of the Devil taking down theconfessions of a woman on a strip of parchment, and being obligedto stretch it longer and longer with his teeth, in order to findroom for all the lady had to say. Much thus was it with ourPurser's steward, who had to lengthen out his manuscript sick-list, in order to accommodate all the names which were presentedto him while we were off the pitch of Cape Horn. What sailorscall the "_Cape Horn fever_, " alarmingly prevailed; though itdisappeared altogether when we got into the weather, which, aswith many other invalids, was solely to be imputed to the wonder-working effects of an entire change of climate. 

It seems very strange, but it is really true, that off Cape Hornsome "_sogers_" of sailors will stand cupping, and bleeding, andblistering, before they will budge. On the other hand, there arecases where a man actually sick and in need of medicine willrefuse to go on the sick-list, because in that case his allowanceof _grog_ must be stopped. 

On board of every American man-of-war, bound for sea, there is agoodly supply of wines and various delicacies put on board--according to law--for the benefit of the sick, whether officersor sailors. And one of the chicken-coops is always reserved forthe Government chickens, destined for a similar purpose. But, onboard of the Neversink, the only delicacies given to invalidsailors was a little sago or arrow-root, and they did not get_that_ unless severely ill; but, so far as I could learn, nowine, in any quantity, was ever prescribed for them, though theGovernment bottles often went into the ward-room, for the benefitof indisposed officers. 

And though the Government chicken-coop was replenished at everyport, yet not four pair of drum-sticks were ever boiled intobroth for sick sailors. Where the chickens went, some one musthave known; but, as I cannot vouch for it myself, I will not hereback the hardy assertion of the men, which was that the piousPelican--true to his name--was extremely fond of poultry. I amthe still less disposed to believe this scandal, from thecontinued leanness of the Pelican, which could hardly have beenthe case did he nourish himself by so nutritious a dish as thedrum-sticks of fowls, a diet prescribed to pugilists in training. But who can avoid being suspicious of a very suspicious person?Pelican! I rather suspect you still. 

CHAPTER LXXVIII. 

DISMAL TIMES IN THE MESS. 

It was on the first day of the long, hot calm which we had on theEquator, that a mess-mate of mine, by the name of Shenly, who hadbeen for some weeks complaining, at length went on the sick-list. 

An old gunner's mate of the mess--Priming, the man with the hare-lip, who, true to his tribe, was charged to the muzzle with bile, and, moreover, rammed home on top of it a wad of sailorsuperstition--this gunner's mate indulged in some gloomy andsavage remarks--strangely tinged with genuine feeling and grief--at the announcement of the sick-ness of Shenly, coming as it didnot long after the almost fatal accident befalling poor Baldy, captain of the mizzen-top, another mess-mate of ours, and thedreadful fate of the amputated fore-top-man whom we buried inRio, also our mess-mate. 

We were cross-legged seated at dinner, between the guns, when thesad news concerning Shenly was first communicated. 

"I know'd it, I know'd it, " said Priming, through his nose. "Blast ye, I told ye so; poor fellow! But dam'me, I know'd it. This comes of having _thirteen_ in the mess. I hope he arn'tdangerous, men? Poor Shenly! But, blast it, it warn't till White-Jacket there comed into the mess that these here things began. Idon't believe there'll be more nor three of us left by the timewe strike soundings, men. But how is he now? Have you been downto see him, any on ye? Damn you, you Jonah! I don't see how youcan sleep in your hammock, knowing as you do that by making anodd number in the mess you have been the death of one poorfellow, and ruined Baldy for life, and here's poor Shenly keeledup. Blast you, and your jacket, say I. "

"My dear mess-mate, " I cried, "don't blast me any more, forHeaven's sale. Blast my jacket you may, and I'll join you in_that;_ but don't blast _me;_ for if you do, I shouldn't wonderif I myself was the next man to keel up. "

"Gunner's mate!" said Jack Chase, helping himself to a slice ofbeef, and sandwiching it between two large biscuits--"Gunner'smate! White-Jacket there is my particular friend, and I wouldtake it as a particular favour if you would _knock off_ blastinghim. It's in bad taste, rude, and unworthy a gentleman. "

"Take your back away from that 'ere gun-carriage, will ye now, Jack Chase?" cried Priming, in reply, just then Jack happening tolean up against it. "Must I be all the time cleaning after youfellows? Blast ye! I spent an hour on that 'ere gun-carriage thisvery mornin'. But it all comes of White-Jacket there. If itwarn't for having one too many, there wouldn't be any crowdingand jamming in the mess. I'm blessed if we ar'n't about chock a'block here! Move further up there, I'm sitting on my leg!"

"For God's sake, gunner's mate, " cried I, "if it will contentyou, I and my jacket will leave the mess. "

"I wish you would, and be ------ to you!" he replied. 

"And if he does, you will mess alone, gunner's mate, " said JackChase. 

"That you will, " cried all. 

"And I wish to the Lord you'd let me!" growled Priming, irritably rubbing his head with the handle of his sheath-knife. 

"You are an old bear, gunner's mate, " said Jack Chase. 

"I am an old Turk, " he replied, drawing the flat blade of his knifebetween his teeth, thereby producing a whetting, grating sound. 

"Let him alone, let him alone, men, " said Jack Chase. "Only keepoff the tail of a rattlesnake, and he'll not rattle. "

"Look out he don't bite, though, " said Priming, snapping histeeth; and with that he rolled off, growling as he went. 

Though I did my best to carry off my vexation with an air ofindifference, need I say how I cursed my jacket, that it thusseemed the means of fastening on me the murder of one of myshipmates, and the probable murder of two more. For, had it notbeen for my jacket, doubtless, I had yet been a member of my oldmess, and so have escaped making the luckless odd number amongmy present companions. 

All I could say in private to Priming had no effect; though Ioften took him aside, to convince him of the philosophicalimpossibility of my having been accessary to the misfortunes ofBaldy, the buried sailor in Rio, and Shenly. But Priming knewbetter; nothing could move him; and he ever afterward eyed me asvirtuous citizens do some notorious underhand villain goingunhung of justice. 

Jacket! jacket! thou hast much to answer for, jacket!

CHAPTER LXXIX. 

HOW MAN-OF-WAR'S-MEN DIE AT SEA. 

Shenly, my sick mess-mate, was a middle-aged, handsome, intelligentseaman, whom some hard calamity, or perhaps some unfortunate excess, must have driven into the Navy. He told me he had a wife and twochildren in Portsmouth, in the state of New Hampshire. Upon beingexamined by Cuticle, the surgeon, he was, on purely scientific grounds, reprimanded by that functionary for not having previously appearedbefore him. He was immediately consigned to one of the invalid cots asa serious case. His complaint was of long standing; a pulmonary one, now attended with general prostration. 

The same evening he grew so much worse, that according to man-of-warusage, we, his mess-mates, were officially notified that we must taketurns at sitting up with him through the night. We at once made ourarrangements, allotting two hours for a watch. Not till the third nightdid my own turn come round. During the day preceding, it was stated atthe mess that our poor mess-mate was run down completely; the surgeonhad given him up. 

At four bells (two o'clock in the morning), I went down torelieve one of my mess-mates at the sick man's cot. The profoundquietude of the calm pervaded the entire frigate through all herdecks. The watch on duty were dozing on the carronade-slides, farabove the sick-bay; and the watch below were fast asleep in theirhammocks, on the same deck with the invalid. 

Groping my way under these two hundred sleepers, I en-tered thehospital. A dim lamp was burning on the table, which was screweddown to the floor. This light shed dreary shadows over the white-washed walls of the place, making it look look a whited sepulchreunderground. The wind-sail had collapsed, and lay motionless onthe deck. The low groans of the sick were the only sounds to beheard; and as I advanced, some of them rolled upon me theirsleepless, silent, tormented eyes. 

"Fan him, and keep his forehead wet with this sponge, " whisperedmy mess-mate, whom I came to relieve, as I drew near to Shenly'scot, "and wash the foam from his mouth; nothing more can be donefor him. If he dies before your watch is out, call the Surgeon'ssteward; he sleeps in that hammock, " pointing it out. "Good-bye, good-bye, mess-mate, " he then whispered, stooping over the sickman; and so saying, he left the place. 

Shenly was lying on his back. His eyes were closed, forming twodark-blue pits in his face; his breath was coming and going witha slow, long-drawn, mechanical precision. It was the merefoundering hull of a man that was before me; and though itpresented the well-known features of my mess-mate, yet I knewthat the living soul of Shenly never more would look out of thoseeyes. 

So warm had it been during the day, that the Surgeon himself, whenvisiting the sick-bay, had entered it in his shirt-sleeves; and so warmwas now the night that even in the lofty top I had worn but a looselinen frock and trowsers. But in this subterranean sick-bay, buried inthe very bowels of the ship, and at sea cut off from all ventilation, the heat of the night calm was intense. The sweat dripped from me asif I had just emerged from a bath; and stripping myself naked to thewaist, I sat by the side of the cot, and with a bit of crumpledpaper--put into my hand by the sailor I had relieved--kept fanning themotionless white face before me. 

I could not help thinking, as I gazed, whether this man's fatehad not been accelerated by his confinement in this heatedfurnace below; and whether many a sick man round me might notsoon improve, if but permitted to swing his hammock in the airyvacancies of the half-deck above, open to the port-holes, butreserved for the promenade of the officers. 

At last the heavy breathing grew more and more irregular, andgradually dying away, left forever the unstirring form of Shenly. 

Calling the Surgeon's steward, he at once told me to rouse themaster-at-arms, and four or five of my mess-mates. The master-at-armsapproached, and immediately demanded the dead man's bag, which wasaccordingly dragged into the bay. Having been laid on the floor, andwashed with a bucket of water which I drew from the ocean, the body wasthen dressed in a white frock, trowsers, and neckerchief, taken out ofthe bag. While this was going on, the master-at-arms--standing over theoperation with his rattan, and directing myself and mess-mates--indulgedin much discursive levity, intended to manifest his fearlessness of death. 

Pierre, who had been a "_chummy_" of Shenly's, spent much time intying the neckerchief in an elaborate bow, and affectionatelyadjusting the white frock and trowsers; but the master-at-armsput an end to this by ordering us to carry the body up to thegun-deck. It was placed on the death-board (used for thatpurpose), and we proceeded with it toward the main hatchway, awkwardly crawling under the tiers of hammocks, where the entirewatch-below was sleeping. As, unavoidably, we rocked theirpallets, the man-of-war's-men would cry out against us; throughthe mutterings of curses, the corpse reached the hatchway. Herethe board slipped, and some time was spent in readjusting thebody. At length we deposited it on the gun-deck, between twoguns, and a union-jack being thrown over it for a pall, I wasleft again to watch by its side. 

I had not been seated on my shot-box three minutes, when themessenger-boy passed me on his way forward; presently the slow, regular stroke of the ship's great bell was heard, proclaimingthrough the calm the expiration of the watch; it was four o'clockin the morning. 

Poor Shenly! thought I, that sounds like your knell! and here youlie becalmed, in the last calm of all!

Hardly had the brazen din died away, when the Boatswain and hismates mustered round the hatchway, within a yard or two of thecorpse, and the usual thundering call was given for the watchbelow to turn out. 

"All the starboard-watch, ahoy! On deck there, below! Wide awakethere, sleepers!"

But the dreamless sleeper by my side, who had so often sprungfrom his hammock at that summons, moved not a limb; the bluesheet over him lay unwrinkled. 

A mess-mate of the other watch now came to relieve me; but I toldhim I chose to remain where I was till daylight came. 

CHAPTER LXXX. 

THE LAST STITCH. 

Just before daybreak, two of the sail-maker's gang drew near, each with a lantern, carrying some canvas, two large shot, needles, and twine. I knew their errand; for in men-of-war thesail-maker is the undertaker. 

They laid the body on deck, and, after fitting the canvas to it, seated themselves, cross-legged like tailors, one on each side, and, with their lanterns before them, went to stitching away, asif mending an old sail. Both were old men, with grizzled hair andbeard, and shrunken faces. They belonged to that small class ofaged seamen who, for their previous long and faithful services, are retained in the Navy more as pensioners upon its meritedbounty than anything else. They are set to light and easy duties. 

"Ar'n't this the fore-top-man, Shenly?" asked the foremost, looking full at the frozen face before him. 

"Ay, ay, old Ringrope, " said the other, drawing his hand far backwith a long thread, "I thinks it's him; and he's further aloftnow, I hope, than ever he was at the fore-truck. But I onlyhopes; I'm afeard this ar'n't the last on him!"

"His hull here will soon be going out of sight below hatches, though, old Thrummings, " replied Ringrope, placing two heavycannon-balls in the foot of the canvas shroud. 

"I don't know that, old man; I never yet sewed up a ship-mate buthe spooked me arterward. I tell ye, Ring-rope, these 'ere corpsesis cunning. You think they sinks deep, but they comes up again assoon as you sails over 'em. They lose the number of their mess, and their mess-mates sticks the spoons in the rack; but no good--no good, old Ringrope; they ar'n't dead yet. I tell ye, now, tenbest--bower-anchors wouldn't sink this 'ere top-man. He'll besoon coming in the wake of the thirty-nine spooks what spooks meevery night in my hammock--jist afore the mid-watch is called. Small thanks I gets for my pains; and every one on 'em looks so'proachful-like, with a sail-maker's needle through his nose. I've been thinkin', old Ringrope, it's all wrong that 'ere laststitch we takes. Depend on't, they don't like it--none on 'em. "

I was standing leaning over a gun, gazing at the two old men. Thelast remark reminded me of a superstitious custom generallypractised by most sea-undertakers upon these occasions. Iresolved that, if I could help it, it should not take place uponthe remains of Shenly. 

"Thrummings, " said I, advancing to the last speaker, "you areright. That last thing you do to the canvas is the very reason, be sure of it, that brings the ghosts after you, as you say. Sodon't do it to this poor fellow, I entreat. Try once, now, how itgoes not to do it. "

"What do you say to the youngster, old man?" said Thrummings, holding up his lantern into his comrade's wrinkled face, as ifdeciphering some ancient parchment. 

"I'm agin all innowations, " said Ringrope; "it's a good oldfashion, that last stitch; it keeps 'em snug, d'ye see, youngster. I'm blest if they could sleep sound, if it wa'n't forthat. No, no, Thrummings! no innowations; I won't hear on't. Igoes for the last stitch!"

"S'pose you was going to be sewed up yourself, old Ringrope, would you like the last stitch then! You are an old, gun, Ringrope; you can't stand looking out at your port-hole muchlonger, " said Thrummings, as his own palsied hands were quiveringover the canvas. 

"Better say that to yourself, old man, " replied Ringrope, stooping close to the light to thread his coarse needle, whichtrembled in his withered hands like the needle, in a compass of aGreenland ship near the Pole. "You ain't long for the sarvice. Iwish I could give you some o' the blood in my veins, old man!"

"Ye ain't got ne'er a teaspoonful to spare, " said Thrummings. "It will go hard, and I wouldn't want to do it; but I'm afeardI'll have the sewing on ye up afore long!"

