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 to follow—that
to a common sailor, the living on board a man-of-war is like living in
a market; where you dress on the door-steps, and sleep in the cellar.
No privacy can you have; hardly one moment’s seclusion. It is almost a
physical impossibility, that you can ever be alone. You dine at a vast
_table d’hote_; sleep in commons, and make your toilet where and when
you can. There is no calling for a mutton chop and a pint of claret by
yourself; no selecting of chambers for the night; no hanging of
pantaloons over the back of a chair; no ringing your bell of a rainy
morning, to take your coffee in bed. It is something like life in a
large manufactory. The bell strikes to dinner, and hungry or not, you
must dine.
Your clothes are stowed in a large canvas bag, generally painted black,
which you can get out of the “rack” only once in the twenty-four hours;
and then, during a time of the utmost confusion; among five hundred
other bags, with five hundred other sailors diving into each, in the
midst of the twilight of the berth-deck. In some measure to obviate
this inconvenience, many sailors divide their wardrobes between their
hammocks and their bags; stowing a few frocks and trowsers in the
former; so that they can shift at night, if they wish, when the
hammocks are piped down. But they gain very little by this.
You have no place whatever but your bag or hammock, in which to put
anything in a man-of-war. If you lay anything down, and turn your back
for a moment, ten to one it is gone.
Now, in sketching the preliminary plan, and laying out the foundation
of that memorable white jacket of mine, I had had an earnest eye to all
these inconveniences, and re-solved to avoid them. I proposed, that not
only should my jacket keep me warm, but that it should also be so
constructed as to contain a shirt or two, a pair of trowsers, and
divers knick-knacks—sewing utensils, books, biscuits, and the like.
With this object, I had accordingly provided it with a great variety of
pockets, pantries, clothes-presses, and cupboards.
The principal apartments, two in number, were placed in the skirts,
with a wide, hospitable entrance from the inside; two more, of smaller
capacity, were planted in each breast, with folding-doors
communicating, so that in case of emergency, to accommodate any bulky
articles, the two pockets in each breast could be thrown into one.
There were, also, several unseen recesses behind the arras; insomuch,
that my jacket, like an old castle, 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 my studies to the
main-royal-yard; and the other pair, for permanent mittens, to thrust
my hands into of a cold night-watch. This last contrivance was regarded
as needless by one of my top-mates, who showed me a pattern for
sea-mittens, which he said was much better than mine.
It must be known, that sailors, even in the bleakest weather, only
cover their hands when unemployed; they never wear mittens aloft, since
aloft they literally carry their lives in their hands, and want nothing
between their grasp of the hemp, and the hemp itself.—Therefore, it is
desirable, that whatever things they cover their hands with, should be
capable of being slipped on and off in a moment. Nay, it is desirable,
that they should be of such a nature, that in a dark night, when you
are in a great hurry—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 one meant for
it.
My top-mate’s contrivance was this—he ought to have got out a patent
for it—each of his mittens was provided with two thumbs, one on each
side; the convenience of which needs no comment. But though for clumsy
seamen, whose fingers are all thumbs, this description of mitten might
do very well, White-Jacket did not so much fancy it. For when your hand
was once in the bag of the mitten, the empty thumb-hole sometimes
dangled at your palm, confounding your ideas of where your real thumb
might be; or else, being carefully grasped in the hand, was continually
suggesting the insane notion, that you were all the while having hold
of some one else’s thumb.
No; I told my good top-mate to go away with his four thumbs, I would
have nothing to do with them; two thumbs were enough for any man.
For some time after completing my jacket, and getting the furniture and
household stores in it; I thought that nothing could exceed it for
convenience. Seldom now did I have occasion to go to my bag, and be
jostled by the crowd who were making their wardrobe in a heap. If I
wanted anything in the way of clothing, thread, needles, or literature,
the chances were that my invaluable jacket contained it. Yes: I fairly
hugged myself, and revelled in my jacket; till, alas! a long rain put
me out of conceit of it. I, and all my pockets and their contents, were
soaked through and through, and my pocket-edition of Shakespeare was
reduced to an omelet.
However, availing myself of a fine sunny day that followed, I emptied
myself out in the main-top, and spread all my goods and chattels to
dry. But spite of the bright sun, that day proved a black one. The
scoundrels on deck detected me in the act of discharging my saturated
cargo; they now knew that the white jacket was used for a storehouse.
The consequence was that, my goods being well dried and again stored
away in my pockets, the very next night, when it was my quarter-watch
on deck, and not in the top (where they were all honest men), I noticed
a parcel of fellows skulking about after me, wherever I went. To a man,
they were pickpockets, and bent upon pillaging me. In vain I kept
clapping my pocket like a nervous old gentlemen in a crowd; that same
night I found myself minus several valuable articles. So, in the end, I
masoned up my lockers and pantries; and save the two used for mittens,
the white jacket ever after was pocketless.