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White-Jacket - ebook
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White-Jacket - ebook
The novel „The White Jacket” by American writer Herman Melville is dedicated to swimming on the US military frigate. The novel, which is a chronicle only in part, describes in detail the life and life of naval sailors, their colorful figures, as well as the features of ships and naval service in that era. A number of philosophical, romantic and socio-political thoughts are presented.
| Kategoria: | Classic Literature |
| Język: | Angielski |
| Zabezpieczenie: |
Watermark
|
| ISBN: | 978-83-8217-119-8 |
| Rozmiar pliku: | 3,6 MB |
FRAGMENT KSIĄŻKI
Contents
CHAPTER I. THE JACKET
CHAPTER II. HOMEWARD BOUND
CHAPTER III. A GLANCE AT THE PRINCIPAL DIVISIONS, INTO WHICH A MAN-OF-WAR'S CREW IS DIVIDED
CHAPTER IV. JACK CHASE
CHAPTER V. JACK CHASE ON A SPANISH QUARTER-DECK
CHAPTER VI. THE QUARTER-DECK OFFICERS, WARRANT OFFICERS, AND BERTH-DECK UNDERLINGS OF A MAN-OF-WAR; WHERE THEY LIVE IN THE SHIP; HOW THEY LIVE; THEIR SOCIAL STANDING ON SHIP-BOARD; AND WHAT SORT OF GENTLEMEN THEY ARE
CHAPTER VII. BREAKFAST, DINNER, AND SUPPER
CHAPTER VIII. SELVAGEE CONTRASTED WITH MAD-JACK
CHAPTER IX. OF THE POCKETS THAT WERE IN THE JACKET
CHAPTER X. FROM POCKETS TO PICKPOCKETS
CHAPTER XI. THE PURSUIT OF POETRY UNDER DIFFICULTIES
CHAPTER XII. THE GOOD OR BAD TEMPER OF MEN-OF-WAR'S MEN, IN A GREAT DEGREE, ATTRIBUTABLE TO THEIR PARTICULAR STATIONS AND DUTIES ABOARD SHIP
CHAPTER XIII. A MAN-OF-WAR HERMIT IN A MOB
CHAPTER XIV. A DRAUGHT IN A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER XV. A SALT-JUNK CLUB IN A MAN-OF-WAR, WITH A NOTICE TO QUIT
CHAPTER XVI. GENERAL TRAINING IN A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER XVII. AWAY! SECOND, THIRD, AND FOURTH CUTTERS, AWAY!
CHAPTER XVIII. A MAN-OF-WAR FULL AS A NUT
CHAPTER XIX. THE JACKET ALOFT
CHAPTER XX. HOW THEY SLEEP IN A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER XXI. ONE REASON WHY MEN-OF-WAR'S MEN ARE, GENERALLY, SHORT-LIVED
CHAPTER XXII. WASH-DAY AND HOUSE-CLEANING IN A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER XXIII. THEATRICALS IN A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER XXIV. INTRODUCTORY TO CAPE HORN
CHAPTER XXV. THE DOG-DAYS OFF CAPE HORN
CHAPTER XXVI. THE PITCH OF THE CAPE
CHAPTER XXVII. SOME THOUGHTS GROWING OUT OF MAD JACK'S COUNTERMANDING HIS SUPERIOR'S ORDER
CHAPTER XXVIII. EDGING AWAY
CHAPTER XXIX. THE NIGHT-WATCHES
CHAPTER XXX. A PEEP THROUGH A PORT-HOLE AT THE SUBTERRANEAN PARTS OF A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER XXXI. THE GUNNER UNDER HATCHES
CHAPTER XXXII. A DISH OF DUNDERFUNK
CHAPTER XXXIII. A FLOGGING
CHAPTER XXXIV. SOME OF THE EVIL EFFECTS OF FLOGGING
CHAPTER XXXV. FLOGGING NOT LAWFUL
CHAPTER XXXVI. FLOGGING NOT NECESSARY
CHAPTER XXXVII. SOME SUPERIOR OLD "LONDON DOCK" FROM THE WINE-COOLERS OF NEPTUNE
CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE CHAPLAIN AND CHAPEL IN A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER XXXIX. THE FRIGATE IN HARBOUR. THE BOATS. GRAND STATE RECEPTION OF THE COMMODORE
CHAPTER XL. SOME OF THE CEREMONIES IN A MAN-OF-WAR UNNECESSARY AND INJURIOUS
CHAPTER XLI. A MAN-OF-WAR LIBRARY
