Some ship-owners have a great partiality to animals; hence we find noble ships bearing the names of creatures of every description, from the most ferocious beast to the most unsightly reptile. Other ships carry on their sterns the names of heroes and heroines, gods and goddesses; satyrs, nymphs, civilians, poets, artists, statesmen, and demagogues; of kings, warriors, buccaneers, philanthropists, and brigands. It is thus we count among our ships a Hercules and a Joan of Arc; with Apollos, Minervas, Canovas, Hogarths, John Howards, and Robin Hoods, with a dense sprinkling of Mammoths and Mosquitoes, Tigers and Humming Birds, Whales and Butterflies, Nondescripts, Demons, volcanoes and Icebergs.
Some names of ships are ingenious and quaint, others commonplace or ridiculous; some are expressed in a phrase consisting of a few words, others in a word of one syllable, and sometimes of one letter. Thus we have the INO, and the GUESS; awkward names to repeat when asked, "What is the name of that ship?" and the "Catch me if you can," and the "What d'ye think 'tis like?" which, by their respective godfathers, are thought to be extremely witty. Thus, we have the "Ay, ay, sir," the "Tom," the "A No. 1," the "Tallyho," and the "W."
During the last war with Great Britain two privateers were built by the same individuals, and were intended to cruise in company; they were called the "United we stand," and the "Divided we fall." A number of years since, three large and elegant ships constituted a line of English packets between Liverpool and Charleston, in South Carolina. They were, with commendable taste, named after three celebrated poems by three distinguished British poets, the "Lalla Rookh," the "Corsair," and "Marmion." An opulent merchant in Rhode Island, having been repeatedly disappointed in his wish to have a male descendant, although he was the father of half a dozen cherry-cheeked GIRLS, gave the name of "Boy" to a ship of his, which was launched a few weeks after the birth of his youngest daughter. This ship was a fortunate one, and a great favorite of the owner, but never arrived at man's estate, continuing "a boy" to the end of the chapter.
Some ship-owners give to their vessels names of individuals distinguished for talent or worth, or who have served their country nobly by sea or by land. Some bestow on their ships those names that are dearest to them; those of their sweethearts, their wives, their children, brethren, sisters, or friends, as the case may be. Thus we have the "Three sons," "Ten Brothers," "Four Sisters," "Sally Anne," "Aunt Hitty," and "Huldah and Judy;" and thus we may account for the euphonious name of a vessel, once belonging to Windsor, in Virginia, the "Jonathan Jacocks."
Some years ago two Boston merchants were engaged in building a ship for the freighting business. When finished, there was a difference of opinion in regard to the selection of a name. One proposed the name of a distinguished southern statesman, Mr. Poinsett; the other, an old shipmaster, remonstrated against giving the ship the name of any living person; and he carried his point. "The man you mention," said he, with energy and emphasis, "is a good fellow enough now; but before two years, he may change his politics, or do some other shabby act that will stamp his name with infamy. And then how foolish we shall look when hailing our ship. No! Never while you live, call your ship, or your child, after any living great man; but take the name of some one whose excellence is vouched for by a tombstone."
A line of packet ships was projected, and in part established some thirty-five years ago, between Boston and Liverpool, by some public-spirited merchants. The project, however, after a time was abandoned. Three new and beautiful ships were built for this enterprise, and plied regularly between the two ports; they were named the Emerald, the Topaz, and the Amethyst. If the undertaking had been successful, other ships would have been added with names of a similar stamp, as the Diamond, the Ruby, the Coral, or the Pearl.
The government of the United States has, for many years, adopted the plan of naming ships-of-the-line after the different states in the Union, the frigates after the rivers, and the sloops of war after the principal cities; thus we have the Vermont, Ohio, Pennsylvania, etc., the Brandywine, Raritan, Merrimac, etc., and the Jamestown, Portsmouth, Hartford, etc. As no more ships-of-the-line will probably be constructed, comparatively few of the states will receive the honor originally intended.
The introduction of large clipper built ships, within a few years, has been attended with a new and distinct class of names, some of which are of a decidedly poetical character, and fill the largest speaking trumpet to its utmost capacity; thus the ocean is traversed in every direction by "Winged Racers," "Flying Arrows," "Sparkling Seas," "Shooting Stars," "Foaming Waves," "White Squalls," "Sovereigns of the Seas," and "Thunder Showers;" and we may soon see launched the "Almighty Dollar."
The brig Joseph was commanded by Ezra Allen, a very worthy, well-meaning man, of moderate capacity, and an indifferent sailor. The mate, Mr. Bowen, was an energetic, down-east Yankee, with a drawl as long as the deep sea line, and almost as much twisted. He was one of those queer mortals, manufactured nowhere but in New England, who, restless, inquisitive, ingenious, and bold, can readily adapt themselves to any situation, and, under a very raw and green exterior, conceal an inexhaustible mine of practical good sense and available intelligence on almost every subject. Mr. Bowen, although deferential in his deportment towards the captain, and ever treating him with a good show of respect, was in reality master of the brig; his advice being solicited on the most trivial occasion, and every suggestion he made in relation to the management of the vessel was eagerly seized upon by the captain. Indeed, Bowen was a model of a mate; industrious, economical, and faithful, treating the crew with kindness and consideration, yet exacting their full quota of labor. No "bread of idleness" was consumed where he had the direction of affairs. Under his management there was perfect subordination, without the necessity of resorting to heavers and handspikes as a means of enforcing authority.
The second mate, Mr. Conners, was a little, weasel-faced man, of uncertain extraction, who had a great idea of his importance, and like other mates I have seen, bustled about the decks, as if to make up in noise and bustle deficiencies in merit; forgetting that a quiet, decided, straightforward manner is more effective in enforcing authority, and establishing discipline, than the roughest language breathed through iron lungs. We had but a brief opportunity to test his worth, for, on the second day after leaving port, Mr. Conners was attacked with illness, stricken down and confined to his state-room, where he lay, suffering much pain, and uttering moans of a character not unfamiliar to my ears. The chief mate came on deck while I was at the helm, and in answer to my inquiries, gave me the particulars of his illness.