CHAPTER XII.

Sailors' Songs--Bully or Coax--Treatment of Sailors--Schooner

"Jane"--A Mackerel Shower--Fog on the Coast--Taking

a Pilot--Arrived--Paying off--Scraping Belaying

Pins.

"Once more upon the waters, yet once more!

And the waves bound beneath me, as a steed

That knows his rider."

--_Byron's Childe Harold._

"Who would not sell a farm and go to sea?"--_Sailor Proverb._

ON BOARD THE "ROCKET."

CHAPTER I.

In Lloyds Register is recorded:--"_Rocket_, Bk. 384, 135, 25, 16.5,

1851, Medford, W.O., icf.," which being interpreted means, Bark

_Rocket_, 384 tons, 135 feet long, 25 feet beam, 16-1/2 feet depth of

hold, built in 1851, at Medford, of white oak, with iron and copper

fastenings. To which may be added, that she was a well known trader

to the East Indies, being called in those ports "the green bark," on

account of being painted a dark green, or what the painters style tea

color. She was a good looking vessel, neatly finished about the decks,

and the masts and yards were all scraped bright. The chief peculiarity

was that she was narrow in proportion to her length, being compared by

an old sailor to "a plank set on edge." This caused her to be reputed,

and not undeservedly, a crank vessel, and many a gloomy croaker has

uttered the foreboding that like her sister ship, the "Dauntless," she

would go to sea sometime--never to return. Yet for many years she had

gone and come, and though occasionally threatening to capsize, she had

never really performed this undesirable manœuvre. The builder and the

subsequent owner were two of the most practical merchants of Boston.

She must therefore have been well put together and properly cared for,

as there was truth in the remark made, that "what Nat G----, and Dick

B---- didn't know about a ship wasn't worth knowing."

* * * * *

The _Rocket_ was lying at Central Wharf in Boston, loading a cargo

for the East Indies. Barrels of beef, pork, tar and pitch were stowed

in the bottom; then followed in miscellaneous order, lumber, sewing

machines, kerosene oil, flour, biscuits, preserves, ice pitchers,

carriages, oars and many other articles.

As the sailing day drew near, the important matter of choosing officers

and crew had to be considered. The first person who applied was an

aspirant to the mate's berth.

"How long have you been to sea?" was asked.

"Thirty years."

"Why! how old are you?"

"Twenty-nine."

"How do you make that out?"

"Oh, I was born and bred at sea."

He was thought to be too old a sailor for a young captain to manage,

and was not engaged. Soon a young man applied, with more modest

demeanor, and he was secured. The rest of the crew were soon picked

out. Wishing to choose for myself who should sail with me for so many

months, the shipping master was told to send on board any good men

who applied to him, giving the preference to Norwegians and Swedes,

these being, in my opinion, both in seamanship and docility, the best

class of sailors that man our vessels. Germans and Scotchmen he was

told to favor next, then Englishmen, and lastly Irishmen, for these,

though often capital seamen, do not as readily as some others endure

privations without grumbling, and are too strong republicans to be

always submissive subjects of a despotic government such as that of

shipboard. American sailors unfortunately are not often in the choice.

They are soon promoted from the forecastle, if they enter it, or else

after short service find they can do better on shore, than by leading a

dog's life at sea.

One afternoon in September all the crew were mustered on board. Captain

Jack Frost came alongside with his tug boat, and his cheery voice

hailed, "Are you all ready, Cap.? Pass out your lines!" The owner said,

"Good-by," and moving towards his yacht, added, "I'm going to give you

a race down the harbor." The fasts were cast off, the bark was tugged

out into the stream; then with topsails set before a strong nor'wester

she showed the towboat the advisability of getting out of her way. We

should have thought she was sailing fast, had not the yacht "Vesta"

overtaken us, crossed our bow, and boomed away down Broad Sound, under

jib and mainsail. Just inside of Boston light we rounded to and let the

pilot get into the canoe from the station pilot boat; then, filling

away, the course was shaped for Cape Cod and the voyage had begun. The

anchors being secured, the top-gallantsails were loosed, and leaving

all the accompanying fleet astern, away we sped, ten knots an hour, and

in four hours passed the Race Light.

The crew numbered eight men and two boys before the mast, a cook, cabin

boy, two mates and captain, fifteen all told, besides one passenger, a

young gentleman travelling for health. Owing to the late hour in the

day at which we sailed, the men had taken several parting glasses with

their friends, and some were inclined to be troublesome. The officers

managed judiciously and kept them quiet, but the mate remarked, he

thought we had "a pretty hard crew." The watches were chosen and the

port watch sent below at eight o'clock, in accordance with the old

maxim "the master takes her out and the mate brings her home." By

this rule the watch variously known as the second mate's, starboard,

or captain's watch, takes eight hours on deck the first night outward

bound, and the mate's, or port watch, does the same the first night of

the homeward bound passage.

The wind had drawn more northerly, becoming rather "scant" for a

course north of George's Shoal, so we squared away down South Channel.

Being right before wind and sea, the bark, having a large proportion of

her heavy cargo in the lower hold, began to roll most distressingly.

She seemed to nearly dip each rail alternately in quick succession.

As the night wore on it grew worse and worse, every drawer slid out

in the state-rooms, the doors of lockers swung open, their contents

got adrift, kegs of paint took to rolling, the turpentine-can upset,

scenting the air, and the pantry floor showed a medley of tin ware,

crockery, brooms, edibles and sundry "small stores" engaged in

kaleidoscopic performances. After getting some of these things secured

more firmly than had been possible in the haste of their reception,

the weary skipper went to his bed, but not to sleep. The berth was

fore-and-aft and he rolled from side to side with every motion. Then,

in distraction, he removed to the transom sofa running 'thwartships

across the cabin, and here he slipped up and down, standing now on his

feet and then on his head. O, the miseries of that night! The close

cabin, the smoky oil-lamp, the smell of turpentine and the quick,

incessant motion created suggestions of sea sickness, even to a veteran

mariner. The mind sympathized with the body, and thus the captain

reflected:--"O, what a fool I am to go to sea, there are the beautiful

home, the spacious rooms, the comfortable and steady bed, the beloved

family circle. What have I done? Renounced them all for a year. For

what? To be shut up in this dismal den, with a crowd of rude vagabonds,

deprived of everything that makes life enjoyable, and visited with

everything to make it miserable. Only let me set foot on shore again

and you'll never catch me on board of a ship."

The morning light was welcome and George's Shoals being well cleared,

the vessel's course was altered to the eastward, bringing the wind more

on the side and steadying her movements. This is one of the pleasures

of sea life, the cessation of motion. "Then are they glad because

they be quiet." But as sea-life originates the evil, it deserves no

credit for the temporary relief. The breeze moderated and we made

easy progress, while the crew were busily at work stowing anchors and

chains, putting on chafing gear, and making the various preparations

for a long voyage. A pilot boat came under our stern to satisfy her

curiosity as to our identity. As she disappeared, we felt that our

last friend on American shores had left us, and we set our faces

resolutely towards the regions beyond. The next day the weather became

threatening. Though October had set in, no gale had yet occurred fit to

be named "the equinoctial storm," therefore, one was considered due by

all who believed in that old-fashioned institution. A gale did come,

but its connection with the equinox was not clearly established. It

blew fiercely enough, however, to deserve that respectable title, and

forced the vessel to lie to under a close-reefed main-topsail, which

finally had to be "goose-winged" (one side of it furled.) The mate went

aloft himself to encourage the crew in braving the storm. For two hours

it blew with almost hurricane violence, or as the mate expressed it, "a

perfect screamer," and we began to fear we should not escape unharmed,

as the seas were getting very "ugly." But the _Rocket_ lay to safely

and behaved splendidly. All night the wind held on with violence, but

at day-break it began to moderate and we escaped with no other damage

than splitting a jib and foretopmast staysail.

A gale of wind at night is a sublime, though fearful, scene. The ship

plunges wildly in the darkness, and skies and waters are equally black,

only relieved by the foaming crests of the mountain waves. But perhaps

the most impressive feature is the music of the gale, nature's grand

organ, or, if any prefer the simile, its bagpipe. The sub-bass of the

storm, as it sweeps over the waves against the hull and through the

lower rigging of the ship, forms the great volume of sound, and above,

in constantly changing variety, come shrieks, screams, wailings and

whistlings of every pitch and intensity, sounding from aloft as the

wind drives through sheave-holes, against the small rigging, and into

cracks in the spars. Few listen to these sounds without an impression

of awe or even dread, and many a brave heart, which scarcely knows

the meaning of the word fear, has felt a thrill and shudder as the

discordant screams and howlings of the midnight gale unite with the

roaring and dashing of the breaking waves.

