my
brother officers may cavil at this story; but I personally believe it,
with perhaps two or three minutes' allowance for error in clocks. Much
may be accepted of seamen who not uncommonly reefed topsails "in
stays"--that is, while the ship was being tacked. Of the narrator's
good faith I am certain. It was not with hint one of the stock stories
told about "the last cruise;" nor was he a romancer. It came naturally
in course of conversation, as one tells any experience; and he added,
when the British admiral returned the commander's visit he
complimented the ship on the smartest performance he had ever seen.
But it is in the combination of license and smartness that the pith of
these related stories lies; between them they embody much of the
spirit of a time which in 1855 was remembered and influential. Midway
in the War of Secession I met the first lieutenant who held the
trumpet in that memorable manoeuvre--a man of 1813; now a quiet,
elderly, slow-spoken old gentleman, retired, with little to suggest
the smart officer, at the stamp of whose foot the ship's company
jumped, to use the gunner's expression.

Such performances exemplify the ideals that still obtained--were in
full force--in the navy as first I knew it. In the ship in which the
gunner and I were then serving, it was our common performance to "Up
topgallant-masts and yards, and loose sail to a bowline," in three
minutes and a half from the time the topmen and the masts started
aloft together from the deck. For this time I can vouch myself, and we
did it fairly, too; though I dare say we would have hesitated to carry
the sails in a stiff breeze without a few minutes more. It was a very
dramatic and impressive performance. The band, with drum and fife, was
part of it. When all was reported ready from the three masts--but not
before--it was permitted to be eight o'clock. The drums gave three
rolls, the order "Sway across, let fall," was given, the yards swung
into their places, the sails dropped and were dragged out by their
bowlines to facilitate their drying, the bell struck eight, the flag
was hoisted, and close on the drums followed the band playing the
"Star-Spangled Banner," while the ship's company went to breakfast. It
was the transformation scene of a theatre; within five minutes the
metamorphosis was complete. There was doubtless a flavor of the circus
about it all, but it was a wholesome flavor and tonicked the
professional appetite. Yes, and the