VII Forecastle Life
The modern sailor can have no idea of the hardships and discomforts of his predecessors even up to thirty or forty years ago. Unless a person has lived with sailors in the forecastle as one of themselves and taken part in their daily life, no accurate conception can be formed of what their peculiarities and conditions of life were. It may be that they fluently cursed about the latter, and had some idea that they were being imposed upon; but posterity must ever remember that they bore their wrongs with heroism and with a steadfast belief in the superiority over those of other nationalities of their owners, their ships and themselves. Comparisons were never indulged in: they insisted that all things British took in the nature of things first place, and this child-like faith was never broken in spite of glaring, wicked callousness to their men’s sufferings on the part of some employers and captains.
Their accommodation was in the extreme fore-end of the vessel, and the space allowed was low-roofed and cramped, frequently leaky and invariably dismal. Immediately abaft the forecastle ladder was the cable stage where hawsers, cable-chains, tar-barrels, tar-pots, tar-brushes, marline spikes, serving-mallets, cork-fenders, water-casks and other spare gear were stowed. The first impressions of smell to a person who had been reared in a pure atmosphere were deadly. I think I can feel all my first sensations even now. On each side of the space, hammocks were slung to hooks, or to eyebolts fastened into the beams, and on account of leaky decks the men were obliged to have oil-covers hung the full length of the hammock like a tent to keep the water from pouring on to them! There was great pride taken in the spotless cleanliness of these canvas sleeping cots. The rings that the lanyards and clews were attached to were neatly grafted, and the art of hanging with accuracy so that the occupant lay in perfect comfort without fear of being lurched out was often the cause of mutual criticism and heated controversy. It looks a very simple matter, but there is an art that has to be learned in slinging a hammock correctly. Alongside of them were the seamen’s chests, with skilfully carved oak or mahogany cleats, grafted rope horseshoe handles, and turk’s head at each side of the cleats. These were painted white to give variety and effect. The lid inside displayed a full-rigged clipper, barque, or brig, either under full sail with a peaceful blaze of blue sea, or under close-reefed topsails labouring in the wrath of a cyclone with a terrific turmoil. Underneath this work of art was the name of the person to whom the chest belonged, painted in block shaded letters, and the fate of many a crew has been traced by the washing ashore of a relic of this sort. All this was done by the sailor himself, and during the process of elaboration many a castle was built in the air and many a vow made that his conduct for evermore should be regulated by a strict adherence to righteous principles. There was great competition in this as in other things. The forecastle sides and the deck were whitewashed with lime, and the floor in fine weather, at sea as well as in port, was kept clean. The apprentices were made to take week and week about in scrubbing the floor every morning, and sweeping it after every meal. In well regulated vessels that sailed on long voyages, as soon as they got into the N.E. trade winds the crew settled down to a daily routine during the first hour or two of their watch below in the daytime, of making, mending and washing their clothes. Some never got beyond this, or making mats, but there were men who varied their pastime by carving models of vessels, making wood sails or rigging, and fitting them out in every detail. This work was done with great skill and neatness. Those that could read and were fond of it gave a share of their time to that. There were others who worked hard at learning navigation, their chest lids serving as a desk. It occasionally happened that some of the forecastle hands could neither read nor write, but if they were willing to learn there was always someone ready to teach them, who in the process of teaching learnt much that was useful to himself. A few months ago there died an old man whom I taught to read and write when he must have been over forty years of age. He was one of many skilled seamen of that day who were much sought after to command collier brigs during the winter months, notwithstanding they could not read, or write their own names even. This man never failed to make the quickest passages and voyages on record, and in the summer, without presuming on having been master, he would ship on a deep sea vessel as able seaman or cook. It was in the latter capacity that I first met him when I was an apprentice of fourteen. I was seated reading Sir Walter Scott’s “Old Mortality,” and laughing as heartily as a boy will at some of the sayings and doings of the Covenanters, when he asked what amused me. I told him, and he expressed a desire for me to read to him. I did so as well as I could, and when the time came for me to resume my duties and close the book, he said in a very sheepish way, “I wish I could read and write; I would make a fortune if I could.” I immediately offered my services, and with a slight indication of sensitiveness he accepted them. It was a long, dreary process, but my pupil was so eager, especially after he got to know three letter words, I soon led him into figuring—addition and multiplication sums—and two years after starting him, he was learning from me what little navigation I was able to impart. He seemed to pick this up instinctively, which gave him a passionate desire to go to a navigation school, and in a short time he had made such rapid progress that the teacher thought he could pass the examination; and his opinion was confirmed by Ned going to Dundee and passing at the first attempt. He got a mate’s berth in the summer, and went master in the winter, continuing to save money until he had accumulated sufficient to purchase a small ketch which he owned entirely himself. For some years he did well, then sold the little vessel and commenced business ashore. I had not heard of or seen him for many years, when one afternoon a friend of mine called at my office and intimated that my old friend was in the workhouse, and had desired him to call and inform me of it, feeling sure that I would not allow him to remain there. I asked my friend to have him taken out and put into respectable lodgings until I could get him some relief from a philanthropic institution, and the odd easy jobs I saw put in his way kept him comfortably. He often came to see me, and when I could spare the time I gratified the fine old fellow’s wish by encouraging him to talk to me of those days that were such a joy to him. I believe he regarded himself, when aboard one of my vessels, in the light of a special guardian of my interests, and I think he must have assumed an air of superiority over others which was occasionally resented. At any rate, one morning on reaching the office I found him ready to receive me; he was well dressed, clean-shaven and looked all over like a captain of the old school. I saw he had a grievance, and he at once plunged into the object of his visit; complaining that one of the captains had treated him as none of the others would think of doing, and when I asked what he had said to the captain to cause his displeasure, he replied with energy and warmth that he had told him he would “go and see his betters who had known him before he (the captain) was born. And what do you think the impudent fellow said? He told me I might go to h—ll if I liked, and so I’m here to see whether he’s to boss me, or if I’m to take orders from you. He actually had the impudence to give me an order for my money on the office instead of paying me as the others did in cash!”
