Washington, and also was his general amanuensis. Nor was this a very
light duty, at times; for some commodores, though they do not _say_ a
great deal on board ship, yet they have a vast deal to write. Very often,
the regimental orderly, stationed at our Commodore's cabin-door, would
touch his hat to the First Lieutenant, and with a mysterious air hand
him a note. I always thought these notes must contain most important
matters of state; until one day, seeing a slip of wet, torn paper in a
scupper-hole, I read the following:

"Sir, you will give the people pickles to-day with their
fresh meat.
"To Lieutenant Bridewell.
"By command of the Commodore;
"Adolphus Dashman, Priv. Sec."

This was a new revelation; for, from his almost immutable reserve, I
had supposed that the Commodore never meddled immediately with the
concerns of the ship, but left all that to the captain. But the
longer we live, the more we learn of commodores.

Turn we now to the second officer in rank, almost supreme, however,
in the internal affairs of his ship. Captain Claret was a large,
portly man, a Harry the Eighth afloat, bluff and hearty; and as
kingly in his cabin as Harry on his throne. For a ship is a bit of
terra firma cut off from the main; it is a state in itself; and the
captain is its king.

It is no limited monarchy, where the sturdy Commons have a right to
petition, and snarl if they please; but almost a despotism like the
Grand Turk's. The captain's word is law; he never speaks but in the