So, that very day, volunteers began to come off to the ship; not by threes and fours as they had done before, but by twenties and more at a stretch.
Of these the launch brought off a large cargo alongside immediately after the commander’s interview with the purser; and I thus had the opportunity of seeing how the men were scrutinised and sorted for the “watch bill,” which the chief of our executive made out himself—as indeed he seemed to do everything, looking after everybody else all the while.
The coxswain of the launch, with a touch of his forelock, handed over the discharge notes and certificates of such of the motley group that came up the side that had these documents, which the second lieutenant, a knowing fellow, who was in charge of our shipping office that morning, had pocketed when he engaged the men; doing this as a sort of preventative to their backing out of the bargain afterwards.
These greasy papers, which he did not open, were then passed on to the midshipman on duty on the quarter-deck, with orders to take them to the purser’s office; and the commander then proceeded to muster the lot abaft the mainmast bitts.
“What were you aboard your last ship?” asked he of a smart-looking seaman on the right of the line as they stood across the deck facing him, who appeared neater and nattier than the rest. “What rating did you take up?”
“Cap’en of the foretop, sir.”
“All right, you’re the very man I want!” said the commander. “You may go and do the duty, and if you are diligent and active you shall have the rate.”
The next chap stated he had been an able seamen in his previous ship, so he was sent on to the forecastle to add to the long roll already there.
So was another and another, till Commander Nesbitt lighted on a man who said he had been a shipwright in the dockyard, whom he marked down to join the carpenter’s crew.