18. CHAPTER XVIII.
A MAN-OF-WAR FULL AS A NUT.
It was necessary to supply the lost cooper's place; accordingly,
word was passed for all who belonged to that calling
to muster at the main-mast, in order that one of them might
be selected. Thirteen men obeyed the summons—a circumstance
illustrative of the fact that many good handicraftsmen
are lost to their trades and the world by serving in men-of-war.
Indeed, from a frigate's crew might be culled out men
of all callings and vocations, from a backslidden parson to a
broken-down comedian. The Navy is the asylum for the perverse,
the home of the unfortunate. Here the sons of adversity
meet the children of calamity, and here the children of calamity
meet the offspring of sin. Bankrupt brokers, boot-blacks,
blacklegs, and blacksmiths here assemble together; and castaway
tinkers, watch-makers, quill-drivers, cobblers, doctors,
farmers, and lawyers compare past experiences and talk of
old times. Wrecked on a desert shore, a man-of-war's crew
could quickly found an Alexandria by themselves, and fill it
with all the things which go to make up a capital.
Frequently, at one and the same time, you see every trade
in operation on the gun-deck—coopering, carpentering, tailoring,
tinkering, blacksmithing, rope-making, preaching, gambling,
and fortune-telling.
In truth, a man-of-war is a city afloat, with long avenues
set out with guns instead of trees, and numerous shady lanes,
courts, and by-ways. The quarter-deck is a grand square,
park, or parade ground, with a great Pittsfield elm, in the
shape of the main-mast, at one end, and fronted at the other
by the palace of the Commodore's cabin.
Or, rather, a man-of-war is a lofty, walled, and garrisoned
town, like Quebec, where the thoroughfares are mostly ramparts,
and peaceable citizens meet armed sentries at every
corner.
Or it is like the lodging-houses in Paris, turned upside down;
the first floor, or deck, being rented by a lord; the second, by
a select club of gentlemen; the third, by crowds of artisans;
and the fourth, by a whole rabble of common people.
For even thus is it in a frigate, where the commander has
a whole cabin to himself on the spar-deck, the lieutenants
their ward-room underneath, and the mass of sailors swing
their hammocks under all.
And with its long rows of port-hole casements, each revealing
the muzzle of a cannon, a man-of-war resembles a three-story
house in a suspicious part of the town, with a basement
of indefinite depth, and ugly-looking fellows gazing out at the
windows.
