CHAPTER IX
PLAY ON BOARD; AND SOME DUTIES
One day was much like another, though, I am sure, we middies enjoyed the whole business. There was constant interest in watching the good ship speeding along, driving great bow waves in front of her, the foam churning up along her sides as she passed swiftly through the water. Occasionally some studding-sail-boom would carry away, or ropes attached to it would break; and we watched the degrees of seamanship exercised by the various officers in getting sails reset as speedily as possible. This caused rivalry between the middies, as we naturally backed up the lieutenants to whose watches we were appointed; and one constantly heard recriminations down below. “I say, Jimmy, what a mess you made of your topmast studding-sail last night in the middle watch: you got your sail before all, and there you were.” “Oh,” another would say, “you have nothing to swagger about. Look at last Thursday in the morning watch. You were an hour crossing those royal yards and setting the sails, and then you had to rig and unrig the gear half a dozen times over. I am sure the Commodore has his eye on you, and it will serve you right if you get leave stopped when we get in.” These conversations at times waxed warm, but were generally hushed by some senior in the mess, who, taking his afternoon’s “stretch off the land” in the shape of a good snooze, would be very angry at being disturbed. In the evenings, after quarters (parade), the upper deck was devoted to games—single-stick and sky-larking. Leap-frog round the decks was a favourite escapade. Sling the monkey was another. That was a boisterous amusement. One of us was slung in a rope fastened round the waist; with knotted handkerchiefs, the others set to work to lash the unfortunate person who was slung; and he, in his turn, swung himself desperately about, endeavouring to hit one of the crowd with his knotted piece of rope. If he caught a fellow fairly he came out of the sling, and the other slipped into his place. When the ship was rolling about, the game required much balance and judgment. Lacking those qualities, the person in the sling would get nasty knocks against the masts or ship’s side. However, a young gun-room officer was pretty tough, and scarcely ever came to grief enough to hurt himself. The crew had their games on the forecastle, and as the evening wore on songs became general. 100 or 150 men would sit round together and sing in great choruses. The airs were very distinct right aft, in spite of the noise of the water alongside, as, the yards being nearly square, the sounds echoed off the sails beautifully. In the night watches it often happened that not a sail or a rope was touched for nights together, so steady and true was the wind. These moderate westerly gales were exactly like trade winds, and in the trades for days nothing aloft is touched. Generally towards the end of the night watch a little supper was carried on between the officers of the watches. The junior mid had to make cocoa or coffee, and to this were added sardines, or potted salmon and lobster. The meal was looked on as a great relish about six bells in the middle watch—3 o’clock in the morning. During the first watch it was indulged in earlier, before the lights were put out: we generally asked the officers whose turn it was for “all night in” to relieve us for a quarter of an hour, when we went below to devour some cold supper. “All night in” was a great boon. It generally occurred every fourth night. When we were in what was termed four watches, it always fitted in: when in three watches, the morning watch was considered the best rest; and this always came to one’s turn every third night, and meant being on deck at 4 A.M. The matter I disliked most was the short allowance of time after being called to appear on deck at night to relieve the watch—though I generally contrived to be called, if I could, five minutes to the time. As soon as the eight bells had rung the boatswain mate went below to rouse up the coming watch, and in eight minutes the new watch was called to be mustered. In cold wet weather, turning out of a warm hammock, and having only eight minutes to dress and appear on deck, was rather short work.
Then came the horrid ordeal of calling out hundreds of names while mustering the watch. In a line-of-battle ship it meant 350 names or thereabouts, and the wretched mid was nearly choked before he got half-way through. Whatever the weather was, this muster process had to be got through as quickly as possible, for the old watch was not free to turn in before the muster was over. Soon after daylight, when the decks were washed, all sails that so required were reset, and any sail that had been taken off the ship the evening before for precautionary measures was set again in moderate weather.
We crossed the line the day after Christmas; and, the weather being warm and calm, there was a rare ado, with the usual ceremonies attending the event. In fact, one lived in salt water most of the day. Every new hand had to be ducked and shaved by Neptune’s satellites, and some rough play ensued. My duties during this long cruise were those of signal mid to the Commodore, a sort of deputy flag-lieutenant. He was very particular about being informed, when I called him at 5.30, what vessels were in sight at daylight. All I saw had to be thoroughly described. By eight o’clock I was always ready for my breakfast, which I invariably ate in the Commodore’s mess, with the Captain and the Secretary. This was lucky, as in the gun-room we were reduced to salt pork and biscuit after a week or two out. In spite of our being always on a strict allowance, water was at times scarce.
I can recollect only one unpleasant occurrence on our way out to the Cape. The ship caught fire aft in the slop-room, a store where the men’s clothing was kept, and in close proximity to the magazine; which was rather shaking to the nerves. The fire bell rang immediately, and we were all at our stations in a few moments. This was about 7.30 in the morning. My station was on the quarter-deck, where I had to place sentries with a view to preventing men from jumping overboard in panic terror, and also to see hammocks passed down in case of necessity. The marine on sentry walked up and down with a fixed bayonet. I cannot say it was pleasant to see smoke issuing up the after hatchways. At any moment one might go sky-high if the magazine exploded. The Commodore was one of the first down to play the hose on the smouldering matter; and it was amusing to see him rush down the after ladder with nothing on but a pair of deck trousers and a flannel jersey. Sail was immediately shortened, and the ship so placed as to prevent any draught going below. After half an hour’s pumping the fire was subdued, and I well remember watching the gradual return of smiling countenances after the gloom of the anxious half-hour. While walking the deck I knew nothing of what was going on below; but I heard afterwards that the outer lining of the magazine bulkhead had been burnt through, separating our little outside world from the powder by not much to spare. I can remember the feeling of relief it afforded me to hear the word passed up the hatchway that the fire was being got under, and still more to hear the pipe, “Return fire stores.”
On such occasions—and in the same way when in action, if the truth were known—there are, I believe, few men who do not feel a certain anxiety. Personally I always found that I felt less anxiety when moving about in action. On board ship you are like a stationary target. When fighting on land and constantly on the move there is far less of this emotion running through your mind.