"Sew me up? Me dead and you alive, old man?" shrieked Ringrope. "Well, I've he'rd the parson of the old Independence say as howold age was deceitful; but I never seed it so true afore thisblessed night. I'm sorry for ye, old man--to see you so innocent-like, and Death all the while turning in and out with you in yourhammock, for all the world like a hammock-mate. "

"You lie! old man, " cried Thrummings, shaking with rage. "It's_you_ that have Death for a hammock-mate; it's _you_ that willmake a hole in the shot-locker soon. "

"Take that back!" cried Ringrope, huskily, leaning far over thecorpse, and, needle in hand, menacing his companion with hisaguish fist. "Take that back, or I'll throttle your lean bag ofwind fer ye!"

"Blast ye! old chaps, ain't ye any more manners than to befighting over a dead man?" cried one of the sail-maker's mates, coming down from the spar-deck. "Bear a hand!--bear a hand! andget through with that job!"

"Only one more stitch to take, " muttered Ringrope, creeping nearthe face. 

"Drop your '_palm_, ' then and let Thrummings take it; follow me--the foot of the main-sail wants mending--must do it afore abreeze springs up. D'ye hear, old chap! I say, drop your _palm_, and follow me. "

At the reiterated command of his superior, Ringrope rose, and, turning to his comrade, said, "I take it all back, Thrummings, and I'm sorry for it, too. But mind ye, take that 'ere laststitch, now; if ye don't, there's no tellin' the consekenses. "

As the mate and his man departed, I stole up to Thrummings. "Don'tdo it--don't do it, now, Thrummings--depend on it, it's wrong!"

"Well, youngster, I'll try this here one without it for jist thishere once; and if, arter that, he don't spook me, I'll be deadagin the last stitch as long as my name is Thrummings. "

So, without mutilation, the remains were replaced between theguns, the union jack again thrown over them, and I reseatedmyself on the shot-box. 

CHAPTER LXXXI. 

HOW THEY BURY A MAN-OF-WAR'S-MAN AT SEA. 

Quarters over in the morning, the boatswain and his four matesstood round the main hatchway, and after giving the usualwhistle, made the customary announcement--"_All hands bury thedead, ahoy!_"

In a man-of-war, every thing, even to a man's funeral and burial, proceeds with the unrelenting promptitude of the martial code. And whether it is _all hands bury the dead!_ or _all hands splicethe main-brace_, the order is given in the same hoarse tones. 

Both officers and men assembled in the lee waist, and throughthat bareheaded crowd the mess-mates of Shenly brought his bodyto the same gangway where it had thrice winced under the scourge. But there is something in death that ennobles even a pauper'scorpse; and the Captain himself stood bareheaded before theremains of a man whom, with his hat on, he had sentenced to theignominious gratings when alive. 

"_I am the resurrection and the life!_" solemnly began theChaplain, in full canonicals, the prayer-book in his hand. 

"Damn you! off those booms!" roared a boatswain's mate to a crowdof top-men, who had elevated themselves to gain a better view ofthe scene. 

"_We commit this body to the deep!_" At the word, Shenly's mess-mates tilted the board, and the dead sailor sank in the sea. 

"Look aloft, " whispered Jack Chase. "See that bird! it is thespirit of Shenly. "

Gazing upward, all beheld a snow-white, solitary fowl, which--whence coming no one could tell--had been hovering over themain-mast during the service, and was now sailing far up into thedepths of the sky. 

CHAPTER LXXXII. 

WHAT REMAINS OF A MAN-OF-WAR'S-MAN AFTER HIS BURIAL AT SEA. 

Upon examining Shenly's bag, a will was found, scratched inpencil, upon a blank leaf in the middle of his Bible; or, to usethe phrase of one of the seamen, in the midships, atween theBible and Testament, where the Pothecary (Apocrypha) uses to be. 

The will was comprised in one solitary sentence, exclusive ofthe dates and signatures: "_In case I die on the voyage, thePurser will please pay over my wages to my wife, who lives inPortsmouth, New Hampshire_. "

Besides the testator's, there were two signatures of witnesses. 

This last will and testament being shown to the Purser, who, itseems, had been a notary, or surrogate, or some sort of cosychamber practitioner in his time, he declared that it must be"proved. " So the witnesses were called, and after recognisingtheir hands to the paper; for the purpose of additionally testingtheir honesty, they were interrogated concerning the day on whichthey had signed--whether it was _Banyan Day_, or _Duff Day_, or_Swampseed Day_; for among the sailors on board a man-of-war, theland terms, _Monday_, _Tuesday_, _Wednesday_, are almost unknown. In place of these they substitute nautical names, some of whichare significant of the daily bill of fare at dinner for the week. 

The two witnesses were somewhat puzzled by the attorney-likequestions of the Purser, till a third party came along, one ofthe ship's barbers, and declared, of his own knowledge, thatShenly executed the instrument on a _Shaving Day_; for thedeceased seaman had informed him of the circumstance, when hecame to have his beard reaped on the morning of the event. 

In the Purser's opinion, this settled the question; and it is tobe hoped that the widow duly received her husband's death-earnedwages. 

Shenly was dead and gone; and what was Shenly's epitaph?

 --"D. D. "--

opposite his name in the Purser's books, in "_Black's best WritingFluid_"--funereal name and funereal hue--meaning "Discharged, Dead. "

CHAPTER LXXXIII. 

A MAN-OF-WAR COLLEGE. 

In our man-of-war world, Life comes in at one gangway and Deathgoes overboard at the other. Under the man-of-war scourge, cursesmix with tears; and the sigh and the sob furnish the bass to theshrill octave of those who laugh to drown buried griefs of theirown. Checkers were played in the waist at the time of Shenly'sburial; and as the body plunged, a player swept the board. Thebubbles had hardly burst, when all hands were _piped down_ by theBoatswain, and the old jests were heard again, as if Shenlyhimself were there to hear. 

This man-of-war life has not left me unhardened. I cannot stop toweep over Shenly now; that would be false to the life I depict;wearing no mourning weeds, I resume the task of portraying ourman-of-war world. 

Among the various other vocations, all driven abreast on board ofthe Neversink, was that of the schoolmaster. There were twoacademies in the frigate. One comprised the apprentice boys, who, upon certain days of the week, were indoctrinated in themysteries of the primer by an invalid corporal of marines, aslender, wizzen-cheeked man, who had received a liberal infant-school education. 

The other school was a far more pretentious affair--a sort of armyand navy seminary combined, where mystical mathematical problemswere solved by the midshipmen, and great ships-of-the-line werenavigated over imaginary shoals by unimaginable observations of themoon and the stars, and learned lectures were delivered upon great guns, small arms, and the curvilinear lines described by bombs in the air. 

"_The Professor_" was the title bestowed upon the eruditegentleman who conducted this seminary, and by that title alonewas he known throughout the ship. He was domiciled in the Ward-room, and circulated there on a social par with the Purser, Surgeon, and other _non-combatants_ and Quakers. By beingadvanced to the dignity of a peerage in the Ward-room, Scienceand Learning were ennobled in the person of this Professor, evenas divinity was honoured in the Chaplain enjoying the rank of aspiritual peer. 

Every other afternoon, while at sea, the Professor assembled hispupils on the half-deck, near the long twenty-four pounders. Abass drum-head was his desk, his pupils forming a semicirclearound him, seated on shot-boxes and match-tubs. 

They were in the jelly of youth, and this learned Professorpoured into their susceptible hearts all the gentle gunpowdermaxims of war. Presidents of Peace Societies and Superintendentsof Sabbath-schools, must it not have been a most interesting sight?

But the Professor himself was a noteworthy person. A tall, thin, spectacled man, about forty years old, with a student's stoop inhis shoulders, and wearing uncommonly scanty pantaloons, exhibitingan undue proportion of his boots. In early life he had been a cadetin the military academy of West Point; but, becoming very weak-sighted, and thereby in a good manner disqualified for active service in thefield, he had declined entering the army, and accepted the office ofProfessor in the Navy. 

His studies at West Point had thoroughly grounded him in aknowledge of gunnery; and, as he was not a little of a pedant, itwas sometimes amusing, when the sailors were at quarters, to hearhim criticise their evolutions at the batteries. He would quoteDr. Hutton's Tracts on the subject, also, in the original, "_TheFrench Bombardier_, " and wind up by Italian passages from the"_Prattica Manuale dell' Artiglieria_. "

Though not required by the Navy regulations to instruct hisscholars in aught but the application of mathematics tonavigation, yet besides this, and besides instructing them in thetheory of gunnery, he also sought to root them in the theory offrigate and fleet tactics. To be sure, he himself did not knowhow to splice a rope or furl a sail; and, owing to his partialityfor strong coffee, he was apt to be nervous when we firedsalutes; yet all this did not prevent him from deliveringlectures on cannonading and "breaking the enemy's line. "

He had arrived at his knowledge of tactics by silent, solitarystudy, and earnest meditation in the sequestered retreat of hisstate-room. His case was somewhat parallel to the Scotchman's--John. Clerk, Esq. , of Eldin--who, though he had never been tosea, composed a quarto treatise on fleet-fighting, which to thisday remains a text-book; and he also originated a nauticalmanoeuvre, which has given to England many a victory over her foes. 

Now there was a large black-board, something like a great-guntarget--only it was square--which during the professor's lectureswas placed upright on the gun-deck, supported behind by threeboarding-pikes. And here he would chalk out diagrams of greatfleet engagements; making marks, like the soles of shoes, forthe ships, and drawing a dog-vane in one corner to denote theassumed direction of the wind. This done, with a cutlass hewould point out every spot of interest. 

"Now, young gentlemen, the board before you exhibits thedisposition of the British West Indian squadron under Rodney, when, early on the morning of the 9th of April, in the year ofour blessed Lord 1782, he discovered part of the French fleet, commanded by the Count de Grasse, lying under the north end ofthe Island of Dominica. It was at this juncture that the Admiralgave the signal for the British line to prepare for battle, andstand on. D'ye understand, young gentlemen? Well, the Britishvan having nearly fetched up with the centre of the enemy--who, be it remembered, were then on the starboard tack--and Rodney'scentre and rear being yet becalmed under the lee of the land--thequestion I ask you is, What should Rodney now do?"

"Blaze away, by all means!" responded a rather confident reefer, who had zealously been observing the diagram. 

"But, sir, his centre and rear are still becalmed, and his vanhas not yet closed with the enemy. "

"Wait till he _does_ come in range, and _then_ blaze away, " saidthe reefer. 

"Permit me to remark, Mr. Pert, that '_blaze away_' is not astrictly technical term; and also permit me to hint, Mr. Pert, that you should consider the subject rather more deeply beforeyou hurry forward your opinion. "

This rebuke not only abashed Mr. Pert, but for a time intimidated therest; and the professor was obliged to proceed, and extricate theBritish fleet by himself. He concluded by awarding Admiral Rodney thevictory, which must have been exceedingly gratifying to the family prideof the surviving relatives and connections of that distinguished hero. 

"Shall I clean the board, sir?" now asked Mr. Pert, brightening up. 

"No, sir; not till you have saved that crippled French ship inthe corner. That ship, young gentlemen, is the Glorieuse: youperceive she is cut off from her consorts, and the whole Britishfleet is giving chase to her. Her bowsprit is gone; her rudder istorn away; she has one hundred round shot in her hull, and twothirds of her men are dead or dying. What's to be done? the windbeing at northeast by north?"

"Well, sir, " said Mr. Dash, a chivalric young gentleman fromVirginia, "I wouldn't strike yet; I'd nail my colours to themain-royal-mast! I would, by Jove!"

"That would not save your ship, sir; besides, your main-mast hasgone by the board. "

"I think, sir, " said Mr. Slim, a diffident youth, "I think, sir, I would haul back the fore-top-sail. "

"And why so? of what service would _that_ be, I should like toknow, Mr. Slim?"

"I can't tell exactly; but I think it would help her a little, "was the timid reply. 

"Not a whit, sir--not one particle; besides, you can't haul backyour fore-top-sail--your fore-mast is lying across your forecastle. "

"Haul back the main-top-sail, then, " suggested another. 

"Can't be done; your main-mast, also, has gone by the board!"

"Mizzen-top-sail?" meekly suggested little Boat-Plug. 

"Your mizzen-top-mast, let me inform you, sir, was shot down inthe first of the fight!"

"Well, sir, " cried Mr. Dash, "I'd tack ship, anyway; bid 'emgood-by with a broadside; nail my flag to the keel, if there wasno other place; and blow my brains out on the poop!"

"Idle, idle, sir! worse than idle! you are carried away, Mr. Dash, by your ardent Southern temperament! Let me inform you, young gentlemen, that this ship, " touching it with his cutlass, "_cannot_ be saved. "

Then, throwing down his cutlass, "Mr. Pert, have the goodness tohand me one of those cannon-balls from the rack. "

Balancing the iron sphere in one hand, the learned professorbegan fingering it with the other, like Columbus illustrating therotundity of the globe before the Royal Commission of CastilianEcclesiastics. 

"Young gentlemen, I resume my remarks on the passage of a shot_in vacuo_, which remarks were interrupted yesterday by generalquarters. After quoting that admirable passage in 'Spearman'sBritish Gunner, ' I then laid it down, you remember, that the pathof a shot _in vacuo_ describes a parabolic curve. I now add that, agreeably to the method pursued by the illustrious Newton intreating the subject of curvilinear motion, I consider the_trajectory_ or curve described by a moving body in space asconsisting of a series of right lines, described in successiveintervals of time, and constituting the diagonals of parallelogramsformed in a vertical plane between the vertical deflections causedby gravity and the production of the line of motion which has beendescribed in each preceding interval of time. This must be obvious;for, if you say that the passage _in vacuo_ of this cannon-ball, now held in my hand, would describe otherwise than a series of rightlines, etc. , then you are brought to the _Reductio ad Absurdum_, that the diagonals of parallelograms are------"

"All hands reef top-sail!" was now thundered forth by theboatswain's mates. The shot fell from the professor's palm; hisspectacles dropped on his nose, and the school tumultuously brokeup, the pupils scrambling up the ladders with the sailors, whohad been overhearing the lecture. 

CHAPTER LXXXIV. 

MAN-OF-WAR BARBERS. 

The allusion to one of the ship's barbers in a previous chapter, together with the recollection of how conspicuous a part theyenacted in a tragical drama soon to be related, leads me now tointroduce them to the reader. 

Among the numerous artists and professors of polite trades in theNavy, none are held in higher estimation or drive a moreprofitable business than these barbers. And it may well beimagined that the five hundred heads of hair and five hundredbeards of a frigate should furnish no small employment for thoseto whose faithful care they may be intrusted. As everythingconnected with the domestic affairs of a man-of-war comes underthe supervision of the martial executive, so certain barbers areformally licensed by the First Lieutenant. The better to attendto the profitable duties of their calling, they are exemptedfrom all ship's duty except that of standing night-watches atsea, mustering at quarters, and coming on deck when all hands arecalled. They are rated as _able seamen_ or _ordinary seamen_, andreceive their wages as such; but in addition to this, they areliberally recompensed for their professional services. Hereintheir rate of pay is fixed for every sailor manipulated--so muchper quarter, which is charged to the sailor, and credited to hisbarber on the books of the Purser. 

