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- 13687
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- 2026-01-30T20:48:36.278Z
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- 13618
- text
- cogitations. At any rate, that very evening the ship’s company were
astounded by an extraordinary announcement made at the main-hatch-way
of the gun-deck, by the Boat-swain’s mate there stationed. He was
afterwards discovered to have been tipsy at the time.
“D’ye hear there, fore and aft? All you that have hair on your heads,
shave them off; and all you that have beards, trim ’em small!”
Shave off our Christian heads! And then, placing them between our
knees, trim small our worshipped beards! The Captain was mad.
But directly the Boatswain came rushing to the hatchway, and, after
soundly rating his tipsy mate, thundered forth a true version of the
order that had issued from the quarter-deck. As amended, it ran thus:
“D’ye hear there, fore and aft? All you that have long hair, cut it
short; and all you that have large whiskers, trim them down, according
to the Navy regulations.”
This was an amendment, to be sure; but what barbarity, after all! What!
not thirty days’ run from home, and lose our magnificent
homeward-bounders! The homeward-bounders we had been cultivating so
long! Lose them at one fell swoop? Were the vile barbers of the
gun-deck to reap our long, nodding harvests, and expose our innocent
chins to the chill air of the Yankee coast! And our viny locks! were
they also to be shorn? Was a grand sheep-shearing, such as they
annually have at Nantucket, to take place; and our ignoble barbers to
carry off the fleece?
Captain Claret! in cutting our beards and our hair, you cut us the
unkindest cut of all! Were we going into action, Captain Claret—going
to fight the foe with our hearts of flame and our arms of steel, then
would we gladly offer up our beards to the terrific God of War, and
_that_ we would account but a wise precaution against having them
tweaked by the foe. _Then_, Captain Claret, you would but be imitating
the example of Alexander, who had his Macedonians all shaven, that in
the hour of battle their beards might not be handles to the Persians.
But _now_, Captain Claret! when after our long, long cruise, we are
returning to our homes, tenderly stroking the fine tassels on our
chins; and thinking of father or mother, or sister or brother, or
daughter or son; to cut off our beards now—the very beards that were
frosted white off the pitch of Patagonia—_this_ is too bitterly bad,
Captain Claret! and, by Heaven, we will not submit. Train your guns
inboard, let the marines fix their bayonets, let the officers draw
their swords; we _will not_ let our beards be reaped—the last insult
inflicted upon a vanquished foe in the East!
Where are you, sheet-anchor-men! Captains of the tops! gunner’s mates!
mariners, all! Muster round the capstan your venerable beards, and
while you braid them together in token of brotherhood, cross hands and
swear that we will enact over again the mutiny of the Nore, and sooner
perish than yield up a hair!
The excitement was intense throughout that whole evening. Groups of
tens and twenties were scattered about all the decks, discussing the
mandate, and inveighing against its barbarous author. The long area of
the gun-deck was something like a populous street of brokers, when some
terrible commercial tidings have newly arrived. One and all, they
resolved not to succumb, and every man swore to stand by his beard and
his neighbour.
Twenty-four hours after—at the next evening quarters—the Captain’s eye
was observed to wander along the men at their guns—not a beard was
shaven!
When the drum beat the retreat, the Boatswain—now attended by all four
of his mates, to give additional solemnity to the announcement—repeated
the previous day’s order, and concluded by saying, that twenty-four
hours would be given for all to acquiesce.
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