One morning, soon after daybreak, as I was lying asleep in my berth,
I was awakened by a trampling on deck and loud shouts. Aware that
something unusual had occurred, I lost no time in hastening to the scene
of action. Ere I reached the deck, I heard the word "porpoises" uttered
in a loud key by one of the sailors, which explained the cause of the
excitement.
The mate, with sparkling eye and rigid features, in which determination
was strongly stamped, as if resolved "to do or die," was busily engaged
in fitting a line to the harpoon, which had been sharpened and prepared
for use some days before. I cast my eye to windward, and saw the ocean
alive with fish. Hundreds of porpoises were swimming around the brig,
crossing the bows, or following in the wake, or leaping out of water and
snuffing the air, and racing with each other as if for a wager; passing
so rapidly through the liquid element that it wearied the eye to follow
them.
The mate was soon ready with the harpoon, and took his station on the
bowsprit, within six feet of the water. The line, one end of which
was fastened to the harpoon, was rove through a block attached to the
main-topmast stay; and the cook, one of the sailors, and myself firmly
grasped the rope, and stood ready, whenever the word might be given, to
bowse the unsuspecting and deluded victim out of his native element and
introduce him to the ship's company.
Mr. Thompson stood on the bowsprit, poising the death-dealing
instrument, and with a keen eye watched the gambols of the fish. He
looked as formidable and fierce as a Paladin intent on some daring and
desperate enterprise. As I eyed him with admiration and envy I wondered
if the time would ever arrive when, clad with authority, I should
exercise the privilege of wielding the harpoon and striking a porpoise!
Several of these interesting fish, not aware of the inhospitable
reception awaiting them, and seemingly prompted by curiosity, rapidly
approached the brig. "Stand by, my lads!" exclaimed the mate, his
face lighted by a gleam of anticipated triumph. One huge fellow passed
directly beneath the bowsprit, and Mr. Thompson let drive the harpoon
with all the strength and energy he possessed. We hauled upon the line
with vigor alas! It required but little exertion to haul it in; the mate
had missed his mark.
In a few minutes another of these portly inhabitants of the deep came
rolling along with a rowdy, swaggering gait, close to the surface of the
water. The mate, cool and collected, took a careful aim, and again threw
the iron, which entered his victim, and then shouted with the voice of a
Stentor, "Haul in! Haul in!" And we did haul in; but the fish was strong
and muscular, and struggled hard for liberty and life. In spite of our
prompt and vigorous exertions, he was dragged under the brig's bottom;
and if he had not been struck in a workmanlike manner, the harpoon
would have drawn out, and the porpoise would have escaped, to be torn
to pieces by his unsympathizing companions. As it was, after a severe
struggle on both sides, we roused him out of the water, when the mate
called for the jib down-haul, with which he made a running bowline,
which was clapped over his tail and drawn tight; and in this inglorious
manner he was hauled in on the deck.
The porpoise is a fish five or six feet in length, weighing from one
hundred and fifty to three hundred pounds. The name is derived from the
Italian word PORCO-PERCE, or hog-fish; and indeed this animal resembles
a hog in many respects. It has a long head, terminated by a projection
of its jaws, which are well filled with sharp teeth, white as polished
ivory. The body is covered with a coat of fat, or blubber, from one to
three inches in thickness, which yields abundance of excellent oil;
and the flesh beneath is not very unlike that of a hog, but more oily,
coarser, and of a darker color. The flesh, excepting the harslet, is
not much prized, though some sailors are fond of it, and rejoice at the
capture of a porpoise, which gives them an agreeable change of diet.
A few days after this event, being to the southward of Bermuda, I
climbed to the fore-top-gallant yard, and casting my eyes around, saw
on the verge of the horizon a white speck, which made a singular
appearance, contrasting, as it did, with the dark hue of the ocean and
the clear azure of a cloudless sky, I called to a sailor who was at work
in the cross-trees, and pointed it out to him. As soon as he saw it he
exclaimed, "Sail, ho!"
The captain was on the quarter-deck, and responded to the announcement
by the inquiry of "Where away?"
"About three points on the larboard bow," was the rejoinder.
We had not spoken a vessel since we left Portsmouth. Indeed, we had seen
none, excepting a few fishing smacks on St. George's Bank. The sight of
a vessel on the broad ocean ordinarily produces considerable excitement;
and this excitement is of a pleasing character when there is no reason
to believe the stranger an enemy. It varies the incidents of a tedious
passage, and shows that you are not alone on the face of the waters;
that others are traversing the ocean and tempting its dangers, urged by
a love of adventure or thirst of gain.
