ON BOARD THE OHIO.
On board the receiving-ship Ohio, to which all naval recruits in the
vicinity of Boston are sent, Jack reported to the officer of the deck;
and after his name had been registered, and sundry particulars in
regard to him entered upon the ship’s books, he was sent forward. A
number for his hammock, and another for his clothes-bag, were given
him; and he was assigned to a mess. Mr. Bankhead, having done all
he could for his _protégé_, and stated his intentions in regard to
him, took his leave; and Jack found himself alone, though there were
hundreds of men on board the ship.
Though Jack was alone so far as acquaintances were concerned, there was
no opportunity to be lonesome; for the gun-deck was thronged with men.
There were old sailors who had been fifty years in the navy, and “green
hands” who had just come from the country, and had never seen a ship
till within a few days. There were rough, hard-visaged men, and those
with no small pretensions to gentility. There were men of all colors
and of every nation.
It was a lively scene, whichever way he turned; and Jack sat down upon
a mess-chest to observe the strange sights, and listen to the strange
sounds. Some of the men were walking up and down the deck for exercise;
some were playing cards, dominoes, and similar games; some were
reading, and some were mending their clothes. It was an interesting
prospect to a young man full of life; but he could not help thinking
of the happy home in Pinchbrook, and the devoted mother who was the
central figure in the picture. On the whole, he did not like his
surroundings very well. The place did not seem much like a ship, and he
hoped he should not have to be confined a great while on board the old
hulk.
While he was thinking of home and friends, and trying to bring his
imagination to bear upon the future, a ringing blow on the top of his
head confused his ideas, and completely upset the air castles which he
had erected in his vivid fancy.
“Heave up, my hearty!” exclaimed the author of this wanton mischief, as
he brought the large tin pan he carried in his hand down upon Jack’s
head a second time.
“What are you about?” demanded the contemplative young man, springing
to his feet.
“Get off the mess-chest, then, so I can get at the grub,” replied the
man in a surly tone.
“Why didn’t you say so, then?”
“I did say so.”
“Well, you had better not hit me in just that style again,” added Jack
angrily.
“Shut up, you young monkey! Do you think I’m going to bow and scrape to
every lubber that chooses to moor his carcass on the mess-chest? Now
sheer off, and keep out of the way.”
Jack did not move, and, withal, wore so dignified and independent an
air, that the man, who had charge of the mess to which the recruit was
ordered, struck him once more, on the side of the head, with the tin
pan. This was rather more than Jack’s warm blood could endure, and
more than his philosophy was proof against. Regardless of the rigid
discipline of a man-of-war, he instantly squared off, and planted a
smart blow of his fist upon the face of the surly fellow. With a volley
of heavy oaths, the cook of the mess sprang at him with the ferocity
of a tiger. Jack, who was cooler, defended himself on scientific
principles, and repeated his “practice” upon the physiognomy of his
antagonist with such effect, that either because his blows were
tremendous, or because there was a spot of grease on the deck, his
assailant went down.
“Avast there, Spriggs!” shouted an old and dignified salt, who was
mending his pants near the scene,--“avast there, and let the youngster
alone!”
For a moment, the blue-jackets on the gun-deck revelled in the
anticipation of a fight. A crowd began to gather; but the sport was
quickly nipped in the bud by the appearance of a couple of marines with
cutlasses in their hands, each of whom seized one of the beliggerents.
“What’s all this about?” asked one of the marines.
“What’s it about?” replied Spriggs. “Why, that young lubber hit me
side of the head; and I don’t let any man this side of Gibraltar do
that.”
“He struck me three times on the head with the tin pan,” added Jack;
“and no man this side of Gibraltar, or the other side either, can do
that.”
“I shall report you to the officer of the deck,” said the marine, as a
couple of ship’s corporals appeared, and were left to enforce a strict
neutrality between the parties.
In a few moments the master-at-arms presented himself, and Jack and
Spriggs were ordered to the spar-deck for examination. The parties were
conducted into the awful presence of the officer of the deck, before
whom all of them, including the master-at-arms, and Tom Longstone, the
old seaman, who had witnessed the affray, reverently touched their
hats; which is the usual token of respect to an officer on board a
ship-of-war.