CHAPTER XLII. KILLING TIME IN A MAN-OF-WAR IN HARBOUR
CHAPTER XLIII. SMUGGLING IN A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER XLIV. A KNAVE IN OFFICE IN A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER XLV. PUBLISHING POETRY IN A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER XLVI. THE COMMODORE ON THE POOP, AND ONE OF "THE PEOPLE" UNDER THE HANDS OF THE SURGEON
CHAPTER XLVII. AN AUCTION IN A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER XLVIII. PURSER, PURSER'S STEWARD, AND POSTMASTER IN A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER XLIX. RUMOURS OF A WAR, AND HOW THEY WERE RECEIVED BY THE POPULATION OF THE NEVERSINK
CHAPTER L. THE BAY OF ALL BEAUTIES
CHAPTER LI. ONE OF "THE PEOPLE" HAS AN AUDIENCE WITH THE COMMODORE AND THE CAPTAIN ON THE QUARTER-DECK
CHAPTER LII. SOMETHING CONCERNING MIDSHIPMEN
CHAPTER LIII. SEAFARING PERSONS PECULIARLY SUBJECT TO BEING UNDER THE WEATHER. THE EFFECTS OF THIS UPON A MAN-OF-WAR CAPTAIN
CHAPTER LIV. "THE PEOPLE" ARE GIVEN "LIBERTY."
CHAPTER LV. MIDSHIPMEN ENTERING THE NAVY EARLY
CHAPTER LVI. A SHORE EMPEROR ON BOARD A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER LVII. THE EMPEROR REVIEWS THE PEOPLE AT QUARTERS
CHAPTER LVIII. A QUARTER-DECK OFFICER BEFORE THE MAST
CHAPTER LIX. A MAN-OF-WAR BUTTON DIVIDES TWO BROTHERS
CHAPTER LX. A MAN-OF-WAR'S-MAN SHOT AT
CHAPTER LXI. THE SURGEON OF THE FLEET
CHAPTER LXII. A CONSULTATION OF MAN-OF-WAR SURGEONS
CHAPTER LXIII. THE OPERATION
CHAPTER LXIV. MAN-OF-WAR TROPHIES
CHAPTER LXV. A MAN-OF-WAR RACE
CHAPTER LXVI. FUN IN A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER LXVII. WHITE-JACKET ARRAIGNED AT THE MAST
CHAPTER LXVIII. A MAN-OF-WAR FOUNTAIN, AND OTHER THINGS
CHAPTER LXIX. PRAYERS AT THE GUNS
CHAPTER LXX. MONTHLY MUSTER ROUND THE CAPSTAN
CHAPTER LXXI. THE GENEALOGY OF THE ARTICLES OF WAR
CHAPTER LXXII. "HEREIN ARE THE GOOD ORDINANCES OF THE SEA, WHICH WISE MEN, WHO VOYAGED ROUND THE WORLD, GAVE TO OUR ANCESTORS, AND WHICH CONSTITUTE THE BOOKS OF THE SCIENCE OF GOOD CUSTOMS."—The Consulate of the Sea
CHAPTER LXXIII. NIGHT AND DAY GAMBLING IN A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER LXXIV. THE MAIN-TOP AT NIGHT
CHAPTER LXXV. "SINK, BURN, AND DESTROY."—Printed Admiralty orders in time of war
CHAPTER LXXVI. THE CHAINS
CHAPTER LXXVII. THE HOSPITAL IN A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER LXXVIII. DISMAL TIMES IN THE MESS
CHAPTER LXXIX. HOW MAN-OF-WAR'S-MEN DIE AT SEA
CHAPTER LXXX. THE LAST STITCH
CHAPTER LXXXI. HOW THEY BURY A MAN-OF-WAR'S-MAN AT SEA
CHAPTER LXXXII. WHAT REMAINS OF A MAN-OF-WAR'S-MAN AFTER HIS BURIAL AT SEA
CHAPTER LXXXIII. A MAN-OF-WAR COLLEGE
CHAPTER LXXXIV. MAN-OF-WAR BARBERS
CHAPTER LXXXV. THE GREAT MASSACRE OF THE BEARDS
CHAPTER LXXXVI. THE REBELS BROUGHT TO THE MAST
CHAPTER LXXXVII. OLD USHANT AT THE GANGWAY
CHAPTER LXXXVIII. FLOGGING THROUGH THE FLEET
CHAPTER LXXXIX. THE SOCIAL STATE IN A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER XC. THE MANNING OF NAVIES
CHAPTER XCI. SMOKING-CLUB IN A MAN-OF-WAR, WITH SCENES ON THE GUN-DECK DRAWING NEAR HOME
CHAPTER XCII. THE LAST OF THE JACKET
CHAPTER XCIII. CABLE AND ANCHOR ALL CLEARCHAPTER I
THE JACKET
It was not a very white jacket, but white enough, in all conscience, as the sequel will show.
