The Adventures of Roderick Random

Resolution of the Mess Membership Dispute

Morgan regards the narrator with a “lofty look” and discovers, to his great passion, that all the pork in the locker has been consumed. Thompson explains he shared the provisions with the narrator, who arrived half famished, and that he had properly entered him in the mess as Morgan had instructed. Morgan complains that Thompson failed to consult him about this decision, claiming he has been “a man of some weight, and substance, and consideration” who maintained a household, paid taxes, and supported a family. He declares himself Thompson’s senior and “petter.” Thompson hotly replies that while Morgan may be his elder, he is not his better. The narrator interposes to offer leaving the mess rather than cause discord, but Thompson insists he stay, citing the narrator’s birth and talents. This appeals to Morgan’s generosity, who explains he loves “a sheltenman in distress” as he loves his own soul, having suffered his own vexations. He shakes the narrator’s hand and accepts him into the mess.

Morgan’s Generosity and Ancestry Claim

Having resolved the dispute, Morgan unties his bundle containing three bunches of onions and a large lump of Cheshire cheese. He shares his humble meal of biscuit with the company, declaring brandy is the “best menstruum for onions and sheese.” As his appetite is satisfied, his humor improves. When he learns of the narrator’s good family background, he takes a particular liking and traces his own ancestry to Caractacus, King of the Britons, who was prisoner and later friend of Claudius Caesar. Morgan also presents the narrator with two good ruffled shirts, joining two check shirts from Thompson, enabling him to appear with decency.

Death of the Sick Messmate

The sailor Morgan sent to the doctor returns with a prescription. Morgan asks if the sick man is “dead or alive,” and the sailor reports they have been “yard-arm and yard-arm these three glasses,” with one eye open but “jammed in his head” and the “haulyards of his under jaw” having given way. Morgan exclaims the man is “as pad as one would desire to be” and orders the tar to keep him alive until medicine arrives. The sailor runs to the sick man but returns immediately with a woeful countenance to report his comrade has “struck.” Morgan exclaims in horror and asks why the sailor did not stop him. The sailor explains he hailed several times but the man was too far gone and the enemy had taken his “close quarters.” Morgan accepts this philosophically, saying “we all owe heaven a teath,” and sends the sailor away to take warning and repent.

The Crew’s Banyan Day Meal

The boatswain pipes to dinner, and the mess boy retrieves a wooden platter of boiled peas, crying “Scaldings” as he carries it. The cloth is an old piece of sail, covered with three metal plates and three spoons of the same composition, two shortened in the handles and one in the lip. Morgan adds salt butter scooped from an old gallipot, onions, and pounded pepper. The narrator is not tempted by the appearance but his messmates eat heartily, advising him to follow suit since it is “banyan day” with no meat until the next noon. The narrator learns that Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays are meatless days called banyan days, named after a sect of devotees in the East Indies who never taste flesh.

Thompson’s Ship Tour and Rodrick’s Accommodations

After dinner, Thompson leads the narrator on a tour of the ship, showing different parts, describing their uses, and explaining the discipline and economy practiced aboard. Thompson requests a hammock from the boatswain, which is neatly slung by his friend Jack Rattlin. Since the narrator has no bedding, Thompson obtains credit with the purser for a mattress and two blankets. At seven in the evening, Morgan visits the sick and orders appropriate treatment, while the narrator assists Thompson in preparing prescriptions.

Horrific Conditions of the Ship’s Sick Berth

When the narrator follows Thompson with medicines into the sick berth, or hospital, he observes conditions that make recovery seem miraculous rather than death. About fifty miserable, distempered wretches hang in rows, huddled so closely that no more than fourteen inches of space is allowed for each person with bed and bedding. They are deprived of daylight and fresh air, breathing only a noisome atmosphere of morbid steams from their own excrements and diseased bodies. They are devoured by vermin hatched in the surrounding filth and lack every convenience necessary for people in such helpless conditions.