CHAPTER LXXXVII.
OLD USHANT AT THE GANGWAY.
The rebel beards, headed by old Ushant's, streaming like a Commodore's_bougee_, now stood in silence at the mast.
"You knew the order!" said the Captain, eyeing them severely; "whatdoes that hair on your chins?"
"Sir," said the Captain of the Forecastle, "did old Ushant ever refusedoing his duty? did he ever yet miss his muster? But, sir, old Ushant'sbeard is his own!"
"What's that, sir? Master-at-arms, put that man into the brig."
"Sir," said the old man, respectfully, "the three years for which Ishipped are expired; and though I am perhaps bound to work the shiphome, yet, as matters are, I think my beard might be allowed me. It isbut a few days, Captain Claret."
"Put him into the brig!" cried the Captain; "and now, you old rascals!"he added, turning round upon the rest, "I give you fifteen minutes tohave those beards taken off; if they then remain on your chins, I'llflog you--every mother's son of you--though you were all my owngod-fathers!"
The band of beards went forward, summoned their barbers, and theirglorious pennants were no more. In obedience to orders, they thenparaded themselves at the mast, and, addressing the Captain, said,"Sir, our _muzzle-lashings_ are cast off!"
Nor is it unworthy of being chronicled, that not a single sailor whocomplied with the general order but refused to sport the vile_regulation-whiskers_ prescribed by the Navy Department. No! likeheroes they cried, "Shave me clean! I will not wear a hair, since Icannot wear all!"
On the morrow, after breakfast, Ushant was taken out of irons, and,with the master-at-arms on one side and an armed sentry on the other,was escorted along the gun-deck and up the ladder to the main-mast.There the Captain stood, firm as before. They must have guarded the oldman thus to prevent his escape to the shore, something less than athousand miles distant at the time.
"Well, sir, will you have that beard taken off? you have slept over ita whole night now; what do you say? I don't want to flog an old manlike you, Ushant!"
"My beard is my own, sir!" said the old man, lowly.
"Will you take it off?"
"It is mine, sir?" said the old man, tremulously.
"Rig the gratings?" roared the Captain. "Master-at-arms, strip him!quarter-masters, seize him up! boatswain's mates, do your duty!"
While these executioners were employed, the Captain's excitement had alittle time to abate; and when, at last, old Ushant was tied up by thearms and legs and his venerable back was exposed--that back which hadbowed at the guns of the frigate Constitution when she captured theGuerriere--the Captain seemed to relent.
"You are a very old man," he said, "and I am sorry to flog you; but myorders must be obeyed. I will give you one more chance; will you havethat beard taken off?"
"Captain Claret," said the old man, turning round painfully in hisbonds, "you may flog me if you will; but, sir, in this one thing I_cannot_ obey you."
"Lay on! I'll see his backbone!" roared the Captain in a sudden fury.
"By Heaven!" thrillingly whispered Jack Chase, who stood by, "it's onlya halter; I'll strike him!"
"Better not," said a top-mate; "it's death, or worse punishment,remember."
"There goes the lash!" cried Jack. "Look at the old man! By G---d, Ican't stand it! Let me go, men!" and with moist eyes Jack forced hisway to one side.
"You, boatswain's mate," cried the Captain, "you are favouring thatman! Lay on soundly, sir, or I'll have your own _cat_ laid soundly onyou."
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven,twelve lashes were laid on the back of that heroic old man. He onlybowed over his head, and stood as the Dying Gladiator lies.
"Cut him down," said the Captain.
"And now go and cut your own throat," hoarsely whispered an oldsheet-anchor-man, a mess-mate of Ushant's.
When the master-at-arms advanced with the prisoner's shirt, Ushantwaved him off with the dignified air of a Brahim, saying, "Do youthink, master-at-arms, that I am hurt? I will put on my own garment. Iam never the worse for it, man; and 'tis no dishonour when he who woulddishonour you, only dishonours himself."
"What says he?" cried the Captain; "what says that tarry oldphilosopher with the smoking back? Tell it to me, sir, if you dare!Sentry, take that man back to the brig. Stop! John Ushant, you havebeen Captain of the Forecastle; I break you. And now you go into thebrig, there to remain till you consent to have that beard taken off."
"My beard is my own," said the old man, quietly. "Sen-try, I am ready."