The way I came by it was this.
When our frigate lay in Callao, on the coast of Peru–her last harbour in the Pacific–I found myself without a grego, or sailor’s surtout; and as, toward the end of a three years’ cruise, no pea-jackets could be had from the purser’s steward: and being bound for Cape Horn, some sort of a substitute was indispensable; I employed myself, for several days, in manufacturing an outlandish garment of my own devising, to shelter me from the boisterous weather we were so soon to encounter.
It was nothing more than a white duck frock, or rather shirt: which, laying on deck, I folded double at the bosom, and by then making a continuation of the slit there, opened it lengthwise–much as you would cut a leaf in the last new novel. The gash being made, a metamorphosis took place, transcending any related by Ovid. For, presto! the shirt was a coat!–a strange-looking coat, to be sure; of a Quakerish amplitude about the skirts; with an infirm, tumble-down collar; and a clumsy fullness about the wristbands; and white, yea, white as a shroud. And my shroud it afterward came very near proving, as he who reads further will find.
But, bless me, my friend, what sort of a summer jacket is this, in which to weather Cape Horn? A very tasty, and beautiful white linen garment it may have seemed; but then, people almost universally sport their linen next to their skin.
Very true; and that thought very early occurred to me; for no idea had I of scudding round Cape Horn in my shirt; for that would have been almost scudding under bare poles, indeed.
So, with many odds and ends of patches–old socks, old trowser-legs, and the like–I bedarned and bequilted the inside of my jacket, till it became, all over, stiff and padded, as King James’s cotton-stuffed and dagger-proof doublet; and no buckram or steel hauberk stood up more stoutly.
So far, very good; but pray, tell me, White-Jacket, how do you propose keeping out the rain and the wet in this quilted grego of yours? You don’t call this wad of old patches a Mackintosh, do you?–you don’t pretend to say that worsted is water-proof?
No, my dear friend; and that was the deuce of it. Waterproof it was not, no more than a sponge. Indeed, with such recklessness had I bequilted my jacket, that in a rain-storm I became a universal absorber; swabbing bone-dry the very bulwarks I leaned against. Of a damp day, my heartless shipmates even used to stand up against me, so powerful was the capillary attraction between this luckless jacket of mine and all drops of moisture. I dripped like a turkey a roasting; and long after the rain storms were over, and the sun showed his face, I still stalked a Scotch mist; and when it was fair weather with others, alas! it was foul weather with me.
Me? Ah me! Soaked and heavy, what a burden was that jacket to carry about, especially when I was sent up aloft; dragging myself up step by step, as if I were weighing the anchor. Small time then, to strip, and wring it out in a rain, when no hanging back or delay was permitted. No, no; up you go: fat or lean: Lambert or Edson: never mind how much avoirdupois you might weigh. And thus, in my own proper person, did many showers of rain reascend toward the skies, in accordance with the natural laws.
But here be it known, that I had been terribly disappointed in carrying out my original plan concerning this jacket. It had been my intention to make it thoroughly impervious, by giving it a coating of paint, But bitter fate ever overtakes us unfortunates. So much paint had been stolen by the sailors, in daubing their overhaul trowsers and tarpaulins, that by the time I–an honest man–had completed my quiltings, the paint-pots were banned, and put under strict lock and key.
Said old Brush, the captain of the paint-room–”Look ye, White-Jacket,” said he, “ye can’t have any paint.”
Such, then, was my jacket: a well-patched, padded, and porous one; and in a dark night, gleaming white as the White Lady of Avenel!CHAPTER II
HOMEWARD BOUND
“All hands up anchor! Man the capstan!”
