When a man has absented himself without leave for seven days he is officially posted a deserter, and any clothes, uniform, &c., he may have left behind him are sold by auction to the highest bidder, the proceeds going to the Government.
Jack Tar, like a great number of his social superiors, does not believe in giving a paternal Government any more than he can conveniently help; and many a great bargain does he pick up at these sales. For instance, a white duck tunic, such as the master-at-arms is holding up for inspection in our illustration, and which costs Jack 4s. to 5s., will start at 3d. and slowly mount up to 6d. or 8d., beyond which sum the bidding seldom rises.
At 1.15 p.m., dinner being over, on ordinary week days the bugle sounds "Clean Guns," and work recommences; but on Sundays and Thursdays (known to the bluejacket as "Spun-yarn Sunday") the ship's company are granted an afternoon of rest.
As soon as dinner time is over the bosun's mate pipes the sufficiently obvious pipe "Hands make and mend clothes"; and, as Jack makes all his own wearing apparel, he is not slow to take advantage of the time allowed him.
In fine weather the men bring their machines on deck and smoke and sew together. Every conceivable kind of needlework does Jack execute equally well. And not only the rank and file, but the petty officers also are glad to make their own clothes rather than buy them ready made; and though Jack is generally a self-taught tailor, he turns out far smarter work than the slop-shops. The difference is very obvious if one compares a bluejacket wearing uniform "built" by his own deft fingers, with one who is wearing a suit bought at some "Naval Outfitter's."
The men have the forward part of the upper deck to themselves, the petty officers having the space further aft set apart for them; but this advantage is not without its little drawbacks. Witness an incident experienced by the writer.
Photo. R. Thiele & Co.
JACK AS TAILOR—MAKING AND MENDING HIS CLOTHES.
He was seated by a ventilator playing chess—a favourite game—with a comrade. The fleet was about to enter Vigo, and a heavy sea was running, drenching the fo'c'sle and the other side of the deck, but leaving the space where the players were seated dry as a bone. They were just congratulating themselves on their comfortable quarters, when the ship, suddenly altering course to make the entrance to the bay, slewed round to port, and a heavy sea came neatly in and caught them as they sat. Chessmen, board, and players went suddenly floating about the deck in picturesque confusion, to the great amusement of the onlookers, who were expecting some diversion. Going below to change his clothes—for he was wet to the skin—the writer had the bad luck to stand directly under the same ventilator, and no sooner had he donned dry clothes than another malevolent and illfavoured sea came carefully down the ventilator shaft and rendered him as wet again. He tenderly avoided that ventilator during the remainder of the cruise.