For the next three days we tumbled about in the subsiding waves,

and experienced the most unpleasant part of a storm, which is not

positively dangerous. The excitement and touch of romance pertaining to

the gale have gone. The disagreeable motion, as the ship, not steadied

by the force of the wind, is tossed to and fro on the waves, which

the gale leaves to testify of its vehemence, causes much discomfort.

Then we "reel to and fro and stagger like a drunken man and are at our

wits end" how to maintain composure of mind, amidst so much bodily

disquietude.

At the commencement of the voyage, I took the first opportunity to call

the officers together on the poop-deck, and privately instruct them in

my ideas of discipline.

This was the drift of my remarks:

For some years past I have made it a rule that there shall be no

cursing or blows used or given on board of my ship. In saying this, I

do not mean that I wish sailors to be allowed to do as they like, or

that I do not wish good discipline maintained. I have sometimes had

to reprove officers for cursing the men and throwing belaying pins at

them, and they seemed to feel that I had curtailed their rights. With

a vindictive spirit, disguised by an air of injured innocence, they

then neglected their duty and made no effort to keep the crew in proper

order, saying, "If the old man doesn't care, I'm sure I don't." Let me

tell you my plan of keeping discipline.

When we start on a voyage the crew generally come on board more or

less under the influence of liquor. Some of them are all ready for a

fight and do their best to bring it on. If you choose to have a row,

it is the easiest thing in the world to find opportunity for it, and

you know how frequently the occasion is seized, and the ship's deck is

stained with blood before she is clear of the land. Now at the start, I

say, Shut your eyes and ears to instances of personal disrespect, and

do not use force to exact the performance of duty, unless as a last

resort when the interests of the ship positively require it. As soon

as you can spare men from work, get into their bunks those who are so

drunk as to be troublesome and let them sleep themselves sober. You

will often, or indeed generally, find that these are the best "sailor

men" in the ship. It was the rum that made the trouble, and I believe

the only successful way of fighting rum is to attack it before it gets

inside of men. Drunken men are more easily controlled than we think,

but it requires tact to deal with them, and, above all, kindness. I

had a sailor last voyage who was roaring about the deck, brimful of

fight, using his insolence to gain a chance to work it off. I stepped

up to him, and he straightened back to return the expected blow. To

his evident surprise I just laid my hand upon his shoulder, and in a

kind but decided tone said, "My man, you go to your bunk." He fired up,

and said in a saucy way, "Do you mean to say I can't do my duty?" I

replied, "We don't need you just now, you'll feel better after you've

had a nap, and we will call you to turn to just as soon as we want

you." "All right, sir," he growled, in a disappointed sort of way, and

tumbled into the forecastle. The next morning he appeared on deck as

quiet and civil as any body, and during the voyage, after he got over a

touch of the horrors, he proved to be the best sailor-man on board, and

was always as respectful as I could wish. There are many vessels where

he would have been off duty a week with a broken head, and then have

needed a second thrashing to take the ugliness out of him.

After we are fairly at sea things generally go on smoothly for about

a fortnight and then the sailors begin to try experiments, to feel

their officers' disposition, test their strictness, and decide how much

liberty they can take. The first sign of this is the neglect to give

an answer to orders, or omitting the word "Sir" from their reply. They

watch to see if this is noticed, and if it is not, they advance to

other liberties, and the inch being granted they very soon take the ell.

When you find this state of things beginning, and a man ceases to give

a respectful answer, check him for it in a manly way, and give him

to understand that such things will not be allowed on board of this

vessel. Do not curse him, nor strike him, nor threaten him in a way to

make him ugly, but rather seek while maintaining your authority to give

an impression of its justice. If he continues to repeat his offence

after this, then punish him for it, by keeping him up in his watch

below, by giving him disagreeable work, by stationing him aloft in the

night, or by any little requirement, which will make him feel that he

is controlled and compelled to do something against his will. If this

fails to subdue him, after a patient trial of it, (for it is not to be

supposed that every unruly spirit is to be conquered in a moment,) the

thing to be done next is to report him to the captain. He is the only

one to whom the law gives power to inflict punishment. If you undertake

to use force you are in danger of prosecution when you arrive in

port, and you are well aware that our courts are very jealous for the

sailor's rights. The captain should then take the matter up and adopt

such measures of correction as, in his judgment, the case requires.

Very often a simple reproof from him will be all that is necessary, as

showing his decided espousal of his officers' cause, and determination

to stand by them. When this is proved, Jack will be apt to give in, but

in an obstinate case irons may be the necessary resort.

Of course I don't wish to be annoyed with the report of every little

misdemeanor or sign of insubordination; but when you fail to suppress

them by the means I have referred to, then let me know about it. If

you will adopt this course, although at first it may be too slow a

method for you, I will promise you that when we reach home you will

say you never got more work out of a crew, and never made a passage in

which you took so much comfort, or which you remembered with so great

satisfaction.

We gave the crew watch and watch, and Saturday afternoon was allowed

them for mending and washing clothes. Sunday at 9 A.M. services were

held in the cabin. Attendance was not compulsory, but as a rule all

hands were present, except the man at the wheel and the officer of the

deck. We made tolerable runs down to lat. 30° N., which we crossed

in lon. 40° W., eleven days out; but here for a few days the "horse

latitudes" assailed us with their calms. We whistled for the wind,

wondered how Job would have acted if he had ever been becalmed, tried

hard to be patient, and thought we were at the threshold of success,

when at last the wind settled at the eastward. A steady freshening

breeze proved we had got the north-east trades, and the log line, as it

marked nine knots over the taffrail, enabled us to be patient without

further effort.

Running along by the wind at the rate of eight and nine knots an hour,

with a regular sea that gave only a pleasing motion to the vessel, and

a blue sky enlivened by the swiftly flying, fleecy trade-wind clouds,

we understood the reality of "the romance of the sea." Flying-fish

continually darted out from under the ship's bow, the beautiful fleet

dolphins ran races, constantly beating us and coming back to try it

again, the fat, puffing porpoises occasionally tumbled across our hawse

and went snorting off to windward; the sea was strewn with patches of

gulf-weed, and Mother Carey's chickens tripped about amongst it as

though afraid of wetting their feet while searching for food. There was

always something to see, and life was never monotonous.

About this time I noticed that the first signs of the relaxing of

discipline were beginning to appear, in the occasional neglect of

the sailors to answer when spoken to. I watched to see if the mates

attempted to correct it, as I desired they should control the men in

minor matters, and I was relieved soon by hearing the mate call out,

"Why don't you answer when I speak to you?" A brief "growl" followed,

but the sailor, a Swede named Peterson gave in, declared he meant no

disrespect and intended to do his duty.

The next thing that occurred in the matter of discipline was, that

one night I heard "Old Brown" reply, "Aye! aye!" to an order from

the second mate, omitting the word "Sir." This is considered a great

breach of ship etiquette; trivial as it seems, I was annoyed that

the second mate took no notice of it. The next day I spoke to both

parties separately about it, and the sailor professed to be utterly

unconscious of his omission. He received a brief lecture and gave all

desirable promises of respectful behavior, and "Sirs" were very clear

and distinct for a while. The sailors seeing that they were kept up to

the mark in these little matters, naturally concluded that they would

not be allowed to do as they liked in greater concerns, and the routine

of watch and watch went on harmoniously and efficiently.

When twenty days out we found ourselves within seven degrees of the

line, but here the trades left us, and for nearly a fortnight the

"doldrums" raged. The bark drifted about with light airs from the

southward, dead ahead, or else lay like a log on the glassy sea,

rolling lazily with the swell, her sails slatting and spars creaking at

every roll.

[Illustration: Calm continues! Utter disgust!! Captain's growl:--"A

sea life should be avoided and execrated by all sensible men. It is

an utter stagnation of intellect and heart, and only develops hatred

towards our fellow men and murmuring at God's Providence. I have tried

it from beginning to end, and I solemnly and deliberately pronounce

it--a dog's life."]