“High die! my lads, we’re homeward bound!”
Homeward bound!–harmonious sound! Were you ever homeward bound?–No?–Quick! take the wings of the morning, or the sails of a ship, and fly to the uttermost parts of the earth. There, tarry a year or two; and then let the gruffest of boatswains, his lungs all goose-skin, shout forth those magical words, and you’ll swear “the harp of Orpheus were not more enchanting.”
All was ready; boats hoisted in, stun’ sail gear rove, messenger passed, capstan-bars in their places, accommodation-ladder below; and in glorious spirits, we sat down to dinner. In the ward-room, the lieutenants were passing round their oldest port, and pledging their friends; in the steerage, the middies were busy raising loans to liquidate the demands of their laundress, or else–in the navy phrase–preparing to pay their creditors with a flying fore-topsail. On the poop, the captain was looking to windward; and in his grand, inaccessible cabin, the high and mighty commodore sat silent and stately, as the statue of Jupiter in Dodona.
We were all arrayed in our best, and our bravest; like strips of blue sky, lay the pure blue collars of our frocks upon our shoulders; and our pumps were so springy and playful, that we danced up and down as we dined.
It was on the gun-deck that our dinners were spread; all along between the guns; and there, as we cross-legged sat, you would have thought a hundred farm-yards and meadows were nigh. Such a cackling of ducks, chickens, and ganders; such a lowing of oxen, and bleating of lambkins, penned up here and there along the deck, to provide sea repasts for the officers. More rural than naval were the sounds; continually reminding each mother’s son of the old paternal homestead in the green old clime; the old arching elms; the hill where we gambolled; and down by the barley banks of the stream where we bathed.
“All hands up anchor!”
When that order was given, how we sprang to the bars, and heaved round that capstan; every man a Goliath, every tendon a hawser!–round and round–round, round it spun like a sphere, keeping time with our feet to the time of the fifer, till the cable was straight up and down, and the ship with her nose in the water.
“Heave and pall! unship your bars, and make sail!”
It was done: barmen, nipper-men, tierers, veerers, idlers and all, scrambled up the ladder to the braces and halyards; while like monkeys in Palm-trees, the sail-loosers ran out on those broad boughs, our yards; and down fell the sails like white clouds from the ether–topsails, top-gallants, and royals; and away we ran with the halyards, till every sheet was distended.
“Once more to the bars!”
This is a free sample. Please purchase full version of the book to continue.
CHAPTER I. THE JACKET
CHAPTER II. HOMEWARD BOUND
CHAPTER III. A GLANCE AT THE PRINCIPAL DIVISIONS, INTO WHICH A MAN-OF-WAR'S CREW IS DIVIDED
CHAPTER IV. JACK CHASE
CHAPTER V. JACK CHASE ON A SPANISH QUARTER-DECK
CHAPTER VI. THE QUARTER-DECK OFFICERS, WARRANT OFFICERS, AND BERTH-DECK UNDERLINGS OF A MAN-OF-WAR; WHERE THEY LIVE IN THE SHIP; HOW THEY LIVE; THEIR SOCIAL STANDING ON SHIP-BOARD; AND WHAT SORT OF GENTLEMEN THEY ARE
CHAPTER VII. BREAKFAST, DINNER, AND SUPPER
CHAPTER VIII. SELVAGEE CONTRASTED WITH MAD-JACK
CHAPTER IX. OF THE POCKETS THAT WERE IN THE JACKET
CHAPTER X. FROM POCKETS TO PICKPOCKETS
CHAPTER XI. THE PURSUIT OF POETRY UNDER DIFFICULTIES
CHAPTER XII. THE GOOD OR BAD TEMPER OF MEN-OF-WAR'S MEN, IN A GREAT DEGREE, ATTRIBUTABLE TO THEIR PARTICULAR STATIONS AND DUTIES ABOARD SHIP
CHAPTER XIII. A MAN-OF-WAR HERMIT IN A MOB
CHAPTER XIV. A DRAUGHT IN A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER XV. A SALT-JUNK CLUB IN A MAN-OF-WAR, WITH A NOTICE TO QUIT
CHAPTER XVI. GENERAL TRAINING IN A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER XVII. AWAY! SECOND, THIRD, AND FOURTH CUTTERS, AWAY!
