- end_line
- 6817
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:36.274Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 6752
- text
- CHAPTER XLIII.
SMUGGLING IN A MAN-OF-WAR.
It is in a good degree owing to the idleness just described, that,
while lying in harbour, the man-of-war’s-man is exposed to the most
temptations and gets into his saddest scrapes. For though his vessel be
anchored a mile from the shore, and her sides are patrolled by sentries
night and day, yet these things cannot entirely prevent the seductions
of the land from reaching him. The prime agent in working his
calamities in port is his old arch-enemy, the ever-devilish god of
grog.
Immured as the man-of-war’s-man is, serving out his weary three years
in a sort of sea-Newgate, from which he cannot escape, either by the
roof or burrowing underground, he too often flies to the bottle to seek
relief from the intolerable ennui of nothing to do, and nowhere to go.
His ordinary government allowance of spirits, one gill per diem, is not
enough to give a sufficient to his listless senses; he pronounces his
grog basely _watered_; he scouts at it as _thinner than muslin;_ he
craves a more vigorous _nip at the cable_, a more sturdy _swig at the
halyards;_ and if opium were to be had, many would steep themselves a
thousand fathoms down in the densest fumes of that oblivious drug. Tell
him that the delirium tremens and the mania-a-potu lie in ambush for
drunkards, he will say to you, “Let them bear down upon me, then,
before the wind; anything that smacks of life is better than to feel
Davy Jones’s chest-lid on your nose.” He is reckless as an avalanche;
and though his fall destroy himself and others, yet a ruinous commotion
is better than being frozen fast in unendurable solitudes. No wonder,
then, that he goes all lengths to procure the thing he craves; no
wonder that he pays the most exorbitant prices, breaks through all law,
and braves the ignominious lash itself, rather than be deprived of his
stimulus.
Now, concerning no one thing in a man-of-war, are the regulations more
severe than respecting the smuggling of grog, and being found
intoxicated. For either offence there is but one penalty, invariably
enforced; and that is the degradation of the gangway.
All conceivable precautions are taken by most frigate-executives to
guard against the secret admission of spirits into the vessel. In the
first place, no shore-boat whatever is allowed to approach a man-of-war
in a foreign harbour without permission from the officer of the deck.
Even the _bum-boats_, the small craft licensed by the officers to bring
off fruit for the sailors, to be bought out of their own money—these
are invariably inspected before permitted to hold intercourse with the
ship’s company. And not only this, but every one of the numerous ship’s
boats—kept almost continually plying to and from the shore—are
similarly inspected, sometimes each boat twenty times in the day.
This inspection is thus performed: The boat being descried by the
quarter-master from the poop, she is reported to the deck officer, who
thereupon summons the master-at-arms, the ship’s chief of police. This
functionary now stations himself at the gangway, and as the boat’s
crew, one by one, come up the side, he personally overhauls them,
making them take off their hats, and then, placing both hands upon
their heads, draws his palms slowly down to their feet, carefully
feeling all unusual protuberances. If nothing suspicious is felt, the
man is let pass; and so on, till the whole boat’s crew, averaging about
sixteen men, are examined. The chief of police then descends into the
boat, and walks from stem to stern, eyeing it all over, and poking his
long rattan into every nook and cranny. This operation concluded, and
nothing found, he mounts the ladder, touches his hat to the
deck-officer, and reports the boat _clean_; whereupon she is hauled out
to the booms.
- title
- Chunk 1