An officer of a ship must have good nerves to be able to endure with

patience that dreadful slatting and creaking, even had he no interest

in the progress of the vessel; but to one earnestly desirous of

making a quick passage, as is usually the case with the captain, the

doldrums are the severest test of disposition that can be applied.

As he walks the quarter-deck, whistling through his teeth, searching

in all corners of the horizon for signs of a breeze, he discovers in

the distance a rippling of the water. It gradually comes nearer the

vessel and greets her with a gentle air. The captain orders all sail

to be set, and the canvas swells out to the wind; the rudder stops its

thumping, the water begins to gurgle in the wake, and the captain,

watching the rate of speed as he leans over the lee-quarter, exclaims,

"That's the breeze! go it, old boat! good-by to the doldrums!" But

the wind lessens; there comes an ominous slat of the spanker, and a

jingling of the sheet blocks that strikes dismay to the "old man's"

heart. He starts up to windward, looks for the breeze and finds it

to be but a catspaw. After the sails have flapped about for a few

minutes, if belonging to a certain class of men, the captain in savage

tones orders the courses hauled up, the spanker lowered and jibs and

staysails hauled down. Then he throws his hat on deck and jumps on top

of it, cursing everything "from an inch high and a year old upwards."

He now casts his eye aloft and snarls out at the mate, "Why don't you

keep those gaskets made up; nobody seems to care anything for the ship,

she would go to destruction if it wasn't for me." The mate gives an

order to a sailor, and as in the heat and dullness of the time he is

not disposed to move very briskly, the angered mate vents his spleen

by a curse or opprobrious epithet. Perhaps a fight follows, or merely

a war of words; the rest of the crew become disaffected; at dinnertime

they go to the galley and growl at the cook for not giving them more or

better grub; and so from stem to stern of the ship, bitterness, wrath,

anger, clamor, evil speaking, with all malice abound.

In the centre of this doldrum region clouds and heavy rains prevail.

Torrents sometimes fall so continuously that the surface water becomes

sensibly freshened. The great "cloud belt" overhangs this region of

gloom. The air is sultry and oppressive, making the body weary and the

spirit depressed. I believe no region on the surface of the globe sends

to the Ear above such a volume of murmurings, blasphemies and strife.

Concerning this place Lieut. Maury quotes from the journal of Commodore

Sinclair: "This is certainly one of the most unpleasant regions in

our globe. A dense, close atmosphere, except for a few hours after a

thunder-storm, during which time torrents of rain fall, when the air

becomes a little refreshed; but a hot, glowing sun heats it again,

and but for your awning and the little air put in circulation by the

continual flapping of the ship's sails it would be almost insufferable.

No person who has not crossed this region can form an adequate idea of

its unpleasant effects. You feel a degree of lassitude unconquerable,

which not even the sea-bathing which everywhere else proved so

salutary and renovating can dispel. Except when in actual danger of

shipwreck I never spent twelve more disagreeable days.

"I crossed the line and soon found I had surmounted all the

difficulties consequent to that event; that the breeze continued to

freshen and draw round to the south south-east, bringing with it a

clear sky and most heavenly temperature, renovating and refreshing

beyond description. Nothing was now to be seen but cheerful

countenances, exchanged as by enchantment from that sleepy sluggishness

which had borne us all down for the last two weeks." Maury himself

says of it: "Besides being a region of calms and baffling winds it is

a region noted for its rains and clouds which make it one of the most

oppressive and disagreeable places at sea. The emigrant ships from

Europe to Australia have to cross it. They are often baffled in it for

two or three weeks; then the children and the passengers who are of

delicate health suffer most. It is a frightful graveyard on the wayside

to that golden land."

The memory of days, nights and weeks repeated at intervals through many

years, when disappointment, depression, vexation and sadness have been

my companions, impel me to heap up testimony against this dreadful

place, the dark valley of the waters. Far more cheerful to the sailor

are the roaring gales of Cape Horn than the sluggish, damp, provoking

airs of the Doldrums.

But there is sometimes mirth in the Doldrums, and one afternoon the

capture of a shark gave us diversion and amusement. A dead calm

prevailed; not a ripple stirred the water, and the dull, sluggish

swells of the sea looked like furrows of polished steel. A sailor

aloft spying a shark alongside gave the information to the deck. The

shark moved slowly around the vessel, and as he passed under the

stern, the second mate threw the harpoon from the taffrail and drove

it right through his body. A vast amount of splashing ensued, and it

was with great difficulty a slip-noose was thrown over his tail. This

being jammed tight he was drawn on board, tail first, by the rope.

His motions on deck were very violent, but a vigorous application of

handspikes quieted him somewhat, and he was drawn forward to the main

hatch and butchered. It seemed impossible to kill him. After his head

and tail were cut off and all his entrails extracted, the body still

thrashed about so as to make the sailors jump clear of it. I took his

back bone for a cane, the carpenter appropriated the skin for sand

paper, and the cook begged for a little ball in his head that he could

"sell to the doctors on shore for a quarter, it being fust rate for

medicine." Many were the theories, abusive remarks and jokes indulged

in around this fallen enemy of the sailors. His long life was said

to be owing to the fact that sharks never died till sunset. The best

joke was Murphy's, who had been in the army, who said "He'd make a

good Northern soldier, he's so long dying." The common theory, that

a breeze always follows the killing of a shark, made everybody more

light-hearted, and the expectation was fulfilled after awhile.

[Illustration: A rain squall in the Doldrums.]

That evening the usual yarn-spinning went on around the booby-hatch,

and among the shark-stories that were related was the following by the

mate, given in his words as nearly as they can be remembered. It was

intended especially for the passenger's enlightenment, but I overheard

it:

"I once made a voyage in the ship "Laguna" from Boston to Cadiz and

back with a cargo of salt. Coming home we had a Cuban planter and his

son, a boy of nineteen, as passengers. The boy was always whistling,

and our mate, who was a regular old sea-dog, who hated to hear

whistling, except in a calm when it would help to raise the wind, kept

prophesying that the nightingale, as he called the boy, would be sure

to bring some bad luck. One day, when a heavy swell was running, but

the wind had nearly died away, a large shark came up in our wake and

followed the ship. The boy was leaning over the taffrail watching the

shark, and his father was walking up and down the poop deck with his

pocket-knife in his hand, whittling a stick. The ship suddenly gave

a heavy pitch and the boy lost his balance and tumbled overboard.

He screamed as he fell, and the father gave another yell and jumped

overboard after him. There was a pretty kettle of fish then. The main

yard was thrown aback, though the ship wasn't making much headway,

and everything handy about decks was tossed overboard--gratings,

life-buoys, and planks. Most everybody threw something, and the

carpenter, who was a stupid muff of a fellow, wanted to do his share

towards the rescue, so he picked up his grindstone and threw that

overboard. The passengers disappeared immediately, and as nothing could

be seen of them from aloft it was useless to get out a boat. We filled

away again with sad feelings, and the old mate said Nightingale might

whistle the whole passage if he would only come back. In a little while

the captain spied a shark under the stern. He got the shark-hook and

put a big junk of salt pork on it, and soon the shark took hold. We

slipped a running bow-line around his tail and hauled him on deck.

After we had smashed his head with handspikes we cut him open, and

there we found the man, the boy and the grindstone. The boy was turning

the grindstone and his father was sharpening his knife in order to cut

a hole in the shark to get out of. They were greatly astonished to find

themselves on our deck again, and the father said it was little short

of a miracle."

It is hard to tell how a vessel ever escapes from this doldrum region;

but by using her chances, constantly spreading her wings to every

fitful breath and gaining a little day by day, she at last strikes

an air that is not a catspaw. It gradually increases, and soon is

pronounced to be the S.E. trades. Such was our lot when we reached lat.

3° N., and the day after, we sailed swiftly across the line in lon.

31° 30´, thirty-four days out. Passing to windward of the Island of

Fernando Noronha, we sped along through the most charming region of the

sea, that of the south-east trades in the South Atlantic.

CHAPTER II.

A SAUCY SAILOR.

One night in the Trades, while the mate's watch were bracing the yards,

I heard the sound of angry voices on deck. The next morning I asked the

mate if he had any trouble with any one in the middle watch.

He replied: "I had some words with Peterson, that's all, sir."

"What was the matter?"

