- end_line
- 1857
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:14.838Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 1794
- text
- CHAPTER IX.
THE SAILORS BECOMING A LITTLE SOCIAL, REDBURN CONVERSES WITH THEM
The latter part of this first long watch that we stood was very
pleasant, so far as the weather was concerned. From being rather
cloudy, it became a soft moonlight; and the stars peeped out, plain
enough to count one by one; and there was a fine steady breeze; and it
was not very cold; and we were going through the water almost as smooth
as a sled sliding down hill. And what was still better, the wind held
so steady, that there was little running aloft, little pulling ropes,
and scarcely any thing disagreeable of that kind.
The chief mate kept walking up and down the quarter-deck, with a
lighted long-nine cigar in his mouth by way of a torch; and spoke but
few words to us the whole watch. He must have had a good deal of
thinking to attend to, which in truth is the case with most seamen the
first night out of port, especially when they have thrown away their
money in foolish dissipation, and got very sick into the bargain. For
when ashore, many of these sea-officers are as wild and reckless in
their way, as the sailors they command.
While I stood watching the red cigar-end promenading up and down, the
mate suddenly stopped and gave an order, and the men sprang to obey it.
It was not much, only something about hoisting one of the sails a
little higher up on the mast. The men took hold of the rope, and began
pulling upon it; the foremost man of all setting up a song with no
words to it, only a strange musical rise and fall of notes. In the dark
night, and far out upon the lonely sea, it sounded wild enough, and
made me feel as I had sometimes felt, when in a twilight room a cousin
of mine, with black eyes, used to play some old German airs on the
piano. I almost looked round for goblins, and felt just a little bit
afraid. But I soon got used to this singing; for the sailors never
touched a rope without it. Sometimes, when no one happened to strike
up, and the pulling, whatever it might be, did not seem to be getting
forward very well, the mate would always say, _“Come, men, can’t any of
you sing? Sing now, and raise the dead.”_ And then some one of them
would begin, and if every man’s arms were as much relieved as mine by
the song, and he could pull as much better as I did, with such a
cheering accompaniment, I am sure the song was well worth the breath
expended on it. It is a great thing in a sailor to know how to sing
well, for he gets a great name by it from the officers, and a good deal
of popularity among his shipmates. Some sea-captains, before shipping a
man, always ask him whether he can sing out at a rope.
During the greater part of the watch, the sailors sat on the windlass
and told long stories of their adventures by sea and land, and talked
about Gibraltar, and Canton, and Valparaiso, and Bombay, just as you
and I would about Peck Slip and the Bowery. Every man of them almost
was a volume of Voyages and Travels round the World. And what most
struck me was that like books of voyages they often contradicted each
other, and would fall into long and violent disputes about who was
keeping the Foul Anchor tavern in Portsmouth at such a time; or whether
the King of Canton lived or did not live in Persia; or whether the
bar-maid of a particular house in Hamburg had black eyes or blue eyes;
with many other mooted points of that sort.
At last one of them went below and brought up a box of cigars from his
chest, for some sailors always provide little delicacies of that kind,
to break off the first shock of the salt water after laying idle
ashore; and also by way of _tapering off,_ as I mentioned a little
while ago. But I wondered that they never carried any pies and tarts to
sea with them, instead of spirits and cigars.
- title
- Chunk 1