EDWARD EVERETT HALE.

[From _The Man Without a Country_.[1]]

The rule adopted on board the ships on which I have met "the man
without a country" was, I think, transmitted from the beginning. No
mess liked to have him permanently, because his presence cut off all
talk of home or of the prospect of return, of politics or letters, of
peace or of war--cut off more than half the talk men liked to have at
sea. But it was always thought too hard that he should never meet the
rest of us except to touch hats, and we finally sank into one system.
He was not permitted to talk with the men unless an officer was by.
With officers he had unrestrained intercourse, as far as he and they
chose. But he grew shy, though he had favorites; I was one. Then the
captain always asked him to dinner on Monday. Every mess in succession
took up the invitation in its turn. According to the size of the ship,
you had him at your mess more or less often at dinner. His breakfast
he ate in his own state-room--he always had a state-room--which was
where a sentinel or somebody on the watch could see the door. And
whatever else he ate or drank, he ate or drank alone. Sometimes, when
the marines or sailors had any special jollification, they were
permitted to invite "Plain-Buttons," as they called him. Then Nolan
was sent with some officer, and the men were forbidden to speak of home
while he was there. I believe the theory was that the sight of his
punishment did them good. They called him "Plain-Buttons" because,
while he always chose to wear a regulation army uniform, he was not
permitted to wear the army button, for the reason that it bore either
the initials or the insignia of the country he had disowned.