sea is a most iniquitous arrangement. The law says that “a sailor may
stipulate in his shipping agreement for the allotment of any portion
of his wages which he may earn to his wife, mother, or other relative,
or to an original creditor in liquidation of any just debt for board
or clothing which he may have contracted prior to an engagement.”
This law was evidently framed to the advantage of the sailor, but in
its ambiguity lies its detriment to seamen. Of course, the “original
creditor” is the crimp (which was obviously not what the law intended),
who has turned the words “may stipulate” into “must stipulate.” When
a ship-master makes known to a crimp that he wants a crew, the crimp
rounds up the required number of men, marches them to the shipping
commissioner’s, where they sign the articles and are paid usually two
months’ advance wages (which is not lawful until it is turned into an
“allotment”). This money, forty dollars in round numbers, is given to
the crimp (“the original creditor”), who then extracts from the sum an
amount three or four times in excess of what the man is really indebted
to him, arranges for the blood-money, and hands the rest (if any money
remains) to the victim. Frequently all of his advance is necessary to
liquidate this “just debt,” and the man goes to sea without a cent.
On the voyage he gets in debt to the ship for the slop-chest account,
clothing, oil-skins, boots, tobacco, etc., and at the end of the
voyage, if it lasts four months, generally not more than a month’s
wages are due him. This is secured by the crimp at the destination, and
the old story of robbery and persecution is repeated. No foreign nation
that I know of, at least none of the highest rank, allows crimping. The
government has charge of the procuring of crews, and any infringement
or interference by an outsider is a criminal offence, and, more than
that, it is always punished as such. The United States government has
never attempted to stamp out the crimps, and they, in turn, have never
experienced any difficulty in prosecuting their lawless and miserable
business.
Every time that a sailor signs articles any one or all of the following
laws are violated, which the commissioner placidly disregards, and of
which other government officials seem to be in complete ignorance:
1st. The payment of advance prohibited under penalty, fine, and
imprisonment. 23 St. at L., page 55, Section 10, Dingley act, June 26,
1884; pages 66, 67 of U. S. Navigation Laws, also subdivision, Section
4522, U. S. R. S.
2d. Misuse of allotment notes. See 24 St. at L., page 80, Section 3,
act June 19, 1886, and page 67, U. S. Navigation Laws.
3d. Payment of blood-money strictly forbidden. Section 4609, U. S. R. S.
4th. Withholding wages four or five days to bring seamen into the power
of crimps. Section 4529, U. S. R. S.
5th. Withholding seamen’s baggage to prevent them from seeking
employment on their own account. Prohibition and penalty, Section 4536,
U. S. R. S., as amended February 18, 1895; page 68, U. S. Navigation
Laws.
6th. Soliciting lodgers (employment of runners) on inward-bound ships.
Section 4607, U. S. R. S; page 71, U. S. Navigation Laws.
All these violations tend directly to the demoralization and
degradation of sailors, and ought to be immediately abolished.
Why our shipping laws should be so frequently broken, and with
the utmost impunity, is, I think, partly due to their ambiguous
construction, for many of them were prepared by either ship-owners or
crimps with an abundance of political influence, and also partly to
our lax method of carrying out the laws that we have framed; and they
are disregarded because it would not be to the advantage of any one
save the sailor, for whom they were supposed to have been enacted,
to enforce them. The grievances of seamen are not popular subjects
with the authorities, because of the peculiar obstacles generally met
with in efforts to prove them; while the amount of damages awarded to
sailors, except in unusual cases, do not offer sufficient inducements
to the sort of maritime lawyers who would be likely to bring the cases
to a successful issue.
As that able writer on the subject and champion of sailors, Mr. James
H. Williams, says, “The complaining seaman has usually arrayed against
him the combined powers of the wealthy ship-owners; the cunning,
unscrupulous, and designing crimp; the sagacity and ability of the most
experienced lawyers; and sometimes the traditional prejudice of the
judicial mind is often turned against him. With this combination to
overcome on the merits of his case alone, the allegations of the sailor
must be well sustained indeed to enable him to win.” As for the cases
of sailors suing for damages for maltreatment at sea, the difficulties
encountered by them when seeking justice lie in the facilities afforded
the offender--that is, the master or mate--to escape; the obstacles
that the owners put in the way of his apprehension; and the disposal of
the witnesses--“shanghaiing”--either by _bribery or intimidation by
the crimps_.
