United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Juvenile fiction
One of the members of the mess, who was temporarily attached to the
vessel, was a pilot who had been pressed into the service. He was a
genuine rebel, and frequently said that he was called a traitor because
he was in favor of allowing the South to "peaceably withdraw from the
Union." The doctor, a little, fat, jolly man, and a thorough Unionist,
who believed in handling all rebels without gloves, took up the sword,
and the debate that followed was long and stormy. The pilot, as it
proved, hardly knew the reasons why the South had attempted to secede,
and was constantly clinching his arguments by saying, "Men who know
more, and who have done more fighting during this war than you, Doctor
Brown, say that they have a right to do so." The debate waxed hotter and
hotter, until some of the other members of the mess joined in with the
doctor against the pilot, and the caterer, thinking that the noise the
disputants made was unbecoming the members of a well-regulated mess, at
length shouted:
"Silence! Gentlemen, hereafter talking politics in this wardroom is
strictly prohibited."
"Eh?" ejaculated the doctor, who was thoroughly aroused, "Do you expect
us to sit here and listen to a conscript running down the Government--a
man who never would have entered the service if he had not been
compelled to do so? No, sir! I wouldn't hold my tongue under such
circumstances if all the six-foot-four caterers in the squadron should
say so. You are not a little admiral, to come down here and hoist your
broad pennant in this mess-room."
The caterer was astounded when he found his authority thus set at
defiance, and without further parley he retired to his room; and in a
few moments returned with the books, papers, and the small amount of
money that belonged to the mess; laying them on the table, he said:
"Gentlemen, you will please elect another caterer."
The debate was instantly hushed, for not one member of the mess, besides
the caterer just resigned, could have been hired to take the
responsibility of managing affairs. When the officers had finished their
dinner, they walked carelessly out on deck, as if the question of where
the next meal was to come from did not trouble them in the least.
Nothing was done toward an election; no one took charge of the books or
papers, and when the table was cleared away they were thrown
unceremoniously under the water-cooler. The money, however, was taken
care of by the doctor. Dinner-time came, and when Frank, tired and
hungry, was relieved from the deck, he inquired what was to be had to
eat.
"There's nothing been done about it yet," answered the officer who
relieved him. "The steward went to several of the members of the mess,
and asked what they wished served up; but they told him that they had
nothing to do with the caterer's business, and the consequence is, if
you want any thing to eat, you will have to go into the pantry and help
yourself."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account