This was the only time he ever complained to me about the treatment he received from anyone. I was much amused, and humoured the old man into a good temper. He never quite forgave the insult that had been offered him, but went away satisfied that he had scored. Twelve months after this there were signs that the hard usage of his earlydays was breaking him up. He struggled on in the hope that his iron constitution would throw off the malady that held him in its grip, but ere long the suffering old hero passed away.
My brother once volunteered to teach another old illiterate, who shared his watch, to read and write. It was one of the most comical proceedings I ever witnessed, and when I reflect on it now I see a touch of pathos that fills me with remorse for the part I took in making fun of that fine seaman, who had been brought up in an atmosphere of heathenism, and was, in many ways, little better than a heathen himself. He stood six feet four inches, and had the frame of a giant; a large, well-formed head poised above a pair of broad shoulders; his face was strong and highly intellectual; his nose, mouth and full blue eyes indicated that he had sprung from a race of well-bred people who may have declined on their luck. Had his intellectual faculties been given a chance when young, he might have been great in any profession. As it was, he was merely a rough, uncouth man, but a well-trained and accomplished sailor. He had been trained in the hardest of all schools, that of the coasting trade, and he knew every swirl of the tide and every sandbank between St Abb’s and Dungeness. He did not rise to be captain, though he frequently went as mate during the winter months. It was not until his ambition led him to a knowledge of the bigger world far beyond the continents of Europe that he determined to learn how to read and write. I am not sure whether he ever felt humiliated at having to seek the aid of a young man so much his junior and occupying a subordinate position to himself; if he did, I cannot recall having observed it. The owners’ confidence in him must have been great. He was signed on the ship’s articles as boatswain, but really he was intended to act as second mate, keeping the captain’s watch and doing the ordinary duties of a second officer. The first intimation the captain had that his owner had sent such a strange personality was on the evening that the vessel was towed out to sea. The decks were in a condition of confusion, and this ardent officer was busying himself in getting them cleared up before dark. The master intimated to him that he was feeling very tired, and would like to lie down.
“You may go to bed, sir,” said the officer, “and when you get there remember you have a better man on deck than yourself.”
The captain stared at this extraordinary creature, and when he had recovered from his amazement at the unblushing audacity, he said:
“Sir, I wish to intimate to you that you are not aboard a collier brig, but a deep-water ship, and you are addressing a deep-water captain who has never been spoken to in such a strange way before.”
“Good God, man!” said the irate second mate, “get away to your bunk, and don’t stand there talking damned nonsense about what you call etiquette. I know nothing about that, but I’ll take your ship along the coast for you, and I want you to know as well that I can handle a marline spike or a palm and needle with any of your South Spain dandies. You may go below, sir; I have not time to talk to you just now.”
“Well, Joss,” said the subdued captain, “I will admit I believe you are a better coasting navigator than myself”; and in the assurance that he was, the captain went below, and was not seen again until we got clear of the English Channel. The navigation was left in the hands of the mate and second mate. It was after reaching the north-east trade winds that the latter’s elementary education began. The tutor could be seen any morning or afternoon watch below sitting on the forecastle floor working at the construction of a miniature full-rigged ship. His pupil sat beside him with the alphabet written on a slate, and as he advanced in knowledge, three letter, four letter and five letter words were given him, and it was when he arrived at this stage that the process became feverishly attractive and amusing. The following is something like how it appeared to those who were looking on:
“AND—and; FOUR—four,” said the tutor, without lifting his eyes from his work.
“THEIR, what the h—ll’s that, Jack?”
“Their,” said John.
“THERE, that’s a b—— jawbreaker, Jack?”
“There,” said the tutor, and off he would go in his own peculiar way. Almost every word was introduced by a harmless swear, the droll thing being that my brother simply took it as a matter of course, and never laughed unless some unusually inventive oath combination was interjected; if the pupil confined himself to ordinary swearing, there was no interruption; he was allowed to rattle along in his own voluble way, letting fly vigorously at the inventor of “larnin’.” The result was that Joss learned to read and write before the voyage was over. It is true there were few people outside the forecastle that could tell what it was all about, unless they studied very closely his eccentric pronunciation and the wild scrawl of his writing. He never went far enough to get even a second mate’s certificate. He thought it an unnecessary waste of time, seeing that he intended to leave the sea as soon as he could attain a pilot’s branch. This he succeeded in doing, and had a long and successful career; his fame as a pilot only equalled that which he bore when employed as a sailor. He lived to a good ripe age, and died in harness still adhering to the up-to-date belief that England was being imposed upon by “a set of b—— neckends (foreigners), who took the bread from the mouths of Englishmen.” He is said to have saved and left a good deal of money, and this I can well believe, as even when a common sailor he lived far below his income. Joss, unlike most sailors, had not a note of music in his composition, but there were few professionals on the halls who could surpass him at step-dancing. I saw him dance the double-shuffle with a professional on one occasion in the Ratcliffe Highway. I think the place was called the “Gunboat,” and he was there declared to be the champion. Joss considered it a part of a sailor-boy’s training that he should learn to dance a hornpipe and other steps with facility, and he devoted a good share of his spare time to teaching recruits how to do it. Undoubtedly a good step-dance was a great acquisition on a long, dreary, ocean pilgrimage, and his performance always added to the amusement of a Saturday evening when a concert was organized. The songs were mostly comic, and were sung with an imitative touch of the professional dandy. Occasional lapses into sentimentality never failed to strike a penitent chord for some real or supposed sins that had been thoughtlessly committed. But the mood was merely of brief duration, and only required a comic interjection by someone to send the little community into prolonged gaiety. It was quite usual when they were in the mood to carry their revelry far into their watch below.