Mr. Williams has accurately and truthfully summed up the seaman’s
condition in the United States as follows: “The sailor is degraded
to be more effectually robbed; he is cheated for want of official
protection; he is not protected because of his own utter helplessness,
and because we have no recognized shipping system such as exists in
Great Britain, for instance. In this country the sailor is often
despised because of his nationality; in European countries he is
usually honored for the same reason. When this nation rises to a
realizing sense of its own responsibility and manifest duty to the
sailor, and provides proper laws for his protection and adequate means
for their enforcement, both our merchant marine and navy will become
Americanized, seamanship will become an honorable calling, and American
boys will go to sea.”
Over against this wretched treatment allowed to exist by the government
of the United States, for its commissioners make no attempt to prevent
it, stands forth the protection accorded the sailors of Great Britain
and Germany. Seamen are well taken care of in the latter country; but
in Great Britain there exists a system of sailor protection ashore,
so perfect as to leave little or nothing to be desired; and the
perfection of its detail has led me to show the workings of this scheme
in the next few pages, a scheme that is _facile princeps_, and
that ought to be a model for the rest of the world. The shipment of
seamen in Great Britain is conducted under the superintendence of the
Board of Trade; this is a separate department of the government, and
upon it devolves the supervision and control of the entire merchant
marine,--_i.e._, commerce and navigation. The president of the
Board of Trade is a cabinet minister, and of course occupies a seat
in Parliament; and the duties of the Board are defined and guided by
acts of Parliament. Among other specific functions, the Board of Trade
must provide for the shipment, care, and protection of seamen, and
must frame and _enforce_ (that’s the great point) proper laws
for the suppression of crimping and similar abominations. Inasmuch
as the Board was organized solely with reference to the interests of
sailors and commerce, its officers have been, in nearly every case,
judiciously chosen for their peculiar fitness and natural aptitude
for the work rather than for any _political views_ they may have
held, or because of any _influence_ exercised in favor of their
appointment. As a result of this common-sense arrangement a most
efficient and reliable body of officials has been secured, and for
this reason the Board of Trade, from being considered at first a very
troublesome innovation by maritime people, has succeeded in forming
relations so close as to be almost indispensable with ship-owners and
merchants throughout Great Britain; and what is even more remarkable,
and certainly just as important, it has secured the confidence,
improved the character, and protected the rights, interests, and
persons of seamen to an extent which no other institution in any
country has ever attained.
In all ports of Great Britain subdivisions of the Board of Trade,
called Local Marine Boards, are established, each having authority over
local maritime affairs. Seamen are entitled to direct representation on
these local Boards, which are now maintained by the home government at
various foreign seaports between Hamburg and Brest.
In Great Britain the shipping and discharging of seamen is conducted
and superintended by government officers, _and no person other than
duly appointed officials of the Board of Trade are permitted to enter
the shipping office under any pretext whatever while business is being
transacted between master and crew under severe penalty_. Crimps
and all manner of “beach pirates” are particularly objectionable, and
if found on the premises occupied by an official shipping bureau,
are incarcerated without the slightest ceremony. Every shipment of
seamen must take place at a government office except in extraordinary
cases provided for in the law. When crews are wanted, notices to that
effect are posted at the shipping office, on the vessels requiring
them, and in other places where sailors will be likely to see them.
Men desiring employment then proceed to the shipping office, present
their _discharges_ to the official, who in turn hands them to the
captain. In this way crews are selected, and it will be perceived what
an excellent body of men a captain can thus gather together. A seaman
without his discharges generally finds great difficulty in obtaining a
berth in England unless he can offer proof as to his previous service
and character. These discharges are usually enclosed in a sort of
wallet furnished by the government for a small sum, and are always
accepted as evidence of the men’s rating, ability, and conduct. They
are retained by the master until the end of the voyage, when they are
returned to the owners with a new one added.
