on board. Hence, in a crowded frigate, they are so everlastingly crossing
the path of both men and officers, that in the navy it has become a
proverb, that a useless fellow is "_as much in the way as a reefer_."

In a gale of wind, when all hands are called and the deck swarms with
men, the little "middies" running about distracted and having nothing
particular to do, make it up in vociferous swearing; exploding all
about under foot like torpedoes. Some of them are terrible little
boys, cocking their cups at alarming angles, and looking fierce as
young roosters. They are generally great consumers of Macassar oil
and the Balm of Columbia; they thirst and rage after whiskers; and
sometimes, applying their ointments, lay themselves out in the sun,
to promote the fertility of their chins.

As the only way to learn to command, is to learn to obey, the usage
of a ship of war is such that the midshipmen are constantly being
ordered about by the Lieutenants; though, without having assigned
them their particular destinations, they are always going somewhere,
and never arriving. In some things, they almost have a harder time of
it than the seamen themselves. They are messengers and errand-boys to
their superiors.

"Mr. Pert," cries an officer of the deck, hailing a young gentleman
forward. Mr. Pert advances, touches his hat, and remains in an
attitude of deferential suspense. "Go and tell the boatswain I want
him." And with this perilous errand, the middy hurries away, looking
proud as a king.

The middies live by themselves in the steerage, where, nowadays, they
dine off a table, spread with a cloth. They have a castor at dinner;