“Well, my lad, you have made a bad beginning,” began the officer of
the deck, who was no doubt pained to see the _protégé_ of Lieutenant
Bankhead thus early implicated in a disturbance.
“It was not my fault, sir,” replied Jack.
“I beg your honor’s pardon: but the youngster hit me side of the head;
and what I did, yer honor, was in self-defence,” said Spriggs.
“How’s that, my lad?” demanded the officer.
“It is not true, sir. I was sitting on the chest, when he came up
behind me, and struck me over the head with a tin pan.”
“Yes, yer honor: he was sodgering on the mess-chest, and wouldn’t get
out of the way, so I could get the hard-tack out for supper.”
“Then you struck him first?” asked the officer sternly.
“He wouldn’t move till I did,” added Spriggs sourly.
“He didn’t ask me to move, and I did not know he was near me till he
struck me.”
“That’s a fact, yer honor,” interposed Tom Longstone. “The youngster
was peaceable enough till Spriggs hit him, and he did not strike back
till he was hit three times.”
The two marines fully confirmed this testimony, though they had not
witnessed the scene which preceded the affray. Spriggs was immediately
ordered to the place of confinement on the orlop-deck, there to subsist
for twenty-four hours on bread and water, with irons on his ankles.
“Now, my lad, you are a green hand on board of a man-of-war,” said
the officer of the deck, when the guilty party had been conducted
below. “You must learn that fighting is never tolerated under any
circumstances. This is your first offence, and I shall let you off.”
“I beg pardon, sir,” stammered Jack, his face as red as the crimson
bunting in the ensign at the peak,--“I beg pardon, sir; but I could not
help it.”
“Yes, you could help it. We don’t tolerate fighting. If you have any
complaints to make, you will have a chance to be heard. Now go to your
mess, and remember what I have said.”
Jack touched his hat as he saw the others do, and went below. He was
perfectly willing to remember what the officer had told him: but it did
not exactly accord with his ideas; and he was very much afraid, that,
under the same temptation, he should be likely to repeat the offence.
“There, youngster, you’ve larned a lesson,” said Tom Longstone, as he
settled himself upon the mess-bench, and resumed his labors at the
dilapidated trousers he was attempting to restore to their former state
of usefulness.
“I’m much obliged to you for what you said for me,” replied Jack, as
he took a seat by the side of the old salt.
“You’re welcome, my hearty. I hope you won’t need a word from me
again to keep you out of the ‘brig,’ which is the prison on board a
man-of-war.”
“I hope not; but I can’t stand it to be thumped round, as Spriggs began
with me.”
“You are smart and spunky, my lad; and I like you for’t: but, when one
of them ere flunkies strikes you foul, you must sarve ’im out some
other way.”
“I don’t know any better way to serve out a bully than to give him as
good as he sends, on the spot.”
“Nor I neither, my lad; but ’twon’t do board a man-o’-war. That’s
beatin’ to wind’ard for the sake o’ runnin’ on the rocks. Sheer off,
and sarve ’im out some other way.”
“A fellow will be bullied and trodden upon by every petty tyrant in the
ship, if he submits to it.”
“No, he won’t youngster. A man finds his level board a man-o’-war
just as he does everywhere else. If a man behaves himself,
everybody--officers and all--will treat him with respect. I’ve been in
the navy thirty years, and I know it’s a fact.”
“What could I do, when that man struck me? If I had submitted, he and
others around would have repeated the insult.”
“Sarve him out some other way,” replied old Tom mysteriously.
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
“You’ll larn, my fightin’-cock,” added Tom with a cunning smile.
“What would you have done if Spriggs had struck you on the head with a
tin pan?”
“He wouldn’t have done that to Tom Longstone, nor any other man board
this ‘guardo.’”
“Perhaps not; but suppose he had?”
“I should have knocked him over, just as you did, my spunky one.”
“But then you would have gone into a fight.”
“Not I, my lad. I should have sheered off as soon as I had a done
it; and left the ship’s corporals to take care of him, if he wasn’t
satisfied. I might have cut down his hammock arter he turned in, or
dropped a belayin’-pin on his toes, or something of that sort; but I
shouldn’t get up a fight with him. The fact is, my crank little one,
an ill-tempered fellow is sarved out so many ways, board a man-o’-war,
that he soon larns to mind his own business.”