When the time came for the hand-spike to be thudded on the deck over their heads, and eight bells called them from slumber to duty, there were found some of whom it was said they would sleep with their heads in a bucket of water, and these were speedily brought to consciousness by the head of their hammocks being let fly by their less somnolent comrades. This was one of the jokes which often led to days of estrangement between the sleeper and the supposed culprit. It was always a mystery who committed the offence, as great caution was used to preserve secrecy. It was a wonder no necks were broken, notwithstanding the care taken to avoid injury in carrying out this mode of arousing the heavy sleeper. Many were undoubtedly hurt, but as there was a good deal of disgrace attached to sleeping on after being called, there was rarely open revolt or complaint made. Another method of dealing with hands who could not keep their eyes open when on watch was to reeve a rope through the scupper-hole, attach one end to the person, and the other to a coal basket, which was thrown overboard. If the vessel was travelling fast, the poor culprit was rudely awakened, and before he could extricate himself he was dragged into the lee scuppers. As that portion of the deck was usually flooded when the vessel had any speed on her, there were soon loud cries for mercy. When it was not prudent to adopt this plan, a bucket of water was thrown at the sleeper’s head; this produced the idea of having to swim for it. I have often seen the culprit after an ablution of this character strike out on the deck until his hands or his head came in contact with something harder than either, and made consciousness revive.
But there were methods for dealing with the habit of sleeping on deck other than those, which were fraught with greater danger. I was serving on a vessel whose mate was in the habit of napping when on duty. It was arranged to stretch ropes across the deck about one or two feet from it, and about six feet apart. It was a dark, dirty night; the top of the sea was all alive with phosphorus, which made it difficult to make out lights. The mate slumbered peacefully, leaning against the weather topgallant bulwarks. The man on the look-out shouted: “A red light on the starboard bow!” The man at the wheel repeated it. The mate was awakened, and went straight into a panic.
“Where is the light?”
“On the lee bow,” said the helmsman.
“I think it is green,” he said.
“Yes,” said the helmsman; “so do I.”
“No, it is not green; it is bright,” said the mate.
“What do you think?”
“I think the same as you, George,” said the helmsman.
The mate proceeded to rush along the deck towards the bow; each rope tripped him up, and each fall caused him to see different-coloured lights. After a succession of somersaults, he arrived at the fore end of the vessel wide awake, but in a state of distraction. He called to the look-out man to point out the light he had reported, and a deep, sepulchral voice came from a tall figure robed in white, warning the officer of approaching disaster because of his neglect of duty. Suddenly a trumpet sounded, and in an instant the vision had disappeared, and in another two men stood at the bow. They each spoke to their officer, but he was speechless. At last he managed to jerk out:
“Did you see that figure?”
“No,” said the men.
“Then,” said he in great tribulation, “it is an apparition.”
The ropes were removed, and when he made his way aft nothing interrupted his progress. What could it have been? His fear was terrific; he must have known that something like a joke had been practised upon him, but his superstition, together with the consciousness of having committed a criminal breach of duty, seized the imagination and made him desire to believe that a supernatural visitation had taken place. He was never known to sleep on deck again, and such was the shock to his nerves I am persuaded he did not do a great deal of sleeping below. Whether it was owing to this or not, the poor fellow never properly regained his equilibrium; and his judgement, never reliable before, became after this event a negative quantity. Long years afterwards he used to be chaffed about it, and stood it very badly. A few months since I chatted with one of the men who with myself took part in this plot. He still treasured it as a great diplomatic feat, and laughed immoderately at the recollection of the poor mate’s troubles, and warmly complimented himself on the success of the enterprise, but added very seriously: “There is no knowing what might have happened had we all taken to napping. At the same time I am sure,” said he, “this sharp lesson put him off doing it again, and it may have saved our lives, though, poor man, he wasn’t very much use when left to himself.”
Many more experiences not identical but similar to those I have been relating were crammed into a long passage, which relieved the monotony of the stereotyped character of everyday life. Day after day, when the weather was fine, the same kind of work was carried on with unbroken regularity. In the morning at five-thirty the cook made coffee for the watch on deck, and at six they commenced to wash bulwarks, decks, etc. By eight o’clock this was finished. The watch who had to relieve them were knocked out at seven-thirty, had breakfast and came on deck at eight o’clock. The duties of these watches varied: If the rigging was being rattled down, the mate’s watch did the fore, while the second mate’s did the main and mizen; or if it were only the fore, main, or mizen that was being “rattled,” the port side was done by the chief officer’s men, and the starboard by the second officer’s. There was great rivalry among the seamen who were selected to do this or any other skilled work, but only in regard to the quantity done and its neatness. At times, of course, there was a common understanding that a certain number of ratlines should be put on. This greatly depended on the treatment they were receiving. If it was good, no restriction was arranged, for each tried to excel the other, and this applied to every department of work. Some of the dodges to evade work may not be written here; but if it could be done it would reveal a phase of sea life that has never been put into print. If it were not that our conventions forbid offending the finer senses it might be written, and thereby show something more of the really comic side of Jack when he is on the rampage against constitutional government. There were occasions when the pride of the British tar was not abashed at being called a dockyard loafer, but these were rare.
In making a sea passage there was great care taken that no chafing was going on to the foots of the square sails, nor to the rigging, when the yards were braced up against it. Hence thrum and sword mats were constantly being made and laced on in order to obviate the possibility of a chafe wherever there was a nip. Then the sails had to be kept in repair. Some sailors were clever with the marline spike: could do all manner of neat things about the rigging, but they were of no use with the palm and needle; while there were others who could do anything with both. Some captains through vanity and ignorance believed it to be “classy” to keep the men of the afternoon watch below on deck with the rest, and the sailor who had to take the helm at 6 p.m. was sent to have tea at five-thirty; the others were kept at it until six. Then the apprentices had to clear up the decks and sweep them down with a hair brush. The accumulation of dirt when far away from the centre of mucky industries has always been a great mystery to seamen. Interminable allusions were made to the late Mr Edward Cocker, writer, arithmetician and engraver, as being the only person who could have solved the problem. The phrase “according” or “not according to Cocker” was constantly used in connection with matters that the scientist does not appear to have included in his works, or in any way concerned himself about. The custom of keeping men up doing their afternoon watch-below was common though not universal; in fact the shrewd, sensible captain never did it unless it was a necessity, and it was a rule in all well-regulated vessels to give Saturday afternoons when at sea (and even in port when it could be arranged) to the men, in order that they might do their washing and thereby prevent them doing it on Sundays, which day was reverently spent by those who could do so in reading and re-reading letters that had been sent to them from their friends at home.