Aside from the mere formal engagement and official protection from
“water-front parasites,” the Board of Trade is of immense importance
and value to British sailors in a variety of ways altogether too
numerous for enumeration here. Suffice it to say, then, that the
many shining features of this splendid institution have proved of
incalculable benefit to English sailors and their families, while the
practical results obtained by means of its beneficent influence have
contributed in no small degree to the present maritime greatness and
power of the British nation.
Compare this method with the American fashion of throwing a dozen
or more poor, wretched, half-starved, drunken creatures on board a
ship, who have been robbed of their small pittance, gained often when
looking into death’s jaws without so much as a flinch; and frequently
stripped of every garment save the underclothes which alone cover
them, the hapless victims of the laxity and the passive indifference
of the United States government, commence the voyage of four or six
months in a ship commanded in many, many instances by men little short
of devils, and officered by men worse than beasts, conscious that
for themselves it is merely a case of “out of the pan into the fire.”
Latitude, 8° 53′ north; longitude, 122° west.
+August 27+
Last night was one of terrific heat. Imagine a temperature of 87° at
one in the morning, with an atmosphere so oppressive with humidity
that instead of sustaining a weight of fifteen pounds per square inch
the body seems to be supporting at least thirty. It was hotter than
any night that I ever remember afloat or ashore. There was a peculiar,
smothering quality in the atmosphere, which was so heavy and moist
that it seemed as though you ought to be able to seize a handful and
squeeze the water out of it. The very essence of humidity seemed to be
instilled into the air, and my wife, who readily withstood the heat in
the Bay of Bengal at the close of the wet season, nearly fainted in
the middle watch. It must not be supposed that because the air is pure
that people do not suffer in hot weather at sea; that is an idea held
only by those who have never crossed the equator. If the hygrometer
would drop even to eighty-five or ninety the temperature could be
conveniently borne; but this almost continual saturation is exceedingly
trying. Think of the sufferings of passengers in the Red Sea, when
steamers often have to alter their course and proceed against the wind
to prevent people from dying of heat apoplexy!
The captain has once more donned his white drill suits, the jackets of
which button closely up under the throat, like soldiers’ tunics in the
tropics. By this arrangement it is not necessary to wear an ordinary
shirt underneath; and at first glance the skipper looks to be most
suitably and airily attired, and you envy him the possession of his
gossamer tunics, until at meals, when there is an expansion of his
corporeal sphericity which opens the spaces between the tunic buttons.
And then, oh, horrors! the sight is blasted by the lurid glare of a
red flannel undershirt! Red flannel on the equator! It is enough to
throttle you, and the temperature instantly rises several degrees. No
man ought to be allowed to so afflict his fellow-creatures.
Last night when I went on deck at 9.30 the skipper was on the lee
side, looking at the heavens. On seeing me he said, “Well, there’s our
old friend, the pole star; we haven’t seen him for many a day.” Now,
I ought to have known better than to attempt any joke, but it seemed
likely that he would surely know this ancient pleasantry of mariners,
so I answered,--
“Yes; as the saying is, the pole star is the first land you make coming
up from Cape Horn.”
This threw him into a grave meditation, at the end of which he
ominously observed, “I don’t see what you mean.” I had by this time
forgotten all about the star, and had to ask him in turn what _he_
meant.
“Why, how do you mean that the pole star is the first land you make?”
he demanded, bristling; “you often see Juan Fernandez.”
“Oh, well,” I answered, desiring propitiation, “sailors used to say
that in the old days, meaning that it reminded them that they were once
more in northern latitudes.”
“Well, _I_ never heard it,” he returned; “and, anyhow, we don’t
know whether hit’s land _or_ water.” Here I fled, unable to
withstand the strain any longer.
At dinner to-day he unexpectedly relapsed into his usual morose,
contrary humor, and came strutting and stamping into the dining-room,
glaring at every object, till his eye lit on a plate of rather stale
hard bread on the table; then he grabbed some, fiercely bit an enormous
piece out of it, threw the rest back into the platter, dropped into his
seat with a crash that shook the tumblers, and shouted at the quaking
steward, “Ain’t I told yer not to put nothin’ on the table but what’s
fit for a white man to eat?” Deep silence followed as he dashed the
soup around in the tureen with the ladle and fell upon his dinner; and
my wife, without thinking, observed, “Well, this is the hottest we have
had yet.” “No,” said Captain Scruggs, “it ain’t, hit’s nice and cool.”
