New Messmates.
The next morning, immediately after quarters, the second cutter was
called away; and Frank, after seeing his luggage safely stowed away in
her, shook hands with his brother officers, who had gathered on the
quarter-deck to see him off, and started toward his new vessel.
The cutter had made, perhaps, a dozen yards from the Ticonderoga, when
Frank observed a commotion among the crew assembled on the main-deck,
and the old mate, mounting one of the boat-davits, shouted:
"Three cheers for Mr. Nelson!"
The cheers were given with a will, and Frank answered them by taking off
his cap. It was one of the happiest moments of his life. He knew that
while attached to the Ticonderoga he had endeavored to do his whole
duty. The shoulder-straps which he wore showed that his services had
been appreciated by the captain, and the hearty expression of good
feeling which had just been exhibited by the men, afforded abundant
proof that he had left no enemies among them.
When he arrived alongside of the Rover, he found the officer of the
deck, boatswain's mate, and side-boys standing on the after-guard, and
Frank was "piped over the side" with all the ceremony due his rank. It
made him feel a little embarrassed at first, for never before had so
much respect been shown him. But he knew that he had won the uniform he
wore by hard knocks, and was more entitled to this honor than those who
sported ensign's shoulder-straps which had been obtained, not by any
skill or bravery of their own, but by the influence of friends at home.
Frank made known his business, and was immediately shown down into the
cabin. The captain, who had often met him on board of the Ticonderoga,
and who had heard of his exploits, greeted him cordially, and was glad
to learn that he had received such an acquisition to his crew. When he
had endorsed Frank's orders, he sent for the chief engineer, to whom he
introduced him, with a request that he might be made acquainted with the
other officers of his mess; after which Frank was shown to his room,
whither his luggage was soon conveyed.
Just before supper he was introduced to the officers belonging to the
ward-room mess; but when he had seated himself at the table, and
listened a few moments to the conversation that followed, he found that
some of his new messmates went by names very different from those by
which they had been introduced. One of the ensigns, whose name was
Andrews, was known as Count Timbertoes, from the very dignified manner
in which he always conducted himself, and from his wooden-leg style of
progression.
The executive officer, whose name was Short, answered to its
opposite--Long; and sometimes, behind his back, he was called "Windy."
Frank was not long in discovering why it was that such a name had been
given him, for he was certainly the most talkative man he had ever met;
and when asked the most simple question, instead of answering it by a
plain Yes or No, he would "beat about the bush," and deliver a regular
oration on the subject. He had a great command of language, and seemed
desirous of making every one whom he met acquainted with the fact.
The paymaster went by the name of Young Methuselah. He was a man about
twenty-seven years of age, but the account kept by one of the engineers,
who messed in the steerage, made him about two hundred and eighty years
old. There was scarcely a trade or profession in the world that,
according to his own account, he had not followed for five or ten years.
He had been a shoemaker, a painter, a grocer, a horse-jockey, and an
editor; had practiced medicine, traveled in Europe, and, when a mere
boy, had been master of as fine a vessel as ever sailed out of Boston.
He was a "self-made man," he said, and early in life had started out
with the intention of seeing the world. This was the reason he gave for
following so many different occupations.
Unlike the rest of the officers, he disliked very much the name they had
given him, and had often complained to the caterer of the mess, and
finally to the captain. The former took no measures to correct it, and
the latter "didn't want to be troubled with mess affairs," and so the
paymaster was compelled to bear his troubles, which he did with a very
bad grace, that only made matters tenfold worse. It was a noticeable
fact, however, that, whenever any of the officers were in need of money,
he was always addressed as _Mr._ Harris, but as soon as the money had
been obtained, or the safe was empty, he was plain Methuselah again.
The chief-engineer's name was Cobbs, but he went by the name of
Gentleman Cobbs, from the fact that he was always dressed in the height
of fashion, sported his gold-headed cane and patent-leather boots about
decks, and had never been known to "do a stitch of work" since he had
been on board the vessel.