Those who have relatives at sea can never estimate to what extent a well-written, cheery letter is appreciated, and the influence it has in keeping the recipient out of mischief and in helping him to form good habits. I cannot sufficiently urge the importance of never allowing a sailor, no matter what his rank or capacity may be, to feel that he is being neglected by those of his family whom he desires to believe have a strong affection for him. I do not urge this exclusively in the sailor’s interest, but also in the interest of those whose duty it is to keep him well supplied with news of what is going on at home. I have seen most deplorable results from this thoughtless indifference. There is nothing the average sailor looks forward to so keenly during a passage as the receipt of letters from home, and the disappointment of not receiving any as soon as the vessel arrives has not infrequently been the cause of irreparable mischief. If the relatives of these men could only witness the eagerness with which the arrival of the captain or his agent is watched for each day at noon, in the hope that letters may have come for them, they would realize how necessary it is to attend regularly to this phase of domestic life, and how little the trouble is compared with the joy it gives. On the other hand, I think if those who do not carry out the behest could see the effect of their callousness, they might either be frightened or filled with remorse and pity. But they cannot see it, and the poor fellows are often too sensitive about showing what would appear to them as feminine weakness, and so the thing in some cases drifts on, each not knowing the ugly consequences that are being inflicted on the other, until the climax inevitably comes and it is found the wreck cannot be repaired. I have drawn an extreme case, but there are such cases, and it is because I know of them that I have made the picture emphatic. All manner of excuses are made, such as being a bad letter-writer, and having so much to attend to, and “he doesn’t reply to my or our letters as he should.” My reply to this nonsense is, never mind whether he reciprocates your extreme condescension or not. The communication with him should be kept going, and if letters are bright, chatty, and without a word of indiscreet reproach for any lack of attention on his part, depend upon it he will ultimately melt into penitence and become a self-accused rascal. Of course I have known many cases where unjustifiable cruelty has been shown by sailors in not writing and in not answering letters sent to them by their wives, mothers or sisters. They did not really mean to cause suffering. They merely drifted into a condition of recklessness which perhaps their environments predisposed them to without ever reflecting that they owed the same duty to their relatives as they invariably complained was not being done to themselves.
I am reminded of a beautiful instance of unwavering devotion to a poor, wayward fellow, who was engaged to serve in the far eastern trade for three years. At each port the vessel touched at on the way out, letters were sent home, and every mail took letters to him, so that when he arrived at the port of discharge quite a batch were received. He wrote regularly for some months, then his letters began to fall off, and at last ceased coming altogether. For two years nothing was heard of his whereabouts except that which was gathered in a mysterious reserved way at the owners’ office, and during the whole of these agonizing months never a mail went without a letter for him, and never a word of reproach was uttered or written, though the heart of the little writer was throbbing with soreness. The shipping newspaper was scanned each day, and whenever she saw the vessel he had left home in reported, her hope revived almost to the point of gaiety. Could she have known that her husband had long since left the vessel whose name she watched so eagerly, and the sight of which filled her soul with strange emotion, she might have succumbed to the numbing intelligence. When the weather was fine she strolled to the white sandy beach that was only a few minutes’ walk from her house, and there she would give herself up to the luxury of day-dreams. Her fancy was sometimes pleased by the thought that she could see the wake of the beautiful vessel as it ploughed through the peaceful ocean. She listened to the gurgle of the miniature waves until the sigh of the night wind came and reminded her it was time to go home. These occasions were made memorable by the use they were put to. Many a subject for a new essay that was to be sent over the seas found its text on the lonely stretch of sand. Sometimes a shrewd hint was dropped in by the way that his communications must have miscarried, and that there was a painful longing to see his handwriting once again. “I cannot imagine you wilfully or negligently ignoring me,” said the writer, but she had a grave suspicion that she was being neglected, and a still graver suspicion that the cause thereof was not excessive sanctification.
After twenty-four months of roving and of silence, a letter came from him announcing that he was tired of staying away, and by the time the letter was received he would be on his way home. He acknowledged having received a number of letters, and then proceeded in a clumsy way to make it appear that he had written, and many sanguinary descriptions as to how some people who were supposed to be concerned in the plot of withholding his letters had to meet their death at his hands. In due course he arrived home, but nothing could induce him to be drawn into a conversation about the missing correspondence. Time had made him more charitably disposed towards the mythical burglars of his precious documents, and no more threats were indulged in. The lady did not deem it wise to raise the question again, and seeing that nothing but harm could have arisen by doing it, I commend her for the wisdom of resisting the temptation of an inquiring mind. This woman’s long-suffering, tactful endurance is an example of splendid magnanimity that might be emulated with advantage by those who may come under the devilish lash of similar treatment, and who may be prompted by the spirit of rebellion to make matters worse by indiscreet retaliation. The good woman won back the loyalty of her poor erring partner by her persistent gentleness and toleration.
The following is a portion of a letter I have come across, written many years ago, in which the writer’s concern for the spiritual well-being of her sailor brother is very apparent. She knew that it was letters such as this that appealed to the susceptible seafarers. I have said it was their habit to read and re-read their letters every Sunday, especially if they were of a sentimental or religious character. Much of this letter is obliterated, as the person to whom it was addressed tumbled overboard with it in his pocket, and it has crumbled away:
“My own Darling Brother,—I cannot tell you all the joy I feel at being able to write to you in England again. It has seemed a long time while you have been away, and yet now, when you are nearly beside us again, it seems but as yesterday. This may arrive before you, but still it is happiness to think that your vessel’s prow is turned homeward. Our love and prayers have travelled with you all the way, and I thank God that you are preserved thus far, and trust He will bring you safe to us all. I know you will be as glad as we are, and I know, too, that though it has pleased God to give you the blessing of that best love of all earthly love, yet you prize the old ties of home.
