- end_line
- 1640
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:14.838Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 1578
- text
- yours by good rights—I don’t want him.” And so they put me in the chief
mate’s division, that is the larboard watch.
While this scene was going on, I felt shabby enough; there I stood,
just like a silly sheep, over whom two butchers are bargaining. Nothing
that had yet happened so forcibly reminded me of where I was, and what
I had come to. I was very glad when they sent us forward again.
As we were going forward, the second mate called one of the sailors by
name:-“You, Bill?” and Bill answered, “Sir?” just as if the second mate
was a born gentleman. It surprised me not a little, to see a man in
such a shabby, shaggy old jacket addressed so respectfully; but I had
been quite as much surprised when I heard the chief mate call him _Mr._
Rigs during the scene on the quarter-deck; as if this _Mr. Rigs_ was a
great merchant living in a marble house in Lafayette Place. But I was
not very long in finding out, that at sea all officers are _Misters,_
and would take it for an insult if any seaman presumed to omit calling
them so. And it is also one of their rights and privileges to be called
_sir_ when addressed—Yes, _sir; No, sir; Ay, ay, sir;_ and they are as
particular about being sirred as so many knights and baronets; though
their titles are not hereditary, as is the case with the Sir Johns and
Sir Joshuas in England. But so far as the second mate is concerned, his
tides are the only dignities he enjoys; for, upon the whole, he leads a
puppyish life indeed. He is not deemed company at any time for the
captain, though the chief mate occasionally is, at least deck-company,
though not in the cabin; and besides this, the second mate has to
breakfast, lunch, dine, and sup off the leavings of the cabin table,
and even the steward, who is accountable to nobody but the captain,
sometimes treats him cavalierly; and he has to run aloft when topsails
are reefed; and put his hand a good way down into the tar-bucket; and
keep the key of the boatswain’s locker, and fetch and carry balls of
marline and seizing-stuff for the sailors when at work in the rigging;
besides doing many other things, which a true-born baronet of any
spirit would rather die and give up his title than stand.
Having been divided into watches we were sent to supper; but I could
not eat any thing except a little biscuit, though I should have liked
to have some good tea; but as I had no pot to get it in, and was rather
nervous about asking the rough sailors to let me drink out of theirs; I
was obliged to go without a sip. I thought of going to the black cook
and begging a tin cup; but he looked so cross and ugly then, that the
sight of him almost frightened the idea out of me.
When supper was over, for they never talk about going to _tea_ aboard
of a ship, the watch to which I belonged was called on deck; and we
were told it was for us to stand the first night watch, that is, from
eight o’clock till midnight.
I now began to feel unsettled and ill at ease about the stomach, as if
matters were all topsy-turvy there; and felt strange and giddy about
the head; and so I made no doubt that this was the beginning of that
dreadful thing, the sea-sickness. Feeling worse and worse, I told one
of the sailors how it was with me, and begged him to make my excuses
very civilly to the chief mate, for I thought I would go below and
spend the night in my bunk. But he only laughed at me, and said
something about my mother not being aware of my being out; which
enraged me not a little, that a man whom I had heard swear so terribly,
should dare to take such a holy name into his mouth. It seemed a sort
of blasphemy, and it seemed like dragging out the best and most
cherished secrets of my soul, for at that time the name of mother was
the center of all my heart’s finest feelings, which ere that, I had
learned to keep secret, deep down in my being.
- title
- Chunk 2