CHAPTER XVIII. A MAN-OF-WAR FULL AS A NUT
CHAPTER XIX. THE JACKET ALOFT
CHAPTER XX. HOW THEY SLEEP IN A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER XXI. ONE REASON WHY MEN-OF-WAR'S MEN ARE, GENERALLY, SHORT-LIVED
CHAPTER XXII. WASH-DAY AND HOUSE-CLEANING IN A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER XXIII. THEATRICALS IN A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER XXIV. INTRODUCTORY TO CAPE HORN
CHAPTER XXV. THE DOG-DAYS OFF CAPE HORN
CHAPTER XXVI. THE PITCH OF THE CAPE
CHAPTER XXVII. SOME THOUGHTS GROWING OUT OF MAD JACK'S COUNTERMANDING HIS SUPERIOR'S ORDER
CHAPTER XXVIII. EDGING AWAY
CHAPTER XXIX. THE NIGHT-WATCHES
CHAPTER XXX. A PEEP THROUGH A PORT-HOLE AT THE SUBTERRANEAN PARTS OF A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER XXXI. THE GUNNER UNDER HATCHES
CHAPTER XXXII. A DISH OF DUNDERFUNK
CHAPTER XXXIII. A FLOGGING
CHAPTER XXXIV. SOME OF THE EVIL EFFECTS OF FLOGGING
CHAPTER XXXV. FLOGGING NOT LAWFUL
CHAPTER XXXVI. FLOGGING NOT NECESSARY
CHAPTER XXXVII. SOME SUPERIOR OLD "LONDON DOCK" FROM THE WINE-COOLERS OF NEPTUNE
CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE CHAPLAIN AND CHAPEL IN A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER XXXIX. THE FRIGATE IN HARBOUR. THE BOATS. GRAND STATE RECEPTION OF THE COMMODORE
CHAPTER XL. SOME OF THE CEREMONIES IN A MAN-OF-WAR UNNECESSARY AND INJURIOUS
CHAPTER XLI. A MAN-OF-WAR LIBRARY
CHAPTER XLII. KILLING TIME IN A MAN-OF-WAR IN HARBOUR
CHAPTER XLIII. SMUGGLING IN A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER XLIV. A KNAVE IN OFFICE IN A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER XLV. PUBLISHING POETRY IN A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER XLVI. THE COMMODORE ON THE POOP, AND ONE OF "THE PEOPLE" UNDER THE HANDS OF THE SURGEON
CHAPTER XLVII. AN AUCTION IN A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER XLVIII. PURSER, PURSER'S STEWARD, AND POSTMASTER IN A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER XLIX. RUMOURS OF A WAR, AND HOW THEY WERE RECEIVED BY THE POPULATION OF THE NEVERSINK
CHAPTER L. THE BAY OF ALL BEAUTIES
CHAPTER LI. ONE OF "THE PEOPLE" HAS AN AUDIENCE WITH THE COMMODORE AND THE CAPTAIN ON THE QUARTER-DECK
CHAPTER LII. SOMETHING CONCERNING MIDSHIPMEN
CHAPTER LIII. SEAFARING PERSONS PECULIARLY SUBJECT TO BEING UNDER THE WEATHER. THE EFFECTS OF THIS UPON A MAN-OF-WAR CAPTAIN
CHAPTER LIV. "THE PEOPLE" ARE GIVEN "LIBERTY."