The captain looked at the strange vessel through his spy-glass, and said
it was standing towards us. We approached each other rapidly, for the
stranger carried a cloud of sail, and was evidently a fast sailer. By
the peculiar color and cut of the canvas, the captain was led to
believe we were about to be overhauled by a British man-of-war. This
announcement gave me pleasure. I longed for an opportunity to behold one
of that class of vessels, of which I had heard so much. But all the crew
did not participate in my feelings. Two of the sailors, whom I had good
reason to believe were not "native Americans," although provided with
American protections, looked unusually grave when the captain expressed
his opinion, manifested no little anxiety, and muttered bitter curses
against the English men-of-war!
I then learned that the British navy "the wooden walls of Old England"
whose vaunted prowess was in every mouth, was manned almost exclusively
by men who did not voluntarily enter the service, prompted by a feeling
of patriotism, a sense of honor, or the expectation of emolument, but
were victims to the unjust and arbitrary system of impressment.
It is singular that in the early part of the present century, when
Clarkson, Wilberforce, and other philanthropists, with a zeal and
perseverance which reflects immortal honor on their names, labored
unceasingly and successfully to abolish an important branch of the
African slave trade, no voice was raised in the British parliament to
abolish the impressment of seamen a system of slavery as odious, unjust
and degrading, as was ever established by a despotic government!
At that time Great Britain was engaged in sanguinary wars, and her flag
was borne by her ships on every sea. It was difficult to man her navy,
the pay being small, and the penalties for misconduct or venial errors
terribly severe. Therefore, when on the ocean, British ships of war
in want of men were in the habit of impressing sailors from merchant
vessels, and often without regard to national character. American ships
were fired at, brought to, and strictly searched by these tyrants of the
ocean; and when foreigners were found on board, whether British, Swedes,
Dutch, Russians, Norwegians, or Spaniards, they were liable to be
claimed as fit persons to serve "His Majesty." In spite of remonstrances
and menaces, they were conveyed on board the British men-of-war,
doomed to submit to insult and injustice, and to risk their lives while
fighting in quarrels in which they felt no interest.
British seamen were seized wherever met, whether pursuing their lawful
business on the high seas, or while on shore walking quietly through the
streets of a city or town; even in the bosom of their families, or when
quietly reposing on their pillows! Press-gangs, composed of desperate
men, headed by resolute and unscrupulous officers, were constantly on
the lookout for men, and took them, sometimes after hard fighting,
and dragged them away to undergo the horrors of slavery on board a
man-of-war!
It is not remarkable that a sailor in those days should have dreaded a
"man-of-war" as the most fearful of evils, and would resort to desperate
means to avoid impressment or escape from bondage. Those few fortunate
men, who, by resolution or cunning, had succeeded in escaping from their
sea-girt prisons, detailed the treatment they had received with minute
and hideous accuracy to others; and that they could not have exaggerated
the statements is proved by the risks they voluntarily encountered to
gain their freedom. The bullets of the marines on duty, the fear of
the voracious shark in waters where they abounded, the dangers of a
pestilential climate, or the certainty, if retaken, of being subjected
to a more revolting and excruciating punishment than was every devised
by the Spanish Inquisition FLOGGING THROUGH THE FLEET could not deter
British seamen from attempting to flee from their detested prison-house.
American seamen were sometimes forcibly taken from American ships,
and their protestations against the outrage, and their repeated
declarations, "I am an American citizen!" served only as amusement to
the kidnappers. Letters which they subsequently wrote to their friends,
soliciting their aid, or the intercession of the government, seldom
reached their destination. It was rarely that the poor fellows were
heard of after they were pressed on board a man-of-war. They died of
disease in pestilential climates, or fell in battle while warring in
behalf of a government they hated, and principles with which they had no
sympathy.
This gross violation of the laws of nations and the principles of
justice furnished one of the strongest motives for the war which was
declared in 1812.
Nor were these insults on the part of British cruisers confined to
American merchant ships. Our government vessels were, in more than one
instance, boarded with a view to examine the crews and take the men,
if any, who happened to be born under the British flag. A successful
attempt was made in the case of the Chesapeake, which frigate, under the
command of Commodore Barron, made a feeble show of resistance, and was
fired into in a time of peace, several of her crew killed and wounded,
and compelled to strike her colors! The Chesapeake was then boarded, and
the Englishmen found on board were seized upon and transferred to the
British ship!
