Boy Scouts at Sea; Or, A Chronicle of the B. S. S. Bright Wing

by Arthur Astor Carey

Then the scrub-deck gear was stowed, portholes and skylights were opened up again, all hands began washing, for which they were allowed four buckets of fresh water, and pretty soon, at the sound of the boatswain’s pipe, which seemed especially musical in the morning air, a lot of hungry boys—followed by their officers—went below with raging appetites.

“Colors” came immediately after, and, at the command “Attention!” every man and boy on deck stood up straight and practically motionless, facing the quarter-deck. One minute later, at the words “sound off”, it was interesting to observe the quartermaster as he held the ensign under his left arm, deftly wound up, so that it should not touch the deck or the rail, and then gave the halyard a quick haul. The ensign broke out clear and ran up to its staff head without a hitch. At the end of the bugle call, all the right hands on deck went up in salute, and then everybody was dismissed and the ceremony was over.

Morning “Colors” is the beginning of the official day on board a vessel in the Navy or in the service of the Boy Scout brotherhood. No visitors are expected on board before this time, and nobody need feel the necessity of being completely dressed before breakfast, which comes half an hour earlier. Scrubbing and washing down the decks is done in bare feet and legs with the trousers rolled up over the thighs—a custom which originated the fashion of the “bell shape” characteristic of sailors’ trousers. A ship’s company before morning “Colors” is very much like a household when people are dressing or doing early morning chores in slippers and dressing gown, the difference being that there is more “housework” to be done at that early hour on board ship. The raising and saluting of the ensign is not alone an act of respect to the flag, reminding us of the first point of the scout oath and of our duty to our country, but it is like opening the front door of a house and saying good morning to the world at large.

This is true even in a more literal sense; for, immediately after morning “Colors”, the boat booms are let down and the boats lowered—thus providing means of communication with the shore and other vessels; and, at the same time, the side-ladders, which give general access to the ship, are put in position.

For the time being—as they stood at attention during the bugle call—both Chippie and Dick had clean forgotten their little adventures of the night before. Everything was so different from the way things look during the night watches. The deck of the vessel, alive with boys and men, only arrested in their activity by the brief ceremony of “Colors”, other vessels in the neighborhood all astir with preparations for the day, the sun shining brightly in the east and reflected in the rippling surface of the water, broken only by the shadows of the hulls and their spars,—how different a scene was this from that in which Chippie had been the central figure as he stood in the dark the evening before, with not a soul in sight, solemnly holding up his thumb in the still air to see which way the wind was blowing!

All that was outside of Chippie’s thoughts now as completely as if it had never happened; but it would return again later with many other shifting scenes; and through them all there was something in the back of his mind which could always be recalled whatever his outward surroundings and circumstances might be. He had no father, and he was his mother’s only son. She was a hard-working woman who had made it possible for him to have everything he needed ever since he could remember. She had made it possible for him to come on this cruise, and he was deeply grateful to her for all her goodness. He remembered what Jack Perkins had told them that evening at his house about saluting the flag not only as the emblem of our country but also as the emblem of our duty to God; and this morning, as he stood there “at attention”, he thought to himself: “I guess the biggest duty I’ve got is to stand by my mother!”

Just before “Colors” the coxswains, who had cleaned their respective boats before breakfast, reported them to the scout master as ready for inspection; the quartermaster reported the clocks wound, and the watch was relieved.

The new watch consisted of Clarence Ellsworth, boatswain’s mate, a coxswain, a quartermaster, and five ordinary and apprentice seamen, of whom Dick Gray was one and served as messenger. This watch was on duty for four hours, from eight to twelve, and the boatswain’s mate was responsible for all the routine orders during that time. Immediately after the old watch had been relieved, Mr. Miller handed to Ellsworth a slip of paper upon which were written these routine orders. He was supposed to blow his “call” and to give his orders in a clear, audible voice and then to see that they were carried out as stated. It was the special duty of the master-at-arms to help in carrying out orders by mingling with the boys, setting them a good example, and giving the slow or lazy ones a good-natured shove ahead. The boatswain’s mate cannot be in two places at once, and the master-at-arms is a great help to him in this respect, and must necessarily be a boy of ability and character; for the master-at-arms could not possibly have the right influence with the boys if he merely tried to order them around; he is obliged to be good-humored and dignified, and to keep his mind on his job all the time. The master-at-arms at this time was admirably suited to fill all these requirements.

As the boatswain’s mate of the watch sounded the call for “Mast”, the boys all lined up on the starboard side just forward of the quarter-deck, and the captain and scout master stood facing them. Dick was the only Sea Scout on report, and was charged with not properly closing a porthole before washing decks. He pleaded guilty and was let off with a warning, as this was his first offense. All hands then joined in the “setting up” exercises before going over the masthead.

The master-at-arms was an “able seaman” by the name of Young, who came from Attleboro, an inland town, where there were few facilities for practicing seamanship; he was a boy who was earning his living and the leader of a small gang who had formed themselves into a section of Sea Scouts. He had received a good many hard knocks, and, through them, some knowledge of human nature; and there was a good-humored determination about him which made him a natural leader whom it was easy to follow. There was nothing showy about Bertie Young, but you could not have found a boy on board who did not value his regard. Nothing special was apt to occur for the master-at-arms to attend to, during the morning hours at anchor, except to exert a steady influence for order and quiet; and, without having to think of it, he habitually kept track of the time and of the messenger in ringing the ship’s bell. But one of his chief jobs came in the evening; namely, that of keeping the berth deck quiet after tattoo and taps had sounded.