personally worthy of all respect; but he stuttered badly, and this
impediment not only received no mercy from youth, but interfered with
the accuracy of manoeuvres where the word of command needed to be
timely in utterance. Report ran that on one occasion, advancing by
column of companies, while the professor was struggling with
"H-H-H-Halt!" the leading company, composed martyrs to discipline,
marched over the sea-wall into three feet of water. Had the water
been deeper, they might have been less literal. Despite his military
training, his bearing and carriage had not the strong soldierly stamp
which might redeem his infirmity, and even in the class-room a certain
whimsical atmosphere seemed borne from the drill-ground. He, I
believe, was the central figure of one of the most humorous scenes in
Herman Melville's _White Jacket_, a book which, despite its prejudiced
tone, has preserved many amusing and interesting inside recollections
of a ship-of-war of the olden time. The naval instructor on board the
frigate is using Rodney's battle of 1782 to illustrate on the
blackboard the principles of naval tactics to the class of midshipmen.
"Now, young gentlemen, you see this disabled French ship in the
corner, far to windward of her fleet, between it and the enemy. She
has lost all three masts, and the greater part of the ship's company
are killed and wounded; what will you do to save her?" To this knotty
problem many extemporized "practical" answers are given, of which the
most plausible is by Mr. Dash, of Virginia--"I should nail my colors
to the mast and let her sink under me." As this could scarcely be
called saving her, Mr. Dash is rebuked for irrelevance; but, after the
gamut of possible solutions has been well guessed over, the instructor
announces impressively, "That ship, young gentlemen, cannot be saved."

I cannot say that he dealt with us thus tantalizingly; but one of my
contemporaries used to tell a story of his personal experience which
was generically allied to the above. At the conclusion of some faulty
manoeuvre, the instructor remarked aloud: "This all went wrong, owing
to Mr. P.'s not standing fast in his own person. We will now repeat
it, for the particular benefit of Mr. P." The repetition ensued, and
in its course the instructor called out, "Be careful, Mr. P., and
stand fast where you are." "I am standing fast," replied P.,
incautiously. "R-R-Report Mr. P. for talking in ranks." At the
Academy, naval t