25. CHAPTER XXV.
Though, for reasons hinted at above, they would not let
me steer, I contented myself with learning the compass, a
graphic fac-simile of which I drew on a blank leaf of the
“Wealth of Nations,” and studied it every morning, like
the multiplication table.
I liked to peep in at the binnacle, and watch the needle;
and I wondered how it was that it pointed north, rather
than south or west; for I do not know that any reason
can be given why it points in the precise direction it
does. One would think, too, that, as since the beginning
of the world almost, the tide of emigration has been setting
west, the needle would point that way; whereas, it is forever
pointing its fixed fore-finger toward the Pole, where there
are few inducements to attract a sailor, unless it be plenty
of ice for mint-juleps.
Our binnacle, by the way, the place that holds a ship's
compasses, deserves a word of mention. It was a little house,
about the bigness of a common bird-cage, with sliding panel
doors, and two drawing-rooms within, and constantly perched
upon a stand, right in front of the helm. It had two chimney
stacks to carry off the smoke of the lamp that burned
in it by night. It was painted green, and on two sides had
Venetian blinds; and on one side two glazed sashes; so that
it looked like a cool little summer retreat, a snug bit of an
arbor at the end of a shady garden lane. Had I been the
captain, I would have planted vines in boxes, and placed
them so as to overrun this binnacle; or I would have put
canary-birds within; and so made an aviary of it. It is
surprising what a different air may be imparted to the
meanest thing by the dainty hand of taste.
Nor must I omit the helm itself, which was one of a new
construction, and a particular favorite of the captain. It
was a complex system of cogs and wheels and spindles, all
of polished brass, and looked something like a printing-press,
or power-loom. The sailors, however, did not like it much,
owing to the casualties that happened to their imprudent
fingers, by catching in among the cogs and other intricate
contrivances. Then, sometimes in a calm, when the sudden
swells would lift the ship, the helm would fetch a lurch, and
send the helmsman revolving round like Ixion, often seriously
hurting him; a sort of breaking on the wheel.
The harness-cask, also, a sort of sea side-board, or rather
meat-safe, in which a week's allowance of salt pork and
beef is kept, deserves being chronicled. It formed part of
the standing furniture of the quarter-deck. Of an oval
shape, it was banded round with hoops all silver-gilt, with
gilded bands secured with gilded screws, and a gilded padlock,
richly chased. This formed the captain's smoking-seat,
where he would perch himself of an afternoon, a tasseled
Chinese cap upon his head, and a fragrant Havanna
between his white and canine-looking teeth. He took much
solid comfort, Captain Riga.
Then the magnificent capstan! The pride and glory of
the whole ship's company, the constant care and dandled
darling of the cook, whose duty it was to keep it polished
like a tea-pot; and it was an object of distant admiration to
the steerage passengers. Like a parlor center-table, it stood
full in the middle of the quarter-deck, radiant with brazen
stars, and variegated with diamond-shaped veneerings of
mahogany and satin wood. This was the captain's lounge,
and the chief mate's secretary, in the bar-holes keeping
paper and pencil for memorandums.
I might proceed and speak of the boody-hatch, used as a
sort of settee by the officers, and the fife-rail round the
mainmast, inclosing a little park of canvas, painted green,
where a small white dog with a blue ribbon round his neck,
belonging to the dock-master's daughter, used to take his
morning walks, and air himself in this small edition of the
New York Bowling-Green.
