A Gunner Aboard the Yankee | Page 9

it was the custom to "swat" the last man
with a club, and there was a great scramble. We found the hammock
stowers in the nettings, which were large boxes on the gun deck, and
our queer canvas beds were soon stowed away for the day. As the
reveille hour is too early for breakfast, coffee and hard-tack is served
out by each mess cook. The coffee is minus milk, but it is hot and
palatable, and really acts as a tonic.
The first order of the day is to scrub down decks and clean ship
generally, but, as the "Yankee" was still in the throes of preparation, we
were spared that disagreeable work and permitted to arrange our
belongings for the long voyage before us. In the service each man is
allowed a black bag about three feet six inches high, and twelve inches
in diameter, and a small wooden box, eighteen inches square, known as
a "ditty box," to keep his wardrobe in. All clothing is rolled, and careful
sailors generally wrap each garment in a piece of muslin before
consigning it to the black bag. In the ditty box are kept such articles as
toothbrush, brush and comb, small hand glass, writing material, and
odds and ends. Each bag and box is numbered, and must be kept in a
certain place. At first we thought it wouldn't be possible to keep our
clothing in such a small space, but experience taught us that we would
have ample room.
The following days until the eighth of May were days of manual labor,
which hardened our muscles and placed a fine edge on our appetites.
To see the men who had been accustomed to a life of luxury toiling
away with rope and scrubbing brush and paint pot, working like day
laborers, and happy at that, was really a remarkable spectacle. For my
part, I noticed with surprise that scratched and bruised hands--scratched
so that the salt water caused positive pain--did not appeal to me. I tore
off a corner of my right thumb trying to squeeze a large box through
the forward hatch, and the only treatment I gave it was a fragment of

rather soiled rag and a little vaseline borrowed from a mate. To quit
work and apply for the first aid to injured never struck me. Ashore I
would probably have called a doctor.
The day before we left the yard one of my mates sprained his back
lifting a box of canned meat. In civil life he had been a lawyer with a
promising practice, his office being with one of the best known men of
the bar. He gave it up and joined the Naval Reserves because, as he
expressed it, "To fight for one's country is a patriot's first duty." When
the accident happened, he refused to go below to the sick bay until the
doctor stated that rest for a few days at least was absolutely necessary.
"It isn't that I mind the hurt, boys," he said, with a smile, as he was
assisted to the hatch, "but I hate to be knocked out in my first
engagement, and that with a box of canned corned beef."
The monotony of work was broken on the ninth of May, when
preparations were made to leave the yard. The destination was only
Tompkinsville, but there was not a man on board but felt that, as the
last hawser was cast off, we were fairly started on our cruise in search
of action. As the "Yankee" was assisted away from the wharf by a
Government tug, a number of friends gathered ashore cheered lustily
and waved their hats and handkerchiefs. The scene had been repeated
time without end, no doubt, but it went to our hearts all the same, and
there was many a husky note in the cheers we gave in return.
There was also encouragement in the whistles we received as we
dropped down the East River, and we felt as if our small share in the
war would be appreciated by those compelled to stay at home. We
steamed directly to the vicinity of Fort Wadsworth, Staten Island,
anchored off Tompkinsville, and then picked up a berth there for the
night. Half way down the bay we met a tug carrying a committee from
the "Sons of the Revolution" of New York State. The committee had
been selected by the society to present us with a set of colors. The tug
accompanied us to our anchorage, then the committee came on board.
The ceremony of presentation was rather picturesque.
The visitors gathered on the bridge, the ship's bugler sounded the

assembly, and in obedience to the call we lined up on the forward deck.
We wore the white duck service uniform, including trousers,