It has been seen that while a man-of-war barber is shaving hiscustomers at so much per chin, his wages as a seaman are stillrunning on, which makes him a sort of _sleeping partner_ of asailor; nor are the sailor wages he receives altogether to bereckoned as earnings. Considering the circumstances, however, notmuch objection can be made to the barbers on this score. Butthere were instances of men in the Neversink receiving governmentmoney in part pay for work done for private individuals. Amongthese were several accomplished tailors, who nearly the wholecruise sat cross-legged on the half deck, making coats, pantaloons, and vests for the quarter-deck officers. Some ofthese men, though knowing little or nothing about sailor duties, and seldom or never performing them, stood upon the ship's booksas ordinary seamen, entitled to ten dollars a month. Why wasthis? Previous to shipping they had divulged the fact of theirbeing tailors. True, the officers who employed them upon theirwardrobes paid them for their work, but some of them in such away as to elicit much grumbling from the tailors. At any rate, these makers and menders of clothes did not receive from some ofthese officers an amount equal to what they could have fairlyearned ashore by doing the same work. It was a considerablesaving to the officers to have their clothes made on board. 

The men belonging to the carpenter's gang furnished another casein point. There were some six or eight allotted to this department. All the cruise they were hard at work. At what? Mostly making chestsof drawers, canes, little ships and schooners, swifts, and otherelaborated trifles, chiefly for the Captain. What did the Captain paythem for their trouble? Nothing. But the United States government paidthem; two of them (the mates) at nineteen dollars a month, and the restreceiving the pay of able seamen, twelve dollars. 

To return. 

The regular days upon which the barbers shall exercise theirvocation are set down on the ship's calendar, and known as_shaving days_. On board of the Neversink these days areWednesdays and Saturdays; when, immediately after breakfast, thebarbers' shops were opened to customers. They were in differentparts of the gun-deck, between the long twenty-four pounders. Their furniture, however, was not very elaborate, hardly equal tothe sumptuous appointments of metropolitan barbers. Indeed, itmerely consisted of a match-tub, elevated upon a shot-box, as abarber's chair for the patient. No Psyche glasses; no hand-mirror; no ewer and basin; no comfortable padded footstool;nothing, in short, that makes a shore "_shave_" such a luxury. 

Nor are the implements of these man-of-war barbers out of keepingwith the rude appearance of their shops. Their razors are of thesimplest patterns, and, from their jagged-ness, would seem betterfitted for the preparing and harrowing of the soil than for theultimate reaping of the crop. But this is no matter for wonder, since so many chins are to be shaven, and a razor-case holds buttwo razors. For only two razors does a man-of-war barber have, and, like the marine sentries at the gangway in port, theserazors go off and on duty in rotation. One brush, too, brushesevery chin, and one lather lathers them all. No private brushesand boxes; no reservations whatever. 

As it would be altogether too much trouble for a man-of-war's-manto keep his own shaving-tools and shave himself at sea, andsince, therefore, nearly the whole ship's company patronise theship's barbers, and as the seamen must be shaven by eveningquarters of the days appointed for the business, it may bereadily imagined what a scene of bustle and confusion there iswhen the razors are being applied. First come, first served, isthe motto; and often you have to wait for hours together, stickingto your position (like one of an Indian file of merchants' clerksgetting letters out of the post-office), ere you have a chance tooccupy the pedestal of the match-tub. Often the crowd of quarrelsomecandidates wrangle and fight for precedency, while at all times theinterval is employed by the garrulous in every variety of ship-gossip. 

As the shaving days are unalterable, they often fall upon days ofhigh seas and tempestuous winds, when the vessel pitches androlls in a frightful manner. In consequence, many valuable livesare jeopardised from the razor being plied under such untowardcircumstances. But these sea-barbers pride themselves upon theirsea-legs, and often you will see them standing over theirpatients with their feet wide apart, and scientifically swayingtheir bodies to the motion of the ship, as they flourish theiredge-tools about the lips, nostrils, and jugular. 

As I looked upon the practitioner and patient at such times, Icould not help thinking that, if the sailor had any insurance onhis life, it would certainly be deemed forfeited should thepresident of the company chance to lounge by and behold him inthat imminent peril. For myself, I accounted it an excellentpreparation for going into a sea-fight, where fortitude instanding up to your gun and running the risk of all splinters, comprise part of the practical qualities that make up anefficient man-of-war's man. 

It remains to be related, that these barbers of ours had theirlabours considerably abridged by a fashion prevailing among manyof the crew, of wearing very large whiskers; so that, in mostcases, the only parts needing a shave were the upper lip andsuburbs of the chin. This had been more or less the custom duringthe whole three years' cruise; but for some time previous to ourweathering Cape Horn, very many of the seamen had redoubled theirassiduity in cultivating their beards preparatory to their returnto America. There they anticipated creating no small impressionby their immense and magnificent _homeward-bounders_--so theycalled the long fly-brushes at their chins. In particular, themore aged sailors, embracing the Old Guard of sea grenadiers onthe forecastle, and the begrimed gunner's mates and quarter-gunners, sported most venerable beards of an exceeding length andhoariness, like long, trailing moss hanging from the bough ofsome aged oak. Above all, the Captain of the Forecastle, oldUshant--a fine specimen of a sea sexagenarian--wore a wide, spreading beard, gizzled and grey, that flowed over his breastand often became tangled and knotted with tar. This Ushant, inall weathers, was ever alert at his duty; intrepidly mounting thefore-yard in a gale, his long beard streaming like Neptune's. OffCape Horn it looked like a miller's, being all over powdered withfrost; sometimes it glittered with minute icicles in the pale, cold, moonlit Patagonian nights. But though he was so active intime of tempest, yet when his duty did not call for exertion, hewas a remarkably staid, reserved, silent, and majestic old man, holding himself aloof from noisy revelry, and never participatingin the boisterous sports of the crew. He resolutely set his beardagainst their boyish frolickings, and often held forth like anoracle concerning the vanity thereof. Indeed, at times he was wontto talk philosophy to his ancient companions--the old sheet-anchor-menaround him--as well as to the hare-brained tenants of the fore-top, and the giddy lads in the mizzen. 

Nor was his philosophy to be despised; it abounded in wisdom. For this Ushant was an old man, of strong natural sense, who hadseen nearly the whole terraqueous globe, and could reason ofcivilized and savage, of Gentile and Jew, of Christian andMoslem. The long night-watches of the sailor are eminentlyadapted to draw out the reflective faculties of any serious-minded man, however humble or uneducated. Judge, then, what halfa century of battling out watches on the ocean must have done forthis fine old tar. He was a sort of a sea-Socrates, in his oldage "pouring out his last philosophy and life, " as sweet Spenserhas it; and I never could look at him, and survey his rightreverend beard, without bestowing upon him that title which, inone of his satires, Persius gives to the immortal quaffer of thehemlock--_Magister Barbatus_--the bearded master. 

Not a few of the ship's company had also bestowed great painsupon their hair, which some of them--especially the genteel youngsailor bucks of the After-guard--wore over their shoulders likethe ringleted Cavaliers. Many sailors, with naturally tendrillocks, prided themselves upon what they call _love curls_, wornat the side of the head, just before the ear--a custom peculiarto tars, and which seems to have filled the vacated place of theold-fashioned Lord Rodney cue, which they used to wear some fiftyyears ago. 

But there were others of the crew labouring under the misfortuneof long, lank, Winnebago locks, carroty bunches of hair, orrebellious bristles of a sandy hue. Ambitious of redundant mops, these still suffered their carrots to grow, spite of allridicule. They looked like Huns and Scandinavians; and one ofthem, a young Down Easter, the unenvied proprietor of a thickcrop of inflexible yellow bamboos, went by the name of _Peter theWild Boy_; for, like Peter the Wild Boy in France, it wassupposed that he must have been caught like a catamount in thepine woods of Maine. But there were many fine, flowing heads ofhair to counter-balance such sorry exhibitions as Peter's. 

What with long whiskers and venerable beards, then, of everyvariety of cut--Charles the Fifth's and Aurelian's--and endless_goatees_ and _imperials;_ and what with abounding locks, our crewseemed a company of Merovingians or Long-haired kings, mixed withsavage Lombards or Longobardi, so called from their lengthy beards. 

CHAPTER LXXXV. 

THE GREAT MASSACRE OF THE BEARDS. 

The preceding chapter fitly paves the way for the present, wherein it sadly befalls White-Jacket to chronicle a calamitousevent, which filled the Neversink with long lamentations, thatecho through all her decks and tops. After dwelling upon ourredundant locks and thrice-noble beards, fain would I cease, andlet the sequel remain undisclosed, but truth and fidelity forbid. 

As I now deviously hover and lingeringly skirmish about the frontiersof this melancholy recital, a feeling of sadness comes over me that Icannot withstand. Such a heartless massacre of hair! Such aBartholomew's Day and Sicilian Vespers of assassinated beards! Ah!who would believe it! With intuitive sympathy I feel of my own brownbeard while I write, and thank my kind stars that each precious hairis for ever beyond the reach of the ruthless barbers of a man-of-war!

It needs that this sad and most serious matter should befaithfully detailed. Throughout the cruise, many of the officershad expressed their abhorrence of the impunity with which themost extensive plantations of hair were cultivated under theirvery noses; and they frowned upon every beard with even greaterdislike. They said it was unseamanlike; not _ship-shape;_ inshort, it was disgraceful to the Navy. But as Captain Claret saidnothing, and as the officers, of themselves, had no authority topreach a crusade against whiskerandoes, the Old Guard on theforecastle still complacently stroked their beards, and the sweetyouths of the After-guard still lovingly threaded their fingersthrough their curls. 

Perhaps the Captain's generosity in thus far permitting ourbeards sprung from the fact that he himself wore a small speck ofa beard upon his own imperial cheek; which if rumour said true, was to hide something, as Plutarch relates of the Emperor Adrian. But, to do him justice--as I always have done--the Captain'sbeard did not exceed the limits prescribed by the Navy Department. 

According to a then recent ordinance at Washington, the beards ofboth officers and seamen were to be accurately laid out andsurveyed, and on no account must come lower than the mouth, so asto correspond with the Army standard--a regulation directlyopposed to the theocratical law laid down in the nineteenthchapter and twenty-seventh verse of Leviticus, where it isexpressly ordained, "_Thou shalt not mar the corners of thybeard_. " But legislators do not always square their statutes bythose of the Bible. 

At last, when we had crossed the Northern Tropic, and werestanding up to our guns at evening quarters, and when the settingsun, streaming in at the port-holes, lit up every hair, till toan observer on the quarter-deck, the two long, even lines ofbeards seemed one dense grove; in that evil hour it must havebeen, that a cruel thought entered into the heart of our Captain. 

A pretty set of savages, thought he, am I taking home to America;people will think them all catamounts and Turks. Besides, nowthat I think of it, it's against the law. It will never do. Theymust be shaven and shorn--that's flat. 

There is no knowing, indeed, whether these were the very words inwhich the Captain meditated that night; for it is yet a mootedpoint among metaphysicians, whether we think in words or whetherwe think in thoughts. But something like the above must have beenthe Captain's cogitations. At any rate, that very evening theship's company were astounded by an extraordinary announcementmade at the main-hatch-way of the gun-deck, by the Boat-swain'smate there stationed. He was afterwards discovered to have beentipsy at the time. 

"D'ye hear there, fore and aft? All you that have hair on your heads, shave them off; and all you that have beards, trim 'em small!"

Shave off our Christian heads! And then, placing them between ourknees, trim small our worshipped beards! The Captain was mad. 

But directly the Boatswain came rushing to the hatchway, and, after soundly rating his tipsy mate, thundered forth a trueversion of the order that had issued from the quarter-deck. Asamended, it ran thus:

"D'ye hear there, fore and aft? All you that have long hair, cutit short; and all you that have large whiskers, trim them down, according to the Navy regulations. "

This was an amendment, to be sure; but what barbarity, after all!What! not thirty days' run from home, and lose our magnificenthomeward-bounders! The homeward-bounders we had been cultivatingso long! Lose them at one fell swoop? Were the vile barbers ofthe gun-deck to reap our long, nodding harvests, and expose ourinnocent chins to the chill air of the Yankee coast! And our vinylocks! were they also to be shorn? Was a grand sheep-shearing, such as they annually have at Nantucket, to take place; and ourignoble barbers to carry off the fleece?

Captain Claret! in cutting our beards and our hair, you cut usthe unkindest cut of all! Were we going into action, CaptainClaret--going to fight the foe with our hearts of flame and ourarms of steel, then would we gladly offer up our beards to theterrific God of War, and _that_ we would account but a wiseprecaution against having them tweaked by the foe. _Then_, Captain Claret, you would but be imitating the example ofAlexander, who had his Macedonians all shaven, that in the hourof battle their beards might not be handles to the Persians. But_now_, Captain Claret! when after our long, long cruise, we arereturning to our homes, tenderly stroking the fine tassels on ourchins; and thinking of father or mother, or sister or brother, ordaughter or son; to cut off our beards now--the very beards thatwere frosted white off the pitch of Patagonia--_this_ is toobitterly bad, Captain Claret! and, by Heaven, we will not submit. Train your guns inboard, let the marines fix their bayonets, letthe officers draw their swords; we _will not_ let our beards bereaped--the last insult inflicted upon a vanquished foe in the East!

Where are you, sheet-anchor-men! Captains of the tops! gunner'smates! mariners, all! Muster round the capstan your venerablebeards, and while you braid them together in token of brotherhood, cross hands and swear that we will enact over again the mutiny ofthe Nore, and sooner perish than yield up a hair!

The excitement was intense throughout that whole evening. Groupsof tens and twenties were scattered about all the decks, discussing the mandate, and inveighing against its barbarousauthor. The long area of the gun-deck was something like apopulous street of brokers, when some terrible commercial tidingshave newly arrived. One and all, they resolved not to succumb, and every man swore to stand by his beard and his neighbour. 

Twenty-four hours after--at the next evening quarters--theCaptain's eye was observed to wander along the men at theirguns--not a beard was shaven!

When the drum beat the retreat, the Boatswain--now attended byall four of his mates, to give additional solemnity to theannouncement--repeated the previous day's order, and concluded bysaying, that twenty-four hours would be given for all to acquiesce. 

But the second day passed, and at quarters, untouched, everybeard bristled on its chin. Forthwith Captain Claret summoned themidshipmen, who, receiving his orders, hurried to the variousdivisions of the guns, and communicated them to the Lieutenantsrespectively stationed over divisions. 

The officer commanding mine turned upon us, and said, "Men, iftomorrow night I find any of you with long hair, or whiskers of astandard violating the Navy regulations, the names of suchoffenders shall be put down on the report. "

The affair had now assumed a most serious aspect. The Captain wasin earnest. The excitement increased ten-fold; and a great manyof the older seamen, exasperated to the uttermost, talked about_knocking of duty_ till the obnoxious mandate was revoked. Ithought it impossible that they would seriously think of such afolly; but there is no knowing what man-of-war's-men willsometimes do, under provocation--witness Parker and the Nore. 

