CHAPTER LXX.
MONTHLY MUSTER ROUND THE CAPSTAN.
Besides general quarters, and the regular morning and evening quartersfor prayers on board the Neversink, on the first Sunday of every monthwe had a grand "_muster round the capstan_," when we passed in solemnreview before the Captain and officers, who closely scanned our frocksand trowsers, to see whether they were according to the Navy cut. Insome ships, every man is required to bring his bag and hammock alongfor inspection.
This ceremony acquires its chief solemnity, and, to a novice, isrendered even terrible, by the reading of the Articles of War by theCaptain's clerk before the assembled ship's company, who in testimonyof their enforced reverence for the code, stand bareheaded till thelast sentence is pronounced.
To a mere amateur reader the quiet perusal of these Articles of Warwould be attended with some nervous emotions. Imagine, then, what _my_feelings must have been, when, with my hat deferentially in my hand, Istood before my lord and master, Captain Claret, and heard theseArticles read as the law and gospel, the infallible, unappealabledispensation and code, whereby I lived, and moved, and had my being onboard of the United States ship Neversink.
Of some twenty offences--made penal--that a seaman may commit, andwhich are specified in this code, thirteen are punishable by death.
"_Shall suffer death!_" This was the burden of nearly every Articleread by the Captain's clerk; for he seemed to have been instructed toomit the longer Articles, and only present those which were brief andto the point.
"_Shall suffer death!_" The repeated announcement falls on your earlike the intermitting discharge of artillery. After it has beenrepeated again and again, you listen to the reader as he deliberatelybegins a new paragraph; you hear him reciting the involved, butcomprehensive and clear arrangement of the sentence, detailing allpossible particulars of the offence described, and you breathlesslyawait, whether _that_ clause also is going to be concluded by thedischarge of the terrible minute-gun. When, lo! it again booms on yourear--_shall suffer death!_ No reservations, no contingencies; not theremotest promise of pardon or reprieve; not a glimpse of commutation ofthe sentence; all hope and consolation is shut out--_shall sufferdeath!_ that is the simple fact for you to digest; and it is a toughermorsel, believe White-Jacket when he says it, than a forty-two-poundcannon-ball.
But there is a glimmering of an alternative to the sailor who infringesthese Articles. Some of them thus terminates: "_Shall suffer death, orsuch punishment as a court-martial shall adjudge_." But hints this at apenalty still more serious? Perhaps it means "_death, or worsepunishment_."
Your honours of the Spanish Inquisition, Loyola and Torquemada!produce, reverend gentlemen, your most secret code, and match theseArticles of War, if you can. Jack Ketch, _you_ also are experienced inthese things! Thou most benevolent of mortals, who standest by us, andhangest round our necks, when all the rest of this world are againstus--tell us, hangman, what punishment is this, horribly hinted at asbeing worse than death? Is it, upon an empty stomach, to read theArticles of War every morning, for the term of one's natural life? Oris it to be imprisoned in a cell, with its walls papered from floor toceiling with printed copies, in italics, of these Articles of War?
But it needs not to dilate upon the pure, bubbling milk of humankindness, and Christian charity, and forgiveness of injuries whichpervade this charming document, so thoroughly imbued, as a Christiancode, with the benignant spirit of the Sermon on the Mount. But as itis very nearly alike in the foremost states of Christendom, and as itis nationally set forth by those states, it indirectly becomes an indexto the true condition of the present civilization of the world.
As, month after month, I would stand bareheaded among my shipmates, andhear this document read, I have thought to myself, Well, well,White-Jacket, you are in a sad box, indeed. But prick your ears, theregoes another minute-gun. It admonishes you to take all bad usage ingood part, and never to join in any public meeting that may be held onthe gun-deck for a redress of grievances. Listen:
Art. XIII. "If any person in the navy shall make, or attempt to make,any mutinous assembly, he shall, on conviction thereof by a courtmartial, suffer death."
Bless me, White-Jacket, are you a great gun yourself, that you sorecoil, to the extremity of your breechings, at that discharge?
