{"id":"01KG8AMJGBYKVF0VFG0HRHWX87","cid":"bafkreicz436wtneooi5ibxcz4bow3lgxbkuuwxm4lstdetvkdriqujgl4i","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":11177,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:36.274Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 3","source_file":"01KG89J19NC56FFGBCM2SWEZZY","start_line":11104,"text":"report, descends from his perch to the quarter-deck.\r\n\r\nBy this time the stately Commodore slowly emerges from his cabin, and\r\nsoon stands leaning alone against the brass rails of the\r\nafter-hatchway. In passing him, the Captain makes a profound\r\nsalutation, which his superior returns, in token that the Captain is at\r\nperfect liberty to proceed with the ceremonies of the hour.\r\n\r\nMarching on, Captain Claret at last halts near the main-mast, at the\r\nhead of a group of the ward-room officers, and by the side of the\r\nChaplain. At a sign from his finger, the brass band strikes up the\r\nPortuguese hymn. This over, from Commodore to hammock-boy, all hands\r\nuncover, and the Chaplain reads a prayer. Upon its conclusion, the drum\r\nbeats the retreat, and the ship’s company disappear from the guns. At\r\nsea or in harbour, this ceremony is repeated every morning and evening.\r\n\r\nBy those stationed on the quarter-deck the Chaplain is distinctly\r\nheard; but the quarter-deck gun division embraces but a tenth part of\r\nthe ship’s company, many of whom are below, on the main-deck, where not\r\none syllable of the prayer can be heard. This seemed a great\r\nmisfortune; for I well knew myself how blessed and soothing it was to\r\nmingle twice every day in these peaceful devotions, and, with the\r\nCommodore, and Captain, and smallest boy, unite in acknowledging\r\nAlmighty God. There was also a touch of the temporary equality of the\r\nChurch about it, exceedingly grateful to a man-of-war’s-man like me.\r\n\r\nMy carronade-gun happened to be directly opposite the brass railing\r\nagainst which the Commodore invariably leaned at prayers. Brought so\r\nclose together, twice every day, for more than a year, we could not but\r\nbecome intimately acquainted with each other’s faces. To this fortunate\r\ncircumstance it is to be ascribed, that some time after reaching home,\r\nwe were able to recognise each other when we chanced to meet in\r\nWashington, at a ball given by the Russian Minister, the Baron de\r\nBodisco. And though, while on board the frigate, the Commodore never in\r\nany manner personally addressed me—nor did I him—yet, at the Minister’s\r\nsocial entertainment, we _there_ became exceedingly chatty; nor did I\r\nfail to observe, among that crowd of foreign dignitaries and magnates\r\nfrom all parts of America, that my worthy friend did not appear so\r\nexalted as when leaning, in solitary state, against the brass railing\r\nof the Neversink’s quarter-deck. Like many other gentlemen, he appeared\r\nto the best advantage, and was treated with the most deference in the\r\nbosom of his home, the frigate.\r\n\r\nOur morning and evening quarters were agreeably diversified for some\r\nweeks by a little circumstance, which to some of us at least, always\r\nseemed very pleasing.\r\n\r\nAt Callao, half of the Commodore’s cabin had been hospitably yielded to\r\nthe family of a certain aristocratic-looking magnate, who was going\r\nambassador from Peru to the Court of the Brazils, at Rio. This\r\ndignified diplomatist sported a long, twirling mustache, that almost\r\nenveloped his mouth. The sailors said he looked like a rat with his\r\nteeth through a bunch of oakum, or a St. Jago monkey peeping through a\r\nprickly-pear bush.\r\n\r\nHe was accompanied by a very beautiful wife, and a still more beautiful\r\nlittle daughter, about six years old. Between this dark-eyed little\r\ngipsy and our chaplain there soon sprung up a cordial love and good\r\nfeeling, so much so, that they were seldom apart. And whenever the drum\r\nbeat to quarters, and the sailors were hurrying to their stations, this\r\nlittle signorita would outrun them all to gain her own quarters at the\r\ncapstan, where she would stand by the chaplain’s side, grasping his\r\nhand, and looking up archly in his face.\r\n\r\nIt was a sweet relief from the domineering sternness of our martial\r\ndiscipline—a sternness not relaxed even at our devotions before the\r\naltar of the common God of commodore and cabin-boy—to see that lovely\r\nlittle girl standing among the thirty-two pounders, and now and then\r\ncasting a wondering, commiserating glance at the array of grim seamen\r\naround her.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 3"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJTJYF04A0665MPBYMDBW","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J19NC56FFGBCM2SWEZZY","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AMJGBH9F3C20P4JF3GFA0","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:41.483Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:52.218Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}