A bunch of rope yarns

by Stanton H. King

We all knew the necessary hustling it took for the mess cook to get our dinners ready. Therefore, we who wanted our bags, took them quickly from the jackstay on the side of the ship and moved out of the cook’s way. It was not thus with our Cape Town “joskin.” Not realizing that he was in the cook’s way, he kept on tossing the bags over in search of his own. The cook was impatient, so taking the greenhorn by the shoulders, he twisted him around, almost pushed him down the fore hatch on the head of old Bill Ried, the captain of the hold, and vehemently said, “Blast your blooming eyes. D’ye think I can get the grub ready with you a flying around ’ere like a feather in a gale of wind? Get to blazes out of my way.”

Anderson resented this treatment. He had been patient up to this point, for from the moment he donned the naval uniform and came on deck, the young apprentice boys began to tease and make a fool of him. They told him he would have to purchase clothes pins to use on the clothes line; they sent him from one to the other in search of many things that did not exist on a ship, making him believe that he was in duty bound to obey them. He believed their yarn when they told him the sergeant of marines was buried in the fore peak, and had him go with a lantern to polish the brass corners of the tomb. The poor fellow’s mind was so upset he doubted everyone, and even hesitated to obey the orders of the officer of the deck, believing he too was a “fake.”

He could stand it no longer, so when the “Duke of Edinburgh” (the nickname given to the cook) took hold of him he showed fight. Putting himself in a defensive attitude, he clinched with the duke. Pots, pans and kettles were tumbled about without any consideration on their part, the crowd gathered to see the fun, the noise and uproar reached the spar deck and in a flash the master-at-arms and ship’s corporal came tumbling double time down the fore hatch ladder, and, pushing the crowd aside, they separated the combatants and marched them to the mast. Anderson, now nicknamed Cape Town, told his story to the officer of the deck and then the duke related his. Here it was that Cape Town learned from the ship’s corporal that his clothes were in the lucky bag.

Both men were put on the report and the next morning when the delinquents were brought before the commanding officer, he punished the duke by placing him on third class conduct list, which deprived him of liberty while in that port. Cape Town he sentenced to do four hours extra police duty for having his clothes in the lucky bag.

The nearest resemblance to a lucky bag on a man-of-war, is a small, second hand clothing shop on Salem St. Although named the lucky bag, it is not generally a bag. I have seen at times when there were only a few things confiscated around the decks, a well filled bag in the master-at-arms possession, but usually the lucky bag is a place, a locker of some description where confiscated clothing and all such articles are kept.

On board of a merchant vessel it matters not how long a sailor desires to keep his clothes on deck, no one cares where he puts them or what is done with them, so long as they are forward and below the rail of the ship, but on a war ship it is different. A man-of-war’s man owns a clothes bag in which he keeps his clothing, a hammock containing his mattress and bedding, his ditty box for his sewing gear, and pipe and tobacco. He may earn a few dollars by making clothes, hence the ownership of a small sewing machine. He may possess a set of boxing gloves, swinging clubs, a musical instrument, or curiosities that he has bought for his sweetheart or for his friends, and while there is a certain time given him each day when he can bring his belongings on deck, and overhaul everything he owns to his satisfaction and to the delight of his shipmates, there are other times when everything he possesses must be stowed away, otherwise it will reach the ever open, avaricious jaws of the lucky bag.

In the morning before breakfast the decks have been cleaned. Perhaps there is still time to polish the deck brass work before eight bells, when breakfast will be piped, but even then the man-of-war’s man cannot put his bag away, for there is other work to be done before he can clean himself for quarters. The gun bright (brass) work has to be polished, for every man of a gun’s crew has a portion of the brass and steel allotted him for his special care.

Therefore, after breakfast he must hurry and clean his gun bright work, change his clothes, get his blacking and brush from his ditty box and shine his shoes, for the messenger boy will soon strike two bells (nine o’clock,) and the boatswain’s mates will be ordered to pipe sweepers. Then as birds in a forest, the whistles of the boatswain’s mates are heard chirping from stem to stern, calling the sweepers to man their brooms and give the “old gal” a final brush down. Woe to the man who has forgotten to stow away his traps, whatever they may be, for in a little while before three bells, the executive officer emerges from the ward room, and, followed by the masters-at-arms and ship’s corporal, he inspects the whole ship.

Starting from the ward room to the spar deck, then to the berth deck, he will pry into every corner and overhaul everything. The breech blocks of the guns are thrown open, the tompions are withdrawn, he peeps from breech to muzzle to make sure no oily rags have been stowed therein and that the gun is clean inside.

The berth deck cooks are standing by their mess chests ready with clean mess cloths and utensils for his all seeing eyes to peep into and inspect. The captain of the hold has thrown aside his dirty working suit and dressed in the uniform of the day, he stands in the hatchway with lantern in hand, to receive him. The sailmaker’s mate, the gunner’s mate, and every idler who has the care of any shellroom or locker, is at his post to greet him as he progresses in his onward march of inspection. Every clothes bag, piece of clothing, ditty box, musical instrument, anything that is out of place is confiscated by his orders.