The mate answered: "For some time back Peterson has been slack about

giving an answer. I didn't want to check him before the men, for he

has become religious this passage, and some of the men are down on him

about it. If I growled at him, the men would have another handle on

him; so, after we got through bracing, I called him one side and told

him I wished he would be more particular about giving an answer. I

thought that was treating him pretty kindly; I never condescended to do

as much for a sailor before, but he got mad about it and was saucy. I

gave him some strong talk, and it was all I could do to keep my hands

off him. He says he is going to complain to you about my imposing on

him. They say for'ard he is crazy, and I most thought so myself last

night. I got excited and threatened to knock him down if he didn't shut

up; but all the time he talked religion." Said he, "You can strike me

if you like; I've got all over fighting now; if you hit me on one cheek

I'll turn the other to you."

Peterson had the wheel that forenoon from eight to ten o'clock, and

when I went up on the poop-deck he said, "Will you allow me to speak

to you, sir." "No," I replied, "I am going to speak to you," and I

gave him a sharp reproof for giving the mate "back answers." His

feelings were very much hurt. I perceived the cause of his behavior to

be erroneous ideas upon religious matters. He had led a wild life and

always sailed in rough ships, and at the commencement of the voyage he

was greatly impressed by the treatment adopted, and by the instructions

given at our Sunday service. He professed to have been converted when

a fortnight out, and had ever since been very zealous in exhorting his

shipmates. One remark showed the whole trouble. He said to me, "Now

that we are Christian brethren we are all equal and we ought to get

along easily together." He evidently thought this sentiment should

level the inequality of our stations, and there should naturally follow

a relaxing of discipline, and more familiar treatment. Afterwards I

called him below. He dropped his cap outside the door, and we sat down

at the cabin table. I spoke to him about our difference as fellow

Christians, and as captain and sailor, saying, "If you should insult me

on shore, I should take no notice of it whatever, but if you do so on

board of my ship, while personally I forgive you, yet as master of the

ship I am obliged to resent it, for the sake of discipline. Suppose a

man struck me in the street, to throw contempt upon me as a religious

man, why then I would turn the other cheek to him; but if, when I

entered my house, my boy should strike me in the face, I would punish

him for it, because I consider it a christian duty to rule my own house

well and keep my children in subjection. Just so on board ship it is my

duty to be faithful to the owner's interests, and to guard the trusts

committed to me, subject of course to the spirit of Christ's teachings.

These interests require that there should be good discipline in the

ship, and therefore the mate does right to notice any disrespect that

is shown him."

A day or two after this, Peterson said to me at the wheel, "I've been

thinking over what you said to me. I see that I was wrong, and it

sha'n't happen again." For the remaining ten months of the voyage no

one had a word of complaint against Peterson, and his influence over

his shipmates was most excellent.

In the evening after this occurrence, when the mate came aft at eight

o'clock to relieve the second officer, we began talking about the

affair.

"There is one thing," said the mate, "that I haven't quite settled yet,

and that is whether you can treat sailors well or not. At any rate,

if a man is a Christian he had better not go on board of a ship as

officer. I feel so mad sometimes I'd like to slaughter the whole watch."

I replied, "It's a matter that I settled a long time ago. You cannot

treat a sailor well without his taking some advantage of it. Inferiors

will presume upon a kind disposition in their superiors, all the

world over. It is human nature. I made up my mind to that in the

very beginning. But there is another question. Is it best to treat

sailors well, all things considered? As a matter of principle there

can of course be but one answer:--Christ's teachings entirely settle

that. A divine precept must be of universal application; there can

be no exceptions, and if sea life were proved to be a sphere where

Christ's commands could not be obeyed, it would also be condemned as

an occupation no one could follow guiltlessly. As a question of policy

there seem to be different opinions, though whatever is good principle

must be good policy. I say most decidedly it is best; best for the

ship, for the owners, for the officers, and of course best for the

men themselves. It is very poor policy to make sailors the enemies of

the ship. How many vessels have been set fire to by an enraged crew!

How many spars and sails have been lost, because, just out of spite,

a sailor neglected to report the first stage of an accident which he

alone observed in a dark night! How many ships have remained in port

for weeks after they were loaded, because they had so bad a reputation

no one would go in them, and they only sail at last with a kidnapped

crew! How much running gear has been cut, and how many sails ripped

with sheath knives on the night of arrival at the port of destination,

by men thus taking revenge for harsh usage! How many refusals of duty,

mutinies, murders, and lawsuits have their beginning in a foul word or

blow! Just sum these up and look at the other side. I am no apologist

for those who let sailors do as they like. The results of inefficiency

do not belong to our side of the account. But take this vessel for an

example. We are not treated with the strict deference the sailor gives

to a severe ruler, but we secure his enduring respect and a good name

on shore. We hear more growling about 'grub,' for if the cook doesn't

make 'bread scouse' to suit them, the men are not afraid to come aft to

the cabin to complain about it. In ordinary work we have not quite so

much drive and smartness, but all important duties are done as well if

not better. I think of no other disadvantages, and all that can be said

of what I have named is, that our discipline is not as rigid as that

of ships where men are abused; but no one can deny that we have good

discipline. As to your remark about Christian officers, I must say I

think it a very cowardly speech. If shipboard is a place of trial it is

just the place for a Christian, for who has such resources as he?"

The mate took exception to one part of my admissions and paid me the

compliment of saying, "I never sailed with a captain that received as

much respect from sailors as you do. I notice whenever you come for'ard

how the men straighten themselves up to their work, and the respectful

manner in which they step out of your way."

One moonlight evening, when the trade-wind was driving us briskly

along, we were sitting in our easy chairs on deck enjoying the romance

of the sea, and the passenger asked me, if sailors always behaved well

when they were well treated. In answer I told him the story of

AN EASY SHIP.

When a lad of nineteen years, in company with a friend of my own age,

I made a voyage from Boston to Cronstadt and back to New York as

passenger in the ship "Volant." She was a full-built vessel of about

six hundred tons register and carried a crew of fourteen before the

mast. The captain was a Swede named Nelson, a good natured, worthy man.

Mr. Smith, the first mate, was an Englishman, a man with a very kind

heart and easy disposition. The second mate, Mr. Kemp, was an old sea

dog, hailing from New Hampshire. He was a hard drinker when on shore

and appeared to be wholly destitute of ambition. His sea character

depended entirely on that of his superiors. If they were severe he

could be as great a tyrant as any one, and if they were inclined to

take their ease he could be as quiet and unconcerned as though he

had nothing to do with the ship. Of the sailors, five were Irish,

three were "Dutchmen," two English, two American and two from Nova

Scotia. They were of rather a low grade, but were for the most part

a well disposed set of men, though half of them were very deficient

in seamanship. For the first week of the passage they seemed very

peaceable, with the exception of one man who called himself "Brock," and

was one of the vilest sort of "Liverpool Packet Rats." He was always

grumbling and cursing, no sailor, and a miserable shirk. His talk,

by degrees, affected the others, the poison gradually spread and the

rest of the crew became surly and discontented,--ready to join in with

whatever "growl" Brock might start. It was hard to see what they could

find fault with, for there was scarcely ever a "hurrah" or "bear a

hand" uttered by the officers; the men took fifteen or twenty minutes

to "turn out," and the mate had been forward the second night after

leaving Boston, and had told the watch on deck that there was no need

of more than one remaining on deck, and the rest might lie down on

their chests in the forecastle and be ready for a call. The result was

that the men usually stayed in their bunks all night.

The captain hardly ever opened his mouth in hearing of the crew. At

seven o'clock in the morning he got out of his berth and came to the

breakfast table. After winding his chronometer and taking the usual

observation for longitude, he lighted his pipe and sat down to read the

_New York Herald_, of which he had a large pile on the right hand side

of his chair, and the voyage was principally devoted to building a pile

on his left hand with the papers that had been read. The observation

for latitude was taken at noon, then followed dinner, a smoke and a nap

till about half-past four, and then came another smoke and supper. The

evening was chiefly devoted to his pipe and the favorite newspaper,

and if the weather was unsettled he sometimes appeared on deck once

or twice in the night. It was seldom this routine was disturbed by

anything more serious than an attack on him by his young passengers

with boxing gloves or fencing foils.