That same night, when the first watch was set, the men in a bodydrove the two boatswain's mates from their stations at the foreand main hatchways, and unshipped the ladders; thus cutting offall communication between the gun and spar decks, forward of themain-mast. 

Mad Jack had the trumpet; and no sooner was this incipientmutiny reported to him, than he jumped right down among the mob, and fearlessly mingling with them, exclaimed, "What do you mean, men? don't be fools! This is no way to get what you want. Turnto, my lads, turn to! Boatswain's mate, ship that ladder! So! upyou tumble, now, my hearties! away you go!"

His gallant, off-handed, confident manner, recognising no attemptat mutiny, operated upon the sailors like magic. 

They _tumbled up_, as commanded; and for the rest of that nightcontented themselves with privately fulminating their displeasureagainst the Captain, and publicly emblazoning every anchor-button on the coat of admired Mad jack. 

Captain Claret happened to be taking a nap in his cabin at themoment of the disturbance; and it was quelled so soon that heknew nothing of it till it was officially reported to him. It wasafterward rumoured through the ship that he reprimanded Mad Jackfor acting as he did. He main-tained that he should at once havesummoned the marines, and charged upon the "mutineers. " But ifthe sayings imputed to the Captain were true, he neverthelessrefrained from subsequently noticing the disturbance, orattempting to seek out and punish the ringleaders. This was butwise; for there are times when even the most potent governor mustwink at transgression in order to preserve the laws inviolate forthe future. And great care is to be taken, by timely management, to avert an incontestable act of mutiny, and so prevent men frombeing roused, by their own consciousness of transgression, intoall the fury of an unbounded insurrection. _Then_ for the time, both soldiers and sailors are irresistible; as even the valour ofCaesar was made to know, and the prudence of Germanicus, whentheir legions rebelled. And not all the concessions of EarlSpencer, as First lord of the Admiralty, nor the threats andentreaties of Lord Bridport, the Admiral of the Fleet--no, norhis gracious Majesty's plenary pardon in prospective, couldprevail upon the Spithead mutineers (when at last fairly lashedup to the mark) to succumb, until deserted by their own mess-mates, and a handful was left in the breach. 

Therefore, Mad Jack! you did right, and no one else could haveacquitted himself better. By your crafty simplicity, good-natureddaring, and off-handed air (as if nothing was happening) you perhapsquelled a very serious affair in the bud, and prevented the disgraceto the American Navy of a tragical mutiny, growing out of whiskers, soap-suds, and razors. Think of it, if future historians should devotea long chapter to the great _Rebellion of the Beards_ on board theUnited States ship Neversink. Why, through all time thereafter, barbers would cut down their spiralised poles, and substituteminiature main-masts for the emblems of their calling. 

And here is ample scope for some pregnant instruction, how that eventsof vast magnitude in our man-of-war world may originate in the pettiestof trifles. But that is an old theme; we waive it, and proceed. 

On the morning following, though it was not a regular shavingday, the gun-deck barbers were observed to have their shops open, their match-tub accommodations in readiness, and their razorsdisplayed. With their brushes, raising a mighty lather in theirtin pots, they stood eyeing the passing throng of seamen, silently inviting them to walk in and be served. In addition totheir usual implements, they now flourished at intervals a hugepair of sheep-shears, by way of more forcibly reminding the menof the edict which that day must be obeyed, or woe betide them. 

For some hours the seamen paced to and fro in no very goodhumour, vowing not to sacrifice a hair. Beforehand, theydenounced that man who should abase himself by compliance. Buthabituation to discipline is magical; and ere long an oldforecastle-man was discovered elevated upon a match-tub, while, with a malicious grin, his barber--a fellow who, from hismerciless rasping, was called Blue-Skin--seized him by his longbeard, and at one fell stroke cut it off and tossed it out of theport-hole behind him. This forecastle-man was ever afterwardsknown by a significant title--in the main equivalent to that nameof reproach fastened upon that Athenian who, in Alexander's time, previous to which all the Greeks sported beards, first submittedto the deprivation of his own. But, spite of all the contempthurled on our forecastle-man, so prudent an example was soonfollowed; presently all the barbers were busy. 

Sad sight! at which any one but a barber or a Tartar would havewept! Beards three years old; _goatees_ that would have graced aChamois of the Alps; _imperials_ that Count D'Orsay would haveenvied; and _love-curls_ and man-of-war ringlets that would havemeasured, inch for inch, with the longest tresses of The Fair Onewith the Golden Locks--all went by the board! Captain Claret! howcan you rest in your hammock! by this brown beard which now wavesfrom my chin--the illustrious successor to that first, young, vigorous beard I yielded to your tyranny--by this manly beard, Iswear, it was barbarous!

My noble captain, Jack Chase, was indignant. Not even all thespecial favours he had received from Captain Claret. And theplenary pardon extended to him for his desertion into thePeruvian service, could restrain the expression of his feelings. But in his cooler moments, Jack was a wise man; he at last deemedit but wisdom to succumb. 

When he went to the barber he almost drew tears from his eyes. Seating himself mournfully on the match-tub, he looked sideways, and said to the barber, who was _slithering_ his sheep-shears inreadiness to begin: "My friend, I trust your scissors areconsecrated. Let them not touch this beard if they have yet to bedipped in holy water; beards are sacred things, barber. Have youno feeling for beards, my friend? think of it;" and mournfully helaid his deep-dyed, russet cheek upon his hand. "Two summers havegone by since my chin has been reaped. I was in Coquimbo then, on the Spanish Main; and when the husband-man was sowing hisAutumnal grain on the Vega, I started this blessed beard; andwhen the vine-dressers were trimming their vines in the vineyards, I first trimmed it to the sound of a flute. Ah! barber, have you noheart? This beard has been caressed by the snow-white hand of thelovely Tomasita of Tombez--the Castilian belle of all lower Peru. Think of _that_, barber! I have worn it as an officer on the quarter-deckof a Peruvian man-of-war. I have sported it at brilliant fandangoesin Lima. I have been alow and aloft with it at sea. Yea, barber! ithas streamed like an Admiral's pennant at the mast-head of this samegallant frigate, the Neversink! Oh! barber, barber! it stabs me to theheart. --Talk not of hauling down your ensigns and standards whenvanquished--what is _that_, barber! to striking the flag that Natureherself has nailed to the mast!"

Here noble Jack's feelings overcame him: he dropped from theanimated attitude into which his enthusiasm had momentarilytransported him; his proud head sunk upon his chest, and hislong, sad beard almost grazed the deck. 

"Ay! trail your beards in grief and dishonour, oh crew of theNeversink!" sighed Jack. "Barber, come closer--now, tell me, myfriend, have you obtained absolution for this deed you are aboutto commit? You have not? Then, barber, I will absolve you; yourhands shall be washed of this sin; it is not you, but another;and though you are about to shear off my manhood, yet, barber, Ifreely forgive you; kneel, kneel, barber! that I may bless you, in token that I cherish no malice!"

So when this barber, who was the only tender-hearted one of histribe, had kneeled, been absolved, and then blessed, Jack gave uphis beard into his hands, and the barber, clipping it off with asigh, held it high aloft, and, parodying the style of theboatswain's mates, cried aloud, "D'ye hear, fore and aft? This isthe beard of our matchless Jack Chase, the noble captain of thisfrigate's main-top!"

CHAPTER LXXXVI. 

THE REBELS BROUGHT TO THE MAST. 

Though many heads of hair were shorn, and many fine beards reapedthat day, yet several still held out, and vowed to defend theirsacred hair to the last gasp of their breath. These were chieflyold sailors--some of them petty officers--who, presuming upontheir age or rank, doubtless thought that, after so many hadcomplied with the Captain's commands, _they_, being but ahandful, would be exempted from compliance, and remain a monumentof our master's clemency. 

That same evening, when the drum beat to quarters, the sailorswent sullenly to their guns, and the old tars who still sportedtheir beards stood up, grim, defying, and motionless, as therows of sculptured Assyrian kings, who, with their magnificentbeards, have recently been exhumed by Layard. 

When the proper time arrived, their names were taken down by theofficers of divisions, and they were afterward summoned in a bodyto the mast, where the Captain stood ready to receive them. Thewhole ship's company crowded to the spot, and, amid the breathlessmultitude, the vener-able rebels advanced and unhatted. 

It was an imposing display. They were old and venerablemariners; their cheeks had been burned brown in all latitudes, wherever the sun sends a tropical ray. Reverend old tars, one andall; some of them might have been grandsires, with grandchildrenin every port round the world. They ought to have commanded theveneration of the most frivolous or magisterial beholder. EvenCaptain Claret they ought to have humiliated into deference. Buta Scythian is touched with no reverential promptings; and, as theRoman student well knows, the august Senators themselves, seatedin the Senate-house, on the majestic hill of the Capitol, hadtheir holy beards tweaked by the insolent chief of the Goths. 

Such an array of beards! spade-shaped, hammer-shaped, dagger-shaped, triangular, square, peaked, round, hemispherical, andforked. But chief among them all, was old Ushant's, the ancientCaptain of the Forecastle. Of a Gothic venerableness, it fellupon his breast like a continual iron-gray storm. 

Ah! old Ushant, Nestor of the crew! it promoted my longevity tobehold you. 

He was a man-of-war's-man of the old Benbow school. He wore ashort cue, which the wags of the mizzen-top called his "_plug ofpig-tail_. " About his waist was a broad boarder's belt, which hewore, he said, to brace his main-mast, meaning his backbone; forat times he complained of rheumatic twinges in the spine, consequentupon sleeping on deck, now and then, during the night-watches ofupward of half a century. His sheath-knife was an antique--a sortof old-fashioned pruning-hook; its handle--a sperm whale's tooth--wascarved all over with ships, cannon, and anchors. It was attached tohis neck by a _lanyard_, elaborately worked into "rose-knots" and"Turks' heads" by his own venerable fingers. 

Of all the crew, this Ushant was most beloved by my gloriouscaptain, Jack Chase, who one day pointed him out to me as the oldman was slowly coming down the rigging from the fore-top. 

"There, White-Jacket! isn't that old Chaucer's shipman?

 "'A dagger hanging by a las hadde he, About his nekke, under his arm adown; The hote sommer hadde made his beard all brown. Hardy he is, and wise; I undertake With many a tempest has his beard be shake. '

From the Canterbury Tales, White-Jacket! and must not old Ushanthave been living in Chaucer's time, that Chaucer could draw hisportrait so well?"

CHAPTER LXXXVII. 

OLD USHANT AT THE GANGWAY. 

The rebel beards, headed by old Ushant's, streaming like aCommodore's _bougee_, now stood in silence at the mast. 

"You knew the order!" said the Captain, eyeing them severely;"what does that hair on your chins?"

"Sir, " said the Captain of the Forecastle, "did old Ushant everrefuse doing his duty? did he ever yet miss his muster? But, sir, old Ushant's beard is his own!"

"What's that, sir? Master-at-arms, put that man into the brig. "

"Sir, " said the old man, respectfully, "the three years for whichI shipped are expired; and though I am perhaps bound to work theship home, yet, as matters are, I think my beard might be allowedme. It is but a few days, Captain Claret. "

"Put him into the brig!" cried the Captain; "and now, you oldrascals!" he added, turning round upon the rest, "I give youfifteen minutes to have those beards taken off; if they thenremain on your chins, I'll flog you--every mother's son of you--though you were all my own god-fathers!"

The band of beards went forward, summoned their barbers, andtheir glorious pennants were no more. In obedience to orders, they then paraded themselves at the mast, and, addressing theCaptain, said, "Sir, our _muzzle-lashings_ are cast off!"

Nor is it unworthy of being chronicled, that not a single sailorwho complied with the general order but refused to sport the vile_regulation-whiskers_ prescribed by the Navy Department. No! likeheroes they cried, "Shave me clean! I will not wear a hair, sinceI cannot wear all!"

On the morrow, after breakfast, Ushant was taken out of irons, and, with the master-at-arms on one side and an armed sentry onthe other, was escorted along the gun-deck and up the ladder tothe main-mast. There the Captain stood, firm as before. They musthave guarded the old man thus to prevent ms escape to the shore, something less than a thousand miles distant at the time. 

"Well, sir, will you have that beard taken off? you have sleptover it a whole night now; what do you say? I don't want to flogan old man like you, Ushant!"

"My beard is my own, sir!" said the old man, lowly. 

"Will you take it off?"

"It is mine, sir?" said the old man, tremulously. 

"Rig the gratings?" roared the Captain. "Master-at-arms, strip him!quarter-masters, seize him up! boatswain's mates, do your duty!"

While these executioners were employed, the Captain's excitementhad a little time to abate; and when, at last, old Ushant wastied up by the arms and legs and his venerable back was exposed--that back which had bowed at the guns of the frigate Constitutionwhen she captured the Guerriere--the Captain seemed to relent. 

"You are a very old man, " he said, "and I am sorry to flog you;but my orders must be obeyed. I will give you one more chance;will you have that beard taken off?"

"Captain Claret, " said the old man, turning round painfully inhis bonds, "you may flog me if you will; but, sir, in this onething I _cannot_ obey you. "

"Lay on! I'll see his backbone!" roared the Captain in a sudden fury. 

"By Heaven!" thrillingly whispered Jack Chase, who stood by, "it's only a halter; I'll strike him!"

"Better not, " said a top-mate; "it's death, or worse punishment, remember. "

"There goes the lash!" cried Jack. "Look at the old man! By G---d, I can't stand it! Let me go, men!" and with moist eyes Jack forcedhis way to one side. 

"You, boatswain's mate, " cried the Captain, "you are favouringthat man! Lay on soundly, sir, or I'll have your own _cat_ laidsoundly on you. "

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve lashes were laid on the back of that heroic oldman. He only bowed over his head, and stood as the DyingGladiator lies. 

"Cut him down, " said the Captain. 

"And now go and cut your own throat, " hoarsely whispered an oldsheet-anchor-man, a mess-mate of Ushant's. 

When the master-at-arms advanced with the prisoner's shirt, Ushant waved him off with the dignified air of a Brahim, saying, "Do you think, master-at-arms, that I am hurt? I will put on myown garment. I am never the worse for it, man; and 'tis nodishonour when he who would dishonour you, only dishonours himself. "

"What says he?" cried the Captain; "what says that tarry oldphilosopher with the smoking back? Tell it to me, sir, if youdare! Sentry, take that man back to the brig. Stop! John Ushant, you have been Captain of the Forecastle; I break you. And now yougo into the brig, there to remain till you consent to have thatbeard taken off. "

"My beard is my own, " said the old man, quietly. "Sen-try, I am ready. "

And back he went into durance between the guns; but after lyingsome four or five days in irons, an order came to remove them;but he was still kept confined. 

Books were allowed him, and he spent much time in reading. But healso spent many hours in braiding his beard, and interweavingwith it strips of red bunting, as if he desired to dress out andadorn the thing which had triumphed over all opposition. 

