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- CHAPTER XLIV.
A KNAVE IN OFFICE IN A MAN-OF-WAR.
The last smuggling story now about to be related also occurred while we
lay in Rio. It is the more particularly presented, since it furnishes
the most curious evidence of the almost incredible corruption pervading
nearly all ranks in some men-of-war.
For some days, the number of intoxicated sailors collared and brought
up to the mast by the master-at-arms, to be reported to the
deck-officers—previous to a flogging at the gangway—had, in the last
degree, excited the surprise and vexation of the Captain and senior
officers. So strict were the Captain’s regulations concerning the
suppression of grog-smuggling, and so particular had he been in
charging the matter upon all the Lieutenants, and every understrapper
official in the frigate, that he was wholly at a loss how so large a
quantity of spirits could have been spirited into the ship, in the face
of all these checks, guards, and precautions.
Still additional steps were adopted to detect the smugglers; and Bland,
the master-at-arms, together with his corporals, were publicly
harangued at the mast by the Captain in person, and charged to exert
their best powers in suppressing the traffic. Crowds were present at
the time, and saw the master-at-arms touch his cap in obsequious
homage, as he solemnly assured the Captain that he would still continue
to do his best; as, indeed, he said he had always done. He concluded
with a pious ejaculation expressive of his personal abhorrence of
smuggling and drunkenness, and his fixed resolution, so help him
Heaven, to spend his last wink in sitting up by night, to spy out all
deeds of darkness.
“I do not doubt you, master-at-arms,” returned the Captain; “now go to
your duty.” This master-at-arms was a favourite of the Captain’s.
The next morning, before breakfast, when the market-boat came off (that
is, one of the ship’s boats regularly deputed to bring off the daily
fresh provisions for the officers)—when this boat came off, the
master-at-arms, as usual, after carefully examining both her and her
crew, reported them to the deck-officer to be free from suspicion. The
provisions were then hoisted out, and among them came a good-sized
wooden box, addressed to “Mr. —— Purser of the United States ship
Neversink.” Of course, any private matter of this sort, destined for a
gentleman of the ward-room, was sacred from examination, and the
master-at-arms commanded one of his corporals to carry it down into the
Purser’s state-room. But recent occurrences had sharpened the vigilance
of the deck-officer to an unwonted degree, and seeing the box going
down the hatchway, he demanded what that was, and whom it was for.
“All right, sir,” said the master-at-arms, touching his cap; “stores
for the Purser, sir.”
“Let it remain on deck,” said the Lieutenant. “Mr. Montgomery!” calling
a midshipman, “ask the Purser whether there is any box coming off for
him this morning.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” said the middy, touching his cap.
Presently he returned, saying that the Purser was ashore.
“Very good, then; Mr. Montgomery, have that box put into the ‘brig,’
with strict orders to the sentry not to suffer any one to touch it.”
“Had I not better take it down into my mess, sir, till the Purser comes
off?” said the master-at-arms, deferentially.
“I have given my orders, sir!” said the Lieutenant, turning away.
When the Purser came on board, it turned out that he knew nothing at
all about the box. He had never so much as heard of it in his life. So
it was again brought up before the deck-officer, who immediately
summoned the master-at-arms.
“Break open that box!”
“Certainly, sir!” said the master-at-arms; and, wrenching off the
cover, twenty-five brown jugs like a litter of twenty-five brown pigs,
were found snugly nestled in a bed of straw.
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