When half way across the Atlantic the captain went on deck one evening

to take a look at the weather before "turning in." Casting his eye

to windward he saw that a heavy squall was about to strike the ship,

and looking around for the second mate, he discovered that worthy fast

asleep on the after bitts wholly unconscious of the two squalls that

threatened him. The captain showed the possession of some temper by

catching the sleeping officer by the neck and sending him sprawling

to the deck. "You good-for-nothing," said he, "I didn't think an old

sailor like you would serve me such a trick. Call all hands to shorten

sail!" The second mate picked himself up and got to the forecastle as

quickly as his confused senses would allow him, and called to the men

to "tumble out" as quickly as possible. His own watch were in there as

well as the watch below, and all were soundly asleep. They had got so

accustomed to slow movements that even a squall would not hurry them

much, but a few got out on deck and had just let go the top-gallant

halyards and hauled down the flying-jib, when the squall struck the

ship and laid her almost on her beam-ends, for she had a cargo of

cotton and was very crank. The topsail halyards were then let-go, the

spanker lowered and the ship was got off before the wind. The rain

poured in torrents and the work of shortening sail was certainly not

very agreeable. Through all the work Brock's voice could be heard

swearing and grumbling,--"If any one ever asks me to go another Russian

voyage," said he, "if I've got money enough to buy an old rusty pistol

I'll shoot him." Several of the sails were split and two hours of the

passage were lost by the second mate's nap. The captain thought best

to keep a stricter eye on him after this and ordered that the watch on

deck should keep out of the forecastle. For a few days they did so, but

one by one they tried the experiment of going in there, and finding it

created no uproar, they soon got back to old habits.

When four weeks out we passed the Orkney Islands and the same afternoon

sighted Fair Island off the port bow. We passed within five miles of

the Island, and two boats with six men in each pulled off to meet us.

The men were small and thin and with only one exception had light

complexions and sandy hair and beards. They came on board and begged,

in whining tones, to be allowed to exchange their fish for bread and

salt meat. After a trade, made very much in their favor, they produced

woollen mittens and socks, knitted by the women of the island, and

made another trade. These being exhausted they proceeded to beg, with

a stock of appeals to charitable motives. When all the clothes had

been obtained that seemed likely to be forthcoming, they asked for

"rel-ee-gious books and tracts." Two days after this we made the Coast

of Norway. Then beating against a head wind for two days more we got

through the Skager Rack, passed the Scaw of Denmark, and steered

through the Cattegat towards Elsinore.

The cook of the ship was a negro--a lazy, dirty fellow he was! Neither

the captain nor the officers paid any attention to the state of things

in the galley, except that the "old man" gave an occasional admonition

to be economical, and "Cuffey" lived in ease and slovenliness. The

"grub" was poorly cooked, and scanty at that; and the tea was so weak

that when one night "Doctor," as the cook is always called, forgot to

put any tea into the coppers, the men drank the warm water and molasses

without any idea of the omission. A barrel of beef was intended to last

twelve days at least, but owing to the gifts to the Fair Islanders

the barrel at this time was about exhausted on the tenth day. The

cook thought he could eke it out one day longer, and the consequence

was that in the evening, "Bill," a short, stout Nova Scotian, with a

very lugubrious countenance, marched aft carrying a large tin pan,

containing a very small piece of boiled salt beef. The mate was

standing by the weather-rail, just forward of the poop. Bill deposited

the pan at his feet. Folding his arms he exclaimed in a very meek and

mournful tone, "Mr. Smith, I wish you'd take a belaying pin and beat my

brains out."

"What good would that do you?" said the mate.

"I'd rather die at once than starve to death," the sailor answered.

"Who's going to starve you to death?"

"We don't get food enough for a dog, let alone a man," said Bill.

The mate then endeavored to prove that Bill was not a man; the main

point of his argument being that a few days before he had "made a

splice in the foretopmost studding-sail tripping-line that would be

a disgrace to a loblolly boy." This argument went on for a while,

till the man became convinced that the mate was neither disposed to

accept his polite invitation as to the disposition of his brains, nor

to furnish any more beef that evening. So he thought it best to be

contented with the promise of a larger allowance in the morning, and

make use of the small supply at hand.

The cook was sulky because the men had complained about him, and the

next evening he made the tea with salt water. This imposition was

more than they could swallow, and brought about another complaint, in

consequence of which the captain summoned the "Doctor" aft, and in

a great rage stuttered out a string of phrases, the burden of which

seemed to be, "I--I'll swab the decks with you."

We had a good passage up the Baltic and Gulf of Finland, and got to

our moorings in Cronstadt Mole, where we discharged our cotton and

loaded a cargo of sheet-iron, hemp, cordage and crash. One of the

men was taken ill with cholera and died in the hospital, and a good

deal of discussion took place among the crew as to whether his place

would be filled. Great efforts were made to despatch the vessel by

September 20th, as after that day the premium of insurance on vessel

and cargo would advance one per cent., owing to the increased dangers

of navigation later in the season, making a difference of one thousand

dollars to the owners. On the morning of the twentieth the last of

the cargo was put on board. The captain went on shore to obtain his

clearance papers, leaving word with the mate to be all ready to haul

out of the Mole at noon. Upon his return he found the ship fast at

her moorings, with no signs of any intention to move. Coming over the

gangway in a rage he was met by the mate, who prevented the explosion

that was about to take place by informing him that the men had refused

duty.

"Refused duty!" said the captain; "what can that mean?"

"Why, sir, they say they won't go to sea unless you ship a man in the

place of the one that died."

"But I can't now," said he; "the ship must go right to sea, and no one

would go on such a short notice."

"I've told them that, sir, but that villain, Brock, has made the rest

ugly."

Capt. Nelson returned on shore and spent half an hour in a vain attempt

to find a sailor who would go immediately to sea. Returning on board

he asked me to go into the forecastle and try to persuade the men to

turn to. I did what I could, but of course a boy's talk was not much

heeded, and I got rather scared myself by their curses and threats.

Then the mate came to the door and asked in a shaky voice, "Are you

going to turn to?"

"When that man comes aboard," was Brock's defiant answer.

Mr. Smith hastened back to report that they still refused duty, and

the captain hailed a passing boat and procured some Russians from the

"Captain of the 'Branvault,'" as the harbor-master is called. With

their assistance the ship was hauled to the Mole-head, and gave her

hawser to the towboat that was waiting outside. Then the Russians

stepped ashore, I took the wheel, the mates cast off the lines, and we

proceeded in tow of the steamer.

When fairly off, the captain told the mate to call all hands aft.

Standing by the cabin door he made an address to them, offering to

divide among them the wages that would have come to the dead sailor,

had he lived to complete the voyage.

Some of the men were inclined to give in, but Brock muttered, "We don't

want a dead man's wages."

"Well," said the captain, "I'll give you what I should have paid

another man if I had shipped one."

"Oh, we've been humbugged that way before, Cap'n," said Brock, who

turned and went forward, followed by the rest of the crew, leaving the

captain in the midst of another conciliatory harangue.

The ship was soon abreast of Tollbaken, ten miles from Cronstadt. The

wind was dead ahead; and having nominally sailed, the captain decided

to come to anchor and wait for the wind and crew to favor him.

The mate asked the men if they would turn to and let go the anchor; and

thinking they would thus gain their point, and also their dinner, they

consented. The steamer was cast off and the ship brought to anchor.

The crew were then allowed to get their dinner, but when called on to

work, they again refused. The captain was greatly troubled, and so much

at a loss what to do, that he appealed to me for advice. I felt rather

flattered by his consideration, and suggested that he should put the

men in irons. He was afraid to try that, so I proposed that he should

give them nothing to eat till they resumed duty. When supper-time came

they went to the galley, and being refused, Brock marched aft with his

tin pot in hand, and with the coolest impudence, asked the captain if

they were not to be allowed any supper.

"Not till you turn to," was the reply.

The man then put on an air of injured innocence and declared it was a

shame to try to starve men to death. But he sauntered forward, and the

men turned in, laughing at the way they had "waxed the old man," but

feeling a little concerned on the score of eating.

At nine o'clock in the evening, the wind hauled fair. The captain went

to the forecastle, and after fifteen minutes spent in argument upon the

propriety of their going to work, the promise of some tea, and other

fair words, prevailed upon the men to get the ship under way, and the

passage was fairly begun.

