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Chapter 27

SOME THOUGHTS GROWING OUT OF MAD JACK'S COUNTERMANDING HIS
SUPERIOR'S ORDER.


In time of peril, like the needle to the loadstone, obedience,
irrespective of rank, generally flies to him who is best fitted
to command. The truth of this seemed evinced in the case of Mad
Jack, during the gale, and especially at that perilous moment
when he countermanded the Captain's order at the helm. But every
seaman knew, at the time, that the Captain's order was an unwise
one in the extreme; perhaps worse than unwise.

These two orders given, by the Captain and his Lieutenant,
exactly contrasted their characters. By putting the helm _hard
up_, the Captain was for _scudding_; that is, for flying away
from the gale. Whereas, Mad Jack was for running the ship into
its teeth. It is needless to say that, in almost all cases of
similar hard squalls and gales, the latter step, though attended
with more appalling appearances is, in reality, the safer of the
two, and the most generally adopted.

Scudding makes you a slave to the blast, which drives you headlong
before it; but _running up into the wind's eye_ enables you, in a
degree, to hold it at bay. Scudding exposes to the gale your stern,
the weakest part of your hull; the contrary course presents to it your
bows, your strongest part. As with ships, so with men; he who turns his
back to his foe gives him an advantage. Whereas, our ribbed chests, like
the ribbed bows of a frigate, are as bulkheads to dam off an onset.

That night, off the pitch of the Cape, Captain Claret was hurried forth
from his disguises, and, at a manhood-testing conjuncture, appeared in
his true colours. A thing which every man in the ship had long suspected
that night was proved true. Hitherto, in going about the ship, and
casting his glances among the men, the peculiarly lustreless repose of
the Captain's eye--his slow, even, unnecessarily methodical step, and
the forced firmness of his whole demeanour--though, to a casual observer,
expressive of the consciousness of command and a desire to strike
subjection among the crew--all this, to some minds, had only been deemed
indications of the fact that Captain Claret, while carefully shunning
positive excesses, continually kept himself in an uncertain equilibrio
between soberness and its reverse; which equilibrio might be destroyed
by the first sharp vicissitude of events.

And though this is only a surmise, nevertheless, as having some
knowledge of brandy and mankind, White-Jacket will venture to state
that, had Captain Claret been an out-and-out temperance man, he would
never have given that most imprudent order to _hard up_ the helm. He
would either have held his peace, and stayed in his cabin, like his
gracious majesty the Commodore, or else have anticipated Mad Jack's
order, and thundered forth "Hard down the helm!"

To show how little real sway at times have the severest restrictive
laws, and how spontaneous is the instinct of discretion in some minds,
it must here be added, that though Mad Jack, under a hot impulse, had
countermanded an order of his superior officer before his very face,
yet that severe Article of War, to which he thus rendered himself
obnoxious, was never enforced against him. Nor, so far as any of the
crew ever knew, did the Captain even venture to reprimand him for his
temerity.

It has been said that Mad Jack himself was a lover of strong
drink. So he was. But here we only see the virtue of being placed
in a station constantly demanding a cool head and steady nerves,
and the misfortune of filling a post that does _not_ at all times
demand these qualities. So exact and methodical in most things
was the discipline of the frigate, that, to a certain extent,
Captain Claret was exempted from personal interposition in many
of its current events, and thereby, perhaps, was he lulled into
security, under the enticing lee of his decanter.

But as for Mad Jack, he must stand his regular watches, and pace
the quarter-deck at night, and keep a sharp eye to windward.
Hence, at sea, Mad Jack tried to make a point of keeping sober,
though in very fine weather he was sometimes betrayed into a
glass too many. But with Cape Horn before him, he took the
temperance pledge outright, till that perilous promontory should
be far astern.

The leading incident of the gale irresistibly invites the
question, Are there incompetent officers in the American navy?--
that is, incompetent to the due performance of whatever duties
may devolve upon them. But in that gallant marine, which, during
the late war, gained so much of what is called _glory_, can there
possibly be to-day incompetent officers?