An attempt of a similar kind was made some years before, but
with a different result. When the heroic Tingey commanded the Ganges,
in 1799, being off Cape Nicola Mole, he was boarded by a boat from the
English frigate Surprise, and a demand was very coolly made that all the
Englishmen on board the Ganges should be given up, as they were wanted
for the service of His Majesty, George III!
Captain Tingey returned the following noble reply: "Give my respects to
your commander; the respects of Captain Tingey, of the American navy;
and tell him from me, that A PUBLIC SHIP CARRIES NO PROTECTION FOR HER
MEN BUT HER FLAG! I may not succeed in a contest with you, but I will
die at my quarters before a man shall be taken from my ship!"
The crew gave three cheers, hastened with alacrity to their guns, and
called for "Yankee Doodle." The captain of the Surprise, although one
of the bravest officers in the British service, on hearing the
determination of the Yankee, chose rather to continue on his cruise than
do battle for dead men.
In less than an hour after the strange sail was seen from the decks of
the Dolphin the surmises of the captain were proved to be correct. The
stranger was undoubtedly an English brig-of-war of the largest class.
We could see the port-holes, through which the cannon protruded, and
distinguish the gleam of muskets and cutlasses, and other instruments of
destruction. The sails were so large and so neatly fitted, and the hull
was so symmetrical in its model, and the brig glided along so gracefully
over the waves, that I was charmed with her appearance, and could hardly
express my satisfaction.
We continued on our course, with the American ensign flying, our captain
hoping that this emissary of John Bull, seeing the character of our
vessel, which no one could mistake, would suffer us to pass on our way
unmolested, when a volume of flame and smoke issued from the bow of
the sloop-of-war, and a messenger, in the shape of a cannon ball, came
whistling over the waves, and, after crossing our bows in a diagonal
direction, and striking the surface of the water several times, buried
itself in a huge billow at no great distance. This was language that
required no interpreter. It was a mandate that must be obeyed. The helm
was ordered "hard-a-lee," the foresail hauled up, and the topsail laid
to the mast.
The armed brig hoisted British colors, and her boat was soon alongside
the Dolphin. An officer sprang on board, followed by several sailors.
With an off-hand, swaggering air, the officer addressed Captain Tilton,
demanding where we were from, whither we were bound, and the character
of our cargo. He then expressed an intention to examine the ship's
papers, and went with the captain into the cabin for that purpose. When
they returned on deck, Captain Tilton ordered the mate to summon aft the
crew. This was not a work of difficulty, for they were standing in the
waist, deeply interested spectators of the proceedings. At least three
of them were trembling with fear, and speculating on the chances of
being again impressed on board an English man-of-war.
"Where are these men's protections?" demanded the lieutenant.
By "protection," was meant a printed certificate, under the signature
and seal of the collector of one of the revenue districts in the United
States, stating that the person, whose age, height, and complexion
were particularly described, had adduced satisfactory proof of being
an American citizen. An American seaman found without this document,
whether in a foreign port or on the high seas, was looked upon as an
Englishman, notwithstanding the most conclusive proof to the contrary,
and regardless of his rights or the engagements by which he might be
bound, was dragged on board a man-of-war as a lawful prize.
"Here are the protections," said Captain Tilton, handing the papers to
the Englishman.
The men were, one by one, examined, to see if the descriptions
corresponded with their persons. They were found to correspond exactly.
The officer was not to be easily balked of his prey. Turning suddenly to
one of them, a weather-beaten, case-hardened old tar, who wore a queue,
and whose name was borne on the shipping paper as Harry Johnson, he
sternly asked, "How long is it since you left His Majesty's service?"
The poor fellow turned pale as death. He lifted his hand to his hat, in
a most anti-republican style, and stammered out something indistinctly.
"'Tis of no use, Johnson," exclaimed the officer. "I see how it is; and
we must be better acquainted. Your protection was obtained by perjury.
Get ready to go in the boat."
In vain Captain Tilton represented that Johnson was sailing under the
American flag; that he had the usual certificate of being an American
citizen; that his vessel was already short manned, considering the
peculiar character of the cargo, and if his crew should be reduced, he
might find himself unable to manage the brig in heavy weather, which
there was reason to expect at that season in the latitude of the West
Indies.
