JACK CHASE.
The first night out of port was a clear, moonlight one; the frigate
gliding though the water, with all her batteries.
It was my Quarter Watch in the top; and there I reclined on the best
possible terms with my top-mates. Whatever the other seamen might have
been, these were a noble set of tars, and well worthy an 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 broad brow, and an abounding nut-brown beard. No man ever
had a better heart or a bolder. He was loved by the seamen and admired
by the officers; and even when the Captain spoke to him, it was with a
slight air of respect. Jack was a frank and charming man.
No one could be better company in forecastle or saloon; no man told
such stories, sang such songs, or with greater alacrity sprang to his
duty. Indeed, there was only one thing wanting about him; and that was
a finger of his left hand, which finger he had lost at the great battle
of Navarino.
He had a high conceit of his profession as a seaman; and being deeply
versed in all things pertaining to a man-of-war, was universally
regarded as an oracle. The main-top, over which he presided, was a sort
of oracle of Delphi; to which many pilgrims ascended, to have their
perplexities or differences settled.
There was such an abounding air of good sense and good feeling about
the man, that he who could not love him, would thereby pronounce
himself a knave. I thanked my sweet stars, that kind fortune 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 not his
heart, too often the case with soft palms. His manners were easy and
free; none of the boisterousness, so common to tars; and he had a
polite, courteous way of saluting you, if it were only to borrow your
knife. Jack had read all the verses of Byron, and all the romances of
Scott. He talked of Rob Roy, Don Juan, and Pelham; Macbeth and Ulysses;
but, above all things, was an ardent admirer of Camoens. Parts of the
Lusiad, he could recite in the original. Where he had obtained his
wonderful accomplishments, it is not for me, his humble subordinate, to
say. Enough, that those accomplishments were so various; the languages
he could converse in, so numerous; that he more than furnished an
example of that saying of Charles the Fifth—_ he who speaks five
languages is as good as five men_. But Jack, he was better than a
hundred common mortals; Jack was a whole phalanx, an entire army; Jack
was a thousand strong; Jack would have done honour to the Queen of
England’s drawing-room; Jack must have been a by-blow of some British
Admiral of the Blue. A finer specimen of the island race of Englishmen
could not have been picked out of Westminster Abbey of a coronation
day.
His whole demeanor was in strong contrast to that of one of the
Captains of the fore-top. This man, though a good seaman, furnished an
example of those insufferable Britons, who, while preferring other
countries to their own as places of residence; still, overflow with all
the pompousness of national and individual 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 of men-of-war’s-men, when they deem anything to be going on
wrong aboard ship to refer to _last cruise_ when of course everything
was done _ship-shape and Bristol fashion_. And by referring to the
_Audacious_—an expressive name by the way—the fore-top Captain meant a
ship in the English navy, in which he had had the honour of serving. So
continual were his allusions to this craft with the amiable name, that
at last, the _Audacious_ was voted a bore by his shipmates. And one hot
afternoon, during a calm, when the fore-top Captain like many others,
was standing still and yawning on the spar-deck; Jack Chase, his own
countryman, came up to him, and pointing at his open mouth, politely
inquired, whether that 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 are railed
in behind so as to form a kind of balcony, very pleasant of a tropical
night. From twenty to thirty loungers may agreeably recline there,
cushioning themselves on old sails and jackets. We had rare times in
that top. We accounted ourselves the best seamen in the ship; and from
our airy perch, literally looked down upon the landlopers below,
sneaking about the deck, among the guns. In a large degree, we
nourished that feeling of “_esprit de corps_,” always pervading, more
or less, the various sections 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 the freedom in the world.
Nevertheless, I had not long been a member of this fraternity of fine
fellows, ere I discovered that Jack Chase, our captain was—like all
prime favorites and oracles among men—a little bit of a dictator; not
peremptorily, or annoyingly so, but amusingly intent on egotistically
mending our manners and improving our taste, so that we might reflect
credit upon our tutor.
He made us all wear our hats at a particular angle—instructed us in the
tie of our neck-handkerchiefs; and protested against our wearing vulgar
_dungeree_ trowsers; besides giving us lessons in seamanship; and
solemnly conjuring us, forever to eschew the company of any sailor we
suspected of having served in a whaler. Against all whalers, indeed, he
cherished the unmitigated detestation of a true man-of-war’s man. Poor
Tubbs can testify to that.
Tubbs was in the After-Guard; a long, lank Vineyarder, eternally
talking 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 he was
vulgar, an upstart—Devil take him, he’s been in a whaler. But like many
men, who have been where _you_ haven’t been; or seen what _you_ haven’t
seen; Tubbs, on account of his whaling experiences, absolutely affected
to look down upon Jack, even as Jack 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 on deck
to invite Tubbs up aloft for a chat. Flattered by so marked an
honor—for we were somewhat fastidious, and did not extend such
invitations to every body—Tubb’s quickly mounted the rigging, looking
rather abashed at finding himself in the august presence of the
assembled Quarter-Watch of main-top-men. Jack’s courteous 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 feel himself at ease, than he launched out,
as usual, into tremendous laudations of whalemen; declaring that
whalemen alone deserved the name of sailors. Jack stood it some time;
but when Tubbs came down upon men-of-war, and particularly upon
main-top-men, his sense of propriety was so outraged, that he launched
into Tubbs like a forty-two pounder.
“Why, you limb of Nantucket! you train-oil man! you sea-tallow
strainer! you bobber after carrion! do _you_ pretend to vilify a
man-of-war? Why, you lean rogue, you, a man-of-war is to whalemen, as a
metropolis to shire-towns, and sequestered hamlets. _Here’s_ the place
for life and commotion; _here’s_ the place to be gentlemanly and jolly.
And what did you know, you bumpkin! before you came on board this
_Andrew Miller?_ What knew you of gun-deck, or orlop, mustering round
the capstan, beating to quarters, and piping to dinner? Did you ever
roll to _grog_ on board your greasy ballyhoo of blazes? Did you ever
winter at Mahon? Did you ever ‘_lash and carry?_’ Why, what are even a
merchant-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 even these yarns, you Tubbs
you! to high life in a man-of-war? Why, you dead-eye! I have sailed
with lords and marquises for captains; and the King of the Two Sicilies
has passed me, as I here stood up at my gun. Bah! you are full of the
fore-peak and the forecastle; you are only familiar with Burtons and
Billy-tackles; your ambition never mounted above pig-killing! which, in
my poor opinion, is the proper phrase for whaling! Topmates! has not
this Tubbs here been but a misuser of good oak planks, and a vile
desecrator of the thrice holy sea? turning his ship, my hearties! into
a fat-kettle, and the ocean into a whale-pen? Begone! you graceless,
godless knave! pitch him over the top there, White-Jacket!”
But there was no necessity for my exertions. Poor Tubbs, astounded at
these fulminations, was already rapidly descending by the rigging.
This outburst on the part of my noble friend Jack made me shake all
over, spite of my padded surtout; and caused me to offer up devout
thanksgivings, that in no evil hour had I divulged the fact of having
myself served in a whaler; for having previously marked the prevailing
prejudice of men-of-war’s men to that much-maligned class of mariners,
I had wisely held my peace concerning stove boats on the coast of
Japan.