As in the camp ashore, so on the quarter-deck at sea--the trumpets
of one victory drown the muffled drums of a thousand defeats. And,
in degree, this holds true of those events of war which are neuter
in their character, neither making renown nor disgrace. Besides, as
a long array of ciphers, led by but one solitary numeral, swell, by
mere force of aggregation, into an immense arithmetical sum, even so,
in some brilliant actions, do a crowd of officers, each inefficient
in himself, aggregate renown when banded together, and led by a numeral
Nelson or a Wellington. And the renown of such heroes, by outliving
themselves, descends as a heritage to their subordinate survivors. One
large brain and one large heart have virtue sufficient to magnetise a
whole fleet or an army. And if all the men who, since the beginning of
the world, have mainly contributed to the warlike successes or reverses
of nations, were now mustered together, we should be amazed to behold
but a handful of heroes. For there is no heroism in merely running in
and out a gun at a port-hole, enveloped in smoke or vapour, or in
firing off muskets in platoons at the word of command. This kind of
merely manual valour is often born of trepidation at the heart. There
may be men, individually craven, who, united, may display even temerity.
Yet it would be false to deny that, in some in-stances, the lowest
privates have acquitted themselves with even more gallantry than
their commodores. True heroism is not in the hand, but in the heart
and the head.

But are there incompetent officers in the gallant American navy?
For an American, the question is of no grateful cast. White Jacket
must again evade it, by referring to an historical fact in the history
of a kindred marine, which, from its long standing and magnitude,
furnishes many more examples of all kinds than our own. And this is
the only reason why it is ever referred to in this narrative. I
thank God I am free from all national invidiousness.

It is indirectly on record in the books of the English Admiralty,
that in the year 1808--after the death of Lord Nelson--when Lord
Collingwood commanded on the Mediterranean station, and his
broken health induced him to solicit a furlough, that out of a
list of upward of one hundred admirals, not a single officer was
found who was deemed qualified to relieve the applicant with
credit to the country. This fact Collingwood sealed with his
life; for, hopeless of being recalled, he shortly after died,
worn out, at his post. Now, if this was the case in so renowned a
marine as England's, what must be inferred with respect to our
own? But herein no special disgrace is involved. For the truth
is, that to be an accomplished and skillful naval generalissimo
needs natural capabilities of an uncommon order. Still more, it
may safely be asserted, that, worthily to command even a frigate,
requires a degree of natural heroism, talent, judgment, and
integrity, that is denied to mediocrity. Yet these qualifications
are not only required, but demanded; and no one has a right to be
a naval captain unless he possesses them.

Regarding Lieutenants, there are not a few Selvagees and Paper Jacks
in the American navy. Many Commodores know that they have seldom
taken a line-of-battle ship to sea, without feeling more or less
nervousness when some of the Lieutenants have the deck at night.

According to the last Navy Register (1849), there are now 68
Captains in the American navy, collectively drawing about
$300,000 annually from the public treasury; also, 297 Commanders,
drawing about $200,000; and 377 Lieutenants, drawing about half a
million; and 451 Midshipmen (including Passed-midshipmen), also
drawing nearly half a million. Considering the known facts, that
some of these officers are seldom or never sent to sea, owing to
the Navy Department being well aware of their inefficiency; that
others are detailed for pen-and-ink work at observatories, and
solvers of logarithms in the Coast Survey; while the really
meritorious officers, who are accomplished practical seamen, are
known to be sent from ship to ship, with but small interval of a
furlough; considering all this, it is not too much to say, that
no small portion of the million and a half of money above
mentioned is annually paid to national pensioners in disguise,
who live on the navy without serving it.

Nothing like this can be even insinuated against the "_forward
officers_"--Boatswains, Gunners, etc.; nor against the _petty
officers_--Captains of the Tops, etc.; nor against the able
seamen in the navy. For if any of _these_ are found wanting, they
are forthwith disrated or discharged.

True, all experience teaches that, whenever there is a great
national establishment, employing large numbers of officials, the
public must be reconciled to support many incompetent men; for
such is the favouritism and nepotism always prevailing in the
purlieus of these establishments, that some incompetent persons
are always admitted, to the exclusion of many of the worthy.

Nevertheless, in a country like ours, boasting of the political
equality of all social conditions, it is a great reproach that
such a thing as a common seaman rising to the rank of a
commissioned officer in our navy, is nowadays almost unheard-of.
Yet, in former times, when officers have so risen to rank, they
have generally proved of signal usefulness in the service, and
sometimes have reflected solid honour upon the country. Instances
in point might be mentioned.

Is it not well to have our institutions of a piece? Any American
landsman may hope to become President of the Union--commodore of
our squadron of states. And every American sailor should be
placed in such a position, that he might freely aspire to command
a squadron of frigates.

Herman Melville