We passed through the Baltic and by Elsinore without any remarkable

occurrence, except the increased independence and insolence of the

crew. They felt that the Cronstadt disturbance had proved there was no

fight in the officers, and some of the crew showed more zeal in taking

their comfort than in obeying orders.

Brock particularly distinguished himself. He boasted in the forecastle

that he was going to try to induce an officer to strike him, in

order that he might raise some money by a lawsuit on arriving in New

York. One day the ship was running before a strong breeze, under the

main-top-gallant-sail. Brock was at the wheel, and, being a miserable

helmsman, was letting the ship yaw about two points each side of her

course.

"Keep her straight," said the captain.

"I should like to see any one keep her any straighter," was Brock's

answer; and upon this the captain took hold of the wheel to prove that

it could be done. Instead of stopping to witness the proof, Brock

started forward.

"Come back here!" shouted the captain.

"One's enough to steer the ship," was the polite answer, and the fellow

made for the forecastle, leaving the captain working the wheel, unable

to leave it until relieved. The mate, finding out the trouble, went to

the forecastle and saw Brock leisurely lighting his pipe.

"Go aft and take the wheel again! What business have you got here?"

"Don't you fret; I'll come out when I get ready," said Brock. The mate

turned away and sent another sailor to relieve the captain. After Brock

had finished his smoke, he appeared again on deck, and politely asked

Mr. Smith if he had a job for him. The mate gave him a few of his

opinions about his behavior, and set him at work aloft.

That night, in the first watch, I was keeping the mate company on deck,

and hearing Mr. Smith's complaints about Brock. "Why don't you knock

him down?" said I. "That's the only kind of treatment such a man can

understand."

"I'll tell you why I don't," said the mate. "About five years ago I

was mate of the ship "Neptune" in the Liverpool trade. We hove up our

anchor in the River Mersey and were being towed out to sea. I was

anxious to get the anchor catted as soon as possible, as the pilot

wanted sail made on the ship, and I had all the crew on the forecastle,

heaving on the capstan. An ugly-looking Liverpool Irishman, called Jim

Kelley, was holding the turn, and just as the anchor was about up to

the cat-head he let go the rope; it flew around the capstan at a lively

rate, and the anchor went down.

"I growled at him for it, and he said it slipped away from him. We

went at it again, and had the anchor half-way up, when Kelley surged

the fall and let it go again. It was raining at the time, and things

were very slippery, and he pleaded that as his excuse; but I thought

I saw mischief in his eye. The end of the fall had hit two of the men

pretty severe blows, as it flew around the capstan. I was pretty mad by

this time, and told him if he did that again I'd knock his head off.

I thought he'd hold on the next time, but just as I was going to say,

"Heave a pawl!" down went the anchor for the third time. I heard the

pilot rattling off a string of oaths as long as the maintop-bow-line,

and I stepped up to Kelley and gave him a touch of my fist that sent

him head first off the top-gallant forecastle on to a pile of chain

cable. He didn't feel like holding any more turns for a day or two,

you may bet, and the rest of the crew said it served him right. But

when we got into New York I was hauled up in court for it, and had to

pay fifty dollars fine. Now I've got a wife and five children, and as

good-looking ones as you'd wish to see they are, too, though I say it,

and my wages are all they have to support them. That villain Brock, is

a good deal of a sea-lawyer, and if I lay my hand on him, it's only

taking the bread out of my little ones' mouths and giving him rum

money. I made a vow after that time that I'd never strike a man again."

"But what can you do," said I; "you ought to keep good discipline.

Hasn't the captain got any legal power to punish ugly sailors?"

"Yes," said Mr. Smith, "the captain has power, but he doesn't want

to be troubled, and it's considered the mate's place to keep the men

straight. Once I went to a captain and reported an impudent sailor, and

the only satisfaction I got was, "What did you come here for if you

can't take care of the crew," and I got turned out of the ship at the

end of the voyage. I made a vow then that I'd never complain to the old

man again; so between my two vows I don't see that I've got much chance

with a sailor that's bent on making a row. If this ai'n't a dog's life,

I'd like to know what it is."

All the way across the Atlantic the sailors may be said to have had

charge of the ship, and did about as they pleased. Brock's insolence

was beyond all bounds, and it seemed incredible that it should be

submitted to by the captain and officers. He was evidently in a

desperate mood to get struck, and one evening at eight o clock,

when the captain kept his watch up a few minutes to take in the

top-gallantsails, as a stormy night was coming on, Brock stepped up to

him and said, "Cap'n, it's too late for you to try and humbug us now.

It's our watch below." The captain sputtered some bad words at him, and

told him he was no sailor: but the hoped-for blow was not given.

The passage ended at last, and New York was reached, none too soon

for all on board. The day after arrival, the crew came to the ship to

be paid off, and Brock called the mate aside and made this startling

speech: "Mr. Smith, I want to beg your pardon for the way I behaved

on this voyage. You're the kindest man ever I sailed with, and I know

I ought to be ashamed of myself. I can show you the marks on my head

where the last mate I was with split it open with a belaying pin, and

I deserved it too. You'd have done right if you had served me the same

way. What would my good old mother have said if she had known what a

wretch I have been! She used to pray with me, and beg me to be a good

man. Now that she's dead, her words sometimes haunt me, and I have made

up my mind that I'll be a different man for the rest of my life." A

tear stood in his eye, and good Mr. Smith took his hand and said, "I

don't bear you no ill-will, Brock. I don't harbor malice towards nobody

living. If a man should cut my throat, I believe I'd forgive him the

next minute." As he turned away, he caught a whiff of Brock's breath,

and the suspicion came sadly to his mind that this repentance was not

so much the result of piety as of whiskey.

This story reminds me of a little incident that occurred in Bombay

when I was mate of the "Lizzie Oakford." There were two English ships

anchored, one on each side of us. It was a calm morning, and we could

hear some of the words spoken on board these vessels. A little after

breakfast our attention was attracted to the ship on the port side,

by the sound of angry voices. The captain was having an altercation

with some of his crew, and very soon passed from words to blows. He

"ended" four or five of them over, and with every stroke of his fist

we could hear him swear about the Act of Parliament. In the course of

half an hour we heard a row on board the ship on the starboard side,

and looking towards her we saw a number of her crew on the poop-deck.

One of the sailors had seized hold of the mate's coat-tail, and was

whirling him around in a circle, while another, with a folded strip of

canvas, belabored his back every time he flew past. Our second mate was

so indignant at this insult to his cloth that he wanted to board the

vessel and fight the sailors on his own account, but he said he should

want to "lick the mate too." "There," said he, "are the two extremes,

and we are the middle. In one ship the officers abuse the sailors, and

in the other the sailors abuse the officers. Here there hasn't been

much of either yet awhile, though I think the old shell-backs have got

a little the best of it."

We ran down the trades, and keeping well to the southward in order to

catch the "brave westerlies" as soon as possible, we came in sight of

Tristan d'Acunha, a noble, symmetrical mountain island, 8,326 feet

high, its top covered with snow. We were becalmed in sight of it for

several hours, and enjoyed resting our eyes, wearied with gazing for

weeks upon the dancing water, by fixing them on this grand, immovable

mass. Books gave an interesting account of a colony formed here; but

we were not near enough to perceive any signs of human life. The lazy

rolling of the bark in the swell, made even the idea of a residence on

the snowy peak seem attractive, and there was comfort in thinking of a

future world which is to be all land.

A breeze, springing up from the north-east, gradually freshened. The

sea being quite smoothed down by the calm, we were able to carry a

press of canvas; and with all sail set and the yards braced up, the

bark lay down on her side, and made a run of 261 miles in 24 hours,

and the day after, she made 252 miles. The fore topgallantmast was

then found to be sprung, and a new one had to be put in its place.

While sending it up, we overtook and passed a brig, loafing along under

reefed topsails, evidently seeming to think it was blowing a gale of

wind, whereas we had our main-royal set. This showed why some vessels

make long passages.

