The Sea Rovers

by Rufus Rockwell Wilson

When so much of his apprenticeship has been accomplished the marine climbs the ship's side and makes acquaintance with his duties as a marine policeman. The end of the first month afloat finds him on guard at every post in the ship. He knows each compartment and gangway; has been instructed in the working of the guns from the heavy turret pieces to the six-pounders; has watched the magazines and carried messages to the officers, and has even gone down to the coal bunkers, if the ship happens to be coaling in a hurry, and taken his turn at passing coal.

However, he is still only a marine in the making, and this fact is brought home to him when the ship goes out for target practice and, with a bluejacket for a teacher, he learns to handle and supply ammunition to the lifts in the magazines and to work the lifts themselves, so that when the need comes he can take Jack's place and do his work. In the old days of sailing ships the marines had to know how to splice a rope or furl a sail; nowadays he does not need to, but he must learn to make his way quickly and nimbly to the fighting tops. In doing so he does not have to climb to a ratline, one minute almost in the sea and the next at the very top of the heavens, but he gets painfully dizzy when for the first time he feels the ship sinking away from under him as he looks down. In the end he masters that also and, with practice, is soon able to make the little guns in the fighting tops talk as fast as the best of the jackies. When he has learned to descend from his aerial nest to the deck at a dignified pace and to land safely upon his feet, his education is practically completed, and it has taken him from six months to a year to get it.

Every navy yard in the country has its detachment of marines, but the barracks at the Brooklyn yard are the most popular, and as the marines have their choice of stations when they return from a cruise, the largest number, seldom less than three hundred, are usually quartered there. In the part of the yard set aside for the marines is a long and narrow building of gray brick, with a piazza running its entire length, shaded by a line of trees. This is the barracks, the living quarters of the men. A roomy parade ground stretches out in front, and in a group of trees to the left, with a garden behind, is the house of the commandant of marines, while at about the same distance to the right are the quarters of the other officers, each approached by a stone walk canopied and shaded by rows of pear trees.

Visit the Brooklyn barracks of a summer morning and you will find the marine there in every condition known to the corps and in every stage of his development. Out on the parade ground is a squad of raw recruits being commanded and marched about in the effort to trim off their individuality of motion, and here comes Private Dougherty, with his wheelbarrow and sickle, a bronze-faced old man who was retired awhile back because his thirty years of service had been completed. There is hardly a seaport in the world that Dougherty is not familiar with, and he will tell you, when in the mood, how he killed the Corean general. The Colorado, flagship of Rear Admiral Rodgers, steamed up the Salee river, in Corea, for the purpose of effecting a treaty with the Coreans for the protection of shipwrecked American sailors and to make surveys and soundings. Her survey boats were treacherously fired upon by the forts in the river and a fight began. After one of the forts had been captured and its former occupants driven out, Dougherty jumped over the parapet, ran down to where the Corean leader was rallying his forces and shot him dead. For this service to his country Congress voted Dougherty a medal of honor. And well he had earned it.

Ashore or afloat, the daily life of the marine is one of hard work and plenty of it. At 6:30 in the morning, when in barracks, the men must be out of bed and ready fifteen minutes later for the "setting-up" drill, which is gymnastic exercise without apparatus. Then the mess call is sounded and they file into the long messroom, furnished with two tables extending the whole length, and breakfast on hash, pork and beans or beef stew, according to the day in the week, and bread and coffee. After breakfast the order is given, "To the colors!" and the flag is raised on the pole in front of the guardhouse. Then the guards take their posts and the routine of the day begins, reaching a climax at 10:30 o'clock, the hour of dress parade, when the marines are out in full force.

Each remaining hour of the day has its allotted duty, but every marine with a clean record has twenty hours out of every forty-eight to himself. Many of the marines stationed at the Brooklyn yard spend their idle hours in the library, a light, airy room on the second floor of the barracks, furnished with a goodly collection of books and with a number of the weekly and monthly magazines. But as to the books, some of the most assiduous readers know the contents of them all, and long for more. Nor need the private of marines end his life in the ranks unless he be so minded. A school is provided for him where, if he elects to do so, he may conquer fractions and cube root, and in time, after his studies have raised him to the grade of sergeant-major in the ranks, should there chance to come a war the line is open to him, and once his ivory-hilted officer's sword and gold lace are worn he has the entree to any officers' mess and a place that no man but one of his own line can fill. That the men in the ranks who choose to employ their leisure hours in study get their reward was proven in the war with Spain, which raised no less than thirty sergeant-majors to the dignity of shoulder straps.

The dominant desire of the ambitious young marine is, of course, to get to sea. The work there is harder than in the barracks, but he does not consider that when he thinks of life afloat and the foreign ports to which it will take him. During his five years' enlistment in the corps each capable marine makes two sea voyages, extending over a period of three years. On shipboard the shore drills are continued as far as practicable and to them, as already hinted, is added target practice. His time off duty the marine spends in the forecastle and amidships reading, sleeping, writing up his diary or twanging the strings of his favorite instrument, the guitar.

The things which chiefly occupy his thoughts, however, are rations and going ashore. As to the former, they are considerably better than he gets at the barracks and may be augmented from the bumboats—a genuine boon to the luxury-loving marines. These bumboats approach the men-of-war at every port with articles of utility and food in great profusion, and the American marine has a worldwide reputation among their proprietors for his generosity. Ah Sam, of the port of Hong Kong, the greatest man in the world in his line, whose boats are fifty and sixty ton junks, is said to have made his fortune from sales to American men-of-war. At any rate, when one enters or leaves the harbor he fires a salute of twenty-one guns.

And it is only fair that the marine should have a salute fired on his own account now and then, for he is a leading and important figure in all the pomp and ceremony of man-of-war life. Indeed, it is an interesting and pretty sight to watch the ceremonies which take place on board ship on the arrival of a high official, such as an ambassador, an admiral, a general or a consul. As the cutter dashes up to the side with spray flying from the oars the ship's bugle sounds "Attention." The side boys offer the man ropes as the official steps on the gangway and the captain receives him as he steps on the quarterdeck. As the two walk aft the marine officer, in quick, sharp tones, commands, "Present arms," and the whole marine guard, drawn up in line on the port side of the quarterdeck, bring their rifles up in salute, while the bugle sounds a flourish and the drum a roll, two for an admiral, three for an ambassador and four for the President. The marines on a ship are collectively called the guard; the ceremony is called parading the guard. It takes place on the arrival or departure of any official of rank. If the official does not visit the ship it takes place when his flag passes by, and it also takes place when two ships of war pass each other.