ONE REASON WHY MEN-OF-WAR’S MEN ARE, GENERALLY, SHORT-LIVED.
I cannot quit this matter of the hammocks without making mention of a
grievance among the sailors that ought to be redressed.
In a man-of-war at sea, the sailors have _watch and watch;_ that is,
through every twenty-four hours, they are on and off duty every four
hours. Now, the hammocks are piped down from the nettings (the open
space for stowing them, running round the top of the bulwarks) a little
after sunset, and piped up again when the forenoon watch is called, at
eight o’clock in the morning; so that during the daytime they are
inaccessible as pallets. This would be all well enough, did the sailors
have a complete night’s rest; but every other night at sea, one watch
have only four hours in their hammocks. Indeed, deducting the time
allowed for the other watch to turn out; for yourself to arrange your
hammock, get into it, and fairly get asleep; it maybe said that, every
other night, you have but three hours’ sleep in your hammock. Having
then been on deck for twice four hours, at eight o’clock in the morning
your _watch-below_ comes round, and you are not liable to duty until
noon. Under like circumstances, a merchant seaman goes to his _bunk_,
and has the benefit of a good long sleep. But in a man-of-war you can
do no such thing; your hammock is very neatly stowed in the nettings,
and there it must remain till nightfall.
But perhaps there is a corner for you somewhere along the batteries on
the gun-deck, where you may enjoy a snug nap. But as no one is allowed
to recline on the larboard side of the gun-deck (which is reserved as a
corridor for the officers when they go forward to their smoking-room at
the _bridle-port_), the starboard side only is left to the seaman. But
most of this side, also, is occupied by the carpenters, sail-makers,
barbers, and coopers. In short, so few are the 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, after by good fortune securing a
corner, I have been roused from it by some functionary commissioned to
keep it clear.
Off Cape Horn, what before had been very uncomfortable became a serious
hardship. Drenched through and through by the spray of the sea at
night. I have sometimes slept standing on the spar-deck—and shuddered
as I slept—for the want of sufficient sleep in my hammock.
During three days of the stormiest weather, we were given the privilege
of the _berth-deck_ (at other times strictly interdicted), where we
were permitted to spread our jackets, and take a nap in the morning
after the eight hours’ night exposure. But this privilege was but a
beggarly one, indeed. Not to speak of our jackets—used for
blankets—being soaking wet, the spray, coming down the hatchways, kept
the planks of the berth-deck itself constantly wet; whereas, had we
been permitted our hammocks, we might have swung dry over all this
deluge. But we endeavoured to make ourselves as warm and comfortable as
possible, chiefly by close stowing, so as to generate a little steam,
in the absence of any fire-side warmth. You have seen, perhaps, the way
in which they box up subjects intended to illustrate the winter
lectures of a professor of surgery. Just so we laid; heel and point,
face to back, dove-tailed into each other at every ham and knee. The
wet of our jackets, thus densely packed, would soon begin to distill.
But it was like pouring hot water on you to keep you from freezing. It
was like being “packed” between the soaked sheets in a Water-cure
Establishment.
Such a posture could not be preserved for any considerable period
without shifting side for side. Three or four times during the four
hours I would be startled from a wet doze by the hoarse cry of a fellow
who did the duty of a corporal at the after-end of my file. “_Sleepers
ahoy! stand by to slew round!_” and, with a double shuffle, we all
rolled in concert, and found ourselves facing the taffrail instead of
the bowsprit. But, however you turned, your nose was sure to stick to
one or other of the steaming backs on your two flanks. There was some
little relief in the change of odour consequent upon this.
But what is the reason that, after battling out eight stormy hours on
deck at, night, men-of-war’s-men are not allowed the poor boon of a dry
four hours’ nap during the day following? What is the reason? The
Commodore, Captain, and first Lieutenant, Chaplain, Purser, and scores
of others, have _all night in_, just as if they were staying at a hotel
on shore. And the junior Lieutenants not only have their cots to go to
at any time: but as only one of them is required to head the watch, and
there are so many of them among whom to divide that duty, they are only
on deck four hours to twelve hours 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 so hard in
this matter? It would seem but a simple thing to let them get down
their hammocks during the day for a nap. But no; such a proceeding
would mar the uniformity of daily events in a man-of-war. It seems
indispensable to the picturesque effect of the spar-deck, that the
hammocks should invariably remain stowed in the nettings between
sunrise and sundown. But the chief reason is this—a reason which has
sanctioned many an abuse in this world—_precedents are against it;_
such a thing as sailors sleeping in their hammocks in the daytime,
after being eight hours exposed to a night-storm, was hardly ever heard
of in the navy. Though, to the immortal honour of some captains be it
said, the fact is upon navy record, that off Cape Horn, they _have_
vouchsafed the morning hammocks to their crew. Heaven bless such
tender-hearted officers; and may they and their descendants—ashore or
afloat—have sweet and pleasant slumbers while they live, and an
undreaming siesta when they die.
It is concerning such things as the subject of this chapter that
special enactments of Congress are demanded. Health and comfort—so far
as duly attainable under the circumstances—should be legally guaranteed
to the man-of-war’s-men; and not left to the discretion or caprice of
their commanders.