Dead letters

by Maurice Baring

Another stratagem of the Sardinian native is to demand money for the poultry destroyed by the sailors of our ship. Every family in the village complained that their poultry had been annihilated by our unprincipled mariners, but little credence was lent to the tale, because at the moment when the complaint was made there was only one hen in the village, a dead one that had just perished of old age.

Life on board this vessel is full of variety and interest to the stranger. Long before sunrise one is wakened by the sound of a brazen trumpet. This is followed by much whistling and a deep, but not unmusical, call from some elder sailor, who exhorts and finally persuades those over whom he is put in authority to rise from their narrow couches and to taste the morning air. They then set about to wash the upper part of the ship, an occupation which is pursued more from a disinterested love of cleaning than from any practical purpose, as by evening the ship is as dirty as it was before it was washed. But the men enjoy this work, and indeed the only people who suffer from it are such men as myself who are on board ship by chance, and who are used to sleeping uninterruptedly until some time after the sun has arisen. Some people have been known to sleep unconcernedly through all this noise, but such men are rare.

An hour or two after this process of washing is accomplished, food is served to the officers and men of the ship. The officers rarely partake of more than one olive in the early morning; such is their endurance and their self-denial. This they wash down with a small glass of red native wine, which is singularly pleasant and exhilarating. As soon as this light repast is over the real business of the day begins.

First of all the men are inspected on deck, and it is carefully noted whether they are in a state of cleanliness and order, and further whether they are sober enough to perform their daily duties. Any man who is found twice running to be in a state of absolute intoxication is drowned, and the ship is thereby disembarrassed of superfluous cargo. The greater part of the forenoon is spent in teaching the young their duties, and in teaching the lads who have lately arrived from Carthage the full duties of a seaman. This task is carried out with patience and persistence by the instructors, who are never known to raise their voice in anger, or to use a harsh word. Indeed the nearest approach to harshness which I observed was when one day I heard one of the elder mariners say to a lad who was slow to perform his duty, “Take care lest I should observe thee to bend.” This is a nautical expression which means, so I am told, “be strenuous in all things.”

At noon the second repast of the day is taken, the food consisting of black bread, herbs, preserved olives, and a small fish which is caught in great quantities in the bay by such as are skilful. When the meal is over the officers retire to a small cabin, where they aid their digestion by playful gambols, such as wrestling and beating each other with their fists, until they are weary. After this they fall into a profound slumber on the benches of the cabin, with the exception of one officer who needs must always remain on deck to observe the weather and the omens, and make note thereof, for the captain of the vessel is inquisitive with regard to such matters.

The younger officers are respectful to their seniors, and address them as “Suffetes”; but this outward form of respect when duty is concerned does not prevent the more youthful of the juniors from expressing the innate exuberance and impertinence which are natural to youth. Moreover, they call each other by familiar names, such as “Sheep,” “Hog,” “Little Hog,” “Little Pig,” “Canary,” “Cat,” “Little Cat.”

Later in the afternoon there is a further inspection on the deck, which takes place to the sound of many trumpets. At sunset, after a still louder blast of the trumpet, the third repast is held. The officers attend this in state, wearing silken togas, jewelled helmets, and golden chains, and during all the meal a hundred slaves make music on silver cymbals, harps, and drums. This they do with great skill, knowing that should they be unskilful in their art, they risk being hurled into the sea. All the officers dine together, with the exception of the Captain, who feeds in a small turret by himself and partakes of especial dainties due to his rank, such as nightingales’ tongues and the livers of peacocks.

At the end of the repast the eldest of the officers fills a golden bowl full of wine and water and drinks to the health of the “Gerusia.” Immediately before he does so the goblet of every officer present is filled with wine and water, but should any one taste of his wine before the Elder of the assembly rises to his feet, he is constrained to empty one after another every goblet at the board and to refill them at his own expense. And this proves a tax both on his moral courage, his physical endurance, and his material resources.

When this ceremony has been accomplished such officers who are skilled in the art make music on the flute or the tom-tom, while others sing plaintive Carthaginian ditties about the dark-eyed lasses they have left behind them. Sometimes others, still more skilful, give a display of dancing. After this has continued for about an hour another deafening blast on the trumpet announces that all must seek their cabins for the night, save those unhappy officers who take it by turn for a space of four hours at a time to observe the features of the landscape, the aspect of the heavens, the position of the stars, and the nature of the omens. According as these omens are favourable, or unfavourable, the nature of the following day’s work is determined.

There are in the ship a particular race of men who are neither soldiers nor sailors; these are called by the Latin name “Legio Classica.” Their duties consist in maintaining discipline amongst the company of the ship and in dealing out retribution when it is necessary; they are well known for the unerring accuracy of their statements, so much so that if any one in the ship makes a statement or relates a tale that bears in it the signs of improbability, he will be ordered to go and tell it to the men of this legion, for it is known that should the statement be untruthful or inaccurate they would be swift to detect it and to laugh the man to scorn.