CHAPTER XVII.
AWAY! SECOND, THIRD, AND FOURTH CUTTERS, AWAY!
It was the morning succeeding one of these _general quarters_ that wepicked up a life-buoy, descried floating by.
It was a circular mass of cork, about eight inches thick and four feetin diameter, covered with tarred canvas. All round its circumferencethere trailed a number of knotted ropes'-ends, terminating in fancifulTurks' heads. These were the life-lines, for the drowning to clutch.Inserted into the middle of the cork was an upright, carved pole,somewhat shorter than a pike-staff. The whole buoy was embossed withbarnacles, and its sides festooned with sea-weeds. Dolphins weresporting and flashing around it, and one white bird was hovering overthe top of the pole. Long ago, this thing must have been thrownover-board to save some poor wretch, who must have been drowned; whileeven the life-buoy itself had drifted away out of sight.
The forecastle-men fished it up from the bows, and the seamen throngedround it.
"Bad luck! bad luck!" cried the Captain of the Head; "we'll number oneless before long."
The ship's cooper strolled by; he, to whose department it belongs tosee that the ship's life-buoys are kept in good order.
In men-of-war, night and day, week in and week out, two life-buoys arekept depending from the stern; and two men, with hatchets in theirhands, pace up and down, ready at the first cry to cut the cord anddrop the buoys overboard. Every two hours they are regularly relieved,like sentinels on guard. No similar precautions are adopted in themerchant or whaling service.
Thus deeply solicitous to preserve human life are the regulations ofmen-of-war; and seldom has there been a better illustration of thissolicitude than at the battle of Trafalgar, when, after "severalthousand" French seamen had been destroyed, according to LordCollingwood, and, by the official returns, sixteen hundred and ninetyEnglishmen were killed or wounded, the Captains of the surviving shipsordered the life-buoy sentries from their death-dealing guns to theirvigilant posts, as officers of the Humane Society.
"There, Bungs!" cried Scrimmage, a sheet-anchor-man,[2] "there's a goodpattern for you; make us a brace of life-buoys like that; somethingthat will save a man, and not fill and sink under him, as those leakyquarter-casks of yours will the first time there's occasion to drop'ern. I came near pitching off the bowsprit the other day; and, when Iscrambled inboard again, I went aft to get a squint at 'em. Why, Bungs,they are all open between the staves. Shame on you! Suppose youyourself should fall over-board, and find yourself going down withbuoys under you of your own making--what then?"
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[FOOTNOTE-2] In addition to the _Bower-anchors_ carried on her bows, afrigate carries large anchors in her fore-chains, called_Sheet-anchors_. Hence, the old seamen stationed in that part of aman-of-war are called _sheet-anchor-man_.
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"I never go aloft, and don't intend to fall overboard," replied Bungs.
"Don't believe it!" cried the sheet-anchor-man; "you lopers that liveabout the decks here are nearer the bottom of the sea than the lighthand that looses the main-royal. Mind your eye, Bungs--mind your eye!"
"I will," retorted Bungs; "and you mind yours!"
Next day, just at dawn, I was startled from my hammock by the cry of"_All hands about ship and shorten sail_!" Springing up the ladders, Ifound that an unknown man had fallen overboard from the chains; anddarting a glance toward the poop, perceived, from their gestures, thatthe life-sentries there had cut away the buoys.
It was blowing a fresh breeze; the frigate was going fast through thewater. But the one thousand arms of five hundred men soon tossed herabout on the other tack, and checked her further headway.
"Do you see him?" shouted the officer of the watch through his trumpet,hailing the main-mast-head. "Man or _buoy_, do you see either?"
"See nothing, sir," was the reply.
"Clear away the cutters!" was the next order. "Bugler! call away thesecond, third, and fourth cutters' crews. Hands by the tackles!"
In less than three minutes the three boats were down; More hands werewanted in one of them, and, among others, I jumped in to make up thedeficiency.
"Now, men, give way! and each man look out along his oar, and looksharp!" cried the officer of our boat. For a time, in perfect silence,we slid up and down the great seething swells of the sea, but sawnothing.
"There, it's no use," cried the officer; "he's gone, whoever he is.Pull away, men--pull away! they'll be recalling us soon."
"Let him drown!" cried the strokesman; "he's spoiled my watch below forme."
"Who the devil is he?" cried another.
"He's one who'll never have a coffin!" replied a third.
"No, no! they'll never sing out, '_All hands bury the dead!_' for him,my hearties!" cried a fourth.
"Silence," said the officer, "and look along your oars." But thesixteen oarsmen still continued their talk; and, after pulling aboutfor two or three hours, we spied the recall-signal at the frigate'sfore-t'-gallant-mast-head, and returned on board, having seen no signeven of the life-buoys.
The boats were hoisted up, the yards braced forward, and away webowled--one man less.
"Muster all hands!" was now the order; when, upon calling the roll, thecooper was the only man missing.
"I told you so, men," cried the Captain of the Head; "I said we wouldlose a man before long."
"Bungs, is it?" cried Scrimmage, the sheet-anchor-man; "I told him hisbuoys wouldn't save a drowning man; and now he has proved it!"
White Jacket; Or, The World on a Man-of-War Page 18