He remained a prisoner till we arrived in America; but the verymoment he heard the chain rattle out of the hawse-hole, and theship swing to her anchor, he started to his feet, dashed the sentryaside, and gaining the deck, exclaimed, "At home, with my beard!"

His term of service having some months previous expired, and theship being now in harbour, he was beyond the reach of naval law, and the officers durst not molest him. But without undulyavailing himself of these circumstances, the old man merely gothis bag and hammock together, hired a boat, and throwing himselfinto the stern, was rowed ashore, amid the unsuppressible cheersof all hands. It was a glorious conquest over the Conquerorhimself, as well worthy to be celebrated as the Battle of the Nile. 

Though, as I afterward learned, Ushant was earnestly entreated toput the case into some lawyer's hands, he firmly declined, saying, "I have won the battle, my friends, and I do not care forthe prize-money. " But even had he complied with these entreaties, from precedents in similar cases, it is almost certain that not asou's worth of satisfaction would have been received. 

I know not in what frigate you sail now, old Ushant; but Heavenprotect your storied old beard, in whatever Typhoon it may blow. And if ever it must be shorn, old man, may it fare like the royalbeard of Henry I. , of England, and be clipped by the rightreverend hand of some Archbishop of Sees. 

As for Captain Claret, let it not be supposed that it is heresought to impale him before the world as a cruel, black-heartedman. Such he was not. Nor was he, upon the whole, regarded by hiscrew with anything like the feelings which man-of-war's-mensometimes cherish toward signally tyrannical commanders. Intruth, the majority of the Neversink's crew--in previous cruiseshabituated to flagrant misusage--deemed Captain Claret a lenientofficer. In many things he certainly refrained from oppressingthem. It has been related what privileges he accorded to theseamen respecting the free playing of checkers--a thing almostunheard of in most American men-of-war. In the matter ofoverseeing the men's clothing, also, he was remarkably indulgent, compared with the conduct of other Navy captains, who, bysumptuary regulations, oblige their sailors to run up largebills with the Purser for clothes. In a word, of whatever actsCaptain Claret might have been guilty in the Neversink, perhapsnone of them proceeded from any personal, organic hard-heartedness. What he was, the usages of the Navy had made him. Had he been a mere landsman--a merchant, say--he would no doubthave been considered a kind-hearted man. 

There may be some who shall read of this Bartholomew Massacre ofbeards who will yet marvel, perhaps, that the loss of a few hairs, more or less, should provoke such hostility from the sailors, lashthem into so frothing a rage; indeed, come near breeding a mutiny. 

But these circumstances are not without precedent. Not to speakof the riots, attended with the loss of life, which once occurredin Madrid, in resistance to an arbitrary edict of the king's, seeking to suppress the cloaks of the Cavaliers; and, not tomake mention of other instances that might be quoted, it needsonly to point out the rage of the Saxons in the time of Williamthe Conqueror, when that despot commanded the hair on their upperlips to be shaven off--the hereditary mustaches which wholegenerations had sported. The multitude of the dispiritedvanquished were obliged to acquiesce; but many Saxon Franklinsand gentlemen of spirit, choosing rather to lose their castlesthan their mustaches, voluntarily deserted their firesides, andwent into exile. All this is indignantly related by the stoutSaxon friar, Matthew Paris, in his _Historia Major_, beginningwith the Norman Conquest. 

And that our man-of-war's-men were right in desiring to perpetuatetheir beards, as martial appurtenances, must seem very plain, whenit is considered that, as the beard is the token of manhood, so, in some shape or other, has it ever been held the true badge of awarrior. Bonaparte's grenadiers were stout whiskerandoes; and perhaps, in a charge, those fierce whiskers of theirs did as much to appall thefoe as the sheen of their bayonets. Most all fighting creatures sporteither whiskers or beards; it seems a law of Dame Nature. Witness theboar, the tiger, the cougar, man, the leopard, the ram, the cat--allwarriors, and all whiskerandoes. Whereas, the peace-loving tribeshave mostly enameled chins. 

CHAPTER LXXXVIII. 

FLOGGING THROUGH THE FLEET. 

The flogging of an old man like Ushant, most landsmen willprobably regard with abhorrence. But though, from peculiarcircumstances, his case occasioned a good deal of indignationamong the people of the Neversink, yet, upon its own propergrounds, they did not denounce it. Man-of-war's-men are sohabituated to what landsmen would deem excessive cruelties, thatthey are almost reconciled to inferior severities. 

And here, though the subject of punishment in the Navy has beencanvassed in previous chapters, and though the thing is every waya most unpleasant and grievous one to enlarge upon, and though Ipainfully nerve myself to it while I write, a feeling of dutycompels me to enter upon a branch of the subject till nowundiscussed. I would not be like the man, who, seeing an outcastperishing by the roadside, turned about to his friend, saying, "Let us cross the way; my soul so sickens at this sight, that Icannot endure it. "

There are certain enormities in this man-of-war world that oftensecure impunity by their very excessiveness. Some ignorant peoplewill refrain from permanently removing the cause of a deadlymalaria, for fear of the temporary spread of its offensiveness. Let us not be of such. The more repugnant and repelling, thegreater the evil. Leaving our women and children behind, let usfreely enter this Golgotha. 

Years ago there was a punishment inflicted in the English, and Ibelieve in the American Navy, called _keel-hauling_--a phrasestill employed by man-of-war's-men when they would express somesignal vengeance upon a personal foe. The practice still remainsin the French national marine, though it is by no means resortedto so frequently as in times past. It consists of attachingtackles to the two extremities of the main-yard, and passing therope under the ship's bottom. To one end of this rope the culpritis secured; his own shipmates are then made to run him up and down, first on this side, then on that--now scraping the ship's hullunder water--anon, hoisted, stunned and breathless, into the air. 

But though this barbarity is now abolished from the English andAmerican navies, there still remains another practice which, ifanything, is even worse than _keel-hauling_. This remnant of theMiddle Ages is known in the Navy as "_flogging through thefleet_. " It is never inflicted except by authority of a court-martial upon some trespasser deemed guilty of a flagrant offence. Never, that I know of, has it been inflicted by an American man-of-war on the home station. The reason, probably, is, that theofficers well know that such a spectacle would raise a mob in anyAmerican seaport. 

By XLI. Of the Articles of War, a court-martial shall not "for anyone offence not capital, " inflict a punishment beyond one hundredlashes. In cases "not capital" this law may be, and has been, quotedin judicial justification of the infliction of more than one hundredlashes. Indeed, it would cover a thousand. Thus: One act of a sailormay be construed into the commission of ten different transgressions, for each of which he may be legally condemned to a hundred lashes, tobe inflicted without intermission. It will be perceived, that in anycase deemed "capital, " a sailor under the above Article, may legallybe flogged to the death. 

But neither by the Articles of War, nor by any other enactment ofCongress, is there any direct warrant for the extraordinary crueltyof the mode in which punishment is inflicted, in cases of floggingthrough the fleet. But as in numerous other instances, the incidentalaggravations of this penalty are indirectly covered by other clausesin the Articles of War: one of which authorises the authorities of aship--in certain indefinite cases--to correct the guilty "_accordingto the usages of the sea-service_. "

One of these "usages" is the following:

All hands being called "to witness punishment" in the ship to whichthe culprit belongs, the sentence of the court-martial condemning himis read, when, with the usual solemnities, a portion of the punishmentis inflicted. In order that it shall not lose in severity by theslightest exhaustion in the arm of the executioner, a fresh boatswain'smate is called out at every dozen. 

As the leading idea is to strike terror into the beholders, thegreatest number of lashes is inflicted on board the culprit'sown ship, in order to render him the more shocking spectacle tothe crews of the other vessels. 

The first infliction being concluded, the culprit's shirt isthrown over him; he is put into a boat--the Rogue's March beingplayed meanwhile--and rowed to the next ship of the squadron. Allhands of that ship are then called to man the rigging, andanother portion of the punishment is inflicted by the boatswain'smates of that ship. The bloody shirt is again thrown over the seaman;and thus he is carried through the fleet or squadron till the wholesentence is inflicted. 

In other cases, the launch--the largest of the boats--is riggedwith a platform (like a headsman's scaffold), upon whichhalberds, something like those used in the English army, areerected. They consist of two stout poles, planted upright. Uponthe platform stand a Lieutenant, a Surgeon a Master-at-arms, andthe executioners with their "cats. " They are rowed through thefleet, stopping at each ship, till the whole sentence isinflicted, as before. 

In some cases, the attending surgeon has professionallyinterfered before the last lash has been given, alleging thatimmediate death must ensue if the remainder should be administeredwithout a respite. But instead of humanely remitting the remaininglashes, in a case like this, the man is generally consigned to hiscot for ten or twelve days; and when the surgeon officially reportshim capable of undergoing the rest of the sentence, it is forthwithinflicted. Shylock must have his pound of flesh. 

To say, that after being flogged through the fleet, theprisoner's back is sometimes puffed up like a pillow; or to saythat in other cases it looks as if burned black before a roastingfire; or to say that you may track him through the squadron bythe blood on the bulwarks of every ship, would only be sayingwhat many seamen have seen. 

Several weeks, sometimes whole months, elapse before the sailoris sufficiently recovered to resume his duties. During thegreater part of that interval he lies in the sick-bay, groaningout his days and nights; and unless he has the hide andconstitution of a rhinoceros, he never is the man he was before, but, broken and shattered to the marrow of his bones, sinks intodeath before his time. Instances have occurred where he hasexpired the day after the punishment. No wonder that theEnglishman, Dr. Granville--himself once a surgeon in the Navy--declares, in his work on Russia, that the barbarian "knout"itself is not a greater torture to undergo than the Navy cat-o'-nine-tails. 

Some years ago a fire broke out near the powder magazine in anAmerican national ship, one of the squadron at anchor in the Bayof Naples. The utmost alarm prevailed. A cry went fore and aftthat the ship was about to blow up. One of the seamen sprangoverboard in affright. At length the fire was got under, and theman was picked up. He was tried before a court-martial, foundguilty of cowardice, and condemned to be flogged through thefleet, In due time the squadron made sail for Algiers, and inthat harbour, once haunted by pirates, the punishment wasinflicted--the Bay of Naples, though washing the shores of anabsolute king, not being deemed a fit place for such anexhibition of American naval law. 

While the Neversink was in the Pacific, an American sailor, whohad deposited a vote for General Harrison for President of theUnited States, was flogged through the fleet. 

CHAPTER LXXXIX. 

THE SOCIAL STATE IN A MAN-OF-WAR. 

Bur the floggings at the gangway and the floggings through thefleet, the stealings, highway robberies, swearings, gamblings, blasphemings, thimble-riggings, smugglings, and tipplings of aman-of-war, which throughout this narrative have been here andthere sketched from the life, by no means comprise the wholecatalogue of evil. One single feature is full of significance. 

All large ships of war carry soldiers, called marines. In theNeversink there was something less than fifty, two thirds of whomwere Irishmen. They were officered by a Lieutenant, an OrderlySergeant, two Sergeants, and two Corporals, with a drummer andfifer. The custom, generally, is to have a marine to each gun;which rule usually furnishes the scale for distributing thesoldiers in vessels of different force. 

Our marines had no other than martial duty to perform; exceptingthat, at sea, they stood watches like the sailors, and now andthen lazily assisted in pulling the ropes. But they never putfoot in rigging or hand in tar-bucket. 

On the quarter-bills, these men were stationed at none of thegreat guns; on the station-bills, they had no posts at the ropes. What, then, were they for? To serve their country in time ofbattle? Let us see. When a ship is running into action, hermarines generally lie flat on their faces behind the bulwarks(the sailors are sometimes ordered to do the same), and when thevessel is fairly engaged, they are usually drawn up in the ship'swaist--like a company reviewing in the Park. At close quarters, their muskets may pick off a seaman or two in the rigging, but atlong-gun distance they must passively stand in their ranks and bedecimated at the enemy's leisure. Only in one case in ten--thatis, when their vessel is attempted to be boarded by a largeparty, are these marines of any essential service as fightingmen; with their bayonets they are then called upon to "repel!"

If comparatively so useless as soldiers, why have marines at allin the Navy? Know, then, that what standing armies are to nations, what turnkeys are to jails, these marines are to the seamen in alllarge men-of-war. Their muskets are their keys. With those musketsthey stand guard over the fresh water; over the grog, when doled;over the provisions, when being served out by the Master's mate;over the "brig" or jail; at the Commodore's and Captain's cabindoors; and, in port, at both gangways and forecastle. 

Surely, the crowd of sailors, who besides having so many sea-officers over them, are thus additionally guarded by soldiers, even when they quench their thirst--surely these man-of-war's-menmust be desperadoes indeed; or else the naval service must be sotyrannical that the worst is feared from their possibleinsubordination. Either reason holds good, or both, according tothe character of the officers and crew. 

It must be evident that the man-of-war's-man casts but an evileye on a marine. To call a man a "horse-marine, " is, amongseamen, one of the greatest terms of contempt. 

But the mutual contempt, and even hatred, subsisting betweenthese two bodies of men--both clinging to one keel, both lodgedin one household--is held by most Navy officers as the height ofthe perfection of Navy discipline. It is regarded as the buttonthat caps the uttermost point on their main-mast. 

Thus they reason: Secure of this antagonism between the marineand the sailor, we can always rely upon it, that if the sailormutinies, it needs no great incitement for the marine to thrusthis bayonet through his heart; if the marine revolts, the pike ofthe sailor is impatient to charge. Checks and balances, bloodagainst blood, _that_ is the cry and the argument. 

What applies to the relation in which the marine and sailor standtoward each other--the mutual repulsion implied by a system ofchecks--will, in degree, apply to nearly the entire interior of aman-of-war's discipline. The whole body of this discipline isemphatically a system of cruel cogs and wheels, systematicallygrinding up in one common hopper all that might minister to themoral well-being of the crew. 

It is the same with both officers and men. If a Captain have a grudgeagainst a Lieutenant, or a Lieutenant against a midshipman, how easy totorture him by official treatment, which shall not lay open the superiorofficer to legal rebuke. And if a midshipman bears a grudge against asailor, how easy for him, by cunning practices, born of a boyish spite, to have him degraded at the gangway. Through all the endlessramifications of rank and station, in most men-of-war there runs asinister vein of bitterness, not exceeded by the fireside hatreds ina family of stepsons ashore. It were sickening to detail all the paltryirritabilities, jealousies, and cabals, the spiteful detractions andanimosities, that lurk far down, and cling to the very kelson of theship. It is unmanning to think of. The immutable ceremonies and ironetiquette of a man-of-war; the spiked barriers separating the variousgrades of rank; the delegated absolutism of authority on all hands; theimpossibility, on the part of the common seaman, of appeal fromincidental abuses, and many more things that might be enumerated, alltend to beget in most armed ships a general social condition which isthe precise reverse of what any Christian could desire. And thoughthere are vessels, that in some measure furnish exceptions to this;and though, in other ships, the thing may be glazed over by a guarded, punctilious exterior, almost completely hiding the truth from casualvisitors, while the worst facts touching the common sailor aresystematically kept in the background, yet it is certain that what hashere been said of the domestic interior of a man-of-war will, in agreater or less degree, apply to most vessels in the Navy. It is notthat the officers are so malevolent, nor, altogether, that theman-of-war's-man is so vicious. Some of these evils are unavoidablygenerated through the operation of the Naval code; others are absolutelyorganic to a Navy establishment, and, like other organic evils, areincurable, except when they dissolve with the body they live in. 