CHAPTER LV. MIDSHIPMEN ENTERING THE NAVY EARLY
CHAPTER LVI. A SHORE EMPEROR ON BOARD A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER LVII. THE EMPEROR REVIEWS THE PEOPLE AT QUARTERS
CHAPTER LVIII. A QUARTER-DECK OFFICER BEFORE THE MAST
CHAPTER LIX. A MAN-OF-WAR BUTTON DIVIDES TWO BROTHERS
CHAPTER LX. A MAN-OF-WAR'S-MAN SHOT AT
CHAPTER LXI. THE SURGEON OF THE FLEET
CHAPTER LXII. A CONSULTATION OF MAN-OF-WAR SURGEONS
CHAPTER LXIII. THE OPERATION
CHAPTER LXIV. MAN-OF-WAR TROPHIES
CHAPTER LXV. A MAN-OF-WAR RACE
CHAPTER LXVI. FUN IN A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER LXVII. WHITE-JACKET ARRAIGNED AT THE MAST
CHAPTER LXVIII. A MAN-OF-WAR FOUNTAIN, AND OTHER THINGS
CHAPTER LXIX. PRAYERS AT THE GUNS
CHAPTER LXX. MONTHLY MUSTER ROUND THE CAPSTAN
CHAPTER LXXI. THE GENEALOGY OF THE ARTICLES OF WAR
CHAPTER LXXII. "HEREIN ARE THE GOOD ORDINANCES OF THE SEA, WHICH WISE MEN, WHO VOYAGED ROUND THE WORLD, GAVE TO OUR ANCESTORS, AND WHICH CONSTITUTE THE BOOKS OF THE SCIENCE OF GOOD CUSTOMS."—The Consulate of the Sea
CHAPTER LXXIII. NIGHT AND DAY GAMBLING IN A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER LXXIV. THE MAIN-TOP AT NIGHT
CHAPTER LXXV. "SINK, BURN, AND DESTROY."—Printed Admiralty orders in time of war
CHAPTER LXXVI. THE CHAINS
CHAPTER LXXVII. THE HOSPITAL IN A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER LXXVIII. DISMAL TIMES IN THE MESS
CHAPTER LXXIX. HOW MAN-OF-WAR'S-MEN DIE AT SEA
CHAPTER LXXX. THE LAST STITCH
CHAPTER LXXXI. HOW THEY BURY A MAN-OF-WAR'S-MAN AT SEA
CHAPTER LXXXII. WHAT REMAINS OF A MAN-OF-WAR'S-MAN AFTER HIS BURIAL AT SEA
CHAPTER LXXXIII. A MAN-OF-WAR COLLEGE
CHAPTER LXXXIV. MAN-OF-WAR BARBERS
CHAPTER LXXXV. THE GREAT MASSACRE OF THE BEARDS
CHAPTER LXXXVI. THE REBELS BROUGHT TO THE MAST
CHAPTER LXXXVII. OLD USHANT AT THE GANGWAY
CHAPTER LXXXVIII. FLOGGING THROUGH THE FLEET
CHAPTER LXXXIX. THE SOCIAL STATE IN A MAN-OF-WAR
CHAPTER XC. THE MANNING OF NAVIES
CHAPTER XCI. SMOKING-CLUB IN A MAN-OF-WAR, WITH SCENES ON THE GUN-DECK DRAWING NEAR HOME
CHAPTER XCII. THE LAST OF THE JACKET
CHAPTER XCIII. CABLE AND ANCHOR ALL CLEARCHAPTER I
THE JACKET
It was not a very white jacket, but white enough, in all conscience, as the sequel will show.
The way I came by it was this.
When our frigate lay in Callao, on the coast of Peru–her last harbour in the Pacific–I found myself without a grego, or sailor’s surtout; and as, toward the end of a three years’ cruise, no pea-jackets could be had from the purser’s steward: and being bound for Cape Horn, some sort of a substitute was indispensable; I employed myself, for several days, in manufacturing an outlandish garment of my own devising, to shelter me from the boisterous weather we were so soon to encounter.
It was nothing more than a white duck frock, or rather shirt: which, laying on deck, I folded double at the bosom, and by then making a continuation of the slit there, opened it lengthwise–much as you would cut a leaf in the last new novel. The gash being made, a metamorphosis took place, transcending any related by Ovid. For, presto! the shirt was a coat!–a strange-looking coat, to be sure; of a Quakerish amplitude about the skirts; with an infirm, tumble-down collar; and a clumsy fullness about the wristbands; and white, yea, white as a shroud. And my shroud it afterward came very near proving, as he who reads further will find.
But, bless me, my friend, what sort of a summer jacket is this, in which to weather Cape Horn? A very tasty, and beautiful white linen garment it may have seemed; but then, people almost universally sport their linen next to their skin.
Very true; and that thought very early occurred to me; for no idea had I of scudding round Cape Horn in my shirt; for that would have been almost scudding under bare poles, indeed.
So, with many odds and ends of patches–old socks, old trowser-legs, and the like–I bedarned and bequilted the inside of my jacket, till it became, all over, stiff and padded, as King James’s cotton-stuffed and dagger-proof doublet; and no buckram or steel hauberk stood up more stoutly.
