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CHAPTER XXX
A PEEP THROUGH A PORT-HOLE AT THE SUBTERRANEAN PARTS OF A MAN-OF-WAR
While now ru
A hint has already been conveyed concerning the subterranean depths of the Neversink's hold. But there is no time here to speak of the _spirit-room_, a cellar down in the after-hold, where the sailor's «grog» is kept; nor of the _cabletiers_, where the great hawsers and chains are piled, as you see them at a large ship-chandler's on shore; nor of the grocer's vaults, where tierces of sugar, molasses, vinegar, rice, and flour are snugly stowed; nor of the _sail-room_, full as a sail-maker's loft ashore-piled up with great top-sails and top-gallant-sails, all ready-folded in their places, like so many white vests in a gentleman's wardrobe; nor of the copper and copper-fastened _magazine_, closely packed with kegs of powder, great-gun and small-arm cartridges; nor of the immense _shot-lockers_, or subterranean arsenals, full as a bushel of apples with twenty- four-pound balls; nor of the _bread-room_, a large apartment, ti
But there is one very extensive warehouse among the rest that needs special mention-_the ship's Yeoman's storeroom_. In the Neversink it was down in the ship's basement, beneath the berth- deck, and you went to it by way of the _Fore-passage_, a very dim, devious corridor, indeed. Entering-say at noonday-you find yourself in a gloomy apartment, lit by a solitary lamp. On one side are shelves, filled with balls of _marline, ratlin-stuf, seizing-stuff, spun-yarn_, and numerous twines of assorted sizes. In another direction you see large cases containing heaps of articles, reminding one of a shoemaker's furnishing-store-wooden _serving-mallets, fids, toggles_, and _heavers: _ iron _prickers_ and _marling-spikes;_ in a third quarter you see a sort of hardware shop-shelves piled with all ma
But by far the most curious department of these mysterious store- rooms is the armoury, where the spikes, cutlasses, pistols, and belts, forming the arms of the boarders in time of action, are hung against the walls, and suspended in thick rows from the beams overhead. Here, too, are to be seen scores of Colt's patent revolvers, which, though furnished with but one tube, multiply the fatal bullets, as the naval cat-o'-nine-tails, with a ca
Among the lower grade of officers in a man-of-war, that of Yeoman is not the least important. His responsibilities are denoted by his pay. While the _petty officers_, quarter-gu
He is accountable for all the articles under his charge, and on no account must deliver a yard of twine or a ten-pe
The Yeoman of the Neversink was a somewhat odd specimen of a Troglodyte. He was a little old man, round-shouldered, bald-headed, with great goggle-eyes, looking through portentous round spectacles, which he called his _barnacles_. He was imbued with a wonderful zeal for the naval service, and seemed to think that, in keeping his pistols and cutlasses free from rust, he preserved the national honour untarnished. After _general quarters_, it was amusing to watch his anxious air as the various _petty officers_ restored to him the arms used at the martial exercises of the crew. As successive bundles would be deposited on his counter, he would count over the pistols and cutlasses, like an old housekeeper telling over her silver forks and spoons in a pantry before retiring for the night. And often, with a sort of dark lantern in his hand, he might be seen poking into his furthest vaults and cellars, and counting over his great coils of ropes, as if they were all jolly puncheons of old Port and Madeira.
By reason of his incessant watchfulness and unaccountable bachelor oddities, it was very difficult for him to retain in his employment the various sailors who, from time to time, were billeted with him to do the duty of subalterns. In particular, he was always desirous of having at least one steady, faultless young man, of a literary taste, to keep an eye to his account-books, and swab out the armoury every morning. It was an odious business this, to be immured all day in such a bottomless hole, among tarry old ropes and villainous guns and pistols. It was with peculiar dread that I one day noticed the goggle-eyes of _Old Revolver_, as they called him, fastened upon me with a fatal glance of good-will and approbation. He had somehow heard of my being a very learned person, who could both read and write with extraordinary facility; and moreover that I was a rather reserved youth, who kept his modest, unassuming merits in the background. But though, from the keen sense of my situation as a man-of-war's-man all this about my keeping myself in the _back_ ground was true enough, yet I had no idea of hiding my diffident merits _under_ ground. I became alarmed at the old Yeoman's goggling glances, lest he should drag me down into tarry perdition in his hideous store-rooms. But this fate was providentially averted, owing to mysterious causes which I never could fathom.