“I think to cherish those who have loved him all his life is not the least of a man’s duties, but I think where the love is, people don’t think about the duty of it at all; it is given and received as a mutual blessing, for which the heart often rises up in silent thanksgiving. I trust, my dear, that you are keeping to your determination to live to God’s glory. Don’t be discouraged because of the difficulties of the way; the Bible, which I hope you study, says, ‘Mighty is He that hath promised,’ and the whole Book is full of promises of help to those who are in earnest, and you know if one is not in earnest even God cannot save us. We must do our part, and we must work out our own salvation. It is just and right that it should be so. The glories of heaven, the reward of dwelling for everlasting in an atmosphere of unspeakable purity, will be no reward to those who do not value purity and holiness. Those who do will strive for the reward with all their might, and when our weak and sinful nature overcomes the powers of evil within and without, He comes with His promised almighty help if we ask Him for it. How very tender the words of scripture are when speaking of God’s children! He is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. God help you, my darling, to take this word to yourself.
“With devoted love from us all,
“Your loving
“Sister.”
It must not be taken for granted that the reasons I have enumerated were the only ones that influenced the sailor not to write. There were motives that may tax the credulity of the reader, but they existed, nevertheless. I have served in vessels myself where a large proportion of the crew would not trust the captain to post any letters for them owing to the habit of mean peculation that was commonly practised by some captains in those days of grossly overcharging postage and putting the proceeds into their own pockets. But that was not the only method of pilfering from the poor creatures whose wages ranged from £2 15s. to £3 10s. per month, according to the trade they were engaged in, and might have a wife and group of children depending on them. The captains were purveyors of tobacco, and sold it to the crew at profits that far exceeded the limits of decency. Many of them carried what were known as slop chests, which comprised every article of apparel the sailors were accustomed to wear and use: oilskins, sea-boots, suits of dongarees, jumpers, ducks, dark flannel drawers, stockings, mufflers, mittens, blue flannel shirts, fustian and pilot cloth trousers, soap, soda, needles and thread, worsted, knives, and any other thing that was worn or used and likely to be marketable. It will be readily understood that men who traded in this way were not particularly anxious to have a well-fit-out crew at the beginning of a voyage, nor did they repine if bad weather prevailed at the outset. The worse the weather, the barer the sailor’s kit, the better the market for the captain’s commodities. These slop-chest skippers were perfect terrors to the needy mariner, and many a physical punishment would be endured so that he might be saved the ruinous cost of having to buy from his covetous commander, who was not satisfied with a mere hundred per cent., but regulated his prices according to the severity of the weather and the demand that might be made for his goods. These human vultures carried on a nefarious trade on lines that would have put a Maltese Hebrew to shame. When the days were radiant with sunshine, and the sea made glassy with continuous calms, the shrewd sailors who wanted supplies would apply for them, expecting that they could be had at reduced prices under such circumstances, but the predatory vendor did not do business on these occasions; he waited until the poor devils were overcome and punished by the treacherous icy winds and the mad rush of the waves that tumbled over them and made their sufferings so acute that they were driven to ask their captains to supply them with clothing, and the prices charged were such as to justify the sailors regarding the said captains as the worst types of usurers. A common phrase of the sailors in referring to this class of man was that he would not hesitate to rob “Jesus Christ of his shoe-strings.” I have heard these nautical clothiers boast of how they had worked the oracle so that the wretched men who served under them would be obliged to come and on their knees beg that they might be forgiven for not taking the articles when offered, and that they might have them now when they had seen their error. Of course only the wasters would put themselves in any such position. A captain who traded in this way had a right to cover himself for the risk he ran, but it was a wicked imposition to charge more than a reasonable profit for clothing, tobacco, or postages. In settling up at the end of a voyage, the overcharges were frequently contested, and I have known cases where a substantial reduction was enforced. The rate of exchange at which the advances to the crew abroad were worked was invariably one that realized a profit to the captain and caused grave suspicion that a petty theft was being committed. Captains used to brag that they made as much as their wages came to by the sales from their slop-chests and tobacco. Judging from the amount of trade done and prices charged, I can quite believe this.
One of the most mischievous customs of that period was that of giving grog to sailors on Saturday nights, and whenever sail had to be shortened or any extra work done, and many a drunkard was made thereby. What suffering, what untold misery has been wrought by this damnable custom! The lives that have been sacrificed, the property damaged, and vessels lost by having grog aboard, and by captain and officers imbibing it and serving it out to the others with too generous a hand, can never be estimated. Much of the calamity that has occurred, and does yet occur, at sea could and can be traced to its direct use, and the unutterable grief and ruin it has brought into many a fine sailor’s home is an odious testimony to those who put temptation in their way and perhaps encourage the use of it for their own benefit. A poor lad whom I knew many years ago acquired the taste for drink aboard the vessel he served in. She was what is called by sailors a grand grog-ship. He was assisting to discharge cargo, and in the middle of the forenoon the bottle was passed round. Being a general favourite with everybody, especially with the steward, whom he was always ready to give assistance to in many little ways, he jokingly asked him for “a good second mate’s nip,” a phrase which means that the rum or other spirits had to be three fingers up from the bottom of the tumbler glass. It was never doubted that the steward gave him a good deal more than the regulation quantity, for he became very lively soon after. Just at the time grog was served, empty waggons ran short, and the crew were ordered to do odd jobs. The poor lad was sent to the fore topmast head to splice a new lanyard into the main royal stay. He had done this, and was setting the stay up when the marline spike must have slipped out of the hitch in the lanyard. Suddenly the song he was singing ceased; a jerky, nervous shout attracted attention to what had happened; then the hush of anguish seized the horror-stricken spectators who watched the tragedy, and soon all was over. He tumbled backwards, and the sails all being loosened to air them and the topsail yard at the mast head, he fell over it, broke his fall on the foreyard, clutched at the reef points of the foresail, and then tumbled headfirst into the jolly-boat which lay at the bow, and was smashed to pieces. When the body was taken out of the boat it was seen that the flesh of his hands had been torn off by the clutch he made at the reef points.