These names were, of course, applied only in the mess-room, for the
captain was a regular naval officer, a very strict disciplinarian, and
any such familiarity on deck would have brought certain and speedy
punishment on the offender. On the whole, Frank was very well pleased
with his new messmates; they seemed to be a set of generous,
good-natured men, and, aside from the grumbling of the paymaster, which
was kept up without intermission from morning until night, but which
received no attention from the other members of the mess, every thing
passed off smoothly. The ward-room was kept scrupulously clean and neat,
and the manner in which all the delicacies of the season were served up
bore testimony to the fact that, although Gentleman Cobbs was very much
averse to work, he well understood the business of catering, and was
fond of good living.
After dinner, the officers belonging to both the steerage and ward-room
messes congregated on the main-deck, under the awning, to smoke. During
the conversation the carpenter, who went by the name of "Chips,"
remarked, as he wiped the big drops of perspiration from his forehead:
"This boat is intolerable. I would like to be where I was six years ago
this summer."
"Where was that?"
"I was in a whale-ship, off the coast of Greenland. I was tired enough
of it then, but now I'd like to have just one breath of air off those
icebergs."
"So would I," said the paymaster. "It would be so refreshing."
At this, a little, dumpy man, who had sat lolling back in his chair,
with his hat pushed down over his eyes, and his cigar, which he had
allowed to go out, pointing upward toward his left cheek, started up,
and carelessly inquired:
"Were you ever there, sir?"
"Yes, when I was a youngster. I went up there just to see the country. I
spent five years on the voyage."
The dumpy man made no answer, but there was a roguish twinkle in his
eye, as he drew a little memorandum-book from his pocket, and, after
deliberately placing it on his knee, proceeded to make the following
entry, on a page which was headed "Chronological Tables," and which was
covered on one side with writing, and on the other by a long column of
figures:
Paymaster spent on voyage to Greenland 5 years.
After adding up the column of figures, he closed the book and returned
it to his pocket. Then, turning to the paymaster, he quietly remarked:
"Four hundred and eighty-five years old! That's doing well-extremely
well. You don't look as old as that, sir. You won't find one man in five
hundred hold his age as well as you do."
The effect of this speech on the officers sitting around was ludicrous
in the extreme, and had the party been in the mess-room the dumpy man
might possibly have been obliged to "run a race" with a boot-jack, or
any other missile that came handy to the paymaster; but as it was, the
latter was compelled to choke down his wrath, and leave the deck.
Frank also found that these strange cognomens were common in the
steerage; one, in particular, he noticed. It was a master's mate, who
went by the name of "Nuisance." He was as "green" as he could possibly
be, and, although he seemed to try hard to learn his duty, was
continually getting himself into trouble. He had a room off the
quarter-deck, (the same that Frank was to occupy,) but seemed to prefer
any other room than his own; for, when off watch, he would take
possession of the first bunk that suited his fancy; and, not
unfrequently, boots, neck-ties, collars, etc., which had been missed,
were found upon his person. It was not his intention to _steal_ them,
for the articles were always returned after he had worn them to his
satisfaction. If an officer went into his room to write, or to engage in
any other business at which he did not wish to be disturbed, the mate
was sure to be on hand, and hints were of no avail; nothing but a direct
"Clear out--I don't want you in here," would have the desired effect. It
was this habit that had given him the name he bore. One would suppose
that after receiving so many rebuffs he would cease to trouble his
brother officers; but he seemed to be very dull of comprehension. The
executive officer scolded him continually. Finding that it did no good,
the officers were obliged, as a last resort, to keep their rooms locked.
Had the mate been of a surly, unaccommodating disposition, he would not
have got off so easily; but no one could have the heart to report him,
for every one liked him. He was always cheerful, ready to do any one a
favor, and was generous to a fault. Frank at once took a liking to his
new room-mate, but, having been duly instructed by the others, he took
particular pains to keep all his wearing apparel, when not in use,
safely locked in his trunk.