66. CHAPTER LXVI.
After the race (our man-of-war Derby) we had many days
fine weather, during which we continued running before the
Trades toward the north. Exhilarated by the thought of being
homeward-bound, many of the seamen became joyous, and
the discipline of the ship, if any thing, became a little relaxed.
Many pastimes served to while away the Dog-Watches
in particular. These Dog-Watches (embracing two hours in
the early part of the evening) form the only authorized play-time
for the crews of most ships at sea.
Among other diversions at present licensed by authority in
the Neversink, were those of single-stick, sparring, hammer-and-anvil,
and head-bumping. All these were under the direct
patronage of the Captain, otherwise—seeing the consequences
they sometimes led to—they would undoubtedly have
been strictly prohibited. It is a curious coincidence, that
when a navy captain does not happen to be an admirer of the
Fistiana, his crew seldom amuse themselves in that way.
Single-stick, as every one knows, is a delightful pastime,
which consists in two men standing a few feet apart, and rapping
each other over the head with long poles. There is a
good deal of fun in it, so long as you are not hit; but a hit—
in the judgment of discreet persons—spoils the sport completely.
When this pastime is practiced by connoisseurs ashore,
they wear heavy, wired helmets, to break the force of the
blows. But the only helmets of our tars were those with
which nature had furnished them. They played with great
gun-rammers.
Sparring consists in playing single-stick with bone poles
instead of wooden ones. Two men stand apart, and pommel
each other with their fists (a hard bunch of knuckles permanently
attached to the arms, and made globular, or extended
into a palm, at the pleasure of the proprietor), till one of them,
finding himself sufficiently thrashed, cries
enough.
Hammer-and-anvil is thus practiced by amateurs: Patient
No. 1 gets on all-fours, and stays so; while patient No. 2 is
taken up by his arms and legs, and his base is swung against
the base of patient No. 1, till patient No. 1, with the force of
the final blow, is sent flying along the deck.
Head-bumping, as patronized by Captain Claret, consists
in two negroes (whites will not answer) butting at each other
like rams. This pastime was an especial favorite with the
Captain. In the Dog-Watches, Rose-Water and May-Day
were repeatedly summoned into the lee waist to tilt at each
other, for the benefit of the Captain's health.
May-Day was a full-blooded “bull-negro,” so the sailors
called him, with a skull like an iron tea-kettle, wherefore May-Day
much fancied the sport. But Rose-Water, he was a
slender and rather handsome mulatto, and abhorred the pastime.
Nevertheless, the Captain must be obeyed; so at the
word poor Rose-Water was fain to put himself in a posture
of defence, else May-Day would incontinently have bumped
him out of a port-hole into the sea. I used to pity poor Rose-Water
from the bottom of my heart. But my pity was almost
aroused into indignation at a sad sequel to one of these
gladiatorial scenes.
It seems that, lifted up by the unaffected, though verbally
unexpressed applause of the Captain, May-Day had begun to
despise Rose-Water as a poltroon—a fellow all brains and no
skull; whereas he himself was a great warrior, all skull and
no brains.
Accordingly, after they had been bumping one evening to
the Captain's content, May-Day confidentially told Rose-Water
that he considered him a “nigger,” which, among some
blacks, is held a great term of reproach. Fired at the insult,
Rose-Water gave May-Day to understand that he utterly erred;
for his mother, a black slave, had been one of the mistresses
of a Virginia planter belonging to one of the oldest
families in that state. Another insulting remark followed this
innocent disclosure; retort followed retort; in a word, at last
they came together in mortal combat.
The master-at-arms caught them in the act, and brought
them up to the mast. The Captain advanced.
“Please, sir,” said poor Rose-Water, “it all came of dat
'ar bumping; May-Day, here, aggrawated me 'bout it.”
“Master-at-arms,” said the Captain, “did you see them
fighting?”
“Ay, sir,” said the master-at-arms, touching his cap.
“Rig the gratings,” said the Captain. “I'll teach you two
men that, though I now and then permit you to play, I will
have no fighting. Do your duty, boatswain's mate!” And
the negroes were flogged.
Justice commands that the fact of the Captain's not showing
any leniency to May-Day—a decided favorite of his, at
least while in the ring—should not be passed over. He flogged
both culprits in the most impartial manner.
As in the matter of the scene at the gangway, shortly after
the Cape Horn theatricals, when my attention had been directed
to the fact that the officers had shipped their quarter-deck
faces—upon that occasion, I say, it was seen with what
facility a sea-officer assumes his wonted severity of demeanor
after a casual relaxation of it. This was especially the case
with Captain Claret upon the present occasion. For any
landsman to have beheld him in the lee waist, of a pleasant
Dog-Watch, with a genial, good-humored countenance, observing
the gladiators in the ring, and now and then indulging in
a playful remark—that landsman would have deemed Captain
Claret the indulgent father of his crew, perhaps permitting
the excess of his kind-heartedness to encroach upon the
appropriate dignity of his station. He would have deemed
Captain Claret a fine illustration of those two well-known
poetical comparisons between a sea-captain and a father, and
between a sea-captain and the master of apprentices, instituted
by those eminent maritime jurists, the noble Lords Tenterden
and Stowell.
But surely, if there is any thing hateful, it is this shipping
of the quarter-deck face after wearing a merry and good-natured
one. How can they have the heart? Methinks, if but
once I smiled upon a man—never mind how much beneath
me—I could not bring myself to condemn him to the shocking
misery of the lash. Oh officers! all round the world, if
this quarter-deck face you wear at all, then never unship it
for another, to be merely sported for a moment. Of all insults,
the temporary condescension of a master to a slave is
the most outrageous and galling. That potentate who most
condescends, mark him well; for that potentate, if occasion
come, will prove your uttermost tyrant.
