White-Jacket
OR
THE WORLD IN A MAN-OF-WAR
by Herman Melville
AUTHOR OF “TYPEE,” “OMOO,” AND “MOBY-DICK”
NEW YORK
UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY
5 AND 7 EAST SIXTEENTH STREET
* * * * *
CHICAGO: 266 & 268 WABASH AVE.
Copyright, 1892
BY 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 a
United States frigate then lying in a harbor of the Pacific Ocean.
After remaining in this frigate for more than a year, I was discharged
from the service upon the vessel’s arrival home. My man-of-war
experiences and observations have been incorporated in the present
volume.
New York, March, 1850.
Contents
CHAPTER
I. THE JACKET.
II. HOMEWARD BOUND.
III. A GLANCE AT THE PRINCIPAL DIVISIONS, INTO WHICH A
MAN-OF-WAR’S CREW IS DIVIDED.
IV. JACK CHASE.
V. JACK CHASE ON A SPANISH QUARTER-DECK.
VI. THE QUARTER-DECK OFFICERS, WARRANT OFFICERS, AND BERTH-DECK
UNDERLINGS OF A MAN-OF-WAR; WHERE THEY LIVE IN THE SHIP; HOW
THEY LIVE; THEIR SOCIAL STANDING ON SHIP-BOARD; AND WHAT SORT
OF GENTLEMEN THEY ARE.
VII. BREAKFAST, DINNER, AND SUPPER.
VIII. SELVAGEE CONTRASTED WITH MAD-JACK.
IX. OF THE POCKETS THAT WERE IN THE JACKET.
X. FROM POCKETS TO PICKPOCKETS.
XI. THE PURSUIT OF POETRY UNDER DIFFICULTIES.
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.
XIII. A MAN-OF-WAR HERMIT IN A MOB.
XIV. A DRAUGHT IN A MAN-OF-WAR.
XV. A SALT-JUNK CLUB IN A MAN-OF-WAR, WITH A NOTICE TO QUIT.
XVI. GENERAL TRAINING IN A MAN-OF-WAR.
XVII. AWAY! SECOND, THIRD, AND FOURTH CUTTERS, AWAY!
XVIII. A MAN-OF-WAR FULL AS A NUT.
XIX. THE JACKET ALOFT.
XX. HOW THEY SLEEP IN A MAN-OF-WAR.
XXI. ONE REASON WHY MEN-OF-WAR’S MEN ARE, GENERALLY, SHORT-LIVED.
XXII. WASH-DAY AND HOUSE-CLEANING IN A MAN-OF-WAR.
XXIII. THEATRICALS IN A MAN-OF-WAR.
XXIV. INTRODUCTORY TO CAPE HORN.
XXV. THE DOG-DAYS OFF CAPE HORN.
XXVI. THE PITCH OF THE CAPE.
XXVII. SOME THOUGHTS GROWING OUT OF MAD JACK’S COUNTERMANDING HIS
SUPERIOR’S ORDER.
XXVIII. EDGING AWAY.
XXIX. THE NIGHT-WATCHES.
XXX. A PEEP THROUGH A PORT-HOLE AT THE SUBTERRANEAN PARTS OF A
MAN-OF-WAR.
XXXI. THE GUNNER UNDER HATCHES.
XXXII. A DISH OF DUNDERFUNK.
XXXIII. A FLOGGING.
XXXIV. SOME OF THE EVIL EFFECTS OF FLOGGING.
XXXV. FLOGGING NOT LAWFUL.
XXXVI. FLOGGING NOT NECESSARY.
XXXVII. SOME SUPERIOR OLD “LONDON DOCK” FROM THE WINE-COOLERS OF
NEPTUNE.
XXXVIII. THE CHAPLAIN AND CHAPEL IN A MAN-OF-WAR.
XXXIX. THE FRIGATE IN HARBOUR.—THE BOATS.—GRAND STATE RECEPTION OF
THE COMMODORE.
XL. SOME OF THE CEREMONIES IN A MAN-OF-WAR UNNECESSARY AND
INJURIOUS.
XLI. A MAN-OF-WAR LIBRARY.
XLII. KILLING TIME IN A MAN-OF-WAR IN HARBOUR.
XLIII. SMUGGLING IN A MAN-OF-WAR.
XLIV. A KNAVE IN OFFICE IN A MAN-OF-WAR.
XLV. PUBLISHING POETRY IN A MAN-OF-WAR.
XLVI. THE COMMODORE ON THE POOP, AND ONE OF “THE PEOPLE” UNDER THE
HANDS OF THE SURGEON.
XLVII. AN AUCTION IN A MAN-OF-WAR.
XLVIII. PURSER, PURSER’S STEWARD, AND POSTMASTER IN A MAN-OF-WAR.
XLIX. RUMOURS OF A WAR, AND HOW THEY WERE RECEIVED BY THE
POPULATION OF THE NEVERSINK.
L. THE BAY OF ALL BEAUTIES.
LI. ONE OF “THE PEOPLE” HAS AN AUDIENCE WITH THE COMMODORE AND
THE CAPTAIN ON THE QUARTER-DECK.
LII. SOMETHING CONCERNING MIDSHIPMEN.
LIII. SEAFARING PERSONS PECULIARLY SUBJECT TO BEING UNDER THE
WEATHER.—THE EFFECTS OF THIS UPON A MAN-OF-WAR CAPTAIN.