We sped along swiftly, passing the Cape of Good Hope when 61 days out,

and running along the parallel of 40° S., a succession of gales helped

us onward. The weather was chilly, often wet and disagreeable, but our

good progress kept us cheerful. One night was especially exhilarating,

when running in a north-west gale, with the wind quartering, under

reefed canvas, the bark flying away, at the rate of 14 knots, from

wind, rain, thunder, lightning and towering waves. There is some

sublimity in a sailor's life, and this wild scene was a good specimen

of it. I enjoyed standing by the bitts and singing at the top of my

voice some hymns expressing trust in the Creator, knowing that the

noise of the elements made the sound inaudible to the crew. As we

neared Amsterdam Island, the weather continued rainy, and there was no

chance for observations by which to verify our position. On the day I

expected to pass it, the sun appeared, most providentially, just at

noon for a moment. I caught the altitude with my sextant and found the

latitude. But I had no means of determining the longitude. We were a

few miles south of the latitude of the island, so I steered due east,

keeping a hand on the lookout to watch for the land, as I desired

to sight it to verify the reckoning and the chronometers. No land

appeared; a dark night was coming on, and I felt anxious at running

down so nearly in the latitude of the island; but at evening-time it

was light, and at 6, P.M., we saw the noble mass of land, nearly three

thousand feet high, bearing off the weather-quarter. We had already

sailed by it, within five miles distance.

One feature of great interest in these latitudes is the presence of

sea-birds. The noble Albatross, the king of sea-birds, is almost always

in sight, floating in the air about the vessel, no matter how fast

she goes. Its wings seldom move, and what its propelling power is,

no one can tell. It seems to depend only on its volition. The Stormy

Petrel or "Mother Carey's Chicken," is here and everywhere else on the

ocean. The pretty white and black Cape Pigeons flock in the wake. We

caught several of these with small fish-hooks, and tried their value

as component parts of a pigeon-pie, but the flavor was rather strong

and oily. The homely, black Cape Hens are numerous also. They always

bring to my mind a scene witnessed on a former voyage. Coming on deck

one Sunday, I found the mate and passengers engaged in tying pieces

of pork and bits of red flannel at each end of a string and throwing

them overboard. The Cape Hens greedily swallowed the pork, and several

of them were flying about with streamers hanging from their mouths;

another trick was to tie several pieces of pork to the same string.

Two or three birds darting at these, and each swallowing a piece, they

would rise in the air tied together. I took the part of the hens on

this occasion, and let the mate brace the yards for a while.

The weather was cool in these latitudes, and it was no longer agreeable

to sit on deck. Our evenings were usually passed in the cabin, and I

employed some of the hours in reading to the passenger an account of

my experiences in the ship _Dublin_. I explained to him that it was

written while I was officer of a ship, and had no leisure to attempt

literary embellishment. Its sole object was to record the events

relating to the management of the crew, and I requested him to forbear

criticism of its style.

CHAPTER III.

THE VOYAGE OF THE "DUBLIN."

My first voyage, as officer, was made in the good ship "Dublin." She

was six hundred tons register, and of the style said to be built, Down

East, by the mile and sawed off. Her bow and stern were so square,

they gave an impression of truth to this statement, but for all that

she was a staunch, well built vessel, and though twenty-one years old

was still an able and trustworthy ship. Her worthy owner, one of the

merchant princes of Boston, used to go down on the wharf and rub his

hands with delight when the old "Dublin" came into port. She was his

favorite ship, and her blunt bow was more attractive to him than the

rakish model of the modern clippers. He would tell how the copper bolts

were driven into her, only one inch a day, to make them "fit solid;"

how the timbers were "scarfed" and "dowelled," and many other things

that it would need a ship builder's manual to interpret. He considered

a great honor had been done me, by the permission to go to sea as third

mate of her, and shook his head with misgivings when he heard that the

captain had engaged so young and inexperienced an officer. I had been

to sea four voyages, one of them over fourteen months around the world,

before the mast. I could hand, reef and steer, and do the ordinary

work on the rigging, as well as most sailors, so I did not consider my

presumption very great.

Captain Streeter, her commander, was a fine-looking man of about forty

years. He was tall and well formed, with dark complexion, black hair,

beard and moustache, and a coal-black, flashing eye that bespoke a

strong will and a passionate nature. He was very fluent in speech, and

gave the impression on a first hearing that he was what sailors call "a

blower."

When he engaged me, he gave a long and impressive harangue. He didn't

want an officer that was afraid of sailors, but at the same time he

allowed no one to abuse the crew, and especially objected to the use of

profane language, which he condemned as the most foolish of practices.

He appointed the day for me to come on board and I left him pleased

with my success, but with a lurking suspicion that my fair-talking

captain might prove to belong to the class known as "shore-saints

and sea-devils." The owner, however, was one of the best men living,

a noble philanthropist, and a vice-president of the Seamen's Friend

Society. I therefore felt some assurance that his ship would have a

respectable captain and be well conducted.

At six o'clock, one dark morning in the end of November, my fond father

bade me farewell at the door, as I left my pleasant home and its gentle

occupants, and trudged to East Boston, in a storm of sleet, to enter

upon a sphere and mingle with associates so contrasted, that I needed

no other illustration, for the next few months, to impress upon my mind

the two extremes of the future life.

The ship was bound to Richmond, Virginia, in ballast, there to load

a cargo of tobacco for the Mediterranean. In the forenoon, a negro

crew of fourteen men and two boys came on board. They were mostly fine

"strapping" fellows, with bright eyes and shining "ivories," and as we

proceeded down the bay they made the decks ring with their songs; the

main-topsail going to the mast-head to the tune of "Come down you bunch

o' roses, come down," and the fore-topsail halyards answering to the

strong pulls following the sentiment:

"Sally Brown's a bright Mulatto,

She drinks rum and chews tobacco."

A man who was loosing the mizzen-top-gallant-sail was heard to utter

some profane exclamations over the bunt gasket, which was made fast

with a knot that resisted all his efforts at untying, being what

sailors call "an anti-gallican hitch." As I have mentioned, Capt.

Streeter had remarked a few days before that he allowed no profane

language on board of his ship, and I wondered if he would take any

notice of this; but I did not wait long before having my curiosity

satisfied. The same thought probably came to the captain's mind, for

he stepped to where he could get a good look at the man, and then

began: "Button your lip up, or I'll knock spots out of you. I don't

allow swearing on board of this boat;" with more to the same effect,

accompanied by several profane epithets. It was evident that the

captain's fluency of speech was not limited to polite conversation, and

his consistency was explained by his remarking, at a future time, that

his rule on board ship was, "do as I order, not as I do."

The Pilot left at Boston Light. All hands were busily employed putting

things to rights, for a ship is seldom in order except when at sea.

There, men are constantly laboring to keep everything "ship-shape"

and tidy, and the moment the vessel is moored at the wharf, crew and

officers generally go over the side, stevedores, riggers and carpenters

take possession, and the decks are in a turmoil until she is again out

of the range of visitors.

It surprised me to see the captain interesting himself in all the

work, for in previous voyages its execution had been left entirely to

the officers. While the mate was securing the anchors, the captain

visited the top-gallant forecastle and offered suggestions, which the

high-spirited first officer treated with a contemptuous silence. The

black eyes shone with suppressed rage, and their owner transferred his

interference to the second mate's labors, which were being employed

in putting on chafing-gear. He soon worked this officer into such a

flurry, that he hardly knew whether he stood on his head or his heels,

and then after putting a stop to a job the carpenter had undertaken,

and peeping into the cook's boilers to see how much beef they

contained, to the delight of all, he disappeared into the cabin, but in

a few minutes his loud tones showed that the steward was the object of

his attentions.

In the evening, after the watches were chosen, the captain joined

the officers on deck and talked familiarly with us, illustrating his

remarks by anecdotes and comparisons more amusing than refined. We

were obliged to confess to each other that he was a very agreeable man

in private, and for a time forgot all the mental imprecations we had

bestowed on him during the day, on account of his interference with the

work.

The mate and second mate had a talk by themselves concerning their

duties, and the second mate, while expatiating upon his own good

qualifications, put his hand in his pocket and pulling out a pair of

brass knuckles put them upon his hand. Holding his fist up, he said:

"I always carry my tools with me, and if you ever want any work done,

you have only to say the word, and you'll find me on hand like Day and

Martin's blacking."

"I don't want you to let me see those things again, while you're on

board of this ship," said the mate.

"Why so; do you intend to let those sailors play Isaac and Josh with

you?"

"No," said the mate, "but when I can't keep men in order, without using

such weapons as that, I'll give up to some one who can. I never knew a

man yet who carried such things but he proved to be a coward at heart."

