Chapter 46

THE COMMODORE ON THE POOP, AND ONE OF "THE PEOPLE" UNDER THE
HANDS OF THE SURGEON.

A day or two after the publication of Lemsford's "Songs of the
Sirens," a sad accident befell a mess-mate of mine, one of the
captains of the mizzen-top. He was a fine little Scot, who, from
the premature loss of the hair on the top of his head, always
went by the name of _Baldy_. This baldness was no doubt, in great
part, attributable to the same cause that early thins the locks
of most man-of-war's-men--namely, the hard, unyielding, and
ponderous man-of-war and navy-regulation tarpaulin hat, which,
when new, is stiff enough to sit upon, and indeed, in lieu of his
thumb, sometimes serves the common sailor for a bench.

Now, there is nothing upon which the Commodore of a squadron more
prides himself than upon the celerity with which his men can handle
the sails, and go through with all the evolutions pertaining thereto.
This is especially manifested in harbour, when other vessels of his
squadron are near, and perhaps the armed ships of rival nations.

Upon these occasions, surrounded by his post-captain sa-traps--
each of whom in his own floating island is king--the Commodore
domineers over all--emperor of the whole oaken archipelago; yea,
magisterial and magnificent as the Sultan of the Isles of Sooloo.

But, even as so potent an emperor and Caesar to boot as the great
Don of Germany, Charles the Fifth, was used to divert himself in
his dotage by watching the gyrations of the springs and cogs of a
long row of clocks, even so does an elderly Commodore while away
his leisure in harbour, by what is called "_exercising guns_,"
and also "_exercising yards and sails;_" causing the various
spars of all the ships under his command to be "braced,"
"topped," and "cock billed" in concert, while the Commodore
himself sits, something like King Canute, on an arm-chest on the
poop of his flag-ship.

But far more regal than any descendant of Charlemagne, more haughty
than any Mogul of the East, and almost mysterious and voiceless
in his authority as the Great Spirit of the Five Nations, the
Commodore deigns not to verbalise his commands; they are imparted
by signal.

And as for old Charles the Fifth, again, the gay-pranked,
coloured suits of cards were invented, to while away his dotage,
even so, doubtless, must these pretty little signals of blue and
red spotted _bunting_ have been devised to cheer the old age of
all Commodores.

By the Commodore's side stands the signal-midshipman, with a sea-
green bag swung on his shoulder (as a sportsman bears his game-
bag), the signal-book in one hand, and the signal spy-glass in