CHAPTER V.

ON BOARD THE OHIO.

On board the receiving-ship Ohio, to which all naval recruits in the vicinity of Boston are sent, Jack reported to the officer of the deck; and after his name had been registered, and sundry particulars in regard to him entered upon the ship’s books, he was sent forward. A number for his hammock, and another for his clothes-bag, were given him; and he was assigned to a mess. Mr. Bankhead, having done all he could for his _protégé_, and stated his intentions in regard to him, took his leave; and Jack found himself alone, though there were hundreds of men on board the ship.

Though Jack was alone so far as acquaintances were concerned, there was no opportunity to be lonesome; for the gun-deck was thronged with men. There were old sailors who had been fifty years in the navy, and “green hands” who had just come from the country, and had never seen a ship till within a few days. There were rough, hard-visaged men, and those with no small pretensions to gentility. There were men of all colors and of every nation.

It was a lively scene, whichever way he turned; and Jack sat down upon a mess-chest to observe the strange sights, and listen to the strange sounds. Some of the men were walking up and down the deck for exercise; some were playing cards, dominoes, and similar games; some were reading, and some were mending their clothes. It was an interesting prospect to a young man full of life; but he could not help thinking of the happy home in Pinchbrook, and the devoted mother who was the central figure in the picture. On the whole, he did not like his surroundings very well. The place did not seem much like a ship, and he hoped he should not have to be confined a great while on board the old hulk.

While he was thinking of home and friends, and trying to bring his imagination to bear upon the future, a ringing blow on the top of his head confused his ideas, and completely upset the air castles which he had erected in his vivid fancy.

“Heave up, my hearty!” exclaimed the author of this wanton mischief, as he brought the large tin pan he carried in his hand down upon Jack’s head a second time.

“What are you about?” demanded the contemplative young man, springing to his feet.

“Get off the mess-chest, then, so I can get at the grub,” replied the man in a surly tone.

“Why didn’t you say so, then?”

“I did say so.”

“Well, you had better not hit me in just that style again,” added Jack angrily.

“Shut up, you young monkey! Do you think I’m going to bow and scrape to every lubber that chooses to moor his carcass on the mess-chest? Now sheer off, and keep out of the way.”

Jack did not move, and, withal, wore so dignified and independent an air, that the man, who had charge of the mess to which the recruit was ordered, struck him once more, on the side of the head, with the tin pan. This was rather more than Jack’s warm blood could endure, and more than his philosophy was proof against. Regardless of the rigid discipline of a man-of-war, he instantly squared off, and planted a smart blow of his fist upon the face of the surly fellow. With a volley of heavy oaths, the cook of the mess sprang at him with the ferocity of a tiger. Jack, who was cooler, defended himself on scientific principles, and repeated his “practice” upon the physiognomy of his antagonist with such effect, that either because his blows were tremendous, or because there was a spot of grease on the deck, his assailant went down.

“Avast there, Spriggs!” shouted an old and dignified salt, who was mending his pants near the scene,--“avast there, and let the youngster alone!”

For a moment, the blue-jackets on the gun-deck revelled in the anticipation of a fight. A crowd began to gather; but the sport was quickly nipped in the bud by the appearance of a couple of marines with cutlasses in their hands, each of whom seized one of the beliggerents.

“What’s all this about?” asked one of the marines.

“What’s it about?” replied Spriggs. “Why, that young lubber hit me side of the head; and I don’t let any man this side of Gibraltar do that.”

“He struck me three times on the head with the tin pan,” added Jack; “and no man this side of Gibraltar, or the other side either, can do that.”

“I shall report you to the officer of the deck,” said the marine, as a couple of ship’s corporals appeared, and were left to enforce a strict neutrality between the parties.

In a few moments the master-at-arms presented himself, and Jack and Spriggs were ordered to the spar-deck for examination. The parties were conducted into the awful presence of the officer of the deck, before whom all of them, including the master-at-arms, and Tom Longstone, the old seaman, who had witnessed the affray, reverently touched their hats; which is the usual token of respect to an officer on board a ship-of-war.