CHAPTER XC. 

THE MANNING OF NAVIES. 

"The gallows and the sea refuse nothing, " is a very old seasaying; and, among all the wondrous prints of Hogarth, there isnone remaining more true at the present day than that dramaticboat-scene, where after consorting with harlots and gambling ontomb-stones, the Idle Apprentice, with the villainous lowforehead, is at last represented as being pushed off to sea, witha ship and a gallows in the distance. But Hogarth should haveconverted the ship's masts themselves into Tyburn-trees, andthus, with the ocean for a background, closed the career of hishero. It would then have had all the dramatic force of the operaof Don Juan, who, after running his impious courses, is sweptfrom our sight in a tornado of devils. 

For the sea is the true Tophet and bottomless pit of many workersof iniquity; and, as the German mystics feign Gehennas withinGehennas, even so are men-of-war familiarly known among sailorsas "Floating Hells. " And as the sea, according to old Fuller, isthe stable of brute monsters, gliding hither and thither inunspeakable swarms, even so is it the home of many moral monsters, who fitly divide its empire with the snake, the shark, and the worm. 

Nor are sailors, and man-of-war's-men especially, at all blind toa true sense of these things. "_Purser rigged and parish damned_, "is the sailor saying in the American Navy, when the tyro first mountsthe lined frock and blue jacket, aptly manufactured for him in aState Prison ashore. 

No wonder, that lured by some _crimp_ into a service so galling, and, perhaps, persecuted by a vindictive lieutenant, somerepentant sailors have actually jumped into the sea to escapefrom their fate, or set themselves adrift on the wide ocean onthe gratings without compass or rudder. 

In one case, a young man, after being nearly cut into dog's meatat the gangway, loaded his pockets with shot and walked overboard. 

Some years ago, I was in a whaling ship lying in a harbour of thePacific, with three French men-of-war alongside. One dark, moodynight, a suppressed cry was heard from the face of the waters, and, thinking it was some one drowning, a boat was lowered, whentwo French sailors were picked up, half dead from exhaustion, andnearly throttled by a bundle of their clothes tied fast to theirshoulders. In this manner they had attempted their escape fromtheir vessel. When the French officers came in pursuit, these sailors, rallying from their exhaustion, fought like tigers to resist beingcaptured. Though this story concerns a French armed ship, it is notthe less applicable, in degree, to those of other nations. 

Mix with the men in an American armed ship, mark how many foreignersthere are, though it is against the law to enlist them. Nearly onethird of the petty officers of the Neversink were born east of theAtlantic. Why is this? Because the same principle that operates inhindering Americans from hiring themselves out as menial domestics alsorestrains them, in a great measure, from voluntarily assuming a farworse servitude in the Navy. "_Sailors wanted for the Navy_" is a commonannouncement along the wharves of our sea-ports. They are always"_wanted_. " It may have been, in part, owing to this scarcityman-of-war's men, that not many years ago, black slaves were frequentlyto be found regularly enlisted with the crew of an American frigate, their masters receiving their pay. This was in the teeth of a law ofCongress expressly prohibiting slaves in the Navy. This law, indirectly, means black slaves, nothing being said concerning white ones. But inview of what John Randolph of Roanoke said about the frigate that carriedhim to Russia, and in view of what most armed vessels actually are atpresent, the American Navy is not altogether an inappropriate place forhereditary bondmen. Still, the circumstance of their being found in itis of such a nature, that to some it may hardly appear credible. Theincredulity of such persons, nevertheless, must yield to the fact, thaton board of the United States ship Neversink, during the present cruise, there was a Virginian slave regularly shipped as a seaman, his ownerreceiving his wages. Guinea--such was his name among the crew--belongedto the Purser, who was a Southern gentleman; he was employed as his bodyservant. Never did I feel my condition as a man-of-war's-man so keenlyas when seeing this Guinea freely circulating about the decks incitizen's clothes, and through the influence of his master, almostentirely exempted from the disciplinary degradation of the Caucasiancrew. Faring sumptuously in the ward-room; sleek and round, his ebonface fairly polished with content: ever gay and hilarious; ever readyto laugh and joke, that African slave was actually envied by many of theseamen. There were times when I almost envied him myself. Lemsford onceenvied him outright, "Ah, Guinea!" he sighed, "you have peaceful times;you never opened the book I read in. "

One morning, when all hands were called to witness punishment, the Purser's slave, as usual, was observed to be hurrying downthe ladders toward the ward-room, his face wearing that peculiar, pinched blueness, which, in the negro, answers to the palenesscaused by nervous agitation in the white. "Where are you going, Guinea?" cried the deck-officer, a humorous gentleman, whosometimes diverted himself with the Purser's slave, and wellknew what answer he would now receive from him. "Where are yougoing, Guinea?" said this officer; "turn about; don't you hearthe call, sir?" "'_Scuse_ me, massa!" said the slave, with a lowsalutation; "I can't 'tand it; I can't, indeed, massa!" and, sosaying, he disappeared beyond the hatchway. He was the onlyperson on board, except the hospital-steward and the invalids ofthe sick-bay, who was exempted from being present at theadministering of the scourge. Accustomed to light and easy dutiesfrom his birth, and so fortunate as to meet with none but gentlemasters, Guinea, though a bondman, liable to be saddled with amortgage, like a horse--Guinea, in India-rubber manacles, enjoyedthe liberties of the world. 

Though his body-and-soul proprietor, the Purser, never in any wayindividualised me while I served on board the frigate, and neverdid me a good office of any kind (it was hardly in his power), yet, from his pleasant, kind, indulgent manner toward his slave, I always imputed to him a generous heart, and cherished aninvoluntary friendliness toward him. Upon our arrival home, histreatment of Guinea, under circumstances peculiarly calculatedto stir up the resentment of a slave-owner, still more augmentedmy estimation of the Purser's good heart. 

Mention has been made of the number of foreigners in the AmericanNavy; but it is not in the American Navy alone that foreignersbear so large a proportion to the rest of the crew, though in nonavy, perhaps, have they ever borne so large a proportion as inour own. According to an English estimate, the foreigners servingin the King's ships at one time amounted to one eighth of theentire body of seamen. How it is in the French Navy, I cannotwith certainty say; but I have repeatedly sailed with Englishseamen who have served in it. 

One of the effects of the free introduction of foreigners intoany Navy cannot be sufficiently deplored. During the period Ilived in the Neversink, I was repeatedly struck by the lack ofpatriotism in many of my shipmates. True, they were mostlyforeigners who unblushingly avowed, that were it not for thedifference of pay, they would as lief man the guns of an Englishship as those of an American or Frenchman. Nevertheless, it wasevident, that as for any high-toned patriotic feeling, there wascomparatively very little--hardly any of it--evinced by oursailors as a body. Upon reflection, this was not to be wonderedat. From their roving career, and the sundering of all domesticties, many sailors, all the world over, are like the "FreeCompanions, " who some centuries ago wandered over Europe, readyto fight the battles of any prince who could purchase theirswords. The only patriotism is born and nurtured in a stationaryhome, and upon an immovable hearth-stone; but the man-of-war's-man, though in his voyagings he weds the two Poles and bringsboth Indies together, yet, let him wander where he will, hecarries his one only home along with him: that home is hishammock. "_Born under a gun, and educated on the bowsprit_, "according to a phrase of his own, the man-of-war-man rolls roundthe world like a billow, ready to mix with any sea, or be suckeddown to death in the maelstrom of any war. 

Yet more. The dread of the general discipline of a man-of-war;the special obnoxiousness of the gangway; the protractedconfinement on board ship, with so few "liberty days;" and thepittance of pay (much less than what can always be had in theMerchant Service), these things contrive to deter from thenavies of all countries by far the majority of their best seamen. This will be obvious, when the following statistical facts, takenfrom Macpherson's Annals of Commerce, are considered. At oneperiod, upon the Peace Establishment, the number of men employedin the English Navy was 25, 000; at the same time, the EnglishMerchant Service was employing 118, 952. But while the necessitiesof a merchantman render it indispensable that the greater part ofher crew be able seamen, the circumstances of a man-of-war admitof her mustering a crowd of landsmen, soldiers, and boys in herservice. By a statement of Captain Marryat's, in his pamphlet(A. D. 1822) "On the Abolition of Impressment, " it appears that, at the close of the Bonaparte wars, a full third of all the crewsof his Majesty's fleets consisted of landsmen and boys. 

Far from entering with enthusiasm into the king's ships whentheir country were menaced, the great body of English seamen, appalled at the discipline of the Navy, adopted unheard-ofdevices to escape its press-gangs. Some even hid themselves incaves, and lonely places inland, fearing to run the risk ofseeking a berth in an outward-bound merchantman, that might havecarried them beyond sea. In the true narrative of "John Nichol, Mariner, " published in 1822 by Blackwood in Edinburgh, and Cadellin London, and which everywhere bears the spontaneous impress oftruth, the old sailor, in the most artless, touching, and almostuncomplaining manner, tells of his "skulking like a thief" forwhole years in the country round about Edin-burgh, to avoid thepress-gangs, prowling through the land like bandits and Burkers. At this time (Bonaparte's wars), according to "Steel's List, "there were forty-five regular press-gang stations in GreatBritain. [5]

----[FOOTNOTE-5] Besides this domestic kidnapping, British frigates, infriendly or neutral harbours, in some instances pressed intotheir service foreign sailors of all nations from the publicwharves. In certain cases, where Americans were concerned, when"_protections_" were found upon their persons, these weredestroyed; and to prevent the American consul from claiming hissailor countrymen, the press-gang generally went on shore thenight previous to the sailing of the frigate, so that thekidnapped seamen were far out to sea before they could be missedby their friends. These things should be known; for in case theEnglish government again goes to war with its fleets, and shouldagain resort to indiscriminate impressment to man them, it is wellthat both Englishmen and Americans, that all the world be preparedto put down an iniquity outrageous and insulting to God and man. ----

In a later instance, a large body of British seamen solemnlyassembled upon the eve of an anticipated war, and togetherdetermined, that in case of its breaking out, they would at onceflee to America, to avoid being pressed into the service of theircountry--a service which degraded her own guardians at the gangway. 

At another time, long previous to this, according to an EnglishNavy officer, Lieutenant Tomlinson, three thousand seamen, impelled by the same motive, fled ashore in a panic from thecolliers between Yarmouth Roads and the Nore. Elsewhere, he says, in speaking of some of the men on board the king's ships, that"they were most miserable objects. " This remark is perfectlycorroborated by other testimony referring to another period. Inalluding to the lamented scarcity of good English seamen duringthe wars of 1808, etc. , the author of a pamphlet on "NavalSubjects" says, that all the best seamen, the steadiest and best-behaved men, generally succeeded in avoiding the impress. Thiswriter was, or had been, himself a Captain in the British fleet. 

Now it may be easily imagined who are the men, and of what moralcharacter they are, who, even at the present day, are willing toenlist as full-grown adults in a service so galling to all shore-manhood as the Navy. Hence it comes that the skulkers andscoundrels of all sorts in a man-of-war are chiefly composed notof regular seamen, but of these "dock-lopers" of landsmen, menwho enter the Navy to draw their grog and murder their time inthe notorious idleness of a frigate. But if so idle, why notreduce the number of a man-of-war's crew, and reasonably keepemployed the rest? It cannot be done. In the first place, themagnitude of most of these ships requires a large number of handsto brace the heavy yards, hoist the enormous top-sails, andweigh the ponderous anchor. And though the occasion for theemployment of so many men comes but seldom, it is true, yet whenthat occasion _does_ come--and come it may at any moment--thismultitude of men are indispensable. 

But besides this, and to crown all, the batteries must be manned. There must be enough men to work all the guns at one time. Andthus, in order to have a sufficiency of mortals at hand to "sink, burn and destroy;" a man-of-war, through her vices, hopelesslydepraving the volunteer landsmen and ordinary seamen of goodhabits, who occasionally enlist--must feed at the public cost amultitude of persons, who, if they did not find a home in theNavy, would probably fall on the parish, or linger out their daysin a prison. 

Among others, these are the men into whose mouths Dibdin putshis patriotic verses, full of sea-chivalry and romance. With anexception in the last line, they might be sung with equalpropriety by both English and American man-of-war's-men. 

 "As for me, in all weathers, all times, tides, and ends, Naught's a trouble from duty that springs; For my heart is my Poll's, and my rhino's my friends, And as for my life, it's the king's. 

 To rancour unknown, to no passion a slave, Nor unmanly, nor mean, nor a railer, " etc. 

I do not unite with a high critical authority in consideringDibdin's ditties as "slang songs, " for most of them breathe thevery poetry of the ocean. But it is remarkable that those songs--which would lead one to think that man-of-war's-men are the mostcare-free, contented, virtuous, and patriotic of mankind--werecomposed at a time when the English Navy was principally mannedby felons and paupers, as mentioned in a former chapter. Stillmore, these songs are pervaded by a true Mohammedan sensualism; areckless acquiescence in fate, and an implicit, unquestioning, dog-like devotion to whoever may be lord and master. Dibdin was aman of genius; but no wonder Dibdin was a government pensionerat L200 per annum. 

But notwithstanding the iniquities of a man-of-war, men are to befound in them, at times, so used to a hard life; so drilled anddisciplined to servitude, that, with an incomprehensiblephilosophy, they seem cheerfully to resign themselves to theirfate. They have plenty to eat; spirits to drink; clothing to keepthem warm; a hammock to sleep in; tobacco to chew; a doctor tomedicine them; a parson to pray for them; and, to a pennilesscastaway, must not all this seem as a luxurious Bill of Fare?

There was on board of the Neversink a fore-top-man by the name ofLandless, who, though his back was cross-barred, and plaided withthe ineffaceable scars of all the floggings accumulated by areckless tar during a ten years' service in the Navy, yet heperpetually wore a hilarious face, and at joke and repartee was avery Joe Miller. 

That man, though a sea-vagabond, was not created in vain. Heenjoyed life with the zest of everlasting adolescence; and, though cribbed in an oaken prison, with the turnkey sentries allround him, yet he paced the gun-deck as if it were broad as aprairie, and diversified in landscape as the hills and valleys ofthe Tyrol. Nothing ever disconcerted him; nothing could transmutehis laugh into anything like a sigh. Those glandular secretions, which in other captives sometimes go to the formation of tears, in_him_ were expectorated from the mouth, tinged with the golden juiceof a weed, wherewith he solaced and comforted his ignominious days. 

"Rum and tobacco!" said Landless, "what more does a sailor want?"