And back he went into durance between the guns; but after lying somefour or five days in irons, an order came to remove them; but he wasstill kept confined.
Books were allowed him, and he spent much time in reading. But he alsospent many hours in braiding his beard, and interweaving with it stripsof red bunting, as if he desired to dress out and adorn the thing whichhad triumphed over all opposition.
He remained a prisoner till we arrived in America; but the very momenthe heard the chain rattle out of the hawse-hole, and the ship swing toher anchor, he started to his feet, dashed the sentry aside, andgaining the deck, exclaimed, "At home, with my beard!"
His term of service having some months previous expired, and the shipbeing now in harbour, he was beyond the reach of naval law, and theofficers durst not molest him. But without unduly availing himself ofthese circumstances, the old man merely got his bag and hammocktogether, hired a boat, and throwing himself into the stern, was rowedashore, amid the unsuppressible cheers of all hands. It was a gloriousconquest over the Conqueror himself, as well worthy to be celebrated asthe Battle of the Nile.
Though, as I afterward learned, Ushant was earnestly entreated to putthe case into some lawyer's hands, he firmly declined, saying, "I havewon the battle, my friends, and I do not care for the prize-money." Buteven had he complied with these entreaties, from precedents in similarcases, it is almost certain that not a sou's worth of satisfactionwould have been received.
I know not in what frigate you sail now, old Ushant; but Heaven protectyour storied old beard, in whatever Typhoon it may blow. And if ever itmust be shorn, old man, may it fare like the royal beard of Henry I.,of England, and be clipped by the right reverend hand of someArchbishop of Sees.
As for Captain Claret, let it not be supposed that it is here sought toimpale him before the world as a cruel, black-hearted man. Such he wasnot. Nor was he, upon the whole, regarded by his crew with anythinglike the feelings which man-of-war's-men sometimes cherish towardsignally tyrannical commanders. In truth, the majority of theNeversink's crew--in previous cruises habituated to flagrantmisusage--deemed Captain Claret a lenient officer. In many things hecertainly refrained from oppressing them. It has been related whatprivileges he accorded to the seamen respecting the free playing ofcheckers--a thing almost unheard of in most American men-of-war. In thematter of overseeing the men's clothing, also, he was remarkablyindulgent, compared with the conduct of other Navy captains, who, bysumptuary regulations, oblige their sailors to run up large bills withthe Purser for clothes. In a word, of whatever acts Captain Claretmight have been guilty in the Neversink, perhaps none of them proceededfrom any personal, organic hard-heartedness. What he was, the usages ofthe Navy had made him. Had he been a mere landsman--a merchant, say--hewould no doubt have been considered a kind-hearted man.
There may be some who shall read of this Bartholomew Massacre of beardswho will yet marvel, perhaps, that the loss of a few hairs, more orless, should provoke such hostility from the sailors, lash them into sofrothing a rage; indeed, come near breeding a mutiny.
But these circumstances are not without precedent. Not to speak of theriots, attended with the loss of life, which once occurred in Madrid,in resistance to an arbitrary edict of the king's, seeking to suppressthe cloaks of the Cavaliers; and, not to make mention of otherinstances that might be quoted, it needs only to point out the rage ofthe Saxons in the time of William the Conqueror, when that despotcommanded the hair on the
ir upper lips to be shaven off--the hereditarymustaches which whole generations had sported. The multitude of thedispirited vanquished were obliged to acquiesce; but many SaxonFranklins and gentlemen of spirit, choosing rather to lose theircastles than their mustaches, voluntarily deserted their firesides, andwent into exile. All this is indignantly related by the stout Saxonfriar, Matthew Paris, in his _Historia Major_, beginning with theNorman Conquest.
And that our man-of-war's-men were right in desiring to perpetuatetheir beards, as martial appurtenances, must seem very plain, when itis considered that, as the beard is the token of manhood, so, in someshape or other, has it ever been held the true badge of a warrior.Bonaparte's grenadiers were stout whiskerandoes; and perhaps, in acharge, those fierce whiskers of theirs did as much to appall the foeas the sheen of their bayonets. Most all fighting creatures sporteither whiskers or beards; it seems a law of Dame Nature. Witness theboar, the tiger, the cougar, man, the leopard, the ram, the cat--allwarriors, and all whiskerandoes. Whereas, the peace-loving tribes havemostly enameled chins.