To these representations the lieutenant replied in a brief and dry
manner. He said the man was an Englishman, and was wanted. He repeated
his orders to Johnson, in a more peremptory tone, to "go in the boat."
To the threats of the captain that he would lay the matter before
Congress, and make it a national affair, the officer seemed altogether
indifferent. He merely bade his trembling victim "bear a hand," as he
wished to return to the brig without delay.
When Johnson saw there was no alternative, that his fate was fixed, he
prepared to meet it like a man. He looked at the American ensign, which
was waving over his head, and said it was a pity the American flag could
not protect those who sailed under it from insult and outrage. He
shook each of us by the hand, gave us his best wishes, and followed his
baggage into the boat, which immediately shoved off.
The officer told Captain Tilton that when the British ensign was hauled
down, he might fill away, and proceed on his voyage. In about fifteen
minutes the ensign was hauled down. Orders were given to fill away
the foretopsail. The helm was put up, and we resumed our course for
Demarara.
Steering to the southward, we reached that narrow belt of the Atlantic,
called "the doldrums," which lies between the variable and the trade
winds. This tract is from two to three degrees in width, and is usually
fallen in with soon after crossing the thirtieth degree of latitude.
Here the wind is apt to be light and baffling at all seasons; and
sometimes calms prevail for several days. This tract of ocean was once
known as the "horse latitudes," because many years ago vessels from
Connecticut were in the habit of taking deck-loads of horses to the
West India islands, and it not unfrequently happened that these vessels,
being for the most part dull sailers, were so long detained in those
latitudes that their hay, provender, and water were expended, and the
animals died of hunger and thirst.
The Dolphin was a week in crossing three degrees of latitude. Indeed it
was a calm during a considerable portion of that time. This drew largely
on the patience of the captain, mate, and all hands. There are few
things so annoying to a sailor at sea as a calm. A gale of wind, even a
hurricane, with its life, its energy, its fury, though it may bring
the conviction of danger, is preferred by an old sailor to the dull,
listless monotony of a calm.
These slow movements in the "horse latitudes" were not distasteful to
me. A calm furnished abundant food for curiosity. The immense fields of
gulf-weed, with their parasitical inhabitants, that we now began to
fall in with; the stately species of nautilus, known as he Portuguese
man-of-war, floating so gracefully, with its transparent body and
delicate tints; and the varieties of fish occasionally seen, including
the flying-fish, dolphin, boneta, and shark, all furnish to an inquiring
mind subjects of deep and abiding interest. My wonder was also excited
by the singularly glassy smoothness of the surface of the water in a
dead calm, while at the same time the long, rolling waves, or "seas,"
kept the brig in perpetual motion, and swept past as if despatched by
some mysterious power on a mission to the ends of the earth.
Several kinds of fish that are met with on the ocean are really
palatable, and find a hearty welcome in the cabin and the forecastle. To
capture these denizens of the deep, a line, to which is attached a large
hook baited with a small fish, or a piece of the rind of pork, shaped
to resemble a fish, is sometimes kept towing astern in pleasant weather.
This was the custom on board the Dolphin; and one afternoon, when the
brig, fanned by gentle zephyrs, hardly had "steerage way," my attention
was aroused by an exulting shout from the man at the helm, followed by a
solemn asserveration, that "a fish was hooked at last."
All was bustle and excitement. Discipline was suddenly relaxed, and the
captain, mate, and crew mounted the taffrail forthwith to satisfy their
curiosity in regard to the character of the prowling intruder, which was
distinctly seen struggling in the wake. It proved to be a shark. But
the fellow disdained to be captured by such ignoble instruments as a cod
line and a halibut hook. He remained comparatively passive for a time,
and allowed himself to be hauled, by the united efforts of the crew,
some three or four fathoms towards the brig, when, annoyed by the
restraint imposed upon him, or disliking the wild and motley appearance
of the ship's company, he took a broad sheer to starboard, the hook
snapped like a pipestem, and the hated monster swam off in another
direction, wagging his tail in the happy consciousness that he was
"free, untrammelled, and disinthralled."
"Never mind," said Mr. Thompson, making an effort to console himself for
the disappointment, "we'll have the rascal yet."
The shark manifested no disposition to leave our neighborhood, or in
any other way showed displeasure at the trick we had played him. On the
contrary, he drew nearer the vessel, and moved indolently and defiantly
about, with his dorsal fin and a portion of his tail above the water.
