Then they had no
"grog"; as a substitute, they drugged the poor fellows with a thin,
sour wine - the juice of a few grapes, perhaps, to a pint of the juice
of water-faucets. Moreover, the sailors asked for meat, and they
gave them soup; a rascally substitute, as they well knew.
Ever since leaving home, they had been on "short allowance." At the
present time, those belonging to the boats - and thus getting an
occasional opportunity to run ashore - frequently sold their rations
of bread to some less fortunate shipmate for sixfold its real value.
Another thing tending to promote dissatisfaction among the crew was
their having such a devil of a fellow for a captain. He was one of
those horrid naval bores - a great disciplinarian. In port, he kept
them constantly exercising yards and sails, and maneuvering with the
boats; and at sea, they were forever at quarters; running in and out
the enormous guns, as if their arms were made for nothing else. Then
there was the admiral aboard, also; and, no doubt, he too had a
paternal eye over them.
In the ordinary routine of duty, we could not but be struck with the
listless, slovenly behaviour of these men; there was nothing of the
national vivacity in their movements; nothing of the quick precision
perceptible on the deck of a thoroughly-disciplined armed vessel.
All this, however, when we came to know the reason, was no matter of
surprise; three-fourths of them were pressed men. Some old merchant
sailors had been seized the very day they landed from distant
voyages; while the landsmen, of whom there were many, had been driven
down from the country in herds, and so sent to sea.
At the time, I was quite amazed to hear of press-gangs in a day of
comparative peace; but the anomaly is accounted for by the fact that,
of late, the French have been building up a great military marine, to
take the place of that which Nelson gave to the waves of the sea at
Trafalgar. But it is to be hoped that they are not building their
ships for the people across the channel to take. In case of a war,
what a fluttering of French ensigns there would be!
Though I say the French are no sailors, I am far from seeking to
underrate them as a people. They are an ingenious and right gallant
nation. And, as an American, I take pride in asserting it.
CHAPTER XXX.
THEY TAKE US ASHORE - WHAT HAPPENED THERE
FIVE days and nights, if I remember right, we were aboard the frigate.
On the afternoon of the fifth, we were told that the next morning she
sailed for Valparaiso.
