58. CHAPTER LVIII.
A QUARTER-DECK OFFICER BEFORE THE MAST.
As we were somewhat short-handed while we lay in Rio,
we received a small draft of men from a United States sloop
of war, whose three years' term of service would expire about
the time of our arrival in America.
Under guard of an armed Lieutenant and four midshipmen,
they came on board in the afternoon. They were immediately
mustered in the starboard gangway, that Mr. Bridewell,
our First Lieutenant, might take down their names, and
assign them their stations.
They stood in a mute and solemn row; the officer advanced,
with his memorandum-book and pencil.
My casual friend, Shakings, the holder, happened to be by
at the time. Touching my arm, he said, “White-Jacket,
this here reminds me of Sing-Sing, when a draft of fellows, in
darbies, came on from the State Prison at Auburn for a
change of scene like, you know!”
After taking down four or five names, Mr. Bridewell accosted
the next man, a rather good-looking person, but, from
his haggard cheek and sunken eye, he seemed to have been in
the sad habit, all his life, of sitting up rather late at night;
and though all sailors do certainly keep late hours enough—
standing watches at midnight—yet there is no small difference
between keeping late hours at sea and keeping late hours
ashore.
“What's your name?” asked the officer, of this rather rakish-looking
recruit.
“Mandeville, sir,” said the man, courteously touching his
cap. “You must remember me, sir,” he added, in a low, confidential
tone, strangely dashed with servility; “we sailed together
once in the old Macedonian, sir. I wore an epaulet
then; we had the same state-room, you know, sir. I'm your
old chum, Mandeville, sir,” and he again touched his cap.
“I remember an officer by that name,” said the First Lieutenant,
emphatically, “and I know you, fellow. But I know
you henceforth for a common sailor. I can show no favoritism
here. If you ever violate the ship's rules, you shall be
flogged like any other seaman. I place you in the fore-top;
go forward to your duty.”
It seemed this Mandeville had entered the Navy when very
young, and had risen to be a lieutenant, as he said. But
brandy had been his bane. One night, when he had the deck
of a line-of-battle ship, in the Mediterranean, he was seized
with a fit of mania-a-potu, and, being out of his senses for the
time, went below and turned into his berth, leaving the deck
without a commanding officer. For this unpardonable offence
he was broken.
Having no fortune, and no other profession than the sea,
upon his disgrace he entered the merchant-service as a chief
mate; but his love of strong drink still pursuing him, he was
again cashiered at sea, and degraded before the mast by the
Captain. After this, in a state of intoxication, he re-entered
the Navy at Pensacola as a common sailor. But all these
lessons, so biting-bitter to learn, could not cure him of his sin.
He had hardly been a week on board the Neversink, when he
was found intoxicated with smuggled spirits. They lashed
him to the gratings, and ignominiously scourged him under
the eye of his old friend and comrade, the First Lieutenant.
This took place while we lay in port, which reminds me
of the circumstance, that when punishment is about to be inflicted
in harbor, all strangers are ordered ashore; and the
sentries at the side have it in strict charge to waive off all
boats drawing near.
