We did not proceed to sea, as it had been expected that we should, but
we stretched several new sails, and the Captain marked them for
alteration by the ship's sail-maker, much as a tailor changes the cut of
a coat to secure a proper fitting. The men were made to take their
positions at the guns, and I found that I had been made a second captain
of the long 12-pounder, and was expected to work the roller handspike in
getting her into position. For three long hours we were kept at this,
slewing the guns hither and thither, aiming and gauging distance, and
bringing powder and shot from the magazines. Of course we indulged in no
firing, but served the pieces in pantomime.
The men appeared eager, and I could see that Captain Temple looked
pleased at their performance. The majority were old hands, and needed
little schooling. There is no use denying it, they _jumped_ to the best
of their ability. But my trial was soon to come. Most of the greenhorns
had been enrolled into a company of marines. They were standing in an
awkward row arranged in the waist, and keeping out of the way of the
more experienced gunners who were indulging in the mimic battle.
"Debrin!" called a voice. "Pass the word for Debrin."
A squint-eyed bowlegged boatswain's mate was bawling about the deck.
For an instant I was so confused that I almost forgot the name I had
assumed.
"Here!" I called at last, with my heart giving a wild leap into my
throat. I gave over the roller handspike to my friend of the night
before, and the boatswain's mate looked at me out of his crooked eyes.
"The old man wishes to speak to you," he said, in a low voice.
I stepped aft and pulled off my cap, as I had seen the other sailors do.
"Take hold of those gawk-legs and lick them into shape," said Captain
Temple, apparently counting up my ribs as he looked me through and
through. "You say you know the drill. There's a rack of muskets forward
on the berth-deck, and a chest of cutlasses at the after-ladder. If any
one gives you a sneer or a back word make him sweat his blood."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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