THE AMAZING YARN OF THE BO'S'N'S MATE
AN ACCOUNT OF AN UNUSUAL PRIZE
"Now this is the tale that was told to me
By a battered and shattered old son of the sea,
To me and my messmate, Silas Green,
When I was a guileless young marine."
Ancient Sea Song
The second dog-watch, from six to eight in the evening, is the sailor's play-time. Unless some emergency requires it, drills and duties are suspended for the time being and Jackie, except for supper, has his time to himself. The older seamen usually collect on the forecastle; sometimes in the lee gangway in rough weather. There they sprawl themselves on the deck, or dispose themselves comfortably against the rails or the bitts, or even the anchor-fluke, if every place is occupied, or the boom boats if the waist be the place of assemblage, and smoke their pipes and yarn.
The ordinary seamen, the landsmen, and the ship's boys, if they are not rigorously excluded from the top-gallant forecastle, or from close proximity to the group of worthies who literally "take the deck," are forced to stand afar off, at any rate, where they listen to marvellous recitals as best they can. The midshipmen, however, as a species of privileged intermediaries between officers and men, often make a part of these exclusive circles, especially when yarning is going on.
Among all the tellers of strange tales on the famous United States frigate Neversink, Jack Lang, the old bo's'n's mate, held the chief place by general consent, and the sound of his deep voice raised in narration was sure to attract to his side every available reefer not specifically on duty, and all the old shellbacks, to whom yarning and listening to yarns were as the breath of life. And nowhere will you find better listeners than at a dog-watch "gam" on a ship's forecastle. The old man's services on the Neversink were invaluable in every way, his word was law forward of the mast as the captain's was on the quarter-deck, and even as a story-teller he was supreme.