His favourite song was "_Dibdin's True English Sailor_, " beginning, "Jack dances and sings, and is always content, In his vows to his lass he'll ne'er fail her; His anchor's atrip when his money's all spent, And this is the life of a sailor. "

But poor Landless danced quite as often at the gangway, under thelash, as in the sailor dance-houses ashore. 

Another of his songs, also set to the significant tune of _TheKing, God bless him!_ mustered the following lines among manysimilar ones:

 "Oh, when safely landed in Boston or 'York, Oh how I will tipple and jig it; And toss off my glass while my rhino holds out, In drinking success to our frigate!"

During the many idle hours when our frigate was lying in harbour, this man was either merrily playing at checkers, or mending hisclothes, or snoring like a trumpeter under the lee of the booms. When fast asleep, a national salute from our batteries couldhardly move him. Whether ordered to the main-truck in a gale; orrolled by the drum to the grog-tub; or commanded to walk up tothe gratings and be lashed, Landess always obeyed with the sameinvincible indifference. 

His advice to a young lad, who shipped with us at Valparaiso, embodies the pith and marrow of that philosophy which enablessome man-of-war's-men to wax jolly in the service. 

"_Shippy!_" said Landless, taking the pale lad by his neckerchief, as if he had him by the halter; "Shippy, I've seen sarvice withUncle Sam--I've sailed in many _Andrew Millers_. Now take my advice, and steer clear of all trouble. D'ye see, touch your tile whenever aswob (officer) speaks to you. And never mind how much they rope's-endyou, keep your red-rag belayed; for you must know as how they don'tfancy sea-lawyers; and when the sarving out of slops comes round, stand up to it stiffly; it's only an oh Lord! Or two, and a few oh myGods!--that's all. And what then? Why, you sleeps it off in a fewnights, and turn out at last all ready for your grog. "

This Landless was a favourite with the officers, among whom hewent by the name of "_Happy Jack_. " And it is just such HappyJacks as Landless that most sea-officers profess to admire; afellow without shame, without a soul, so dead to the leastdignity of manhood that he could hardly be called a man. Whereas, a seaman who exhibits traits of moral sensitiveness, whosedemeanour shows some dignity within; this is the man they, inmany cases, instinctively dislike. The reason is, they feel sucha man to be a continual reproach to them, as being mentallysuperior to their power. He has no business in a man-of-war; theydo not want such men. To them there is an insolence in his manlyfreedom, contempt in his very carriage. He is unendurable, as anerect, lofty-minded African would be to some slave-driving planter. 

Let it not be supposed, however, that the remarks in this and thepreceding chapter apply to _all_ men-of-war. There are somevessels blessed with patriarchal, intellectual Captains, gentlemanlyand brotherly officers, and docile and Christianised crews. Thepeculiar usages of such vessels insensibly softens the tyrannicalrigour of the Articles of War; in them, scourging is unknown. To sailin such ships is hardly to realise that you live under the martiallaw, or that the evils above mentioned can anywhere exist. 

And Jack Chase, old Ushant, and several more fine tars that might beadded, sufficiently attest, that in the Neversink at least, there wasmore than one noble man-of-war's-man who almost redeemed all the rest. 

Wherever, throughout this narrative, the American Navy, in any ofits bearings, has formed the theme of a general discussion, hardly one syllable of admiration for what is accountedillustrious in its achievements has been permitted to escape me. The reason is this: I consider, that so far as what is calledmilitary renown is concerned, the American Navy needs no eulogistbut History. It were superfluous for White-Jacket to tell theworld what it knows already. The office imposed upon me is ofanother cast; and, though I foresee and feel that it may subjectme to the pillory in the hard thoughts of some men, yet, supported by what God has given me, I tranquilly abide the event, whatever it may prove. 

CHAPTER XCI. 

SMOKING-CLUB IN A MAN-OF-WAR, WITH SCENES ON THE GUN-DECK DRAWINGNEAR HOME. 

There is a fable about a painter moved by Jove to the painting ofthe head of Medusa. Though the picture was true to the life, yetthe poor artist sickened at the sight of what his forced pencilhad drawn. Thus, borne through my task toward the end, my own soulnow sinks at what I myself have portrayed. But let us forgetpast chapters, if we may, while we paint less repugnant things. 

Metropolitan gentlemen have their club; provincial gossiperstheir news-room; village quidnuncs their barber's shop; theChinese their opium-houses; American Indians their council-fire;and even cannibals their _Noojona_, or Talk-Stone, where theyassemble at times to discuss the affairs of the day. Nor is thereany government, however despotic, that ventures to deny to theleast of its subjects the privilege of a sociable chat. Not theThirty Tyrants even--the clubbed post-captains of old Athens--could stop the wagging tongues at the street-corners. For chatman must; and by our immortal Bill of Rights, that guarantees tous liberty of speech, chat we Yankees will, whether on board afrigate, or on board our own terra-firma plantations. 

In men-of-war, the Galley, or Cookery, on the gun-deck, is thegrand centre of gossip and news among the sailors. Here crowdsassemble to chat away the half-hour elapsing after every meal. The reason why this place and these hours are selected ratherthan others is this: in the neighbourhood of the galley alone, and only after meals, is the man-of-war's-man permitted to regalehimself with a smoke. 

A sumptuary edict, truly, that deprived White-Jacket, for one, ofa luxury to which he had long been attached. For how can themystical motives, the capricious impulses of a luxurious smokergo and come at the beck of a Commodore's command? No! when Ismoke, be it because of my sovereign good pleasure I choose so todo, though at so unseasonable an hour that I send round the townfor a brasier of coals. What! smoke by a sun-dial? Smoke oncompulsion? Make a trade, a business, a vile recurring calling ofsmoking? And, perhaps, when those sedative fumes have steeped youin the grandest of reveries, and, circle over circle, solemnlyrises some immeasurable dome in your soul--far away, swelling andheaving into the vapour you raise--as if from one Mozart'sgrandest marches of a temple were rising, like Venus from thesea--at such a time, to have your whole Parthenon tumbled aboutyour ears by the knell of the ship's bell announcing theexpiration of the half-hour for smoking! Whip me, ye Furies!toast me in saltpetre! smite me, some thunderbolt! charge uponme, endless squadrons of Mamalukes! devour me, Feejees! butpreserve me from a tyranny like this!

No! though I smoked like an Indian summer ere I entered theNeversink, so abhorrent was this sumptuary law that I altogetherabandoned the luxury rather than enslave it to a time and aplace. Herein did I not right, Ancient and Honourable Old Guardof Smokers all round the world?

But there were others of the crew not so fastidious as myself. After every meal, they hied to the galley and solaced their soulswith a whiff. 

Now a bunch of cigars, all banded together, is a type and asymbol of the brotherly love between smokers. Likewise, for thetime, in a community of pipes is a community of hearts! Nor wasit an ill thing for the Indian Sachems to circulate their calumettobacco-bowl--even as our own forefathers circulated their punch-bowl--in token of peace, charity, and good-will, friendlyfeelings, and sympathising souls. And this it was that made thegossipers of the galley so loving a club, so long as the vapourybond united them. 

It was a pleasant sight to behold them. Grouped in the recessesbetween the guns, they chatted and laughed like rows ofconvivialists in the boxes of some vast dining-saloon. Take aFlemish kitchen full of good fellows from Teniers; add a firesidegroup from Wilkie; throw in a naval sketch from Cruickshank; andthen stick a short pipe into every mother's son's mouth, and youhave the smoking scene at the galley of the Neversink. 

Not a few were politicians; and, as there were some thoughts of awar with England at the time, their discussions waxed warm. 

"I tell you what it is, _shippies!_" cried the old captain of gunNo. 1 on the forecastle, "if that 'ere President of ourn don'tluff up into the wind, by the Battle of the Nile! he'll begetting us into a grand fleet engagement afore the Yankee nationhas rammed home her cartridges--let alone blowing the match!"

"Who talks of luffing?" roared a roystering fore-top-man. "Keepour Yankee nation large before the wind, say I, till you comeplump on the enemy's bows, and then board him in the smoke, " andwith that, there came forth a mighty blast from his pipe. 

"Who says the old man at the helm of the Yankee nation can'tsteer his _trick_ as well as George Washington himself?" cried asheet-anchor-man. 

"But they say he's a cold-water customer, Bill, " cried another;"and sometimes o' nights I somehow has a presentation that he'sgoin' to stop our grog. "

"D'ye hear there, fore and aft!" roared the boatswain's mate atthe gangway, "all hands tumble up, and 'bout ship!"

"That's the talk!" cried the captain of gun No. 1, as, in obedienceto the summons, all hands dropped their pipes and crowded towardthe ladders, "and that's what the President must do--go in stays, my lads, and put the Yankee nation on the other tack. "

But these political discussions by no means supplied the stapleof conversation for the gossiping smokers of the galley. Theinterior affairs of the frigate itself formed their principaltheme. Rumours about the private life of the Commodore in hiscabin; about the Captain, in his; about the various officers inthe ward-room; about the _reefers_ in the steerage, and theirmadcap frolickings, and about a thousand other matters touchingthe crew themselves; all these--forming the eternally shifting, domestic by-play of a man-of-war--proved inexhaustible topics forour quidnuncs. 

The animation of these scenes was very much heightened as we drewnearer and nearer our port; it rose to a climax when the frigatewas reported to be only twenty-four hours' sail from the land. What they should do when they landed; how they should invest theirwages; what they should eat; what they should drink; and what lassthey should marry--these were the topics which absorbed them. 

"Sink the sea!" cried a forecastle man. "Once more ashore, andyou'll never again catch old Boombolt afloat. I mean to settledown in a sail-loft. "

"Cable-tier pinchers blister all tarpaulin hats!" cried a youngafter-guard's-man; "I mean to go back to the counter. "

"Shipmates! take me by the arms, and swab up the lee-scupperswith me, but I mean to steer a clam-cart before I go again to aship's wheel. Let the Navy go by the board--to sea again, I won't!"

"Start my soul-bolts, maties, if any more Blue Peters and sailingsignals fly at my fore!" cried the Captain of the Head. "My wageswill buy a wheelbarrow, if nothing more. "

"I have taken my last dose of salts, " said the Captain of theWaist, "and after this mean to stick to fresh water. Ay, maties, ten of us Waisters mean to club together and buy a _serving-mallet boat_, d'ye see; and if ever we drown, it will be in the'raging canal!' Blast the sea, shipmates! say I. "

"Profane not the holy element!" said Lemsford, the poet of thegun-deck, leaning over a cannon. "Know ye not, man-of-war's-men!that by the Parthian magi the ocean was held sacred? Did notTiridates, the Eastern monarch, take an immense land circuit toavoid desecrating the Mediterranean, in order to reach hisimperial master, Nero, and do homage for his crown?"

"What lingo is that?" cried the Captain of the Waist. 

"Who's Commodore Tiddery-eye?" cried the forecastle-man. 

"Hear me out, " resumed Lemsford. "Like Tiridates, I venerate thesea, and venerate it so highly, shipmates, that evermore I shallabstain from crossing it. In _that_ sense, Captain of the Waist, I echo your cry. "

It was, indeed, a remarkable fact, that nine men out of every tenof the Neversink's crew had formed some plan or other to keepthemselves ashore for life, or, at least, on fresh water, afterthe expiration of the present cruise. With all the experiences ofthat cruise accumulated in one intense recollection of a moment;with the smell of tar in their nostrils; out of sight of land;with a stout ship under foot, and snuffing the ocean air; withall the things of the sea surrounding them; in their cool, sobermoments of reflection; in the silence and solitude of the deep, during the long night-watches, when all their holy homeassociations were thronging round their hearts; in thespontaneous piety and devotion of the last hours of so long avoyage; in the fullness and the frankness of their souls; whenthere was naught to jar the well-poised equilibrium of theirjudgment--under all these circumstances, at least nine tenths ofa crew of five hundred man-of-war's-men resolved for ever to turntheir backs on the sea. But do men ever hate the thing they love?Do men forswear the hearth and the homestead? What, then, mustthe Navy be?

But, alas for the man-of-war's-man, who, though he may take aHannibal oath against the service; yet, cruise after cruise, andafter forswearing it again and again, he is driven back to thespirit-tub and the gun-deck by his old hereditary foe, the ever-devilish god of grog. 

On this point, let some of the crew of the Neversink be called tothe stand. 

You, Captain of the Waist! and you, seamen of the fore-top! andyou, after-guard's-men and others! how came you here at the gunsof the North Carolina, after registering your solemn vows at thegalley of the Neversink?

They all hang their heads. I know the cause; poor fellows!perjure yourselves not again; swear not at all hereafter. 

Ay, these very tars--the foremost in denouncing the Navy; who hadbound themselves by the most tremendous oaths--these very men, not three days after getting ashore, were rolling round thestreets in penniless drunkenness; and next day many of them wereto be found on board of the _guardo_ or receiving-ship. Thus, inpart, is the Navy manned. 

But what was still more surprising, and tended to impart a newand strange insight into the character of sailors, and overthrowsome long-established ideas concerning them as a class, was this:numbers of men who, during the cruise, had passed for exceedinglyprudent, nay, parsimonious persons, who would even refuse you apatch, or a needleful of thread, and, from their stinginess, procured the name of _Ravelings_--no sooner were these men fairlyadrift in harbour, and under the influence of frequent quaffings, than their three-years'-earned wages flew right and left; theysummoned whole boarding-houses of sailors to the bar, and treatedthem over and over again. Fine fellows! generous-hearted tars!Seeing this sight, I thought to myself, Well, these generous-heartedtars on shore were the greatest curmudgeons afloat! it's the bottlethat's generous, not they! Yet the popular conceit concerning a sailoris derived from his behaviour ashore; whereas, ashore he is no longera sailor, but a landsman for the time. A man-of-war's-man is only aman-of-war's-man at sea; and the sea is the place to learn what he is. But we have seen that a man-of-war is but this old-fashioned world ofours afloat, full of all manner of characters--full of strangecontradictions; and though boasting some fine fellows here and there, yet, upon the whole, charged to the combings of her hatchways withthe spirit of Belial and all unrighteousness. 

CHAPTER XCII. 

THE LAST OF THE JACKET. 

Already has White-Jacket chronicled the mishaps and inconveniences, troubles and tribulations of all sorts brought upon him by thatunfortunate but indispensable garment of his. But now it befallshim to record how this jacket, for the second and last time, camenear proving his shroud. 

Of a pleasant midnight, our good frigate, now somewhere off the Capesof Virginia, was running on bravely, when the breeze, gradually dying, left us slowly gliding toward our still invisible port. 

Headed by Jack Chase, the quarter-watch were reclining in the top, talking about the shore delights into which they intended to plunge, while our captain often broke in with allusions to similarconversations when he was on board the English line-of-battle ship, the Asia, drawing nigh to Portsmouth, in England, after the battleof Navarino. 

Suddenly an order was given to set the main-top-gallant-stun'-sail, and the halyards not being rove, Jack Chase assigned to me that duty. Now this reeving of the halyards of a main-top-gallant-stun'-sail is abusiness that eminently demands sharpsightedness, skill, and celerity. 

