White Jacket or the World on a Man-of-war
Copyright© 2025 by Herman Melville
Chapter 32
A DISH OF DUNDERFUNK.
In men-of-war, the space on the uppermost deck, round about the main-mast, is the Police-office, Court-house, and yard of execution, where all charges are lodged, causes tried, and punishment administered. In frigate phrase, to be brought up to the mast, is equivalent to being presented before the grand-jury, to see whether a true bill will be found against you.
From the merciless, inquisitorial baiting, which sailors, charged with offences, too often experience at the mast, that vicinity is usually known among them as the bull-ring.
The main-mast, moreover, is the only place where the sailor can hold formal communication with the captain and officers. If any one has been robbed; if any one has been evilly entreated; if any one’s character has been defamed; if any one has a request to present; if any one has aught important for the executive of the ship to know—straight to the main-mast he repairs; and stands there—generally with his hat off—waiting the pleasure of the officer of the deck, to advance and communicate with him. Often, the most ludicrous scenes occur, and the most comical complaints are made.
One clear, cold morning, while we were yet running away from the Cape, a raw boned, crack-pated Down Easter, belonging to the Waist, made his appearance at the mast, dolefully exhibiting a blackened tin pan, bearing a few crusty traces of some sort of a sea-pie, which had been cooked in it.
“Well, sir, what now?” said the Lieutenant of the Deck, advancing.
“They stole it, sir; all my nice dunderfunk, sir; they did, sir,” whined the Down Easter, ruefully holding up his pan. “Stole your dunderfunk! what’s that?”
“Dunderfunk, sir, dunderfunk; a cruel nice dish as ever man put into him.”
“Speak out, sir; what’s the matter?”
“My dunderfunk, sir—as elegant a dish of dunderfunk as you ever see, sir—they stole it, sir!”
“Go forward, you rascal!” cried the Lieutenant, in a towering rage, “or else stop your whining. Tell me, what’s the matter?”
“Why, sir, them ‘ere two fellows, Dobs and Hodnose, stole my dunderfunk.”
“Once more, sir, I ask what that dundledunk is? Speak!” “As cruel a nice——”
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.