White Jacket | Page 4

rest of the
ship's company, they acquire the name of "_sea-dandies_" and
"_silk-sock-gentry_."
Then, there are the _Waisters_, always stationed on the gun-deck.
These haul aft the fore and main-sheets, besides being subject to
ignoble duties; attending to the drainage and sewerage below hatches.
These fellows are all Jimmy Duxes--sorry chaps, who never put foot in
ratlin, or venture above the bulwarks. Inveterate "_sons of farmers_,"
with the hayseed yet in their hair, they are consigned to the congenial
superintendence of the chicken-coops, pig-pens, and potato-lockers.
These are generally placed amidships, on the gun-deck of a frigate,
between the fore and main hatches; and comprise so extensive an area,
that it much resembles the market place of a small town. The
melodious sounds thence issuing, continually draw tears from the eyes
of the Waisters; reminding them of their old paternal pig-pens and
potato-patches. They are the tag-rag and bob-tail of the crew; and he
who is good for nothing else is good enough for a Waister.
Three decks down--spar-deck, gun-deck, and berth-deck--and we come
to a parcel of Troglodytes or "_holders_," who burrow, like rabbits in
warrens, among the water-tanks, casks, and cables. Like Cornwall
miners, wash off the soot from their skins, and they are all pale as
ghosts. Unless upon rare occasions, they seldom come on deck to sun
themselves. They may circumnavigate the world fifty times, and they
see about as much of it as Jonah did in the whale's belly. They are a
lazy, lumpish, torpid set; and when going ashore after a long cruise,
come out into the day like terrapins from their caves, or bears in the
spring, from tree-trunks. No one ever knows the names of these fellows;
after a three years' voyage, they still remain strangers to you. In time of
tempests, when all hands are called to save ship, they issue forth into
the gale, like the mysterious old men of Paris, during the massacre of
the Three Days of September: every one marvels who they are, and
whence they come; they disappear as mysteriously; and are seen no
more, until another general commotion.
Such are the principal divisions into which a man-of-war's crew is
divided; but the inferior allotments of duties are endless, and would
require a German commentator to chronicle.
We say nothing here of Boatswain's mates, Gunner's mates, Carpenter's

mates, Sail-maker's mates, Armorer's mates, Master- at-Arms, Ship's
corporals, Cockswains, Quarter-masters, Quarter- gunners, Captains of
the Forecastle, Captains of the Fore-top, Captains of the Main-top,
Captains of the Mizen-top, Captains of the After-Guard, Captains of the
Main-Hold, Captains of the Fore- Hold, Captains of the Head, Coopers,
Painters, Tinkers, Commodore's Steward, Captain's Steward,
Ward-Room Steward, Steerage Steward, Commodore's cook, Captain's
cook, Officers' cook, Cooks of the range, Mess-cooks, hammock-boys,
messenger boys, cot-boys, loblolly-boys and numberless others, whose
functions are fixed and peculiar.
It is from this endless subdivision of duties in a man-of-war, that, upon
first entering one, a sailor has need of a good memory, and the more of
an arithmetician he is, the better.
White-Jacket, for one, was a long time rapt in calculations, concerning
the various "numbers" allotted him by the _First Luff_, otherwise
known as the First Lieutenant. In the first place, White-Jacket was
given the _number of his mess_; then, his _ship's number_, or the
number to which he must answer when the watch-roll is called; then,
the number of his hammock; then, the number of the gun to which he
was assigned; besides a variety of other numbers; all of which would
have taken Jedediah Buxton himself some time to arrange in battalions,
previous to adding up. All these numbers, moreover, must be well
remembered, or woe betide you.
Consider, now, a sailor altogether unused to the tumult of a man-
of-war, for the first time stepping on board, and given all these numbers
to recollect. Already, before hearing them, his head is half stunned with
the unaccustomed sounds ringing in his ears; which ears seem to him
like belfries full of tocsins. On the gun- deck, a thousand scythed
chariots seem passing; he hears the tread of armed marines; the clash of
cutlasses and curses. The Boatswain's mates whistle round him, like
hawks screaming in a gale, and the strange noises under decks are like
volcanic rumblings in a mountain. He dodges sudden sounds, as a raw
recruit falling bombs.
Well-nigh useless to him, now, all previous circumnavigations of this
terraqueous globe; of no account his arctic, antarctic, or equinoctial
experiences; his gales off Beachy Head, or his dismastings off Hatteras.
He must begin anew; he knows nothing; Greek and Hebrew could not

help him, for the language he must learn has neither grammar nor
lexicon.
Mark him, as he advances along the files of old ocean-warriors; mark
his debased attitude, his deprecating gestures,