The crew of this vessel was supplied with alcohol with the specific object of getting them to work hard at the discharging of the cargo. In plain language the owners or masters gave no thought to the personal effect of the custom so long as it did not interfere with their material interests, but should their policy cause the man to imbibe on his own account and commit a breach of discipline, or to be temporarily absent from work, he was punished with shameful severity, and in this the master or owner was encouraged both by written and unwritten laws. No account was taken of how far the employer was responsible in having helped his employee to form habits by which the law was broken. The poor lad who lost his life might have done so anyhow; but the impression that has been fixed on my mind is that the cause of his tragic death lay at the door of those who gave him the second mate’s nip.
The unrestrained appetite of the old sailing ship seamen for doing something ridiculous was a problem that even those closely associated with them could never solve. When their minds were bent towards a freak they plunged into it regardless of consequences. The more daring the adventure the more enjoyment they got out of it. On a memorable occasion long ago, several ships’ crews went ashore in a foreign port on leave, and at a late hour they were returning aboard their respective ships. Some were half seas over, and others badly sprung, but all seem to have been smitten with the idea of reckless mischief. Sentries were stationed along the banks of a river that Byron has sung of. They were not supposed to allow any one to pass without a permit, and as the seamen were not in the temper to brook coercion of this kind, they came into conflict with each other. One of the sentries struck a sailor, who attempted to pass the line, with his bayonet. This was the beginning of a carnival of lawlessness. The tars were maddened by the attempt to slay their comrade, and a wild rush was made upon several of the soldiers. They were promptly overpowered, disarmed, and their muskets used in disarming their friends who were panic stricken by the vigorous onslaught, and soon succumbed to Jack’s bellicose persuasiveness. It then became an easy task to carry out the impromptu plan of campaign of putting each soldier into his sentry-box and casting both him and the box into the running stream. The call for help was unavailing; none came, and soon no voices were heard, but the following day the funeral knell was sounded by the roar of the cannon from the gunboats, splashing shot into the river with the hope that the vibration would resurrect the bodies of the victims from their muddy tomb. Many of them were brought to the surface by this means.
Jack is said to have thought it a great joke, and it must be admitted there is a grim humour in the cool audacious method of disposing of the human obstacles which stood in his way. No argument, however eloquent, could convince them that a murderous act had been committed. Their idea was that no b——y foreigner had any right to question the good intentions of a British sailor or to intercept his perambulations either drunk or sober. Pageantry and armed force did not appeal to them, but a kind word and an expressed desire to escort them aboard their ship would have caused them to fall on the neck of even a foreign soldier in adoration. The thirst for joviality often led wayward sailors to crave for drink, and under its baneful influence they were easily wafted into a delirium of foolhardy devices that would never have entered the mind of the ordinary mortal.
A large barque was once in mid-ocean homeward bound, and was beating against strong head-winds under whole topsails, courses, lower staysails, and jib. It was the starboard watch on deck from eight p.m. until midnight. The captain had retired for the night and left the second mate in charge. His watch, with the exception of one man, was composed of as fine a brood of young athletes as ever ran aloft. They were on the most friendly terms with their officer, whose genial disposition led him to converse with them. I daresay he was attracted by their boisterous cordiality. Be that as it may, he either winked at or encouraged the successful negotiations that were devised to induce the steward to invade the grog locker, which was situated beneath the captain’s bed, and bring from it the jar which contained whiskey. At first Jimmy the steward was obdurate.
“It cannot be done,” said he, “without wakin’ the aud man.”
“What the devil’s the good of you talking that nonsense, Jimmy?” said the persuasive orators; “why, you know he’d sleep with his head in a bucket of slush.”
“Yes, but I’m feared he’ll waken, and then there’ll be an almighty row.”
“Well,” replied the tempters, “we always thought you a real shipmate, and as full of pluck as a pitman’s badger. What’s come over you, man; surely its not the same old Jimmy Dinsdale that had the courage to stand before Hennan and Tom Sayers? It’s not as though you were not going to have a nip with us.”
“Look here,” said one of the enterprising coterie; “if you are feared to go, show me, and you bet I’ll have the stuff on deck in a jiffy. If I can do it, surely you can.”
The form of dashing flattery, the appeals to his bravery and comradeship, and the prospect of himself partaking of the convivial cup, punctured Jimmy’s will, and he fell. The coveted jar was brought on deck without arousing the captain, and the seamen insisted that they could not touch or taste till James himself had partaken; they would then have pleasure in drinking his health. This order of things was carried out, the second officer joining in by assuring his men that he “endorsed their complimentary remarks about the steward”; he was an ardent sportsman, said the condescending officer, “whose popularity was unequalled.”
“Hear, hear,” responded the breezy tars.
Jimmy had another nip, beamed all over with merriment, and pledged himself to live for evermore up to the high reputation they had given him, which he was proud to believe he deserved. At ten p.m. the wind and sea had increased, and the vessel was plunging her jibboom and bowsprit under. The second officer intimated that all hands would have to be called to reef the topsails and haul the mainsail up and stow it, but his men were imbued with heroic dash, and would not hear of such unseamanlike weakness. They assured him that they could take the sail in without calling the watch below. Amid much noise and many larks they managed to get the foretopsail reefed. A chanty was lustily sung when hoisting the yard up, and when they undertook to reef the main topsail it was quite obvious the over plentiful supply of grog was taking serious effect. Their articulation became thick and incoherent. They were alternately effusive with joy and senseless laughter, and occasionally quarrelsome. The lee yardarm man insisted on hauling out to leeward before the weather yardarm man told him to, which was of course contrary to the order of nautical ethics. The situation became very strained between the men to windward and those to leeward, because of the profusion of tobacco-juice the former were expectorating into the eyes of those to leeward, not intentionally, but with alcoholic recklessness. The elderly stout man of the watch felt that it was no ordinary occasion, and grunted out that he was b—— well going to lash himself to the haulyards, as he felt wearied. The lee yardarm man managed to crawl in on the foot-rope, got into the maintop, and fell asleep there, while the gradual cessation of speech from the champions to windward indicated that they also slept. The second officer and the helmsman conferred as to what had best be done, and concluded not to risk startling any of them out of their drunken unconsciousness by shouting, lest they should loose their hold and be smashed to pieces or fall into the sea; but as the watch was drawing to a close it was suggested by the sailor who was at the helm that he should go up aloft, and make his way noiselessly to the weather yardarm, for the two men who were there stood in the greatest danger. When he got to them he found both had partially secured themselves, though the least lurch of their bodies would certainly have placed them in a more perilous position. The young sailor’s task was both delicate and difficult, but he managed it so well that no harm came to them. One of the men, as is the practice when reefing, was straddle legs on the yardarm, and had a turn of a rope round him. The other had his feet on the foot-rope, and his chest rested on the yard. They made a good deal of jovial noise when they were aroused, with the obvious intention of making it appear that they were very much alive. The stout man, who was in the slings of the mast, and the first to succumb, was rudely awakened by the rollicking yardarm man slapping him sharply on the back and shouting at him, “what the h—— he meant by sleeping there and risking his own and other people’s lives?”
