On board the receiving-ship Ohio, to which all naval recruits in the vicinity of Boston are sent, Jack reported to the officer of the deck; and after his name had been registered, and sundry particulars in regard to him entered upon the ship’s books, he was sent forward. A number for his hammock, and another for his clothes-bag, were given him; and he was assigned to a mess. Mr. Bankhead, having done all he could for his _protégé_, and stated his intentions in regard to him, took his leave; and Jack found himself alone, though there were hundreds of men on board the ship. Though Jack was alone so far as acquaintances were concerned, there was no opportunity to be lonesome; for the gun-deck was thronged with men. There were old sailors who had been fifty years in the navy, and “green hands” who had just come from the country, and had never seen a ship till within a few days. There were rough, hard-visaged men, and those with no small pretensions to gentility. There were men of all colors and of every nation. It was a lively scene, whichever way he turned; and Jack sat down upon a mess-chest to observe the strange sights, and listen to the strange sounds. Some of the men were walking up and down the deck for exercise; some were playing cards, dominoes, and similar games; some were reading, and some were mending their clothes. It was an interesting prospect to a young man full of life; but he could not help thinking of the happy home in Pinchbrook, and the devoted mother who was the central figure in the picture. On the whole, he did not like his surroundings very well. The place did not seem much like a ship, and he hoped he should not have to be confined a great while on board the old hulk. While he was thinking of home and friends, and trying to bring his imagination to bear upon the future, a ringing blow on the top of his head confused his ideas, and completely upset the air castles which he had erected in his vivid fancy. “Heave up, my hearty!” exclaimed the author of this wanton mischief, as he brought the large tin pan he carried in his hand down upon Jack’s head a second time. “What are you about?” demanded the contemplative young man, springing to his feet. “Get off the mess-chest, then, so I can get at the grub,” replied the man in a surly tone. “Why didn’t you say so, then?” “I did say so.” “Well, you had better not hit me in just that style again,” added Jack angrily. “Shut up, you young monkey! Do you think I’m going to bow and scrape to every lubber that chooses to moor his carcass on the mess-chest? Now sheer off, and keep out of the way.”