CHAPTER IX.
OF THE POCKETS THAT WERE IN THE JACKET.
I MUST make some further mention of that white jacket of mine.
And here be it known--by way of introduction to what is to follow--thatto a common sailor, the living on board a man-of-war is like living ina market; where you dress on the door-steps, and sleep in the cellar.No privacy can you have; hardly one moment's seclusion. It is almost aphysical impossibility, that you can ever be alone. You dine at a vast_table d'hote_; sleep in commons, and make your toilet where and whenyou can. There is no calling for a mutton chop and a pint of claret byyourself; no selecting of chambers for the night; no hanging ofpantaloons over the back of a chair; no ringing your bell of a rainymorning, to take your coffee in bed. It is something like life in alarge manufactory. The bell strikes to dinner, and hungry or not, youmust dine.
Your clothes are stowed in a large canvas bag, generally painted black,which you can get out of the "rack" only once in the twenty-four hours;and then, during a time of the utmost confusion; among five hundredother bags, with five hundred other sailors diving into each, in themidst of the twilight of the berth-deck. In some measure to obviatethis inconvenience, many sailors divide their wardrobes between theirhammocks and their bags; stowing a few frocks and trowsers in theformer; so that they can shift at night, if they wish, when thehammocks are piped down. But they gain very little by this.
You have no place whatever but your bag or hammock, in which to putanything in a man-of-war. If you lay anything down, and turn your backfor a moment, ten to one it is gone.
Now, in sketching the preliminary plan, and laying out the foundationof that memorable white jacket of mine, I had had an earnest eye to allthese inconveniences, and re-solved to avoid them. I proposed, that notonly should my jacket keep me warm, but that it should also be soconstructed as to contain a shirt or two, a pair of trowsers, anddivers knick-knacks--sewing utensils, books, biscuits, and the like.With this object, I had accordingly provided it with a great variety ofpockets, pantries, clothes-presses, and cupboards.
The principal apartments, two in number, were placed in the skirts,with a wide, hospitable entrance from the inside; two more, of smallercapacity, were planted in each breast, with folding-doorscommunicating, so that in case of emergency, to accommodate any bulkyarticles, the two pockets in each breast could be thrown into one.There were, also, several unseen recesses behind the arras; insomuch,that my jacket, like an old castle, was full of winding stairs, andmysterious closets, crypts, and cabinets; and like a confidentialwriting-desk, abounded in snug little out-of-the-way lairs andhiding-places, for the storage of valuables.
Superadded to these, were four capacious pockets on the outside; onepair to slip books into when suddenly startled from my studies to themain-royal-yard; and the other pair, for permanent mittens, to thrustmy hands into of a cold night-watch. This last contrivance was regardedas needless by one of my top-mates, who showed me a pattern forsea-mittens, which he said was much better than mine.
It must be known, that sailors, even in the bleakest weather, onlycover their hands when unemployed; they never wear mittens aloft, sincealoft they literally carry their lives in their hands, and want nothingbetween their grasp of the hemp, and the hemp itself.--Therefore, it isdesirable, that whatever things they cover their hands with, should becapable of being slipped on and off in a moment. Nay, it is desirable,that they should be of such a nature, that in a dark night, when youare in a great hurry--say, going to the helm--they may be jumped into,indiscriminately; and not be like a pair of right-and-left kids;neither of which will admit any hand, but the particular one meant forit.
My top-mate's contrivance was this--he ought to have got out a patentfor it--each of his mittens was provided with two thumbs, one on eachside; the convenience of which needs no comment. But though for clumsyseamen, whose fingers are all thumbs, this description of mitten mightdo very well, White-Jacket did not so much fancy it. For when your handwas once in the bag of the mitten, the empty thumb-hole sometimesdangled at your palm, confounding your ideas of where your real thumbmight be; or else, being carefully grasped in the hand, was continuallysuggesting the insane notion, that you were all the while having holdof some one else's thumb.
No; I told my good top-mate to go away with his four thumbs, I wouldhave nothing to do with them; two thumbs were enough for any man.
For some time after completing my jacket, and getting the furniture andhousehold stores in it; I thought that nothing could exceed it forconvenience. Seldom now did I have occasion to go to my bag, and bejostled by the crowd who were making their wardrobe in a heap. If Iwanted anything in the way of clothing, thread, needles, or literature,the chances were that my invaluable jacket contained it. Yes: I fairlyhugged myself, and revelled in my jacket; till, alas! a long rain putme out of conceit of it. I, and all my pockets and their contents, weresoaked through and through, and my pocket-edition of Shakespeare wasreduced to an omelet.
However, availing myself of a fine sunny day that followed, I emptiedmyself out in the main-top, and spread all my goods and chattels todry. But spite of the bright sun, that day proved a black one. Thescoundrels on deck detected me in the act of discharging my saturatedcargo; they now knew that the white jacket was used for a storehouse.The consequence was that, my goods being well dried and again storedaway in my pockets, the very next night, when it was my quarter-watchon deck, and not in the top (where they were all honest men), I noticeda parcel of fellows skulking about after me, wherever I went. To a man,they were pickpockets, and bent upon pillaging me. In vain I keptclapping my pocket like a nervous old gentlemen in a crowd; that samenight I found myself minus several valuable articles. So, in the end, Imasoned up my lockers and pantries; and save the two used for mittens,the white jacket ever after was pocketless.
White Jacket; Or, The World on a Man-of-War Page 10