Angry at this flat contradiction, I told him that the thermometer,
unlike many people, always told the truth, and that it was 88° on
deck. “In the sun,” he replied, which he knew wasn’t so; while that
devilish Goggins smiled blandly at us, as if to say, “You can’t catch
_him_”; but I stood by for developments. Presently the old man
began to shift about in his seat; then he made the curious remark that
it was too warm for rain; in ten minutes more the perspiration began to
stream from his face, and in another five minutes he got up and left
the cabin, almost prostrated with the heat on this cool and pleasant
day; though as he departed he attributed it to “them beans bein’ too
heavy eatin’.” The mate followed him, with a face like a worn-out wet
carriage sponge.
We have crossed the sun and he is at last south of us and casts shadows
in the opposite direction from yesterday. We haven’t had the racks on
the table for two days, which means a phenomenally smooth sea; the
ocean often appears quiet enough to the eye, but there is nearly always
a swell present that would play havoc with glasses and bottles. This is
the first time that we haven’t used the fiddles since leaving New York.
Latitude, 10° 44′ north; longitude, 122° 35′ west.
+August 28+
Another very hot day and night, but not comparable with yesterday,
when a draught of air out of the sails was more like a blast from
Tophet than a breath from this great ocean. It was possible to get
considerable sleep last night, and on the whole we did very well;
for even if we made only seventy-five miles, it was in the right
direction. During the whole of the first watch last night there wasn’t
even a suspicion of wind and the silence that reigned was wonderfully
impressive, so that we were deeply awed by the solemnity of the scene.
All about the zenith was a large area of perfectly clear sky thickly
dusted with stars that shone with a calm splendor not to be seen except
near the equator.
“By night those soft, lasceevious stars
Leer from those velvet skies,”
saith Kipling.
About 45° from the zenith a mist commenced, thickening gradually
into clouds dense and black, their lofty cones and dark abysses
brought forth with startling clearness by great ceaseless surges of
heat-lightning that enveloped the horizon like undulating, violet
flames. On board no sound broke the stillness, which was that of the
Arctic icefields, for minutes at a time, except now and then the
creak of a yard that broke harshly on the ear, or the pleasant sound
of a light swell at long intervals that chuckled to itself under
the counter; and we floated motionless upon the deep, wrapped in an
absolute and breathless calm. And the golden, bell-like tones of the
exquisite _andante_ from the Sonata Appassionata seemed to dwell
in the air; tones which Beethoven said was his own conception of the
music of the spheres, for the movement occurred to him one night in the
hills, while contemplating the stellar glories of a clear, tranquil
sky. Oh, what majesty in such a night! Oh, the solemn grandeur of
this phase of nature! Indeed, it is difficult to say which exerts the
more powerful influence over the mind: a gale of wind or a great,
soundless calm, when every star in the firmament seems reflected in
the motionless sea.
Throughout this forenoon, too, the wind was of the lightest sort,
though this fact was productive of some little diversion. Shortly
after ten o’clock the captain called our attention to several sharks
wandering about far down in the blue depths under the stern, and
presently several dolphin appeared hovering about the rudder, offering,
with their agility and marvellous coloring, a striking contrast to the
slothful, sombre sharks. All at once the old man ran off, and then
returned with a formidable engine of destruction, consisting of a huge
iron hook strong enough to sustain an ox, with a short length of wire
rope attached to it. His other hand clutched a mass of oleaginous
pork, from which liquid fat exuded in the rays of a baking sun. This
delicacy, the mere sight of which would revolt the stomach of an emu,
the skipper gayly secured on the hook, and then bent the whole affair
to a long line as big as the main-brace. This gear would really have
been suitable for the capture of nothing smaller than a ninety-barrel
whale; but the captain surveyed his arrangements with much urbanity
and dropped the contrivance over the stern. There was no shark in
sight, but one speedily appeared, and propelled himself with great
caution toward the bait; his eye caught the cable then to which it
was fastened, and he sheered off. When he had manœuvred thus several
times, he seemed to summon his friends, for three more of the creatures
mysteriously appeared. They, too, were very shy at first; but at length
they began to turn slightly on their backs as they approached, a sure
sign that before long they would seize the bait. At last the largest
one swam boldly up to it, turned over, opened his wicked jaws, his
double row of triangular teeth closed upon the extreme edge of the
meat, and he deftly tore the whole piece off the hook, while he seemed
to smile as he leisurely rejoined his companions.
