"I hear it reported," Samuel Childs remarked one night on watch, "that Captain Edward Preble is coming out in command of the Constitution. Looks like he'll have charge of the Mediterranean fleet. A hard man. A hot temper. He's as rough as the New Hampshire rocks where he was born. I doubt whether I'd want to serve under him!"

"The harder they come, the better I like them," said Reuben James. "A hard man means a hard fighter. I understand Stephen Decatur's coming out too. There's an officer for you! Hope I have a chance to serve under both!"

Samuel Child's idea of Captain Preble's disposition was held aboard all of our ships. Yet Preble changed this adverse comment to enthusiastic admiration. It happened in this way:

As his frigate was passing at night through the Straits of Gibraltar he met a strange ship and hailed her. The vessel made no reply, but manoeuvred to get into an advantageous position for firing.

"I hail you for the last time!" Preble shouted. "If you don't answer, I'll fire a shot into you."

"If you do, I'll return a broadside!" came from the strange ship.

"I should like to catch you at that! I now hail for an answer. What ship is that?" Captain Preble cried.

"His Britannic Majesty's eighty-four gun ship-of-the-line Donegal! Sir Richard Strachan. Send a boat on board!"

Preble shouted back:

"This is the United States' forty-four gun ship Constitution, Captain Edward Preble, and I'll be d—d if I send a boat on board any ship! Blow your matches, boys!"

No broadside was fired. Captain Preble now shouted to the officer that he doubted the truth of his statement and would stay alongside until the morning revealed the identity of the stranger. A boat now approached, bearing a message from the strange ship's commander. He explained that she was the thirty-two gun British frigate Maidstone, and that, taken by surprise, he had resorted to strategy in order to get his men to their stations before the Constitution fired.

Samuel Childs had his chance to serve under this terrible Captain Preble, and so, for that matter, had all of us. My first meeting with the captain was far from being one that promised comfort. To explain why, I had better note here that the clothing supplies of the George Washington had been depleted, consequently there were several pieces of my dress that were not in accord with the regulation uniform. Captain Preble's gaze chanced to rest on me. Then, with an outburst that nearly frightened me out of my wits, he asked me how I dare present myself before him in such attire.

"If I catch you out of uniform again," he said, "out of the service you'll go!"

I darted out of his sight, resolving to alter my dress at once, but a lieutenant hailed me and gave me a message to deliver to the Constellation. He then ordered the coxswain to man the running boat. Off we rowed. The Constellation lay with her bow towards us. Instead of waiting for the Jacob's ladder to be thrown to me, I stood in the bow of the running boat waiting for it to be lifted to the crest of a sea. The next roller lifted our cockle shell high in the air, approaching the level of the ship's deck. I took advantage of this rise and vaulted from our boat. We were in a rough sea, and, instead of landing on the bulwark, as I had aimed to do, I was hurled by the next roller head-first across the vessel's side. With the velocity of a butting goat, my head rammed a group of three officers who had chosen that particular spot for a chat. Two of them were tossed left and right; the third one was floored. I arose with abject apologies. Who should I see squirming and cursing before me but Captain Preble? I felt my blood turn to ice.

To my terrified imagination a flogging seemed to be the least punishment I could expect. Not only had I knocked him down, but here was I appearing before him in the clothes he had ordered changed. The other officers, crimson and purple with wrath, helped the Captain to his feet. It appeared that while I had been waiting for the letter, he had gone forth in his gig to inspect the very ship I was bound for.

"Ha!" he exclaimed when he had recovered his breath, "the same lad! The same uniform!"

Then suddenly he looked at his frowning companions and burst into laughter. "Why," he exclaimed, "just when we were talking about our enemy's guns, he came over the side like a cannon ball! I thought the gunners of Tripoli were bombarding us!"

When the laughter ended I had a chance to deliver the letter and to explain that the lieutenant had pressed me into service before I had an opportunity to change my garb.

He nodded. "The irregularity of your clothes we will overlook just now," he said, "but your irregular way of coming aboard, and the headlong way in which you approach your superiors, and intrude upon their conferences, is a matter that warrants your being turned over to the master-at-arms. However, you scamp, we'll forgive all of your offences for the laugh you have given us! I hope if I ever call on you to board an enemy's ship you'll go over her side with the same speed!"

The crew was divided into three sets. The men in the first set were called topmen; their duty was to climb the masts and to take in or furl, reef or let out the sails. This group of topmen were in turn subdivided, according to the masts of the ship. Thus we had fore-topmen, main-topmen and mizzen-topmen.

