University of Virginia Library

53. CHAPTER LIII.

It has been said that some midshipmen, in certain cases,
are guilty of spiteful practices against the man-of-war's-man.
But as these midshipmen are presumed to have received the
liberal and lofty breeding of gentlemen, it would seem all but
incredible that any of their corps could descend to the paltriness
of cherishing personal malice against so conventionally
degraded a being as a sailor. So, indeed, it would seem. But
when all the circumstances are considered, it will not appear
extraordinary that some of them should thus cast discredit
upon the warrants they wear. Title, and rank, and wealth,
and education can not unmake human nature; the same in
cabin-boy and commodore, its only differences lie in the different
modes of development.

At sea, a frigate houses and homes five hundred mortals
in a space so contracted that they can hardly so much as
move but they touch. Cut off from all those outward passing
things which ashore employ the eyes, tongues, and thoughts
of landsmen, the inmates of a frigate are thrown upon themselves
and each other, and all their ponderings are introspective.
A morbidness of mind is often the consequence, especially
upon long voyages, accompanied by foul weather, calms,
or head-winds. Nor does this exempt from its evil influence
any rank on board. Indeed, high station only ministers to it
the more, since the higher the rank in a man-of-war, the less
companionship.

It is an odious, unthankful, repugnant thing to dwell upon

a subject like this; nevertheless, be it said, that, through
these jaundiced influences, even the captain of a frigate is, in
some cases, indirectly induced to the infliction of corporal
punishment upon a seaman. Never sail under a navy captain
whom you suspect of being dyspeptic, or constitutionally
prone to hypochondria.

The manifestation of these things is sometimes remarkable.
In the earlier part of the cruise, while making a long,
tedious run from Mazatlan to Callao on the Main, baffled
by light head winds and frequent intermitting calms, when
all hands were heartily wearied by the torrid, monotonous
sea, a good-natured fore-top-man, by the name of Candy—
quite a character in his way—standing in the waist among
a crowd of seamen, touched me, and said, “D'ye see the
old man there, White-Jacket, walking the poop? Well,
don't he look as if he wanted to flog some one? Look at
him once.”

But to me, at least, no such indications were visible in the
deportment of the Captain, though his thrashing the arm-chest
with the slack of the spanker-out-haul looked a little
suspicious. But any one might have been doing that to pass
away a calm.

“Depend on it,” said the top-man, “he must somehow have
thought I was making sport of him a while ago, when I was
only taking off old Prming, the gunner's mate. Just look at
him once, White-Jacket, while I make believe coil this here
rope; if there arn't a dozen in that 'ere Captain's top-lights,
my name is horse-marine. If I could only touch my tile to
him now, and take my Bible oath on it, that I was only
taking off Priming, and not him, he wouldn't have such hard
thoughts of me. But that can't be done; he'd think I
meant to insult him. Well, it can't be helped; I suppose I
must look out for a baker's dozen afore long.”

I had an incredulous laugh at this. But two days afterward,
when we were hoisting the main-top-mast stun'-sail,
and the Lieutenant of the Watch was reprimanding the

crowd of seamen at the halyards for their laziness—for the
sail was but just crawling up to its place, owing to the languor
of the men, induced by the heat—the Captain, who had
been impatiently walking the deck, suddenly stopped short,
and darting his eyes among the seamen, suddenly fixed them,
crying out, “You, Candy, and be damned to you, you don't
pall an ounce, you blackguard! Stand up to that gun, sir;
I'll teach you to be grinning over a rope that way, without
lending your pound of beef to it. Boatswain's mate, where's
your colt? Give that man a dozen.”

Removing his hat, the boatswain's mate looked into the
crown aghast; the coiled rope, usually worn there, was not
to be found; but the next instant it slid from the top of his
head to the deck. Picking it up, and straightening it out,
he advanced toward the sailor.

“Sir,” said Candy, touching and retouching his cap to
the Captain, “I was pulling, sir, as much as the rest, sir; I
was, indeed, sir.”

“Stand up to that gun,” cried the Captain. “Boatswain's
mate, do your duty.”

Three stripes were given, when the Captain raised his
finger. “You —,[1] do you dare stand up to be flogged
with your hat on! Take it off, sir, instantly.”

Candy dropped it on deck.

“Now go on, boatswain's mate.” And the sailor received
his dozen.

With his hand to his back he came up to me, where I
stood among the by-standers, saying, “O Lord, O Lord! that
boatswain's mate, too, had a spite agin me; he always
thought it was me that set afloat that yarn about his wife
in Norfolk. O Lord! just run your hand under my shirt,
will you, White-Jacket? There! didn't he have a spite agin
me, to raise such bars as them? And my shirt all cut to

pieces, too—arn't it, White-Jacket? Damn me, but these
coltings puts the tin in the Purser's pocket. O Lord! my
back feels as if there was a red-hot gridiron lashed to it.
But I told you so—a widow's curse on him, say I—he thought
I meant him, and not Priming.”