usually
drawn up in the ship's waist--like a company reviewing in the Park. At
close quarters, their muskets may pick off a seaman or two in the
rigging, but at long-gun distance they must passively stand in their
ranks and be decimated at the enemy's leisure. Only in one case in
ten--that is, when their vessel is attempted to be boarded by a large
party, are these marines of any essential service as fighting men; with
their bayonets they are then called upon to "repel!"

If comparatively so useless as soldiers, why have marines at all in the
Navy? Know, then, that what standing armies are to nations, what
turnkeys are to jails, these marines are to the seamen in all large
men-of-war. Their muskets are their keys. With those muskets they stand
guard over the fresh water; over the grog, when doled; over the
provisions, when being served out by the Master's mate; over the "brig"
or jail; at the Commodore's and Captain's cabin doors; and, in port, at
both gangways and forecastle.

Surely, the crowd of sailors, who besides having so many sea-officers
over them, are thus additionally guarded by soldiers, even when they
quench their thirst--surely these man-of-war's-men must be desperadoes
indeed; or else the naval service must be so tyrannical that the worst
is feared from their possible insubordination. Either reason holds
good, or both, according to the character of the officers and crew.

It must be evident that the man-of-war's-man casts but an evil eye on a
marine. To call a man a "horse-marine," is, among seamen, one of the
greatest terms of contempt.

But the mutual contempt, and even hatred, subsisting between these two
bodies of men--both clinging to one keel, both lodged in one
household--is held by most Navy officers as the height of the
perfection of Navy discipline. It is regarded as the button that caps
the uttermost point on their main-mast.

Thus they reason: Secure of this antagonism between the marine and the
sailor, we can always rely upon it, that if the sailor mutinies, it
needs no great incitement for the marine to thrust his bayonet through
his heart; if the marine revolts, the pike of the sailor is impatient
to charge. Checks and balances, blood against blood, _that_ is the cry
and the argument.

What applies to the relation in which the marine and sailor stand
toward each other--the mutual repulsion implied by a system of
checks--will, in degree, apply to nearly the entire interior of a
man-