LIV. “THE PEOPLE” ARE GIVEN “LIBERTY.”
LV. MIDSHIPMEN ENTERING THE NAVY EARLY.
LVI. A SHORE EMPEROR ON BOARD A MAN-OF-WAR.
LVII. THE EMPEROR REVIEWS THE PEOPLE AT QUARTERS.
LVIII. A QUARTER-DECK OFFICER BEFORE THE MAST.
LIX. A MAN-OF-WAR BUTTON DIVIDES TWO BROTHERS.
LX. A MAN-OF-WAR’S-MAN SHOT AT.
LXI. THE SURGEON OF THE FLEET.
LXII. A CONSULTATION OF MAN-OF-WAR SURGEONS.
LXIII. THE OPERATION.
LXIV. MAN-OF-WAR TROPHIES.
LXV. A MAN-OF-WAR RACE.
LXVI. FUN IN A MAN-OF-WAR.
LXVII. WHITE-JACKET ARRAIGNED AT THE MAST.
LXVIII. A MAN-OF-WAR FOUNTAIN, AND OTHER THINGS.
LXIX. PRAYERS AT THE GUNS.
LXX. MONTHLY MUSTER ROUND THE CAPSTAN.
LXXI. THE GENEALOGY OF THE ARTICLES OF WAR.
LXXII. “HEREIN ARE THE GOOD ORDINANCES OF THE SEA, WHICH WISE MEN,
WHO VOYAGED ROUND THE WORLD, GAVE TO OUR ANCESTORS, AND WHICH
CONSTITUTE THE BOOKS OF THE SCIENCE OF GOOD CUSTOMS.”
LXXIII. NIGHT AND DAY GAMBLING IN A MAN-OF-WAR.
LXXIV. THE MAIN-TOP AT NIGHT.
LXXV. “SINK, BURN, AND DESTROY.”
LXXVI. THE CHAINS.
LXXVII. THE HOSPITAL IN A MAN-OF-WAR.
LXXVIII. DISMAL TIMES IN THE MESS.
LXXIX. HOW MAN-OF-WAR’S-MEN DIE AT SEA.
LXXX. THE LAST STITCH.
LXXXI. HOW THEY BURY A MAN-OF-WAR’S-MAN AT SEA.
LXXXII. WHAT REMAINS OF A MAN-OF-WAR’S-MAN AFTER HIS BURIAL AT SEA.
LXXXIII. A MAN-OF-WAR COLLEGE.
LXXXIV. MAN-OF-WAR BARBERS.
LXXXV. THE GREAT MASSACRE OF THE BEARDS.
LXXXVI. THE REBELS BROUGHT TO THE MAST.
LXXXVII. OLD USHANT AT THE GANGWAY.
LXXXVIII. FLOGGING THROUGH THE FLEET.
LXXXIX. THE SOCIAL STATE IN A MAN-OF-WAR.
XC. THE MANNING OF NAVIES.
XCI. SMOKING-CLUB IN A MAN-OF-WAR, WITH SCENES ON THE GUN-DECK
DRAWING NEAR HOME.
XCII. THE LAST OF THE JACKET.
XCIII. CABLE AND ANCHOR ALL CLEAR.
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 last harbour
in the Pacific—I found myself without a _grego_, or sailor’s surtout;
and as, toward the end of a three years’ cruise, no pea-jackets could
be had from the purser’s steward: and being bound for Cape Horn, some
sort of a substitute was indispensable; I employed myself, for several
days, in manufacturing an outlandish garment of my own devising, to
shelter me from the boisterous weather we 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 then making a
continuation of the slit there, opened it lengthwise—much as you would
cut a leaf in the last new novel. The gash being made, a metamorphosis
took place, transcending any related by Ovid. For, presto! the shirt
was a coat!—a strange-looking coat, to be sure; of a Quakerish
amplitude about the skirts; with an infirm, tumble-down collar; and a
clumsy fullness about the wristbands; and white, yea, white as a
shroud. And my shroud it afterward 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 white linen
garment it may have seemed; but then, people almost universally sport
their linen next to their skin.
Very true; and that thought very early occurred to me; for no idea 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 my jacket, till it
became, all over, stiff and padded, as King James’s cotton-stuffed and
dagger-proof doublet; and no buckram or steel hauberk stood up more
stoutly.
So far, very good; but pray, tell me, White-Jacket, how do you propose
keeping out the rain and the wet in this quilted _grego_ of yours? You
don’t call this wad of old patches a Mackintosh, do you?——you don’t
pretend to say that worsted is water-proof?
No, my dear friend; and that was the deuce of it. Waterproof it was
not, no more than a sponge. Indeed, with such recklessness had I
bequilted my jacket, that in a rain-storm I became a universal
absorber; swabbing bone-dry the very bulwarks I leaned against. Of a
damp day, my heartless shipmates even used to stand up against me, so
powerful was the capillary attraction between this luckless jacket of
mine and all drops of moisture. I dripped like a turkey a roasting; and
long after the rain storms were over, and the sun showed his face, I
still stalked a Scotch mist; and when it was fair weather with others,
alas! it was foul weather with me.
_Me?_ Ah me! Soaked and heavy, what a burden was that jacket to carry
about, especially when I was sent up aloft; dragging myself up step by
step, as if I were weighing the anchor. Small time then, to strip, and
wring it out in a rain, when no hanging back or delay was permitted.
No, no; up you go: fat or lean: Lambert or Edson: never mind how much
avoirdupois you might weigh. And thus, in my own proper person, did
many showers of rain reascend toward the skies, in accordance with the
natural laws.
But here be it known, that I had been terribly disappointed in carrying
out my original plan concerning this jacket. It had been my intention
to make it thoroughly impervious, by giving it a coating of paint, But
bitter fate ever overtakes us unfortunates. So much paint had been
stolen by the sailors, in daubing their overhaul trowsers and
tarpaulins, that by the time I—an honest man—had completed my
quiltings, the paint-pots were banned, 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 porous one; and
in a dark night, gleaming white as the White Lady of Avenel!