He was undoubtedly hungry as well as proud, and it is well known that
sharks are not particular with regard to the quality of their food.
Every thing that is edible, and much which is indigestible, is greedily
seized and devoured by these voracious fish.
We had no shark hook on board; nevertheless, the mate lost no time in
making arrangements to capture this enemy of sailors. He fastened a
piece of beef to the end of a rope and threw it overboard, letting it
drag astern. This attracted the attention of the shark, who gradually
approached the tempting morsel, regarding it with a wistful eye, but
with a lurking suspicion that all was not right.
It was now seen that the shark was not alone, but was attended by
several fish of small size, beautifully mottled, and measuring from four
to eight or ten inches in length. They swam boldly around the shark,
above and beneath him, and sometimes passed directly in front of his
jaws, while the shark manifested no desire to seize his companions and
satisfy his hunger. These were "pilot fish," and in the neighborhood
of the tropics a shark is seldom seen without one or more attendants of
this description.
Two of these pilot fish swam towards the beef, examined it carefully
with their eyes, and rubbed it with their noses, and then returned
to their lord and master. It required but a slight stretch of the
imagination to suppose that these well-meaning servants made a favorable
report, and whispered in his ear that "all was right," and thus
unwittingly betrayed him to his ruin.
Be that as it will, the shark now swam boldly towards the beef, as if
eager to devour it; but Mr. Thompson hauled upon the rope until the
precious viand was almost directly beneath the taffrail. In the mean
time the mate had caused a running bowline, or noose, to be prepared
from a small but strong rope. This was lowered over the stern into the
water, and by a little dexterous management, the shark was coaxed to
enter it in his eagerness to get at the beef. The mate let fall the
running part of the bowline and hauled upon the other, and to the utter
bewilderment of the hungry monster, he found himself entrapped in the
power of his mortal enemies being firmly and ingloriously fastened by
the tail. When he discovered the inhospitable deception of which he was
the victim he appeared angry, and made furious efforts to escape; but
the rope was strong, and his struggles served only to draw the noose
tighter.
The shark was hauled on board, and made a terrible flouncing on the
quarter-deck before he could be despatched. It was interesting to
witness the eagerness with which he was assailed by the sailors. This
animal is regarded as their most inveterate foe, and they seize with
avidity any chance to diminish the numbers of these monsters of the
deep. It was some time before he would succumb to the murderous attacks
of his enemies. He wreaked his vengeance on the ropes around him, and
severed them with his sharp teeth as completely and smoothly as if they
had been cut with a knife. But when his head was nearly cut off, and
his skull beat in by the cook's axe and handspikes, the shark, finding
further resistance impossible as well as useless, resigned himself to
his fate.
Sharks not unfrequently follow a vessel in moderate weather for several
days, and in tropical latitudes sometimes lurk under a ship's bottom,
watching a chance to gratify their appetites. For this reason it is
dangerous for a person to bathe in the sea during a calm, as they are by
no means choice in regard to their food, but will as readily make a meal
from the leg of a sailor as from the wing of a chicken.
Mr. Thompson related a case which occurred on board a vessel belonging
to Portsmouth, the year before, and to which he was a witness. One
Sunday morning, in the warm latitudes, while the sea was calm, a young
man, on his first voyage, quietly undressed himself, and without a
word to any one, thoughtlessly mounted the cathead and plunged into
the water. He swam off some distance from the ship, and laughing and
shouting, seemed greatly to admire the refreshing exercise. The captain,
on being informed of his imprudent conduct, called to him, rebuked him
severely, and ordered him to return immediately to the ship. The young
sailor turned about, wondering what impropriety there could be in
taking a pleasant bath during such sultry weather. He swam beneath
the fore-chain-wales, and took hold of a rope to aid him in getting on
board. A couple of his shipmates also seized him by the wrists to assist
him in climbing up the side. For a moment he remained motionless, with
half his body in the water, when a huge shark, that had been lying in
wait under the ship's bottom, seized him by the leg. The unfortunate
young man uttered the most piteous screams, and every one was
instinctively aware of the cause of his terrible agony. The captain
ordered the men who held the arms of the sufferer to "hold on," and
jumped in the chain-wale himself to assist them. By main strength the
poor fellow was dragged fainting on board; but his foot was torn off,
together with a portion of the integuments of the leg, and the bones
were dreadfully crushed. He lived in agony a few days, when he expired.
Incidents of this nature will satisfactorily account for the hatred
which a sailor bears towards a shark.