Besides these arrangements among the men, there are from thirty to forty marines to be disposed of. These do duty as sentries at the captain’s cabin, the ward-room, and at the galley during the time of cooking. They are also stationed at the large guns at night, as far as their numbers run. When a ship is in action, and small arms can be brought to bear on the enemy, they are stationed on the spar-deck; they are also expected to assist in boarding, in conjunction with several seamen from each gun, who are armed with pistols and pikes, and called boarders. The great disparity of numbers between the crew of a merchant ship and that of a man of war, occasions a difference in their internal arrangements and mode of life, scarcely conceivable by those who have not seen both. This is seen throughout, from the act of rousing the hands in the morning to that of taking in sail. In the merchantman, the watch below is called up by a few strokes of the handspike on the forecastle; in the man of war, by the boatswain and his mates. The boatswain is a petty officer, of considerable importance in his way; he and his mates carry a small silver whistle or pipe, suspended from the neck by a small cord. He receives word from the officer of the watch to call the hands up. You immediately hear a sharp, shrill whistle; this is succeeded by another and another from his mates. Then follows his hoarse, rough cry of “All hands ahoy!” which is forthwith repeated by his mates. Scarcely has this sound died upon the ear, before the cry of “Up all hammocks ahoy!” succeeds it, to be repeated in like manner. As the first tones of the whistle penetrate between decks, signs of life make their appearance. Rough, uncouth forms are seen tumbling out of their hammocks on all sides, and before its last sounds have died upon the air, the whole company of sleepers are hurriedly preparing for the duties of the day. No delay is permitted, for as soon as the before-mentioned officers have uttered their imperative commands, they run below, each armed with a rope’s end, with which they belabor the shoulders of any luckless wight upon whose eyes sleep yet hangs heavily, or whose slow-moving limbs show him to be but half awake. With a rapidity which would surprise a landsman, the crew dress themselves, lash their hammocks and carry them on deck, where they are stowed for the day. There is system even in this arrangement; every hammock has its appropriate place. Below, the beams are all marked, each hammock is marked with a corresponding number, and in the darkest night, a sailor will go unhesitatingly to his own hammock. They are also kept exceeding clean. Every man is provided with two, so that while he is scrubbing and cleaning one, he may have another to use. Nothing but such precautions could enable so many men to live in so small a space.