The phlegmatic gentleman grumbled out: “What business is that of yours?”
“Why,” retorted the younger seaman, “you old scanamaran, you ought to be put in irons for the remainder of the voyage, and have your wages stopped into the bargain.”
This was rather high-class audaciousness on the part of a young rascal who had just been rescued from a worse position while committing the same offence. The task of getting them round was nothing compared to that of getting them humoured into a sufficiently sober condition so that no mishap would befall them in the process of coming down the rigging. It is a perfect marvel how Providence protects people under the influence of drink. Almost every step downward threatened a calamity, so they slipped from one rattling to another until their feet landed on the topgallant rail, and they slid under the shear pole on to the deck. The second mate was greeted with much affection; the attitude towards him was that of men who had been a long time absent and come suddenly in contact with a dear friend. He was sensible enough to reciprocate the kindness shown him. The reefed topsail was hoisted vigorously up to the accompaniment of rapturous song. This being done, the watch below was called, came on deck, and received a greeting unequalled in every sense, but especially in its spirituous effusiveness. The faithful James was in great demand, and after a prolonged search he was found coiled up under the long-boat; an outburst of fluent profanity indicated that his condition did not warrant him being entrusted with any commission of grave, secret intricacy, so he was expeditiously stowed away in the galley for the remainder of the night, and the port watch that had just come on deck were bitterly chagrined that they were not given the chance of “liquoring up,” as they called it, with their shipmates. The following day they proclaimed Jimmy a pink devil for getting intoxicated, and his confederates were treated to a withering flow of invective for not keeping some of the stolen property for them. The captain was serenely ignorant of what was going on, but in the morning at breakfast his attention became centred on the worthy James, whose performances were of an unusually destructive character. The steerage and cabin exhibited heaps of broken crockery-ware, mixed with the humble repast that hungry men had been looking forward to. Jimmy, in an ordinary way, was really a devotee of religion, who adhered to all its forms most rigidly so long as drink was kept out of his way. He could quote Scripture by the fathom, and when in his cups used to do so copiously. The captain said to him:
“Any one with half an eye can see, sir, that you have been at my grog.”
James became virtuously indignant.
“Captain,” said he, in a thick, guttural voice which indicated whiskey, “you judge me wrongly”; whereupon, falling on his knees, he clasped his hands, and in the attitude of prayer began as follows: “O Lord, forgive the captain. Judge me, O Lord, for I have walked in mine integrity: I have trusted also in the Lord, therefore I shall not slide.”
The mate, a burly fellow who stood hard by, muttered:
“Get up, you d——d fool. You have slid.” Whereupon the pious James called him a liar, and continued:
“Examine me, O Lord, and prove me: try my reins and my heart.”
When he had finished the sentence, the captain interposed:
“I’m quite satisfied that you are intoxicated, and must request you, Mr Jones, to see that he is put to bed before he does any more mischief. I shall keep my grog under lock and key for the future.”
This strong indictment caused James to become piously agitated. The mate eloquently remarked:
“Yes, it is all damned fine quoting Scripture, but that won’t give us our breakfast. What do you say, Mr Second Mate?”
“Amen,” said the gallant officer, and, with a merry twinkle in his eye, he added in a whisper, “but I don’t quite agree with the grog being locked up.”
Jimmy was very popular with all aboard, and everyone was full of sympathy with him for having had the misfortune to fall into disgrace. In a few weeks after his fall he was paid off in Bristol, and to celebrate the occasion he and a young lad, who was much devoted to him, had a glass together. He was very fond of his wife and his home, and used to confide all manner of sacred things to his young friend. They were walking down a fashionable street together, and observing a well-dressed lady looking in a shop window, he remarked to the youth:
“That is a fine dress the lady has on. I would like to have one like it for our Nanny (meaning his wife). I wonder if it cost much.”
His young companion was eager to have some sport out of the incident, so he urged him to ask her how much the dress cost. He was not quite sure of the propriety of doing such a thing, but was reassured of this by his friend in whose judgement he had profound confidence; so he went up to the lady, took hold of her dress, held it up in his hand beyond the limit of discretion, and asked her in pure Anglo-Scotch how much a yard it might cost. The lady was startled, and looked contemptuously at him.
“Sir,” said she, “how dare you! whatever do you take me for?”
“I take you for a lady,” said Jimmy, “and I’m asking how much a yard your dress cost, because if it’s not over dear I would like to buy one for wor Nanny.”
His young friend kept close to him, and was in convulsions of laughter; but seeing he was drifting into trouble he advanced towards where they stood and tried to explain to the lady that it was he who had prevailed upon his friend to satisfy his curiosity as to the price of her dress. Up to that point she seemed to be embarrassed, and did not know whether to resent such unconventional conduct or not. She asked if they were sailors; they replied in the affirmative. It then seemed to dawn upon her that it was merely a mischievous prank being played on her interrogator; but she was assured in a sailorly manner by both that they knew it was very funny, but they were in earnest all the same. She realized the true situation and laughed very heartily.