But give ear again. Here goes another minute-gun. It indirectlyadmonishes you to receive the grossest insult, and stand still under it:
Art. XIV. "No private in the navy shall disobey the lawful orders ofhis superior officer, or strike him, or draw, or offer to draw, orraise any weapon against him, while in the execution of the duties ofhis office, on pain of death."
Do not hang back there by the bulwarks, White-Jacket; come up to themark once more; for here goes still another minute-gun, whichadmonishes you never to be caught napping:
Part of Art. XX. "If any person in the navy shall sleep upon his watch,he shall suffer death."
Murderous! But then, in time of peace, they do not enforce theseblood-thirsty laws? Do they not, indeed? What happened to those threesailors on board an American armed vessel a few years ago, quite withinyour memory, White-Jacket; yea, while you yourself were yet serving onboard this very frigate, the Neversink? What happened to those threeAmericans, White-Jacket--those three sailors, even as you, who oncewere alive, but now are dead? "_Shall suffer death!_" those were thethree words that hung those three sailors.
Have a care, then, have a care, lest you come to a sad end, even theend of a rope; lest, with a black-and-blue throat, you turn a dumbdiver after pearl-shells; put to bed for ever, and tucked in, in yourown hammock, at the bottom of the sea. And there you will lie,White-Jacket, while hostile navies are playing cannon-ball billiardsover your grave.
By the main-mast! then, in a time of profound peace, I am subject tothe cut-throat martial law. And when my own brother, who happens to bedwelling ashore, and does not serve his country as I am now doing--when_he_ is at liberty to call personally upon the President of the UnitedStates, and express his disapprobation of the whole nationaladministration, here am I, liable at any time to be run up at theyard-arm, with a necklace, made by no jeweler, round my neck!
A hard case, truly, White-Jacket; but it cannot be helped. Yes; youlive under this same martial law. Does not everything around you dinthe fact in your ears? Twice every day do you not jump to your quartersat the sound of a drum? Every morning, in port, are you not roused fromyour hammock by the _reveille_, and sent to it again at nightfall bythe _tattoo?_ Every Sunday are you not commanded in the mere matter ofthe very dress you shall wear through that blessed day? Can yourshipmates so much as drink their "tot of grog?" nay, can they evendrink but a cup of water at the scuttle-butt, without an armed sentrystanding over them? Does not every officer wear a sword instead of acane? You live and move among twenty-four-pounders. White-Jacket; thevery cannon-balls are deemed an ornament around you, serving toembellish the hatchways; and should you come to die at sea,White-Jacket, still two cannon-balls would bear you company when youwould be committed to the deep. Yea, by all methods, and devices, andinventions, you are momentarily admonished of the fact that you liveunder the Articles of War. And by virtue of them it is, White-Jacket,that, without a hearing and without a trial, you may, at a wink fromthe Captain, be condemned to the scourge.
Speak you true? Then let me fly!
Nay, White-Jacket, the landless horizon hoops you in.
Some tempest, then, surge all the sea against us! hidden reefs androcks, arise and dash the ships to chips! I was not born a serf, andwill not live a slave! Quick! cork-screw whirlpools, suck us down!world's end whelm us!
Nay, White-Jacket, though this frigate laid her broken bones upon theAntarctic shores of Palmer's Land; though not two planks adhered;though all her guns were spiked by sword-fish blades, and at heryawning hatchways mouth-yawning sharks swam in and out; yet, should youescape the wreck and scramble to the beach, this Martial Law would meetyou still, and snatch you by the throat. Hark!
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Art. XLII. Part of Sec. 3.-"In all cases where the crews of the shipsor vessels of the United States shall be separated from their vesselsby the latter being wrecked, lost, or destroyed, all the command,power, and authority given to the officers of such ships or vesselsshall remain, and be in full force, as effectually as if such ship orvessel were not so wrecked, lost or destroyed."
Hear you that, White-Jacket! I tell you there is no escape. Afloat orwrecked the Martial Law relaxes not its gripe. And though, by thatself-same warrant, for some offence therein set down, you were indeedto "suffer death," even then the Martial Law might hunt you straightthrough the other world, and out again at its other end, following youthrough all eternity, like an endless thread on the inevitable track ofits own point, passing unnumbered needles through.