Chapter 30

A PEEP THROUGH A PORT-HOLE AT THE SUBTERRANEAN PARTS OF A MAN-OF-WAR.

While now running rapidly away from the bitter coast of Patagonia,
battling with the night-watches--still cold--as best we may; come
under the lee of my white-jacket, reader, while I tell of the less
painful sights to be seen in a frigate.

A hint has already been conveyed concerning the subterranean
depths of the Neversink's hold. But there is no time here to
speak of the _spirit-room_, a cellar down in the after-hold,
where the sailor's "grog" is kept; nor of the _cabletiers_, where
the great hawsers and chains are piled, as you see them at a
large ship-chandler's on shore; nor of the grocer's vaults, where
tierces of sugar, molasses, vinegar, rice, and flour are snugly
stowed; nor of the _sail-room_, full as a sail-maker's loft
ashore--piled up with great top-sails and top-gallant-sails, all
ready-folded in their places, like so many white vests in a
gentleman's wardrobe; nor of the copper and copper-fastened
_magazine_, closely packed with kegs of powder, great-gun and
small-arm cartridges; nor of the immense _shot-lockers_, or
subterranean arsenals, full as a bushel of apples with twenty-
four-pound balls; nor of the _bread-room_, a large apartment,
tinned all round within to keep out the mice, where the hard
biscuit destined for the consumption of five hundred men on a
long voyage is stowed away by the cubic yard; nor of the vast
iron tanks for fresh water in the hold, like the reservoir lakes
at Fairmount, in Philadelphia; nor of the _paint-room_, where the
kegs of white-lead, and casks of linseed oil, and all sorts of
pots and brushes, are kept; nor of the _armoror's smithy_, where
the ship's forges and anvils may be heard ringing at times; I say
I have no time to speak of these things, and many more places of note.

But there is one very extensive warehouse among the rest that
needs special mention--_the ship's Yeoman's storeroom_. In the
Neversink it was down in the ship's basement, beneath the berth-
deck, and you went to it by way of the _Fore-passage_, a very
dim, devious corridor, indeed. Entering--say at noonday--you find
yourself in a gloomy apartment, lit by a solitary lamp. On one
side are shelves, filled with balls of _marline, ratlin-stuf,
seizing-stuff, spun-yarn_, and numerous twines of assorted sizes.
In another direction you see large cases containing heaps of
articles, reminding one of a shoemaker's furnishing-store--wooden
_serving-mallets, fids, toggles_, and _heavers:_ iron _prickers_
and _marling-spikes;_ in a third quarter you see a sort of
hardware shop--shelves piled with all manner of hooks, bolts,
nails, screws, and _thimbles;_ and, in still another direction,
you see