The second set of men attended to the sails from the deck. It was their task to handle the lowest sails, and to set and take in the jibs, lower studding sails and spanker; they also coiled the ropes of the running gear. These men too were grouped according to masts.

The third set of men were called scavengers. These did the dirty work of the ship, gathering the refuse from all quarters of the vessel and casting it overboard.

I, on account of my youth, was assigned to none of these sets, but to the boys' division. There were a dozen of us lads on board, and a merry set of scamps we were. We were assigned to serve the officers, and because of this we managed to overhear and pass to each other a good deal of information concerning the operations of the ship that was not intended for us to know. Some of us became favorites with the officers we served, and when we got into mischief and were threatened with punishment, our officers often shielded us.

In addition to the sailors and boys, the ship had over a score of marines on her muster roll. They were the policemen of the ship. In battle their place was in the rigging, where they picked off the enemy crew with their muskets. The marines filled a peculiar position, in that they were called upon to uphold the authority of the officers, and therefore could not be on intimate terms with the sailors—in fact, the officers discouraged familiarity between the soldiers and sailors.

As for food, we were the envy of our British cousins. Our menu was: Sunday, a pound and a half of beef and half a pint of rice; Monday, a pound of pork, half a pint of peas and four ounces of cheese; Tuesday, a pound and a half of beef, and a pound of potatoes; Wednesday, half a pint of rice, two ounces of butter, and six ounces of molasses; Thursday, a pound of pork and half a pint of peas; Friday, a pound of potatoes, a pound of salt fish, and two ounces of butter or one gill of oil; Saturday, a pound of pork, half a pint of peas, and four ounces of cheese. In addition, one pound of bread and half a pint of spirits, or one quart of beer, were served every day.

Sundays were usually holidays. After muster on the spar deck, we would have church service, and then the rest of the day was ours to spend as we pleased. We wore our best uniforms, but we could never tell from one Sunday to another just what kind of dress we were to appear in. The captain had a way of ordering us to wear one day blue jackets and white trousers, and on the next Sunday to change to blue jackets and blue trousers. When he wanted us to look particularly smart he would command that we wear in addition our scarlet vests. When, on top of all this, we donned our shiny black hats, we felt fine indeed.

In fair weather we slept in hammocks, swung on the berth deck. We were trained to roll up and stow our hammocks swiftly, so that when a call to action sounded, our beds disappeared from sight in the bulwark nettings as if by magic. These hammocks, in battle, were placed against the bulwarks as shields to prevent splinters from hitting us when the vessel was hit.

Our ship kept a merit roll, upon which were entered the names of every member of the crew. If a man did his work well, he was given a good standing on this roll; the sheet, on the other hand, also showed who were the lazy and inefficient members of the crew. The system of handling men was modeled after that of the older navies, where each man of the ship's company was assigned a certain duty.

When a sailor died, we sewed up our mate's body in his hammock and placed it on a grating in a bow port. Then an officer read the burial service. At the words, "We commit the body of our brother to the deep," we raised the grating and allowed the body to drop into the sea. There would be a heavy splash—then a deep silence rested on both the water and the ship for several minutes.

Our greatest enjoyment came from our band, which we had formed out of members of the crew who had more or less talent for music. I wondered afterwards how our efforts would have sounded in competition with a professional band of musicians that in later years played aboard one of our sister ships. These musicians had found their way into the American navy in a strange manner. They had enlisted on board a French warship under the condition that they would not be called on to fight, but were to be stowed away in the cable tier until "the clouds blew over." It was also stipulated that they were not to be flogged—a custom of which many captains were far too fond. The French ship upon which they played was captured by a Portuguese cruiser. They were permitted by the Portuguese to enlist in a British vessel, and when the latter was captured by an American frigate, the band was enrolled in our navy.

EVERY-DAY HAZARDS

In sailing from a cold to a warm climate, we were unknowingly weakening our rigging, which had been fitted in cold weather. The masts were subject to expansion and contraction by heat and cold, and so was our cordage. When we entered the Mediterranean our shrouds and stays slackened under the hot sun. The ship was in this condition when we were caught in a heavy gale. The ocean had grown rough. We were at dinner when a tremendous wave broke over our bow. It poured down the open hatchway, swept from the galley all the food that was on the table, washed our table clean of eatables, and poured through all of the apartments on the berth deck in a terrifying flood. The huge waves beating upon our ship from the outside, the tossing of the vessel, and the sloshing water we had shipped racked the vessel so that it seemed that it must founder. We were a white-faced group, for Davy Jones' locker seemed to be yawning for us below, but we kept our upper lips stiff and sprang nimbly to obey orders. The officers commanded the crew to man the chain pumps and cut holes in the berth deck to permit the water to pour into the hold, and in this way we emerged from our dangerous situation.

