CHAPTER XXIII.
THEATRICALS IN A MAN-OF-WAR.
The Neversink had summered out her last Christmas on the Equator; she was now destined to winter out the Fourth of July not very far from the frigid latitudes of Cape Horn.
It is sometimes the custom in the American Navy to celebrate this national holiday by doubling the allowance of spirits to the men; that is, if the ship happen to be lying in harbour.

The effects of this patriotic plan may be easily imagined: the whole ship is converted into a dram-shop; and the intoxicated sailors reel about, on all three decks, singing, howling, and fighting.

This is the time that, owing to the relaxed discipline of the ship, old and almost forgotten quarrels are revived, under the stimulus of drink; and, fencing themselves up between the guns--so as to be sure of a clear space with at least three walls--the combatants, two and two, fight out their hate, cribbed and cabined like soldiers duelling in a sentry-box.

In a word, scenes ensue which would not for a single instant be tolerated by the officers upon any other occasion.

This is the time that the most venerable of quarter-gunners and quarter-masters, together with the smallest apprentice boys, and men never known to have been previously intoxicated during the cruise--this is the time that they all roll together in the same muddy trough of drunkenness.
In emulation of the potentates of the Middle Ages, some Captains augment the din by authorising a grand jail-delivery of all the prisoners who, on that auspicious Fourth of the month, may happen to be confined in the ship's prison--"_the brig_." But from scenes like these the Neversink was happily delivered.