- end_line
- 1181
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:14.838Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 1103
- text
- CHAPTER VI.
HE IS INITIATED IN THE BUSINESS OF CLEANING OUT THE PIG-PEN, AND
SLUSHING DOWN THE TOP-MAST
By the time I got back to the ship, every thing was in an uproar. The
pea-jacket man was there, ordering about a good many men in the
rigging, and people were bringing off chickens, and pigs, and beef, and
vegetables from the shore. Soon after, another man, in a striped calico
shirt, a short blue jacket and beaver hat, made his appearance, and
went to ordering about the man in the big pea-jacket; and at last the
captain came up the side, and began to order about both of them.
These two men turned out to be the first and second mates of the ship.
Thinking to make friends with the second mate, I took out an old
tortoise-shell snuff-box of my father’s, in which I had put a piece of
Cavendish tobacco, to look sailor-like, and offered the box to him very
politely. He stared at me a moment, and then exclaimed, “Do you think
we take snuff aboard here, youngster? no, no, no time for snuff-taking
at sea; don’t let the ‘old man’ see that snuff-box; take my advice and
pitch it overboard as quick as you can.”
I told him it was not snuff, but tobacco; when he said, he had plenty
of tobacco of his own, and never carried any such nonsense about him as
a tobacco-box. With that, he went off about his business, and left me
feeling foolish enough. But I had reason to be glad he had acted thus,
for if he had not, I think I should have offered my box to the chief
mate, who in that case, from what I afterward learned of him, would
have knocked me down, or done something else equally uncivil.
As I was standing looking round me, the chief mate approached in a
great hurry about something, and seeing me in his way, cried out,
“Ashore with you, you young loafer! There’s no stealings here; sail
away, I tell you, with that shooting-jacket!”
Upon this I retreated, saying that I was going out in the ship as a
sailor.
“A sailor!” he cried, “a barber’s clerk, you mean; _you_ going out in
the ship? what, in that jacket? Hang me, I hope the old man hasn’t been
shipping any more greenhorns like you—he’ll make a shipwreck of it if
he has. But this is the way nowadays; to save a few dollars in seamen’s
wages, they think nothing of shipping a parcel of farmers and
clodhoppers and baby-boys. What’s your name, Pillgarlic?”
“Redburn,” said I.
“A pretty handle to a man, that; scorch you to take hold of it; haven’t
you got any other?”
“Wellingborough,” said I.
“Worse yet. Who had the baptizing of ye? Why didn’t they call you Jack,
or Jill, or something short and handy. But I’ll baptize you over again.
D’ye hear, sir, henceforth your name is _Buttons._ And now do you go,
Buttons, and clean out that pig-pen in the long-boat; it has not been
cleaned out since last voyage. And bear a hand about it, d’ye hear;
there’s them pigs there waiting to be put in; come, be off about it,
now.”
Was this then the beginning of my sea-career? set to cleaning out a
pig-pen, the very first thing?
But I thought it best to say nothing; I had bound myself to obey
orders, and it was too late to retreat. So I only asked for a shovel,
or spade, or something else to work with.
“We don’t dig gardens here,” was the reply; “dig it out with your
teeth!”
After looking round, I found a stick and went to scraping out the pen,
which was awkward work enough, for another boat called the
“jolly-boat,” was capsized right over the longboat, which brought them
almost close together. These two boats were in the middle of the deck.
I managed to crawl inside of the long-boat; and after barking my shins
against the seats, and bumping my head a good many times, I got along
to the stern, where the pig-pen was.
- title
- Chunk 1