“Well, my lad, you have made a bad beginning,” began the officer of the deck, who was no doubt pained to see the _protégé_ of Lieutenant Bankhead thus early implicated in a disturbance.

“It was not my fault, sir,” replied Jack.

“I beg your honor’s pardon: but the youngster hit me side of the head; and what I did, yer honor, was in self-defence,” said Spriggs.

“How’s that, my lad?” demanded the officer.

“It is not true, sir. I was sitting on the chest, when he came up behind me, and struck me over the head with a tin pan.”

“Yes, yer honor: he was sodgering on the mess-chest, and wouldn’t get out of the way, so I could get the hard-tack out for supper.”

“Then you struck him first?” asked the officer sternly.

“He wouldn’t move till I did,” added Spriggs sourly.

“He didn’t ask me to move, and I did not know he was near me till he struck me.”

“That’s a fact, yer honor,” interposed Tom Longstone. “The youngster was peaceable enough till Spriggs hit him, and he did not strike back till he was hit three times.”

The two marines fully confirmed this testimony, though they had not witnessed the scene which preceded the affray. Spriggs was immediately ordered to the place of confinement on the orlop-deck, there to subsist for twenty-four hours on bread and water, with irons on his ankles.

“Now, my lad, you are a green hand on board of a man-of-war,” said the officer of the deck, when the guilty party had been conducted below. “You must learn that fighting is never tolerated under any circumstances. This is your first offence, and I shall let you off.”

“I beg pardon, sir,” stammered Jack, his face as red as the crimson bunting in the ensign at the peak,--“I beg pardon, sir; but I could not help it.”

“Yes, you could help it. We don’t tolerate fighting. If you have any complaints to make, you will have a chance to be heard. Now go to your mess, and remember what I have said.”

Jack touched his hat as he saw the others do, and went below. He was perfectly willing to remember what the officer had told him: but it did not exactly accord with his ideas; and he was very much afraid, that, under the same temptation, he should be likely to repeat the offence.

“There, youngster, you’ve larned a lesson,” said Tom Longstone, as he settled himself upon the mess-bench, and resumed his labors at the dilapidated trousers he was attempting to restore to their former state of usefulness.

“I’m much obliged to you for what you said for me,” replied Jack, as he took a seat by the side of the old salt.

“You’re welcome, my hearty. I hope you won’t need a word from me again to keep you out of the ‘brig,’ which is the prison on board a man-of-war.”

“I hope not; but I can’t stand it to be thumped round, as Spriggs began with me.”

“You are smart and spunky, my lad; and I like you for’t: but, when one of them ere flunkies strikes you foul, you must sarve ’im out some other way.”

“I don’t know any better way to serve out a bully than to give him as good as he sends, on the spot.”

“Nor I neither, my lad; but ’twon’t do board a man-o’-war. That’s beatin’ to wind’ard for the sake o’ runnin’ on the rocks. Sheer off, and sarve ’im out some other way.”

“A fellow will be bullied and trodden upon by every petty tyrant in the ship, if he submits to it.”

“No, he won’t youngster. A man finds his level board a man-o’-war just as he does everywhere else. If a man behaves himself, everybody--officers and all--will treat him with respect. I’ve been in the navy thirty years, and I know it’s a fact.”

“What could I do, when that man struck me? If I had submitted, he and others around would have repeated the insult.”

“Sarve him out some other way,” replied old Tom mysteriously.

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“You’ll larn, my fightin’-cock,” added Tom with a cunning smile.

“What would you have done if Spriggs had struck you on the head with a tin pan?”

“He wouldn’t have done that to Tom Longstone, nor any other man board this ‘guardo.’”

“Perhaps not; but suppose he had?”

“I should have knocked him over, just as you did, my spunky one.”

“But then you would have gone into a fight.”

“Not I, my lad. I should have sheered off as soon as I had a done it; and left the ship’s corporals to take care of him, if he wasn’t satisfied. I might have cut down his hammock arter he turned in, or dropped a belayin’-pin on his toes, or something of that sort; but I shouldn’t get up a fight with him. The fact is, my crank little one, an ill-tempered fellow is sarved out so many ways, board a man-o’-war, that he soon larns to mind his own business.”

