“And now, let us leap over those jealous bulwarks which hide the interior operations of a man-of-war, and stand on the deck of the United States' frigate C— .

In that motley throng of officers and men on the quarter-deck, — in that hubbub of voices, in which are distinguishable only the hoarse growl of a boatswain's mate, or the shrill command of a junior midshipman, — a landsman perceives nothing but confusion — a man-of-war's man, the most perfect order. Just abaft the main-mast, the deck resounds heavily to the tramp of the crew, as they slowly, but steadily, heave round the capstern. With a measured tread, which keeps time with the animating music of the fife, they struggle with cheerful ardor against the formidable force of the rocks beneath, though there is yet no sign that their labor will be rewarded by success. In every part of the quarter-deck, at the different sheets and halyards, are groups of seamen, waiting but the signal to 'hoist away!' while officers are seen scattered in every direction, — here a lieutenant, there a midshipman, — who repeat, at short intervals, the inspiriting order of 'Heave cheerly, my lads, — heave cheerly!' Every man is at his station. The captain, mounted on the lee horse-block, looks with cool collectedness, now toward the quarter from whence the gale comes rushing on, then at the reef of rocks to leeward; and the first lieutenant, now the ostensible commander, at a few paces from him on the deck, from time to time makes the hoarse tones of the trumpet distinctly heard, amid the discordant din of creaking masts, — the heavy tramp of the crew heaving round the capstern, — the shrill whistling of the boatswain and his mates, — and the fearful roaring of the wind through the rigging.”
[Breakers, The Knickerbocker Monthly, Vol.VI, No.6, December, 1835]