- end_line
- 3692
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:36.270Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 3635
- text
- come round to be stationed in the tops, and at the various halyards and
running ropes about the spar-deck, could not be permitted to partake in
the celebration, there accordingly ensued, during the morning, many
amusing scenes of tars who were anxious to procure substitutes at their
posts. Through the day, many anxious glances were cast to windward; but
the weather still promised fair.
At last _the people_ were piped to dinner; two bells struck; and soon
after, all who could be spared from their stations hurried to the
half-deck. The capstan bars were placed on shot-boxes, as at prayers on
Sundays, furnishing seats for the audience, while a low stage, rigged
by the carpenter’s gang, was built at one end of the open space. The
curtain was composed of a large ensign, and the bulwarks round about
were draperied with the flags of all nations. The ten or twelve members
of the brass band were ranged in a row at the foot of the stage, their
polished instruments in their hands, while the consequential Captain of
the Band himself was elevated upon a gun carriage.
At three bells precisely a group of ward-room officers emerged from the
after-hatchway, and seated themselves upon camp-stools, in a central
position, with the stars and stripes for a canopy. _That_ was the royal
box. The sailors looked round for the Commodore but neither Commodore
nor Captain honored _the people_ with their presence.
At the call of a bugle the band struck up _Hail Columbia_, the whole
audience keeping time, as at Drury Lane, when _God Save The King_ is
played after a great national victory.
At the discharge of a marine’s musket the curtain rose, and four
sailors, in the picturesque garb of Maltese mariners, staggered on the
stage in a feigned state of intoxication. The truthfulness of the
representation was much heightened by the roll of the ship.
“The Commodore,” “Old Luff,” “The Mayor,” and “Gin and Sugar Sall,”
were played to admiration, and received great applause. But at the
first appearance of that universal favourite, Jack Chase, in the
chivalric character of _Percy Royal-Mast_, the whole audience
simultaneously rose to their feet, and greeted hire with three hearty
cheers, that almost took the main-top-sail aback.
Matchless Jack, _in full fig_, bowed again and again, with true
quarter-deck grace and self possession; and when five or six untwisted
strands of rope and bunches of oakum were thrown to him, as substitutes
for bouquets, he took them one by one, and gallantly hung them from the
buttons of his jacket.
“Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!—go on! go on!—stop hollering—hurrah!—go
on!—stop hollering—hurrah!” was now heard on all sides, till at last,
seeing no end to the enthusiasm of his ardent admirers, Matchless Jack
stepped forward, and, with his lips moving in pantomime, plunged into
the thick of the part. Silence soon followed, but was fifty times
broken by uncontrollable bursts of applause. At length, when that
heart-thrilling scene came on, where Percy Royal-Mast rescues fifteen
oppressed sailors from the watch-house, in the teeth of a posse of
constables, the audience leaped to their feet, overturned the capstan
bars, and to a man hurled their hats on the stage in a delirium of
delight. Ah Jack, that was a ten-stroke indeed!
- title
- Chunk 4