f the
Main-Hold, Captains of the Fore-Hold, Captains of the Head, Coopers,
Painters, Tinkers, Commodore's Steward, Captain's Steward, Ward-Room
Steward, Steerage Steward, Commodore's cook, Captain's cook, Officers'
cook, Cooks of the range, Mess-cooks, hammock-boys, messenger boys,
cot-boys, loblolly-boys and numberless others, whose functions are
fixed and peculiar.

It is from this endless subdivision of duties in a man-of-war, that,
upon first entering one, a sailor has need of a good memory, and the
more of an arithmetician he is, the better.

White-Jacket, for one, was a long time rapt in calculations, concerning
the various "numbers" allotted him by the _First Luff_, otherwise known
as the First Lieutenant. In the first place, White-Jacket was given the
_number of his mess_; then, his _ship's number_, or the number to which
he must answer when the watch-roll is called; then, the number of his
hammock; then, the number of the gun to which he was assigned; besides
a variety of other numbers; all of which would have taken Jedediah
Buxton himself some time to arrange in battalions, previous to adding
up. All these numbers, moreover, must be well remembered, or woe betide
you.

Consider, now, a sailor altogether unused to the tumult of a
man-of-war, for the first time stepping on board, and given all these
numbers to recollect. Already, before hearing them, his head is half
stunned with the unaccustomed sounds ringing in his ears; which ears
seem to him like belfries full of tocsins. On the gun-deck, a thousand
scythed chariots seem passing; he hears the tread of armed marines; the
clash of cutlasses and curses. The Boatswain's mates whistle round him,
like hawks screaming in a gale, and the strange noises under decks are
like volcanic rumblings in a mountain. He dodges sudden sounds, as a
raw recruit falling bombs.

Well-nigh useless to him, now, all previous circumnavigations of this
terraqueous globe; of no account his arctic, antarctic, or equinoctial
experiences; his gales off Beachy Head, or his dismastings off
Hatteras. He must begin anew; he knows nothing; Greek and Hebrew could
not help him, for the language he must learn has neither grammar nor
lexicon.

Mark him, as he advances along the files of old ocean-warriors; mark
his debased attitude, his deprecating gestures, his Sawney stare, like
a Scotchman in London; his--"_cry your merry, noble seignors!_" He is
wholly nonplussed, and confounded. And whe