Chapter 8 - Page 2

fashioned by a Stultz; it is not
enough to be well braced with straps and suspenders; it is not
enough to have sweet reminiscences of Lauras and Matildas. It is
a right down life of hard wear and tear, and the man who is not,
in a good degree, fitted to become a common sailor will never
make an officer. Take that to heart, all ye naval aspirants.
Thrust your arms up to the elbow in pitch and see how you like
it, ere you solicit a warrant. Prepare for white squalls, living
gales and typhoons; read accounts of shipwrecks and horrible
disasters; peruse the Narratives of Byron and Bligh; familiarise
yourselves with the story of the English frigate Alceste and the
French frigate Medusa. Though you may go ashore, now and then, at
Cadiz and Palermo; for every day so spent among oranges and
ladies, you will have whole months of rains and gales.

And even thus did Selvagee prove it. But with all the intrepid
effeminacy of your true dandy, he still continued his Cologne-
water baths, and sported his lace-bordered handkerchiefs in the
very teeth of a tempest. Alas, Selvagee! there was no getting the
lavender out of you.

But Selvagee was no fool. Theoretically he understood his
profession; but the mere theory of seamanship forms but the
thousandth part of what makes a seaman. You cannot save a ship by
working out a problem in the cabin; the deck is the field of
action.

Well aware of his deficiency in some things, Selvagee never took
the trumpet--which is the badge of the deck officer for the time--
without a tremulous movement of the lip, and an earnest
inquiring eye to the windward. He encouraged those old Tritons,
the Quarter-masters, to discourse with him concerning the
likelihood of a squall; and often followed their advice as to
taking in, or making sail. The smallest favours in that way were
thankfully received. Sometimes, when all the North looked
unusually lowering, by many conversational blandishments, he
would endeavour to prolong his predecessor's stay on deck, after
that officer's watch had expired. But in fine, steady weather,
when the Captain would emerge from his cabin, Selvagee might be
seen, pacing the poop with long, bold, indefatigable strides, and
casting his eye up aloft with the most ostentatious fidelity.

But vain these pretences; he could not deceive. Selvagee! you
know very well, that if it comes on to blow pretty hard, the
First Lieutenant will be sure to interfere with his paternal
authority. Every man and every boy in the frigate knows,
Selvagee, that you are no Neptune.

How unenviable his situation! His brother officers do not insult
him, to be sure; but sometimes their looks are as daggers. The
sailors do not laugh at him outright; but of