Читать книгу The Sea: Its Stirring Story of Adventure, Peril, & Heroism (Vol. 1-4). The History of Sea Voyages, Discovery, Piracy and Maritime Warfare онлайн

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FIGHT BETWEEN THE “COURAGEUX” AND THE “BELLONA.”

One more possibility in the officer’s existence, although now nearly obsolete. The ceremonies formerly attendant on “crossing the line”—i.e., passing over the equator—so often described, have, of late years, been more honoured in the breach than in the observance. On merchant vessels they had become a nuisance, as the sailors often made them an opportunity for levying black mail on timid and nervous passengers. In the Royal Navy, they afforded the one chance for “getting even” with unpopular officers; and very roughly was it sometimes accomplished. They are for this reason introduced in this chapter, as the officers had a direct interest in them. With trifling exceptions, the programme was as follows. The men stripped to the waist, wearing only “duck” unmentionables, prepared, immediately after breakfast, for the saturnalia of the day—a day when the ship was en carnival, and discipline relaxed. Early in the day, a man at the masthead, peering through a telescope, would announce a boat on the weather-bow, and soon after, a voice from the jibboom was heard hailing the ship, announcing that Neptune wished to come on board. The ship was accordingly hove-to, when a sailor, in fashionable coat, knee-breeches, and powdered hair, came aft, and announced to the commander that he was gentleman’s gentleman to the god of the sea, who desired an interview. This accorded, the procession of Neptune from the forecastle at once commenced. The triumphal car was a gun-carriage, drawn by half-a-dozen half-naked and grotesquely-painted sailors, their heads covered by wigs of sea-weed. Neptune was always masked, as were many of his satellites, in order that the officers should not know who enacted the leading rôles. The god wore a crown, and held out a trident, on which a dolphin, supposed to have been impaled that morning, was stuck. He had a flowing wig and beard of oakum, and was, in all points, “made-up” for Neptune himself. His suite included a secretary of state, his head stuck all over with long quills; a surgeon, with lancet, pill-box, and medicines; his barber, with a razor cut from an iron hoop, and with an assistant, who carried a tub for a shaving-box. Mrs. Neptune was represented by the ugliest man on board, who, with sea-weed hair and a huge night-cap, carried a baby—one of the boys of the ship—in long clothes; the latter played with a marline-spike, given it to assist in cutting its teeth. The nurse followed, with a bucketful of burgoo (thick oatmeal porridge or pudding), and fed the baby incessantly with the cook’s iron ladle. Sea-nymphs, selected from the clumsiest and fattest of the crew, helped to swell the retinue. As soon as the procession halted before the captain, behind whom the steward waited, carrying a tray with a bottle of wine and glasses, Neptune and Amphitrite paid submission to the former, as representative of Great Britain, and the god presented him the dolphin. After the interview, in which Neptune not unfrequently poked fun and thrust home-truths at the officers, the captain offered the god and goddess a bumper of wine, and then the rougher part of the ceremony commenced. Neptune would address his court somewhat as follows: “Hark ye, my Tritons, you’re here to shave and duck and bleed all as needs it; but you’ve got to be gentle, or we’ll get no more fees. The first of ye as disobeys me, I’ll tie to a ten-ton gun, and sink him ten thousand fathoms below, where he shall drink nothing but salt-water and feed on seaweed for the next hundred years.” The cow-pen was usually employed for the ducking-bath; it was lined with double canvas, and boarded up, so as to hold several butts of water. Marryat, in the first naval novel he wrote, says: “Many of the officers purchased exemption from shaving and physic by a bottle of rum; but none could escape the sprinkling of salt water, which fell about in great profusion; even the captain received his share. … It was easy to perceive, on this occasion, who were favourites with the ship’s company, by the degree of severity with which they were treated. The tyro was seated on the side of the cow-pen: he was asked the place of his nativity, and the moment he opened his mouth the shaving-brush of the barber—which was a very large paint-brush—was crammed in, with all the filthy lather, with which they covered his face and chin; this was roughly scraped off with the great razor. The doctor felt his pulse, and prescribed a pill, which was forced into his cheek; and the smelling-bottle, the cork of which was armed with sharp points of pins, was so forcibly applied to his nose as to bring blood. After this, he was thrown backward into the bath, and allowed to scramble out the best way he could.” The first-lieutenant, the reader may remember, dodged out of the way for some time, but at last was surrounded, and plied so effectually with buckets of salt water, that he fled down a hatchway. The buckets were pitched after him, “and he fell, like the Roman virgin, covered with the shields of the soldiers.” Very unpopular men or officers were made to swallow half a pint of salt water. Those good old times!