Consider that the end of a line, some two hundred feet long, isto be carried aloft, in your teeth, if you please, and draggedfar out on the giddiest of yards, and after being wormed andtwisted about through all sorts of intricacies--turning abruptcorners at the abruptest of angles--is to be dropped, clear ofall obstructions, in a straight plumb-line right down to thedeck. In the course of this business, there is a multitude ofsheeve-holes and blocks, through which you must pass it; oftenthe rope is a very tight fit, so as to make it like threading afine cambric needle with rather coarse thread. Indeed, it is athing only deftly to be done, even by day. Judge, then, what itmust be to be threading cambric needles by night, and at sea, upward of a hundred feet aloft in the air. 

With the end of the line in one hand, I was mounting the top-mastshrouds, when our Captain of the Top told me that I had betteroff jacket; but though it was not a very cold night, I had beenreclining so long in the top, that I had become somewhat chilly, so I thought best not to comply with the hint. 

Having reeved the line through all the inferior blocks, I wentout with it to the end of the weather-top-gallant-yard-arm, andwas in the act of leaning over and passing it through thesuspended jewel-block there, when the ship gave a plunge in thesudden swells of the calm sea, and pitching me still further overthe yard, threw the heavy skirts of my jacket right over my head, completely muffling me. Somehow I thought it was the sail thathad flapped, and, under that impression, threw up my hands todrag it from my head, relying upon the sail itself to support memeanwhile. Just then the ship gave another sudden jerk, and, head-foremost, I pitched from the yard. I knew where I was, fromthe rush of the air by my ears, but all else was a nightmare. Abloody film was before my eyes, through which, ghost-like, passedand repassed my father, mother, and sisters. An utterable nauseaoppressed me; I was conscious of gasping; there seemed no breathin my body. It was over one hundred feet that I fell--down, down, with lungs collapsed as in death. Ten thousand pounds of shotseemed tied to my head, as the irresistible law of gravitationdragged me, head foremost and straight as a die, toward theinfallible centre of this terraqueous globe. All I had seen, andread, and heard, and all I had thought and felt in my life, seemed intensified in one fixed idea in my soul. But dense asthis idea was, it was made up of atoms. Having fallen from theprojecting yard-arm end, I was conscious of a collectedsatisfaction in feeling, that I should not be dashed on the deck, but would sink into the speechless profound of the sea. 

With the bloody, blind film before my eyes, there was a stillstranger hum in my head, as if a hornet were there; and I thoughtto myself, Great God! this is Death! Yet these thoughts wereunmixed with alarm. Like frost-work that flashes and shifts itsscared hues in the sun, all my braided, blended emotions were inthemselves icy cold and calm. 

So protracted did my fall seem, that I can even now recall thefeeling of wondering how much longer it would be, ere all wasover and I struck. Time seemed to stand still, and all the worldsseemed poised on their poles, as I fell, soul-becalmed, throughthe eddying whirl and swirl of the maelstrom air. 

At first, as I have said, I must have been precipitated head-foremost; but I was conscious, at length, of a swift, flingingmotion of my limbs, which involuntarily threw themselves out, sothat at last I must have fallen in a heap. This is more likely, from the circumstance, that when I struck the sea, I felt as ifsome one had smote me slantingly across the shoulder and alongpart of my right side. 

As I gushed into the sea, a thunder-boom sounded in my ear; mysoul seemed flying from my mouth. The feeling of death floodedover me with the billows. The blow from the sea must have turnedme, so that I sank almost feet foremost through a soft, seethingfoamy lull. Some current seemed hurrying me away; in a trance Iyielded, and sank deeper down with a glide. Purple and pathlesswas the deep calm now around me, flecked by summer lightnings inan azure afar. The horrible nausea was gone; the bloody, blindfilm turned a pale green; I wondered whether I was yet dead, orstill dying. But of a sudden some fashionless form brushed myside--some inert, coiled fish of the sea; the thrill of beingalive again tingled in my nerves, and the strong shunning ofdeath shocked me through. 

For one instant an agonising revulsion came over me as I foundmyself utterly sinking. Next moment the force of my fall wasexpanded; and there I hung, vibrating in the mid-deep. What wildsounds then rang in my ear! One was a soft moaning, as of lowwaves on the beach; the other wild and heartlessly jubilant, asof the sea in the height of a tempest. Oh soul! thou then heardestlife and death: as he who stands upon the Corinthian shore hearsboth the Ionian and the Aegean waves. The life-and-death poisesoon passed; and then I found myself slowly ascending, and caughta dim glimmering of light. 

Quicker and quicker I mounted; till at last I bounded up like abuoy, and my whole head was bathed in the blessed air. 

I had fallen in a line with the main-mast; I now found myselfnearly abreast of the mizzen-mast, the frigate slowly gliding bylike a black world in the water. Her vast hull loomed out of thenight, showing hundreds of seamen in the hammock-nettings, sometossing over ropes, others madly flinging overboard the hammocks;but I was too far out from them immediately to reach what theythrew. I essayed to swim toward the ship; but instantly I wasconscious of a feeling like being pinioned in a feather-bed, and, moving my hands, felt my jacket puffed out above my tight girdlewith water. I strove to tear it off; but it was looped togetherhere and there, and the strings were not then to be sundered byhand. I whipped out my knife, that was tucked at my belt, andripped my jacket straight up and down, as if I were ripping openmyself. With a violent struggle I then burst out of it, and wasfree. Heavily soaked, it slowly sank before my eyes. 

Sink! sink! oh shroud! thought I; sink forever! accursed jacketthat thou art!

"See that white shark!" cried a horrified voice from thetaffrail; "he'll have that man down his hatchway! Quick! the_grains!_ the _grains!_"

The next instant that barbed bunch of harpoons pierced throughand through the unfortunate jacket, and swiftly sped down with itout of sight. 

Being now astern of the frigate, I struck out boldly toward theelevated pole of one of the life-buoys which had been cut away. Soon after, one of the cutters picked me up. As they dragged meout of the water into the air, the sudden transition of elementsmade my every limb feel like lead, and I helplessly sunk into thebottom of the boat. 

Ten minutes after, I was safe on board, and, springing aloft, wasordered to reeve anew the stun'-sail-halyards, which, slippingthrough the blocks when I had let go the end, had unrove andfallen to the deck. 

The sail was soon set; and, as if purposely to salute it, a gentlebreeze soon came, and the Neversink once more glided over the water, a soft ripple at her bows, and leaving a tranquil wake behind. 

CHAPTER XCIII. 

CABLE AND ANCHOR ALL CLEAR. 

And now that the white jacket has sunk to the bottom of the sea, and the blessed Capes of Virginia are believed to be broad on ourbow--though still out of sight--our five hundred souls are fondlydreaming of home, and the iron throats of the guns round thegalley re-echo with their songs and hurras--what more remains?

Shall I tell what conflicting and almost crazy surmisingsprevailed concerning the precise harbour for which we were bound?For, according to rumour, our Commodore had received sealedorders touching that matter, which were not to be broken opentill we gained a precise latitude of the coast. Shall I tell how, at last, all this uncertainty departed, and many a foolishprophecy was proved false, when our noble frigate--her longestpennant at her main--wound her stately way into the innermostharbour of Norfolk, like a plumed Spanish Grandee threading thecorridors of the Escurial toward the throne-room within? Shall Itell how we kneeled upon the holy soil? How I begged a blessingof old Ushant, and one precious hair of his beard for a keepsake?How Lemsford, the gun-deck bard, offered up a devout ode as aprayer of thanksgiving? How saturnine Nord, the magnifico indisguise, refusing all companionship, stalked off into thewoods, like the ghost of an old Calif of Bagdad? How I swayed andswung the hearty hand of Jack Chase, and nipped it to mine with aCarrick bend; yea, and kissed that noble hand of my liege lordand captain of my top, my sea-tutor and sire?

Shall I tell how the grand Commodore and Captain drove off fromthe pier-head? How the Lieutenants, in undress, sat down to theirlast dinner in the ward-room, and the champagne, packed in ice, spirted and sparkled like the Hot Springs out of a snow-drift inIceland? How the Chaplain went off in his cassock, withoutbidding the people adieu? How shrunken Cuticle, the Surgeon, stalked over the side, the wired skeleton carried in his wake byhis cot-boy? How the Lieutenant of Marines sheathed his sword onthe poop, and, calling for wax and a taper, sealed the end of thescabbard with his family crest and motto--_Denique Coelum?_ Howthe Purser in due time mustered his money-bags, and paid us alloff on the quarter-deck--good and bad, sick and well, all receivingtheir wages; though, truth to tell, some reckless, improvidentseamen, who had lived too fast during the cruise, had little ornothing now standing on the credit side of their Purser's accounts?

Shall I tell of the Retreat of the Five Hundred inland; not, alas! inbattle-array, as at quarters, but scattered broadcast over the land?

Shall I tell how the Neversink was at last stripped of spars, shrouds, and sails--had her guns hoisted out--her powder-magazine, shot-lockers, and armouries discharged--till not one vestige of a fighting thing wasleft in her, from furthest stem to uttermost stern?

No! let all this go by; for our anchor still hangs from our bows, though its eager flukes dip their points in the impatient waves. Let us leave the ship on the sea--still with the land out ofsight--still with brooding darkness on the face of the deep. Ilove an indefinite, infinite background--a vast, heaving, rolling, mysterious rear!

It is night. The meagre moon is in her last quarter--thatbetokens the end of a cruise that is passing. But the stars lookforth in their everlasting brightness--and _that_ is theeverlasting, glorious Future, for ever beyond us. 

We main-top-men are all aloft in the top; and round our mast wecircle, a brother-band, hand in hand, all spliced together. Wehave reefed the last top-sail; trained the last gun; blown thelast match; bowed to the last blast; been tranced in the lastcalm. We have mustered our last round the capstan; been rolled togrog the last time; for the last time swung in our hammocks; forthe last time turned out at the sea-gull call of the watch. Wehave seen our last man scourged at the gangway; our last man gaspout the ghost in the stifling Sick-bay; our last man tossed tothe sharks. Our last death-denouncing Article of War has been read;and far inland, in that blessed clime whither-ward our frigatenow glides, the last wrong in our frigate will be rememberedno more; when down from our main-mast comes our Commodore'spennant, when down sinks its shooting stars from the sky. 

"By the mark, nine!" sings the hoary old leadsman, in the chains. And thus, the mid-world Equator passed, our frigate strikessoundings at last. 

Hand in hand we top-mates stand, rocked in our Pisgah top. Andover the starry waves, and broad out into the blandly blue andboundless night, spiced with strange sweets from the long-soughtland--the whole long cruise predestinated ours, though often intempest-time we almost refused to believe in that far-distantshore--straight out into that fragrant night, ever-noble JackChase, matchless and unmatchable Jack Chase stretches forth hisbannered hand, and, pointing shoreward, cries: "For the lasttime, hear Camoens, boys!"

 "How calm the waves, how mild the balmy gale! The Halcyons call, ye Lusians spread the sail! Appeased, old Ocean now shall rage no more; Haste, point our bowsprit for yon shadowy shore. Soon shall the transports of your natal soil O'erwhelm in bounding joy the thoughts of every toil. "

 * * * * *

THE END. 

As a man-of-war that sails through the sea, so this earth thatsails through the air. We mortals are all on board a fast-sailing, never-sinking world-frigate, of which God was the shipwright; andshe is but one craft in a Milky-Way fleet, of which God is the LordHigh Admiral. The port we sail from is for ever astern. And thoughfar out of sight of land, for ages and ages we continue to sail withsealed orders, and our last destination remains a secret to ourselvesand our officers; yet our final haven was predestinated ere we slippedfrom the stocks at Creation. 

Thus sailing with sealed orders, we ourselves are the repositoriesof the secret packet, whose mysterious contents we long to learn. There are no mysteries out of ourselves. But let us not give earto the superstitious, gun-deck gossip about whither we may begliding, for, as yet, not a soul on board of us knows--not eventhe Commodore himself; assuredly not the Chaplain; even ourProfessor's scientific surmisings are vain. On that point, the smallest cabin-boy is as wise as the Captain. And believenot the hypochondriac dwellers below hatches, who will tell you, with a sneer, that our world-frigate is bound to no final harbourwhatever; that our voyage will prove an endless circumnavigationof space. Not so. For how can this world-frigate prove our eventualabiding place, when upon our first embarkation, as infants in arms, her violent rolling--in after life unperceived--makes every soul ofus sea-sick? Does not this show, too, that the very air we hereinhale is uncongenial, and only becomes endurable at last throughgradual habituation, and that some blessed, placid haven, howeverremote at present, must be in store for us all?

Glance fore and aft our flush decks. What a swarming crew! Alltold, they muster hard upon eight hundred millions of souls. Overthese we have authoritative Lieutenants, a sword-belted Officerof Marines, a Chaplain, a Professor, a Purser, a Doctor, a Cook, a Master-at-arms. 

Oppressed by illiberal laws, and partly oppressed by themselves, many of our people are wicked, unhappy, inefficient. We haveskulkers and idlers all round, and brow-beaten waisters, who, fora pittance, do our craft's shabby work. Nevertheless, among ourpeople we have gallant fore, main, and mizzen top-men aloft, who, well treated or ill, still trim our craft to the blast. 

We have a _brig_ for trespassers; a bar by our main-mast, atwhich they are arraigned; a cat-o'-nine-tails and a gangway, todegrade them in their own eyes and in ours. These are not alwaysemployed to convert Sin to Virtue, but to divide them, andprotect Virtue and legalised Sin from unlegalised Vice. 

We have a Sick-bay for the smitten and helpless, whither we hurrythem out of sight, and however they may groan beneath hatches, wehear little of their tribulations on deck; we still sport our gaystreamer aloft. Outwardly regarded, our craft is a lie; for allthat is outwardly seen of it is the clean-swept deck, and oft-paintedplanks comprised above the waterline; whereas, the vast mass of ourfabric, with all its storerooms of secrets, for ever slides alongfar under the surface. 

When a shipmate dies, straightway we sew him up, and overboard hegoes; our world-frigate rushes by, and never more do we beholdhim again; though, sooner or later, the everlasting under-towsweeps him toward our own destination. 

We have both a quarter-deck to our craft and a gun-deck;subterranean shot-lockers and gunpowder magazines; and theArticles of War form our domineering code. 

Oh, shipmates and world-mates, all round! we the people suffermany abuses. Our gun-deck is full of complaints. In vain fromLieutenants do we appeal to the Captain; in vain--while on boardour world-frigate--to the indefinite Navy Commissioners, so farout of sight aloft. Yet the worst of our evils we blindly inflictupon ourselves; our officers cannot remove them, even if theywould. From the last ills no being can save another; therein eachman must be his own saviour. For the rest, whatever befall us, let us never train our murderous guns inboard; let us not mutinywith bloody pikes in our hands. Our Lord High Admiral will yetinterpose; and though long ages should elapse, and leave ourwrongs unredressed, yet, shipmates and world-mates! let us neverforget, that, Whoever afflict us, whatever surround, Life is a voyage that's homeward-bound!

THE END