4. CHAPTER IV.
The first night out of port was a clear, moonlight one;
the frigate gliding through 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 honor 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 any thing to be going on wrong aboard ship, to refer
to
last cruise, when of course every thing 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 honor 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—Tubbs
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 lanched 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 lanched 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.