So far, very good; but pray, tell me, White-Jacket, how do you propose keeping out the rain and the wet in this quilted grego of yours? You don’t call this wad of old patches a Mackintosh, do you?–you don’t pretend to say that worsted is water-proof?
No, my dear friend; and that was the deuce of it. Waterproof it was not, no more than a sponge. Indeed, with such recklessness had I bequilted my jacket, that in a rain-storm I became a universal absorber; swabbing bone-dry the very bulwarks I leaned against. Of a damp day, my heartless shipmates even used to stand up against me, so powerful was the capillary attraction between this luckless jacket of mine and all drops of moisture. I dripped like a turkey a roasting; and long after the rain storms were over, and the sun showed his face, I still stalked a Scotch mist; and when it was fair weather with others, alas! it was foul weather with me.
Me? Ah me! Soaked and heavy, what a burden was that jacket to carry about, especially when I was sent up aloft; dragging myself up step by step, as if I were weighing the anchor. Small time then, to strip, and wring it out in a rain, when no hanging back or delay was permitted. No, no; up you go: fat or lean: Lambert or Edson: never mind how much avoirdupois you might weigh. And thus, in my own proper person, did many showers of rain reascend toward the skies, in accordance with the natural laws.
But here be it known, that I had been terribly disappointed in carrying out my original plan concerning this jacket. It had been my intention to make it thoroughly impervious, by giving it a coating of paint, But bitter fate ever overtakes us unfortunates. So much paint had been stolen by the sailors, in daubing their overhaul trowsers and tarpaulins, that by the time I–an honest man–had completed my quiltings, the paint-pots were banned, and put under strict lock and key.
Said old Brush, the captain of the paint-room–”Look ye, White-Jacket,” said he, “ye can’t have any paint.”
Such, then, was my jacket: a well-patched, padded, and porous one; and in a dark night, gleaming white as the White Lady of Avenel!CHAPTER II
HOMEWARD BOUND
“All hands up anchor! Man the capstan!”
“High die! my lads, we’re homeward bound!”
Homeward bound!–harmonious sound! Were you ever homeward bound?–No?–Quick! take the wings of the morning, or the sails of a ship, and fly to the uttermost parts of the earth. There, tarry a year or two; and then let the gruffest of boatswains, his lungs all goose-skin, shout forth those magical words, and you’ll swear “the harp of Orpheus were not more enchanting.”
All was ready; boats hoisted in, stun’ sail gear rove, messenger passed, capstan-bars in their places, accommodation-ladder below; and in glorious spirits, we sat down to dinner. In the ward-room, the lieutenants were passing round their oldest port, and pledging their friends; in the steerage, the middies were busy raising loans to liquidate the demands of their laundress, or else–in the navy phrase–preparing to pay their creditors with a flying fore-topsail. On the poop, the captain was looking to windward; and in his grand, inaccessible cabin, the high and mighty commodore sat silent and stately, as the statue of Jupiter in Dodona.
We were all arrayed in our best, and our bravest; like strips of blue sky, lay the pure blue collars of our frocks upon our shoulders; and our pumps were so springy and playful, that we danced up and down as we dined.
It was on the gun-deck that our dinners were spread; all along between the guns; and there, as we cross-legged sat, you would have thought a hundred farm-yards and meadows were nigh. Such a cackling of ducks, chickens, and ganders; such a lowing of oxen, and bleating of lambkins, penned up here and there along the deck, to provide sea repasts for the officers. More rural than naval were the sounds; continually reminding each mother’s son of the old paternal homestead in the green old clime; the old arching elms; the hill where we gambolled; and down by the barley banks of the stream where we bathed.
“All hands up anchor!”
When that order was given, how we sprang to the bars, and heaved round that capstan; every man a Goliath, every tendon a hawser!–round and round–round, round it spun like a sphere, keeping time with our feet to the time of the fifer, till the cable was straight up and down, and the ship with her nose in the water.
“Heave and pall! unship your bars, and make sail!”
It was done: barmen, nipper-men, tierers, veerers, idlers and all, scrambled up the ladder to the braces and halyards; while like monkeys in Palm-trees, the sail-loosers ran out on those broad boughs, our yards; and down fell the sails like white clouds from the ether–topsails, top-gallants, and royals; and away we ran with the halyards, till every sheet was distended.
“Once more to the bars!”
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