“Well, I dare say I shall soon learn the ways of my new shipmates; but I don’t half like the fashion of hitting a fellow in the dark.”

“You can’t fight it out board the ship, and you won’t stand it to be bullied by a flunky. As to hitting ’im in the dark, my little breezer, that’s all in your eye. Your flunky knows who does it, and so does every man in the ship. That’s our way of sarvin’ ’im out.”

“Very likely I shall get used to it in a short time: at any rate, I mean to do my duty faithfully, obey orders, and keep up to the discipline of the ship.”

“That’s right, my jolly bantam: that’s the way to get along in the navy.”

Tom Longstone was a veteran in the navy, and knew every rope in the ship, as well as every quirk in its discipline, and was thoroughly posted in all the superstitions and traditions of the service. For some reason or other,--perhaps because he had displayed the spirit of a man,--the old salt was strongly prejudiced in Jack’s favor at the first interview, and proceeded, in due form, to take him under his protection. Tom pumped him dry in regard to his parents, his native place, his antecedents upon the sea and the land. He examined him in seamanship, inquired carefully into his moral and religious principles,--as carefully as though Jack had been a candidate for the situation of chaplain instead of ordinary seaman,--and was particularly nice in his inquiries into the incipient hero’s patriotism.

“You see, my jolly little clipper, I believe in two things: one of ’em is the Bible, and t’other the ’Meriken flag. I never throwed a vote in my life, and never had nothin’ to do with politics; but the man that says anything agin the ’Meriken flag, why, smash my cutwater, but he’s my enemy! Them’s my sentiments, Jack. I haven’t got no other creed, in politics or religion. Stand by the Bible and the ’Meriken flag, my hearty, and it’ll be all right with you in this world and t’other one too. Steady! there’s the boatswain’s whistle piping to supper. Here, my jolly biscuit-nibbler, stow your little carcass in here, and I’ll see that the sharks don’t gnaw your walking-timbers off.”

Tom Longstone seated himself at the mess-table, upon which the grub had been placed, during the conversation, by a steward _pro tem._, who had been deputed to serve in the place of Spriggs. They did not have hot biscuits and baked apples for supper; but the fare was good, wholesome, and abundant in quantity. Jack was introduced to his mess-mates, in man-of-war style, by Tom; and very soon the conversation turned upon the events which had occurred before supper, and our hero was duly commended and admired for his manliness.

“He’ll larn better how to sarve out a flunky one of these days,” said Tom, who was proud of his _protégé_. “That’s just the way you’ll sarve out the rebels, my lad: lay ’em aboard, and carry ’em all standing.”

“I hope I shall behave myself on such an occasion,” replied Jack modestly. “I came into the navy to fight for my country, and I intend to do my duty.”

“That’s the idea, my merry little piper. Stand by the stars and stripes as long as there’s a plank left.”

“I reckon some of us will be drafted before long,” added Ben Blinks, a weatherly old tar, who had just returned from a foreign cruise, and shipped again for three years.

“The sooner the better,” said Jack with enthusiasm.

“I’ve been aboard the guardo about as long as I want to be,” continued Bob Rushington, a man-of-war dandy, who wore ear-rings, and had shining black curls.

“I say, Jack, who’s the officer that convoyed you aboard?” demanded Tom Longstone.

“Lieutenant Bankhead.”

“Bankhead? He is a gentleman and a scholar. I’ve heard good things of him.”

“He promised to have me drafted into his ship,” added Jack.

“Good, my little honey-bee; and, if he takes you, he must take me,” said Tom, bringing his fist down upon the mess-table.

“I think he would be very glad to have you.”

“Suppose you put in a word for me.”

“I will, with pleasure.”

“And for me,” added Blinks.

“Likewise for me,” suggested Rushington.

Half a dozen others made a like request; and Jack did not know but he should have the pleasure of drafting the whole crew for Mr. Bankhead’s ship. But, after consultation with Tom, he decided to use his influence only for Blinks and Rushington: first, because he liked them; and, second, because Tom said they were first-rate seamen.