Chapter 6

HE IS INITIATED IN THE BUSINESS OF CLEANING OUT THE PIG-PEN, AND SLUSHING DOWN THE TOP-MAST

By the time I got back to the ship, every thing was in an uproar. The pea-jacket man was there, ordering about a good many men in the rigging, and people were bringing off chickens, and pigs, and beef, and vegetables from the shore. Soon after, another man, in a striped calico shirt, a short blue jacket and beaver hat, made his appearance, and went to ordering about the man in the big pea-jacket; and at last the captain came up the side, and began to order about both of them.

These two men turned out to be the first and second mates of the ship.

Thinking to make friends with the second mate, I took out an old tortoise-shell snuff-box of my father’s, in which I had put a piece of Cavendish tobacco, to look sailor-like, and offered the box to him very politely. He stared at me a moment, and then exclaimed, “Do you think we take snuff aboard here, youngster? no, no, no time for snuff-taking at sea; don’t let the ‘old man’ see that snuff-box; take my advice and pitch it overboard as quick as you can.”

I told him it was not snuff, but tobacco; when he said, he had plenty of tobacco of his own, and never carried any such nonsense about him as a tobacco-box. With that, he went off about his business, and left me feeling foolish enough. But I had reason to be glad he had acted thus, for if he had not, I think I should have offered my box to the chief mate, who in that case, from what I afterward learned of him, would have knocked me down, or done something else equally uncivil.

As I was standing looking round me, the chief mate approached in a great hurry about something, and seeing me in his way, cried out, “Ashore with you, you young loafer! There’s no stealings here; sail away, I tell you, with that shooting-jacket!”

Upon this I retreated, saying that I was going out in the ship as a sailor.

“A sailor!” he cried, “a barber’s clerk, you mean; you going out in the ship? what, in that jacket? Hang me, I hope the old man hasn’t been shipping any more greenhorns like you—he’ll make a shipwreck of it if he has. But this is the way nowadays; to save a few dollars in seamen’s wages, they think nothing of shipping a parcel of farmers and clodhoppers and baby-boys. What’s your name, Pillgarlic?”

“Redburn,” said I.

“A pretty handle to a man, that; scorch you to take hold of it; haven’t you got any other?”

“Wellingborough,” said I.

“Worse yet. Who had the baptizing of ye? Why didn’t they call you Jack, or Jill, or something short and handy. But I’ll baptize you over again. D’ye hear, sir, henceforth your name is Buttons. And now do you go, Buttons, and clean out that pig-pen in the long-boat; it has not been cleaned out since last voyage. And bear a hand about it, d’ye hear; there’s them pigs there waiting to be put in; come, be off about it, now.”

Was this then the beginning of my sea-career? set to cleaning out a pig-pen, the very first thing?

But I thought it best to say nothing; I had bound myself to obey orders, and it was too late to retreat. So I only asked for a shovel, or spade, or something else to work with.

“We don’t dig gardens here,” was the reply; “dig it out with your teeth!”

After looking round, I found a stick and went to scraping out the pen, which was awkward work enough, for another boat called the “jolly-boat,” was capsized right over the longboat, which brought them almost close together. These two boats were in the middle of the deck. I managed to crawl inside of the long-boat; and after barking my shins against the seats, and bumping my head a good many times, I got along to the stern, where the pig-pen was.

While I was hard at work a drunken sailor peeped in, and cried out to his comrades, “Look here, my lads, what sort of a pig do you call this? Hallo! inside there! what are you ‘bout there? trying to stow yourself away to steal a passage to Liverpool? Out of that! out of that, I say.” But just then the mate came along and ordered this drunken rascal ashore.

The pig-pen being cleaned out, I was set to work picking up some shavings, which lay about the deck; for there had been carpenters at work on board. The mate ordered me to throw these shavings into the long-boat at a particular place between two of the seats. But as I found it hard work to push the shavings through in that place, and as it looked wet there, I thought it would be better for the shavings as well as myself, to thrust them where there was a larger opening and a dry spot. While I was thus employed, the mate observing me, exclaimed with an oath, “Didn’t I tell you to put those shavings somewhere else? Do what I tell you, now, Buttons, or mind your eye!”

Stifling my indignation at his rudeness, which by this time I found was my only plan, I replied that that was not so good a place for the shavings as that which I myself had selected, and asked him to tell me why he wanted me to put them in the place he designated. Upon this, he flew into a terrible rage, and without explanation reiterated his order like a clap of thunder.

This was my first lesson in the discipline of the sea, and I never forgot it. From that time I learned that sea-officers never gave reasons for any thing they order to be done. It is enough that they command it, so that the motto is, “Obey orders, though you break owners.”