“Well, I dare say I shall soon learn the ways of my new shipmates; but
I don’t half like the fashion of hitting a fellow in the dark.”
“You can’t fight it out board the ship, and you won’t stand it to be
bullied by a flunky. As to hitting ’im in the dark, my little breezer,
that’s all in your eye. Your flunky knows who does it, and so does
every man in the ship. That’s our way of sarvin’ ’im out.”
“Very likely I shall get used to it in a short time: at any rate,
I mean to do my duty faithfully, obey orders, and keep up to the
discipline of the ship.”
“That’s right, my jolly bantam: that’s the way to get along in the
navy.”
Tom Longstone was a veteran in the navy, and knew every rope in the
ship, as well as every quirk in its discipline, and was thoroughly
posted in all the superstitions and traditions of the service. For
some reason or other,--perhaps because he had displayed the spirit
of a man,--the old salt was strongly prejudiced in Jack’s favor at
the first interview, and proceeded, in due form, to take him under
his protection. Tom pumped him dry in regard to his parents, his
native place, his antecedents upon the sea and the land. He examined
him in seamanship, inquired carefully into his moral and religious
principles,--as carefully as though Jack had been a candidate for the
situation of chaplain instead of ordinary seaman,--and was particularly
nice in his inquiries into the incipient hero’s patriotism.
“You see, my jolly little clipper, I believe in two things: one of ’em
is the Bible, and t’other the ’Meriken flag. I never throwed a vote in
my life, and never had nothin’ to do with politics; but the man that
says anything agin the ’Meriken flag, why, smash my cutwater, but he’s
my enemy! Them’s my sentiments, Jack. I haven’t got no other creed,
in politics or religion. Stand by the Bible and the ’Meriken flag, my
hearty, and it’ll be all right with you in this world and t’other one
too. Steady! there’s the boatswain’s whistle piping to supper. Here, my
jolly biscuit-nibbler, stow your little carcass in here, and I’ll see
that the sharks don’t gnaw your walking-timbers off.”
Tom Longstone seated himself at the mess-table, upon which the grub had
been placed, during the conversation, by a steward _pro tem._, who had
been deputed to serve in the place of Spriggs. They did not have hot
biscuits and baked apples for supper; but the fare was good, wholesome,
and abundant in quantity. Jack was introduced to his mess-mates, in
man-of-war style, by Tom; and very soon the conversation turned upon
the events which had occurred before supper, and our hero was duly
commended and admired for his manliness.
“He’ll larn better how to sarve out a flunky one of these days,” said
Tom, who was proud of his _protégé_. “That’s just the way you’ll sarve
out the rebels, my lad: lay ’em aboard, and carry ’em all standing.”
“I hope I shall behave myself on such an occasion,” replied Jack
modestly. “I came into the navy to fight for my country, and I intend
to do my duty.”
“That’s the idea, my merry little piper. Stand by the stars and stripes
as long as there’s a plank left.”
“I reckon some of us will be drafted before long,” added Ben Blinks,
a weatherly old tar, who had just returned from a foreign cruise, and
shipped again for three years.
“The sooner the better,” said Jack with enthusiasm.
“I’ve been aboard the guardo about as long as I want to be,” continued
Bob Rushington, a man-of-war dandy, who wore ear-rings, and had shining
black curls.
“I say, Jack, who’s the officer that convoyed you aboard?” demanded Tom
Longstone.
“Lieutenant Bankhead.”
“Bankhead? He is a gentleman and a scholar. I’ve heard good things of
him.”
“He promised to have me drafted into his ship,” added Jack.
“Good, my little honey-bee; and, if he takes you, he must take me,”
said Tom, bringing his fist down upon the mess-table.
“I think he would be very glad to have you.”
“Suppose you put in a word for me.”
“I will, with pleasure.”
“And for me,” added Blinks.
“Likewise for me,” suggested Rushington.
Half a dozen others made a like request; and Jack did not know but he
should have the pleasure of drafting the whole crew for Mr. Bankhead’s
ship. But, after consultation with Tom, he decided to use his influence
only for Blinks and Rushington: first, because he liked them; and,
second, because Tom said they were first-rate seamen.