Another peril, however, beset us on deck. One of our lieutenants, watching the rigging, discovered that it had become so slack that the masts and bowsprit were in danger of being carried away. He summoned all available hands to help tighten the ropes. We managed at last to secure purchases on every other shroud, and to sway them all together, which restored the firmness.

One night we had shown to us what a terrifying experience it is to have a fire break out aboard ship. As we were climbing into our hammocks a shower of sparks flew up from a corner of the cockpit.

The captain ordered the drum to beat to quarters, and soon the crew was assembled under good control. Fire buckets filled with water were standing on the quarterdeck. We ran for them and poured them over the flames. All hands emptied buckets on the flames until the fire had been quenched.

If the fire had occurred a few hours later, when we were asleep, it might have gathered enough headway to sweep the ship. We learned later that a lighted candle had fallen from a beam on the deck below and had set fire to some cloths. The steward had tried to smother the fire with sheets, but all the cloths had then caught fire. We did not fully realize our danger until it was pointed out to us that the room in which the fire had started was next to the powder magazine, and that the bulkhead between the two compartments had been scorched.

When decks were cleared for action, you may well believe that my heart was in my mouth. The ship's company was running here and there as busy as ants—and apparently as confused. The boatswain and his mates saw to the rigging and sails. The carpenter and his crew prepared shot-plugs and mauls and strove to protect the pumps against injury; the lieutenants went from deck to deck, supervising the work. The boys who were the powder monkeys rushed up and down at their tasks of providing the first rounds for the guns; pistols and cutlasses were distributed. Rammers, sponges, powderhorns, matches and train tackles were placed beside every cannon. The hatches were closed, so that no man might desert his post and hide below. The gun lashings were cast adrift. The marines were drawn up in rank and file. These occupations, fortunately, left us little time to think of home and loved ones, and by the time the decks were cleared, why, the cannon were thundering and the missiles were striking about us.

Bathing and boat racing were popular sports with us; yet, in the case of the first pastime, we had to be very careful on account of blue sharks.

It was a matter for wonderment with us that, while the blue shark has been known time and again to attack white men, he seldom bothered a colored person. We had sailors aboard who had sailed in Oriental waters, where there are thousands of sharks. These men agreed in their story that the natives could swim and dive without fear of them, but if a white man ventured to bathe in the same place the sharks would be after him in a short time. We learned from these yarn-spinners that the pearl-divers of Ceylon stay down under water for several minutes at a time while they gather into bags the shells that contain pearls, and yet are seldom attacked by sharks. This may have been, though, because while they were under water their comrades above shouted and sang to scare the sharks away. Sometimes natives whose skins were of a light color would dye their bodies black, while other divers would carry in their girdles spikes made of ironwood, which they used to poke out the eyes of sharks that came near.

These stories about sharks were enough to make us enter the water warily, and to borrow the custom of the pearl divers in making a loud noise when we bathed. An experience was awaiting us, however, that brought our danger home to us more than all the warnings that could be uttered.

Jim Hodges, perhaps the most expert swimmer among us, was fond of boasting that he could outswim a shark. One day, when there was a calm sea, he started to swim from the side of our vessel to another frigate that was anchored close by. We who were on duty watched, over the ship's side, his progress. Suddenly a gray fin showed above the turquoise water, about one hundred yards from him, but moving rapidly in his direction. We shouted and pointed in the direction of his danger. He heard us, realized his peril, and turned instantly towards our ship. The shark at once changed its direction so that the swimmer and the fish seemed to be following two sides of a triangle that would meet at the apex—this point being the bow of our vessel. We watched in breathless suspense while Hodges moved towards us, swimming with amazing coolness and nerve. The shark gained steadily. We had lowered a rope at the point nearest to the swimmer, and we could see him measuring the distance with an anxious look. Those of us who managed to obtain firearms began to shoot at the shark, but at last it had drawn so near to the swimmer that there was danger of hitting him with our bullets. We ceased firing and waited. At last Hodges, with a desperate spurt, reached the rope. As soon as we felt his tug at it we began hauling him in. If he had seized the rope a second later, it would have been too late. The teeth of the shark flashed in the swirl at the end of the rope. If Hodges had not lifted his feet into the air, one of them would have been snapped off.