A Gunner Aboard the Yankee | Page 6

rated as an able seaman, was on duty with gun and
bayonet on that end of the dock opposite the forecastle. He had just
relieved the man whose watch ended at midnight, and he stood
thoughtfully watching the twinkling lights on the opposite side of the
mighty East River. There was so much to occupy his mind in a
situation which was both charming and fascinating that he remained
motionless for several minutes. Presently there came a slight, scraping
sound, and the end of a rope struck the dock almost at his feet.
Glancing up, "Hod" saw a man's figure, dimly outlined in the gloom,
slip from the topgallant forecastle and quickly descend the rope. It was
evidently one of the men taking "French" leave, and it was the sentry's
duty to give the alarm at once. But "Hod" had other views in this
particular case. Hastily stepping back into the shadows, he laid his gun
upon the floor of the dock, and rolled up his sleeves with an air that
meant business. The next moment the absconder dropped from the
rope.
As he prepared to slip past the ship a sinewy hand was placed upon his

shoulder, and another equally sinewy caught him by the collar.
"Burke, suppose you return aboard ship," said "Hod," quietly. "You are
not going to hit the Bowery this time."
The Irish fireman attempted to wrench himself free, then he struck out
at "Hod" with all the force of his right arm. The quarter-back's practice
on the field came into play, and the college graduate tackled his
opponent in the latest approved style. The struggle was short and
decisive, and it resulted in Burke declaring his willingness to return to
the ship.
"The next time you try to size up a new shipmate be sure you are on to
his curves," remarked "Hod," as he escorted his prisoner over the
gangway. "You will find some of 'mama's pretty boys' rather tough nuts
to crack."
The day following this little episode found the members of the State
Naval Militia detailed to form the crew of the "Yankee" in full
possession of the cruiser which they were to sail to glory or defeat in
defense of their country. The ship's company, two hundred and
twenty-five in all, boarded the auxiliary warship without ceremony, and
were speedily set to work hoisting in provisions, removing to the yard
all unnecessary stuff with which the ship was littered, and getting her
generally in condition for sailing. The work was extremely hard, but it
was done without demur.
A naval officer attached to the yard stood near me at one time during
the afternoon, and I heard him remark to a visitor who had
accompanied him on board: "You will find an object lesson in this
scene. These young men working here at the hardest kind of manual
labor, buckling down cheerfully to dirty jobs, were, a few days ago,
living in luxury in the best homes in New York City. The older men
were clerks, or lawyers, or physicians, and not one of them had ever
stained his hands with toil. Look at them now."
Unconsciously I glanced across the deck to where three men were
hauling upon a whip, or block-and-tackle, which was being used to

hoist huge boxes and casks of provisions on board. The three men were
working sturdily, and it would have been difficult to recognize in them,
with their grimy faces and soiled duck uniforms, a doctor, a bank
cashier, and a man-about-town well known in New York City. Near the
forward hatch, industriously swabbing the deck, was a black-haired
youth whose father helps to control some of the largest moves on
'Change. Scattered about the gangway were others, some painting,
some rolling barrels, and a number engaged in whipping in heavy
boxes of ammunition. They were all cheerful, and the decks resounded
with merry chatter and whistling and song.
I turned to myself. My hands were brown and smeared and bruised. My
uniform, once white, was streaked and stained with tar. I wore shoes
innocent of blacking and made after a pattern much admired among
navvies. I had an individual ache in every bone of my body, and I was
hungry and was compelled to look forward to a dinner of odorous
salt-horse, hard bread, and "ennuied" coffee, but I was happy--I had to
admit that. Perhaps it was the novelty of the situation, perhaps it was
something else, but the fact remained that I would not have left the ship
or given up the idea of going on the cruise for a good deal.
We worked hard all day, and, when mess gear was piped for supper, we
could hardly repress a sigh of heartfelt relief. The food, bad as it was,
was welcome,