Thursday, Dec. 11. A delicate question of discipline occurred to-day. The master’s mate of the gun-deck, finding the captain of the main-top behind the rest in lashing and stowing his hammock, ordered him to clean the bell,—a menial service, and intended as a punishment. The captain of the main-top, knowing the order to be illegal and derogatory to his position, declined compliance. He was reported to the officer of the deck and confined. All this had taken place without the knowledge of the first lieutenant or the commander. When known to them, the facts were promptly inquired into. I felt some interest in seeing how Captain Du Pont would dispose of the question.
The illegality of an order, though it may mitigate the offence, cannot for a moment justify disobedience. Such a doctrine would make every man a judge in his own case, and overthrow discipline. He must obey the order, and seek redress at its proper source. The offender saw his error, as exhibited to him by Captain Du Pont, and said he should submit to any punishment which the government of the ship required. That was enough; he was one of our best men, this his first offence, and Captain Du Pont very properly at once restored him to duty. Now what would have been the moral effect of inflicting chastisement on that man, as some, in a spirit of haste, might have done. It might have broken his ambition. It would certainly have reduced him to a lash-level with the hardened culprit. It would have relieved punishment of some portion of the shame which attaches to it. The bad always exult when they see any portion of their disgrace transferred to the good; therefore never punish a good faithful sailor for the first offence into which he may be betrayed, if there is any way of getting round it. Let his virtues
“Plead for him like angels, trumpet-tongued.”
Friday, Dec. 12. We have had, for three days, the regular trade-wind from the southeast, and have been running under royals and studding-sails, from seven to ten knots the hour. The thermometer has ranged at 75, the air has been balmy, and the sky free of clouds. What a contrast to the weather of the line,—where a cloud gathered before you could turn your eye, and where showers fell like water from some vast reservoir, with the bottom suddenly knocked out!
A flying-fish, hard pressed by a dolphin, took refuge on the deck of our ship. He might as well have remained in the sea, for he was instantly secured by one of our sailors, and presented by him to a lady passenger, who, with too little feeling, fried and ate him. It is true he had the satisfaction of being eaten by a lady, which was perhaps preferable to being swallowed by a dolphin. How many frantic lovers there are who would like to be eaten up by their mistress! Besides, it is in much better taste to dispose of one’s self in this way, than making a plunge into the sea to feed a hungry shark. Still, for one, I should not like to see a woman coming at me with a frying-pan.
Our batteries, in their black paint, look solid and uncompromising. Their threatening strength reminds one of the terrific lines of Campbell, in the Battle of the Baltic:—
“When each gun,
From its adamantine lips,
Spread a death-shade round the ships
Like the hurricane’s eclipse