Chapter Fifteen.
Off Ushant.
At Eight Bells, or four o’clock in the ordinary parlance of landsmen, Mr Bitpin was relieved by the first lieutenant, who then came on deck with the rest of the starboard watch to take charge, while the port watch went below at the same time.
This hour marked the beginning of the first dog watch, which, it may be here mentioned for the benefit of the uninitiated, only lasts two hours, from four o’clock to six, when the second dog watch, of similar duration, commences and continues until eight o’clock, or “Eight Bells,” again.
These subdivisions of time are necessary on board ship in order to allow all to share alike the rough with the smooth, and give the officers and men a change at regular intervals from day to night service, and the reverse; for, if all the watches were of equal length, there could not be any possible variation of the hours during which the hands would be on and off duty respectively, the one section of the crew in such case coming on deck at precisely the same time each day and going below in similar rotation.
By the system in vogue, however, of cutting one of the watches into two parts, which is common to the seamen of all countries in the mercantile marine and is not merely limited to the routine of our men-of-war, there is a constant change introduced; so that, the men who take, say, the first watch to-night, from eight o’clock till midnight, will have the middle watch to-morrow night, and so on in regular sequence until the time comes round again for them to “return to their old love” again!
“Glass-eye,” as the men called the first lieutenant, I noticed, was a much smarter hand than Mr Bitpin, in spite of his drawly way of speaking and lackadaisical airs below; and when he was officer of the watch there was no lolling about the deck or any of the talking that went on behind the boats and in odd corners, as was the case while “old growler” had charge.
Everyone then, on the contrary, brightened up and kept to his station; while even the old quartermaster and helmsman drawing themselves up at “attention” as soon as the Honourable Digby Lanyard’s long, telescopic form appeared on the poop, just as if he were the commander, or Captain Farmer himself.
The Honourable was not long inactive, for the sun was already beginning to sink below the western horizon, lighting up Saint Alban’s Head, abreast of which we were now speeding along, with a bright glare that displayed every detail of its steep escarpment and the rocky foreshore at its base; the glorious orb of day presently disappearing beneath the ocean, leaving a track of radiance behind him across the watery waste and flooding the heavens overhead with a harmony of vivid colouring in which every tint of the rainbow was represented—crimson and purple and gold, melting into rose, that paled again into the most delicate sea—green and finally became merged in the more neutral tones of night!