The Lucky Bag
The Lucky Bag
IT always seemed to me that the lucky bag on a man-of-war was wrongly named. To the few it was a lucky bag, but to the large majority of seamen it was the unlucky bag.
What is the lucky bag? It is the place where the young recruit is taught that there is a place for everything, and everything must be in its place at certain times.
While serving on the U. S. S.Alliance, we shipped a landsman in Cape Town. He had passed the doctor’s examination and was served with an outfit of clothing from the paymaster’s stores. He was a strong young fellow, clean and neat in appearance, but his one great trouble was his carelessness in leaving his clothes, ditty box and other things around the decks when they should have been put in their proper places.
The very next day after his enlistment hewent below on the berth deck after the forenoon’s exercises, to find his clothes bag. He searched and overhauled all the bags hanging on the jackstay near the mess chest belonging to his part of the ship, but could not find a bag with his number on it. The cook was a short, wiry cockney, who had just come below from infantry drill on the spar deck. He had not much time to waste, as in an hour all hands would be piped to dinner, and he must hasten and put his potatoes in the ship’s cook’s coppers and be ready to draw his boiling water when the ship’s cook shouted, “Get your coffee water.” He also had two coal passers who were going on watch at twelve o’clock. At seven bells (11.30) they would be making their appearance for dinner so that they could relieve their mates below, on time.
We all knew the necessary hustling it took for the mess cook to get our dinners ready. Therefore, we who wanted our bags, took them quickly from the jackstay on the side of the ship and moved out of the cook’s way. It was not thus with our Cape Town “joskin.” Not realizing that he was in the cook’s way, he kept on tossing the bags over in search of his own.The cook was impatient, so taking the greenhorn by the shoulders, he twisted him around, almost pushed him down the fore hatch on the head of old Bill Ried, the captain of the hold, and vehemently said, “Blast your blooming eyes. D’ye think I can get the grub ready with you a flying around ’ere like a feather in a gale of wind? Get to blazes out of my way.”
Anderson resented this treatment. He had been patient up to this point, for from the moment he donned the naval uniform and came on deck, the young apprentice boys began to tease and make a fool of him. They told him he would have to purchase clothes pins to use on the clothes line; they sent him from one to the other in search of many things that did not exist on a ship, making him believe that he was in duty bound to obey them. He believed their yarn when they told him the sergeant of marines was buried in the fore peak, and had him go with a lantern to polish the brass corners of the tomb. The poor fellow’s mind was so upset he doubted everyone, and even hesitated to obey the orders of the officer of the deck, believing he too was a “fake.”
He could stand it no longer, so when the“Duke of Edinburgh” (the nickname given to the cook) took hold of him he showed fight. Putting himself in a defensive attitude, he clinched with the duke. Pots, pans and kettles were tumbled about without any consideration on their part, the crowd gathered to see the fun, the noise and uproar reached the spar deck and in a flash the master-at-arms and ship’s corporal came tumbling double time down the fore hatch ladder, and, pushing the crowd aside, they separated the combatants and marched them to the mast. Anderson, now nicknamed Cape Town, told his story to the officer of the deck and then the duke related his. Here it was that Cape Town learned from the ship’s corporal that his clothes were in the lucky bag.
Both men were put on the report and the next morning when the delinquents were brought before the commanding officer, he punished the duke by placing him on third class conduct list, which deprived him of liberty while in that port. Cape Town he sentenced to do four hours extra police duty for having his clothes in the lucky bag.
The nearest resemblance to a lucky bag on a man-of-war, is a small, second hand clothingshop on Salem St. Although named the lucky bag, it is not generally a bag. I have seen at times when there were only a few things confiscated around the decks, a well filled bag in the master-at-arms possession, but usually the lucky bag is a place, a locker of some description where confiscated clothing and all such articles are kept.
On board of a merchant vessel it matters not how long a sailor desires to keep his clothes on deck, no one cares where he puts them or what is done with them, so long as they are forward and below the rail of the ship, but on a war ship it is different. A man-of-war’s man owns a clothes bag in which he keeps his clothing, a hammock containing his mattress and bedding, his ditty box for his sewing gear, and pipe and tobacco. He may earn a few dollars by making clothes, hence the ownership of a small sewing machine. He may possess a set of boxing gloves, swinging clubs, a musical instrument, or curiosities that he has bought for his sweetheart or for his friends, and while there is a certain time given him each day when he can bring his belongings on deck, and overhaul everything he owns to his satisfaction and to thedelight of his shipmates, there are other times when everything he possesses must be stowed away, otherwise it will reach the ever open, avaricious jaws of the lucky bag.
In the morning before breakfast the decks have been cleaned. Perhaps there is still time to polish the deck brass work before eight bells, when breakfast will be piped, but even then the man-of-war’s man cannot put his bag away, for there is other work to be done before he can clean himself for quarters. The gun bright (brass) work has to be polished, for every man of a gun’s crew has a portion of the brass and steel allotted him for his special care.