Then the skipper fetched another lump of pork-fat, which he kneaded
and squelched in his hand as he walked along. Again the same wily
beast took the bait, and once more we drew up the naked hook. After
a repetition of this, the skipper, with much pomposity, rigged the
harpoon and bade me stand by with it while he endeavored to entice the
sharks close under the counter with another pound of pork. Several
times I hove the weapon without the least risk to any of the sharks,
though I all but followed the harpoon overboard at every lunge, and
once contrived to stand in the bight of the rope, which nearly cut me
in two; and we could perceive the iron plunge down fathom after fathom
in the transparent water. Finally I did strike one in the middle of
the back, but the harpoon bounded off his tough hide and he glided
away unharmed. This was discouraging, and we desisted soon afterward,
as we had to carry on the attack under a terrific sun. The sharks
looked unspeakably comfortable, sauntering around below the rudder, now
sinking out of sight, now cleaving the surface at a distance with their
sharp dorsal fins, upright like sabres, and I was secretly well pleased
that we didn’t kill one, for I must confess that the sight of a shark
does not throw me into convulsions of horror, nor does it consume me
with the fanatical thirst for slaughter, which is the general effect
produced by the appearance of one of these beasts.
Each of these sharks was attended by the familiar little pilot-fish,
about the size of a small mackerel, with his body wonderfully
marked with bands of dark blue and black, as sharply defined as the
turning-post of a croquet set; strange it surely is to see these tiny
fellows fearlessly maintain their position just under the gaping mouth.
As indicated elsewhere, Mr. Goggins hasn’t much to say these days,
although he has recovered somewhat from the cataleptic state into which
the stabbing of the second mate threw him. He was quite talkative last
night in his watch, and congratulated me upon my not smoking, saying,
“I’m glad to see you don’t use these cigareets; they’re bad things, and
I can tell you why,--’cause they’re full o’ nicoline.”
The second mate is pulling slowly along, with sunken cheeks and hollow
eyes, an ill-looking man, and what is more miserable than a sick
sailor? Every one aboard ship has his own duties to perform, and scant
attention and no sympathy is vouchsafed to the luckless man confined to
his room. Latitude, 11° 49′ north; longitude, 123° 5′ west.
+August 29+
The northeast Trades! Yes, the northeast Trades! Even the skipper is
pretty sure that they have arrived, though we are still three degrees
south of where they generally are in August. It is a piece of very good
luck, for we all expected to be several days more in the Doldrums, and
those who were on deck when the wind came in a squall at sunrise hardly
dared to breathe or move for fear that it would be nothing but a puff.
But as the hours wore on and the breeze momentarily increased, it was
soon apparent that the Trades had reached us. How vastly different
to-day is from yesterday! Then, all stagnation and blighting, withering
heat; now, all motion and joy and sparkling sea. We had not a breath of
air for eight solid hours last night, though, and the wrath of Abner
Scruggs was very, very great. From eight to ten, during his watch on
deck, we, sitting on the cabin-house, could hear him muttering and
thumping away by the wheel-house, and we privately smiled thereat.
Finally, after a couple of hours of this harlequin act, my wife went
below; and then I went over to him and listened to the liveliest sort
of arguments that he had with himself for nearly an hour. In vain he
tried to draw me into them, and as a last resort he began on Central
Park. “That’s a queer kind of a park, that is, where they won’t let
people walk on the grass. Why don’t they have it like the park in
Sydney? What’s a park for, anyway? Why don’t they put the thing in a
glass case?” But I let him gibber on, and when I turned in, a little
later, he had wrought himself into one of his passions.