“Come along,” said she, “and I will take you to the shop where I got this dress.”
Jimmy assented, but suggested that she should walk ahead of them; but the lady insisted that she wished them to talk to her of their sea experiences, and before the shop was reached James had told her with touching simplicity about his fall and how penitent he was, and that he felt he ought to do something for the wrong he had done his wife, who would be very grieved when she heard of it.
“Will you tell her?” asked the lady.
“Tell her,” said he; “why, I wouldn’t dare do any other. I tell her everything.”
“Ah,” said she, “sailors are very confiding. Now we are at the shop; come with me, both of you.”
The material was asked for, and the announcement of the price nearly made Jimmy run out of the establishment.
“I am very sorry,” said he, “but I cannot afford to buy it.”
“How many yards does it take to make a dress for me?” asked the lady at the shop-woman, without heeding his remark. She was told.
“Then,” said she, “cut me a couple of yards extra, include the trimmings, make it into a parcel, and send it and the bill to me at once. Now,” she continued to her two sailor companions, “come to my home with me and have tea; by that time the material which I have bought for your wife will have arrived.”
“Madam,” said the much-affected James, “surely you’re no going to buy that garment for me?”
“Oh yes, I am,” said she, laughing; “don’t say more about it, but tell me some more of your adventures.” And, fearing she was neglecting the youth who had got over his frolicsome fit and become very shy, she added: “I wish both of you to talk to me.”
However, the youngster preferred to allow his friend to have all the say, and contented himself by chipping in only when there was a pause or when he was referred to. In due course they arrived at a mansion which stood in beautiful grounds. The sailors were in awe, and reluctantly followed their hostess. They had never seen anything like it before. They were taken into a room that to them was gorgeous. Tea was brought in, and two other ladies joined the party. They made both sailors feel quite at ease, and before very long they were talking with as great freedom as though they had been in the forecastle. The ladies were made very mirthful, and laughed merrily at many of the quaint yarns that were told them, which were for the most part personal. Jimmy told them of his domestic bliss and the form of petticoat government that controlled him in a charmingly simple way; and his companion had to relate all about his home and when and how he came to go to sea. He became quite confiding, and asked them to read some letters he had just received from his sister, so that they might form some idea of the home he came from. They declared they were the sweetest and best-written letters they had ever read.
“I am sure,” said the hostess, “you must be fond of your sisters.”
He admitted he had good reason to be proud of them, as they were not only good sisters but clever ones.
“But now,” said he, “it is time for us to go, and I thank you on behalf of myself and my friend for your great kindness towards us.”
Jimmy was handed his parcel, and in the course of a few original sentences he committed himself, his friends and his family to obligations of gratitude for generations to come. A five pound note was put into the hand of the younger sailor, who declined to take it, but the good woman said:
“I am sure you will not intentionally give me pain by refusing to accept a small gift from me. You have told me that it is your desire to take a present home to your sisters, and I wish you to buy something suitable for them with what I have given you.”
“Yes,” said the young man; “but I intended to buy it with my own money.”
“I know you did,” said she, smiling, “but I am informed you are going to try and pass the Board for second mate, and that it will cost you a good deal. Now I wish you to get your certificate and to use your own money to enable you to go to school and stay long enough ashore to do so without feeling pinched.”
With marked self-consciousness he agreed to accept the gift, and they each thanked her again with all the natural gratitude that sat so lightly on this class of sailor. And when she and her friends said good-bye they felt that they had been the guests of big-hearted English women. As soon as they had passed outside the gate, Jimmy remarked that “there was none of the jellyfish shake of the flipper about them folk.”
The two friends walked down the principal street together, and had it not been the prevailing opinion that sailors of that time did not meditate either coherently or incoherently, they might by their manner have been thought to be in deep soliloquy, whereas their silence was merely momentary. Any one hard by could have heard a spontaneous “Well, by George, we are in luck! What an experience!” And then in a sharp, jerky utterance: “Why, there’s Jack Rush ahead of us. Won’t he get a surprise when we tell him where we have been and how it all came about?”
When they came up to Mr Rush he was found to be more than half-seas-over, and commenced grinding out odds and ends of profanity about the shabby trick that had been played on the port watch on the occasion when the captain’s grog was purloined and some people had to be sent to bed.
“Shut up about that,” responded the conscience-pricked James, in a sudden gust of rage.
“All very well for you to say ‘shut up,’ but why the syntax didn’t you save some of the stuff for our watch: that’s what I want to know?” said the injured mariner, with an intoxicated air of Christian virtue. Jimmy’s friend, anticipating trouble, came to the rescue by judiciously calling his attention from his grievance and asking where their shipmates were, as he wanted to stand drinks and relate to him and them the singular experience and good fortune of Jimmy and himself. Whereupon Mr Rush became effusively obliging, and guaranteed to have them in the midst of their friends in a few minutes. No further reference was made to the escapade that was remembered with such aversion, and they were soon reunited to the whole of their comrades, who received them with the joy of reclaimed brethren. They had entered upon the initial stages of a vigorous spree, and were cheerfully ready to listen to Jimmy’s romantic story. They were not even envious of him, but they did resolve amid a chorus of merriment to emulate him in the art of sampling ladies’ dresses, and in the exuberance of uncontrolled mischief some of them went forthwith on the expedition. Needless to say the experiment was not an unqualified success. They found that their rude pleasures were neither understood nor appreciated by the ladies of Bristol, and I have reason to know that some of the more enterprising came to sudden grief.
These freaks of sailor life are recorded, not with a view of holding him up as a drunken, ill-behaved, lawless creature, but merely as incidents that seemed necessary adjuncts of his calling, and for the purpose of showing the mischief that may be caused by supplying him with drink or putting temptation in his way. For even in these days he is deplorably susceptible to influences that are injurious to him. He is very weak, very reckless, and also very human; but I am inclined to demur at the notion that in the good old times he was pre-eminently so. There is one characteristic of the whole class that should never be overlooked, and that is their devotion to one another.