Therefore, after breakfast he must hurry and clean his gun bright work, change his clothes, get his blacking and brush from his ditty box and shine his shoes, for the messenger boy will soon strike two bells (nine o’clock,) and the boatswain’s mates will be ordered to pipe sweepers. Then as birds in a forest, the whistles of the boatswain’s mates are heard chirping from stem to stern, calling the sweepers to man their brooms and give the “old gal” a final brush down. Woe to the man who has forgotten to stow away his traps, whatever they may be, forin a little while before three bells, the executive officer emerges from the ward room, and, followed by the masters-at-arms and ship’s corporal, he inspects the whole ship.
Starting from the ward room to the spar deck, then to the berth deck, he will pry into every corner and overhaul everything. The breech blocks of the guns are thrown open, the tompions are withdrawn, he peeps from breech to muzzle to make sure no oily rags have been stowed therein and that the gun is clean inside.
The berth deck cooks are standing by their mess chests ready with clean mess cloths and utensils for his all seeing eyes to peep into and inspect. The captain of the hold has thrown aside his dirty working suit and dressed in the uniform of the day, he stands in the hatchway with lantern in hand, to receive him. The sailmaker’s mate, the gunner’s mate, and every idler who has the care of any shellroom or locker, is at his post to greet him as he progresses in his onward march of inspection. Every clothes bag, piece of clothing, ditty box, musical instrument, anything that is out of place is confiscated by his orders.
It was at this particular time that Cape Townhad forgotten to put his bag below and when the “first luff” spotted it under the forecastle head, he ordered it to be put into the lucky bag. This was not the only time that the jaws of the lucky bag had closed on Cape Town’s belongings, for on several occasions during the cruise he had to scrub the copper on the bottom of the sailing launch while others were loitering around the decks, as a punishment for having his traps enter there.
Not only during the executive officer’s inspection, is the lucky bag fed. It may be in the afternoon when all hands are called by the boatswain’s mates to “stand by your scrubbed and washed clothes.” At such a call every man who has clothes on the lines is expected to get on deck and remove them. Should some fellow who doesn’t heed the call allow his clothes to remain on the lines, the officer of the deck will order them put into the lucky bag unless some shipmate is kind enough to care for them, which is often the case.
Such confiscated clothing is occasionally kept in the “brig” (a cell for punishment) and if there is not an over abundance, such articles may be allowed to remain there even though aprisoner is doing a short sentence of five days bread and water.
While there is an order on a war vessel that every man shall have his name stamped on his clothes, there are men who evade it and do not mark everything. Sometimes the paint which was used in stamping the name is so worn by washing that it is illegible. Therefore, if such a piece of clothing finds its way to the lucky bag the owner will let it stay there, for he knows that if he claims it he will have to do some extra police duties or be classed. His best plan is to await his time. Some fellow may soon be sentenced to the brig, among the contents of the lucky bag, and may clandestinely secure it for him. At any rate he can look forward to the day when the auction sale of the lucky bag takes place and then buy his own clothes.
I remember having a blue flannel shirt made. It was valuable, for the sailor who made it had put on fancy silk stars on the collar, the tape was neatly stitched, the best of silk had been used. Just before inspection the tailor handed it to me. I had not time to go below and shove it into the mouth of my clothes bag, so I liftedthe flap of the hammock cloth and pushed it between the cloth and the ship’s side. The bulge it made in the hammock cloth caught the “first luff’s” eyes; he put his hand under the painted canvass and hauled out my Sunday mustering shirt. Fresh from the tailor’s hands, it found its way to the lucky bag. There was no name on it to tell who was the owner, and as I had many extra hours of police duty to do for other misdemeanors, I held my peace and let the “go shore” shirt remain confiscated.
Good luck came my way sooner than I had hoped. The captain of the afterguard was sentenced the next day to do five days bread and water in the brig for being insolent to the officer of the deck. The contents of the lucky bag were pushed into one corner of the cell while the prisoner had the remaining portion of the iron brig to himself.
Here was my opportunity. I sneaked on the opposite side of the sentry and placed my mouth close to the small perforated holes in the iron walls of the brig and begged my incarcerated shipmate to overhaul the lucky bag and find my shirt. Although it was dark he managed to find the garment, so at seven bells the next morning,when he was brought on deck to have a bath, he tucked it under the folds of his shirt and left it on the forecastle head where I secured it.
About once in every two or three months the master-at-arms is ordered to bring the contents of the lucky bag on deck. Standing in the port gangway he holds up the various articles to the view of the crowd around him and asks for bids.
It was prearranged before the sales on our ship, that if any man shouted distinctly the words, “I will offer” in making his bid we were not to bid against him, for we knew that “I will offer,” meant it was the bidder’s own things. In this way we bought and rebought our own clothes during the cruise rather than be punished for our negligence.
Sometimes the clothing was marked, when the owner was reported, and would find no escape from cleaning the bottom of the sailing launch. Again, he might be on friendly terms with the master-at-arms or ship’s corporal, and in a begging attitude have him give them up without being reported, or he might approach the officer of the deck and be diplomatic in framing an excuse so as to win his favor and have the lucky bag give up its treasure.