"Aloft, topmen! lay out! furl!" cried the First Lieutenant of the Neversink.
At the word the men sprang into the rigging, and on all three masts were soon climbing about the yards, in reckless haste, to execute their orders.
Now, in furling top-sails or courses, the point of honour, and the hardest work, is in the _bunt_, or middle of the yard; this post belongs to the first captain of the top.
"What are you 'bout there, mizzen-top-men?" roared the First Lieutenant, through his trumpet. "D-n you, you are clumsy as Russian bears! don't you see the main-top-men are nearly off the yard? Bear a hand, bear a hand, or I'll stop your grog all round! You, Baldy! are you going to sleep there in the bunt?"
While this was being said, poor Baldy-his hat off, his face streaming with perspiration-was frantically exerting himself, piling up the ponderous folds of canvas in the middle of the yard; ever and anon glancing at victorious Jack Chase, hard at work at the main-top-sail-yard before him.
At last, the sail being well piled up, Baldy jumped with both feet into the _bunt_, holding on with one hand to the chain "_tie_," and in that manner was violently treading down the canvas, to pack it close.
"D-n you, Baldy, why don't you move, you crawling caterpillar;" roared the First Lieutenant.
Baldy brought his whole weight to bear on the rebellious sail, and in his frenzied heedlessness let go his hold on the _tie_.
"You, Baldy! are you afraid of falling?" cried the First Lieutenant.
At that moment, with all his force, Baldy jumped down upon the sail; the _bunt gasket_ parted; and a dark form dropped through the air. Lighting upon the _top-rim_, it rolled off; and the next instant, with a horrid crash of all his bones, Baldy came, like a thunderbolt, upon the deck.
Aboard of most large men-of-war there is a stout oaken platform, about four feet square, on each side of the quarter-deck. You ascend to it by three or four steps; on top, it is railed in at the sides, with horizontal brass bars. It is called _the Horse Block;_ and there the officer of the deck usually stands, in giving his orders at sea.
It was one of these horse blocks, now unoccupied, that broke poor Baldy's fall. He fell lengthwise across the brass bars, bending them into elbows, and crushing the whole oaken platform, steps and all, right down to the deck in a thousand splinters.
He was picked up for dead, and carried below to the surgeon. His bones seemed like those of a man broken on the wheel, and no one thought he would survive the night. But with the surgeon's skillful treatment he soon promised recovery. Surgeon Cuticle devoted all his science to this case.
A curious frame-work of wood was made for the maimed man; and placed in this, with all his limbs stretched out, Baldy lay flat on the floor of the Sick-bay, for many weeks. Upon our arrival home, he was able to hobble ashore on crutches; but from a hale, hearty man, with bronzed cheeks, he was become a mere dislocated skeleton, white as foam; but ere this, perhaps, his broken bones are healed and whole in the last repose of the man-of-war's-man.
Not many days after Baldy's accident in furling sails-in this same frenzied manner, under the stimulus of a shouting officer-a seaman fell from the main-royal-yard of an English line-of-battle ship near us, and buried his ankle-bones in the deck, leaving two indentations there, as if scooped out by a carpenter's gouge.
The royal-yard forms a cross with the mast, and falling from that lofty cross in a line-of-battle ship is almost like falling from the cross of St. Paul's; almost like falling as Lucifer from the well-spring of morning down to the Phlegethon of night.
In some cases, a man, hurled thus from a yard, has fallen upon his own shipmates in the tops, and dragged them down with him to the same destruction with himself.
Hardly ever will you hear of a man-of-war returning home after a cruise, without the loss of some of her crew from aloft, whereas similar accidents in the merchant service-considering the much greater number of men employed in it-are comparatively few.
Why mince the matter? The death of most of these man-of-war's-men lies at the door of the souls of those officers, who, while safely standing on deck themselves, scruple not to sacrifice an immortal man or two, in order to show off the excelling discipline of the ship. And thus do _the people_ of the gun-deck suffer, that the Commodore on the poop may be glorified.
CHAPTER XLVII
AN AUCTION IN A MAN-OF-WAR
Some allusion has been made to the weariness experienced by the man-of-war's-men while lying at anchor; but there are scenes now and then that serve to relieve it. Chief among these are the Purser's auctions, taking place while in harbour. Some weeks, or perhaps months, after a sailor dies in an armed vessel, his bag of clothes is in this manner sold, and the proceeds transferred to the account of his heirs or executors.
One of these auctions came off in Rio, shortly after the sad accident of Baldy.
It was a dreamy, quiet afternoon, and the crew were listlessly lying 'around, when suddenly the Boatswain's whistle was heard, followed by the announcement, "D'ye hear there, fore and aft? Purser's auction on the spar-deck!"
At the sound, the sailors sprang to their feet and mustered round the main-mast. Presently up came the Purser's steward, marshalling before him three or four of his subordinates, carrying several clothes' bags, which were deposited at the base of the mast.
Our Purser's steward was a rather gentlemanly man in his way. Like many young Americans of his class, he had at various times assumed the most opposite functions for a livelihood, turning from one to the other with all the facility of a light-hearted, clever adventurer. He had been a clerk in a steamer on the Mississippi River; an auctioneer in Ohio; a stock actor at the Olympic Theatre in New York; and now he was Purser's steward in the Navy. In the course of this deversified career his natural wit and waggery had been highly spiced, and every way improved; and he had acquired the last and most difficult art of the joker, the art of lengthening his own face while widening those of his hearers, preserving the utmost solemnity while setting them all in a roar. He was quite a favourite with the sailors, which, in a good degree, was owing to his humour; but likewise to his off- hand, irresistible, romantic, theatrical manner of addressing them.
With a dignified air, he now mounted the pedestal of the main- top-sail sheet-bitts, imposing silence by a theatrical wave of his hand; meantime, his subordinates were rummaging the bags, and assorting their contents before him.
"Now, my noble hearties," he began, "we will open this auction by offering to your impartial competition a very superior pair of old boots;" and so saying, he dangled aloft one clumsy cowhide cylinder, almost as large as a fire bucket, as a specimen of the complete pair.
"What shall I have now, my noble tars, for this superior pair of sea-boots?"
"Where's t'other boot?" cried a suspicious-eyed waister. "I remember them 'ere boots. They were old Bob's the quarter-gunner's; there was two on 'em, too. I want to see t'other boot."
"My sweet and pleasant fellow," said the auctioneer, with his blandest accents, "the other boot is not just at hand, but I give you my word of honour that it in all respects cor-responds to the one you here see-it does, I assure you. And I solemnly guarantee, my noble sea-faring fencibles," he added, turning round upon all, "that the other boot is the exact counterpart of this. Now, then, say the word, my fine fellows. What shall I have? Ten dollars, did you say?" politely bowing toward some indefinite person in the background.