The Sea Rovers

by Rufus Rockwell Wilson

The landsman visiting an American warship finds the marine everywhere in evidence. At the door of the captain's cabin stands a marine, doing duty as an orderly, and no one can enter that officer's presence until he has first taken in the name. Down below a marine guards the storage rooms, and up on the berth deck another stands sentry over the torpedoes, while still farther along on the same deck is the "sentry over the brig," for the brig, be it known, is the ship's prison, where, in complete solitude and on a bread and water diet, an offender can meditate and see the error of his ways. Finally in the crowded forecastle the marine keeps order among the crew and an occasional eye on that fishing boat floating down with the tide, for Jack sometimes goes fishing and makes queer hauls. With a coin as a bait, he drops over his line, gets a nibble, hauls in a little brown bottle—and does not show his catch to the sentry.

The marines, in a word, do the sentry duty of the ship, but this does not prevent these sea soldiers and the sailors from getting on well together. Occasionally, a marine recruit, just assigned to a ship, will develop symptoms of a disease known as "duty struck," and blindly lay the foundation for years of unpopularity for himself by taking advantage of his authority to make it as warm as he can for the blue jackets, but such a recruit is quickly called to order by the older men of the guard. As a rule, the marines and blue jackets are on the most friendly terms, and there are few liberty parties of blue jackets bound for a good time ashore that are not accompanied by a favorite marine or two, invited along to help the sailormen dispose of their money, for, out of his $13 a month, the marine does not have a deal for shore use.

The guard duty performed by marines on American ships is of an arduous and exacting kind. On some vessels, usually the smaller gunboats, the marine guard soldier is on post for two hours, and then gets only two hours off before buckling on his belt again, month in and month out. This sort of thing involves a breaking up of sleep that tells severely on marines serving on small ships, and it is for this reason that sea soldiers are so partial to flagships, and exhaust all the means in their power to be assigned to such large vessels of war. However, on every warship, no matter what its size, there is at least one first-rate billet for the private marine; that is the mail orderly's job. The mail orderly is the messenger between the ship and the shore, attends to all sorts of errands for officers and men, and is a general buyer of trinkets for all hands. A good deal of money passes through his hands, and his commissions are good, not to speak of the tips which are given to him for performing little diplomatic tasks ashore for the men forward. A marine mail orderly usually leaves the service at the expiration of a cruise with a snug sum tucked away.

The first sergeant of a marine guard on a ship too small to rate one or more marine officers fills a responsible and exacting place, and is treated with great consideration by the officers, since, to all intents and purposes, he is an officer himself. He may go ashore when he chooses without putting his name down on the liberty list, and when he comes back to the ship from shore leave, he is not searched for liquor, an immunity which he enjoys in common only with the ship's chief master-at-arms. The first sergeant is responsible for the conduct of his men, and, if they do wrong, he is reproved much as if he were an officer. For the preservation of discipline, he is required to hold himself aloof from the members of his guard as much as possible, and he associates and frequently messes with the ship's chief petty officers.

Semper fidelis—always faithful—is the legend worn upon the flags, guidons and insignia of the Marine Corps, and, in its hundred years of existence, it has never been false to its motto. It was one of the orderlies of the corps, Corporal Anthony, who, when the Maine was sinking, and nearly all who could do so were hastily leaving, made his way toward Captain Sigsbee's cabin, and, on meeting him, calmly gave the report the duty of the occasion required of him. And this quiet performance of duty in the face of impending death, has had a hundred parallels in the history of the Marine Corps.

During the bombardment of Tripoli, in 1803, and the desperate hand-to-hand fighting which occurred between the vessels on both sides, Decatur boarded one of the Tripolitan gunboats and engaged the captain in a duel with swords. One of the enemy coming up from behind was about to cleave Decatur's skull with his sword, when a marine interposed his arm. The arm saved Decatur, but it was severed to the skin. In the same battle, Lieutenant Trippe, of the Vixen, boarded a Tripolitan gunboat and singled out the commander for a personal combat. A Turk aimed a blow at the lieutenant, but before he could strike, Sergeant Meredith, of the marines, ran him through the body with his bayonet. It was also an officer of marines, Lieutenant O'Bannon, who, with Midshipman Mann, hauled down the Tripolitan ensign, after having stormed the principal defense of Derne, and planted the flag of the Republic on that ancient fortress.

The marines participated gallantly in the War of 1812, and in the expedition against Quallah Battoo, a few years later, formed the van of the attacking party, and were in the thickest of the fight with the Malays. This Quallah Battoo expedition furnished a stirring passage for our naval history that is well worth recalling. In February, 1831, the American ship Friendship was loading on the coast of Sumatra. While the captain, two officers and four of the crew were on shore the Friendship was attacked by the crew of a Malay pepper boat, who, after killing the first officer and several of the seamen, succeeded in cutting off the ship and plundering her of every article of value on board. The attack was clearly concerted, and the Achense rajah, Chute Dulah, received the spoils, refusing the restoration even of the ship.

Time moved with leisure steps in those days, but as soon as news of this wanton outrage reached the United States, prompt measures were taken to punish its authors. On February 5, 1832, the frigate Potomac, commanded by Commodore John Downes, anchored off Quallah Battoo and landed a force of 250 men to attack the town. The assaulting party, composed mainly of marines, did its work in a thorough and practical manner. The town and the four forts defending it were captured and destroyed, and several hundred Malays killed, including the rajah chiefly concerned in the plunder of the Friendship and the massacre of its crew. The surviving rajahs begged for peace, and this was finally granted by Commodore Downes, but the lesson taught at the cannon's mouth is still remembered on the Sumatran coast.

The Marine Corps participated with brilliant results in the Florida Indian War, and in the siege of Vera Cruz and the march to the City of Mexico their services were of the first order. In fact, General Scott is authority for the statement that at all times during the Mexican War they were placed where the hardest work was to be done. At the storming of Chapultepec, Major Levi Twiggs, of the marines, led the assaulting party and was killed. This fortress having been captured, the marines in General Quitman's division moved directly on the City of Mexico, and were accorded the honor of first entering the palace and hoisting the American flag.

The marines who accompanied Commodore Perry to Japan, in 1852, took an important part in that expedition. A force of a hundred marines was landed, and, together with a like number of soldiers and two brass bands, marched through Yeddo to the palace of the Mikado, creating a most favorable impression on the foreign officials. A similar display was made by Perry when he returned to Japan in 1854, to receive the answer of the Japanese Government to his representations previously made regarding the advantages of foreign trade.