"No man can call me a coward," replied the second mate in an angry tone.

"Well," said the mate, "I hope you are not one, but I shall think

better of you if I hear nothing more about brass knuckles."

This was not a very pleasant opening of acquaintance, and both parties

took at the outset a dislike to each other.

I gained from each of them a brief account of their antecedents.

Mr. Morrison, the first mate, was a Scotchman by birth, about forty-two

years of age. He had been captain of English vessels, but having met

with misfortunes, concerning which he was very reticent, he had begun

to seek his fortune in the American merchant service. He was a short,

thick-set man, with a ruddy complexion and a cast of countenance

expressing courage and determination. His bearing was significant of

"Scotch pride." He was a man of much intelligence and had received a

good education.

Mr. Howard, the second mate, hailed from the State of Maine. He was of

medium height and well built, but had a brutal look and seemed ordinary

in intelligence. He frankly confided to me the immediate occasion of

his shipping in the "Dublin."

"Last voyage I was second mate of the 'Minerva.' We had a nigger crew

and used 'em pretty rough I must say; but I had 'em in such good

discipline that one day I got mad with a 'moke' about something and I

told him to lay his head down on the hatch for I was going to chop it

off. He did just as I told him, and though he thought I was going to

kill him, he didn't dare to move or say his soul was his own. That's

what I call good discipline.

"We kept them under well enough at sea, but when we got into Rio

Janeiro, what did the scamps do but set fire to the ship, and burn

her up; and two days after a gang of 'em caught me one evening in the

street, and gave me such a pounding that I couldn't see out of my eyes

for a fortnight. I believe they'd have killed me if the police hadn't

come along and rescued me. I vowed then I would sail just once more

with a nigger crew, and from what I hear of this captain, I think he's

just the man that'll suit me."

The "Dublin" had a fair start. In three days we sighted the Capes of

Virginia and in two more worked up the James River to City Point.

City Point then consisted of about twenty dwelling houses beside

the negroes' cabins, and had wharves at which the vessels lay while

receiving their cargoes of tobacco, which came to them in lighters from

the city of Richmond, about thirty miles above, the shallowness of the

river preventing anything but vessels of light draft from proceeding

there. The tobacco was packed in large hogsheads, weighing from one

thousand to eighteen hundred pounds, and as the crew hoisted them in

they kept up a song from morning till night. Negro stevedores from

the shore stowed them in the hold, and the captain spent almost all

his time down there, watching that they saved all the room possible,

frequently making them "break out" again, to the great disgust of the

negroes. I heard one of them saying to the others: "I nebber see such

a man as dis cap'n afore; he tinks he knows eberyting and nobody else

don't know nuffin."

There was of course nothing here to interest us beyond receiving our

tobacco, and when the ship was loaded to sixteen feet draft she dropped

down the river ten miles, into deeper water, and there completed her

cargo.

On a fine clear day in the end of December, we left the shore of

Virginia astern and steered for the Straits of Gibraltar. Fresh and

favorable winds prevailed for several days and we made good progress on

our voyage.

One evening the captain in a confidential mood read us some extracts

from the owner's letter of instructions, and was particularly merry

over the latter part of it, which read: "You will distribute to the men

the books and tracts which are supplied. You will endeavor to suppress

all vice and immorality on board of your vessel and use your best

efforts to promote the welfare of your crew."

The inmates of the ship now felt acquainted with each other, and as a

general thing their good opinions were very much modified.

Capt. Streeter having no taste for reading, and being a man of

energetic and active temperament, could not content himself in his

cabin, and was almost constantly on deck roaming about the ship,

criticizing every job of work, "in every body's mess and nobody's

watch."

When bracing yards, making or taking in sail, he would stand on top of

the house, and accompany his orders with volleys of oaths, provided

things were not done exactly to his mind. If the crew did not move

quite actively enough, and nothing in this way would suit him but the

"clean jump," every blackguard epithet that his fluent tongue and

inventive brain could command was heaped upon them: Scoundrels, black

scorpions, and names too filthy for utterance were their common titles

at such times, and when the men and officers did so well that he could

not find a point to censure, he seemed rather disappointed at losing an

opportunity for this favorite employment. Sailors call such a man, "a

blower."

At night no one was allowed to sit down on deck, and though no work was

to be done, the sailors had to keep on their legs. Such strict rules of

course gave the officers a good deal of disagreeable work. From eight

to twelve at night the men would have to walk the deck, unless engaged

in working ship, and when at four o'clock, A.M., they were roused out,

after four hours slumber, they could not always resist the temptation

to sit down on a spar, or lean over a water-cask. In spite of their

efforts to keep awake, their heads would drop upon their arms and they

would fall asleep.

If anyone wishes to experience something which in his recollections

will serve as a synonym for misery, let him sail in such a ship and

stand the morning watch. In the hour from four to five as he stumbles

about the deck, endeavoring to drive away the drowsiness that weighs

down his eyelids, he will feel a wretchedness, which, unless he is a

very unfortunate man, will seldom, if ever, be surpassed during his

life.

The mate failed to carry out these orders very strictly, as he knew

it could only be done by harsh measures; for though his fiery temper

often led him to strike a blow at some unlucky sailor, he despised

all premeditated schemes to abuse or oppress them. Besides this, he

thought he saw through the captain's character. He imagined that he was

anxious to gain for the "Dublin" the reputation of being a "hard" ship,

provided his officers would do all the necessary "dirty work," but was

unwilling to expose himself to the present dangers of fighting, or the

future disgrace of lawsuits. Their relations to each other were not

very pleasant, for the mate was jealous of the captain's interference

with his work, and the captain, perceiving his state of mind, attempted

to retaliate by little acts of oppression, of which one will be

sufficient to show the spirit.

The mate's room was very small. His only convenience for writing up his

log book was at a narrow standing desk, where he was too much cramped

to do it neatly.

At the beginning of the passage he sat down at the table in the forward

cabin to perform this part of his duty, and the captain coming from his

spacious after-cabin found him there at work. Upon seeing him he drew

himself up, and in a pompous way said: "Mr. Morrison, I want you to

understand that my cabin table isn't a writing desk for officers."

"Oh, indeed," said the mate. "I've always been accustomed to have the

use of it even for my private writing, and I had no idea you would

object to my writing the ship's log here."

"You must learn you ai'n't aboard one of your lime-juice ships now,"

was the courteous response, and the mate retired to his room, his

Scotch pride and temper almost overcoming his desire to respect the

captain.

But the second mate was a man after the captain's own heart. It was

only necessary to show him the way to the captain's good graces, and

his subservience joined to his own brutal passions made him an earnest

disciple.

The crew were a pretty independent and saucy set of negroes, and

required a strict hand to keep them under. From the very first there

had been almost daily little difficulties, and at one time at City

Point a general knock-down was only prevented by the mate's interfering

between the second mate and a sailor, to the great wrath of the former.

A few days after leaving the Chesapeake, Mr. Howard was going around

the deck at about half-past four in the morning, and found a man

called Brooks sitting down and nodding. He awakened him very suddenly

by raising him up by the ears, and then set the whole watch to work

bracing the yards "in" a little. The men were sleepy, and cross at this

"humbugging," for they knew the wind had not altered at all, and this

was merely a "work up job." They were not very prompt with their Aye,

aye, sir.

"Haul in the top-gallant-brace" said the officer.

No answer followed, but he saw the order was obeyed.

"Belay!"

Still no answer.

"Sing out," said he; "if you don't open your gills I'll slaughter you.

Haul in the royal-brace!"

No answer.

He turned in a rage and catching hold of Brooks, who was nearest him,

gave him a blow with his brass knuckles that would have unsettled any

ordinary head. But the darkey's skull was not very sensitive, and he at

once drew his sheath-knife, and stabbed Howard in the abdomen. He had

on thick clothes, and the knife after cutting through them inflicted

only a small flesh wound. Howard was rather frightened by this episode,

and not knowing how badly he was cut, upon seeing the other men seize

handspikes and belaying pins ready to join Brooks, in case of any

further attack, he thought it best to retreat. After breakfast he

reported the case to the captain, who sent for Brooks to come into the

cabin, where he took his position with a pistol and a fathom of ratline

stuff. Having shut the door, so that there should be no witnesses, he

made the man take off his shirt; and then flogged him till the blood

flowed down his back, and the man's cries and promises made him desist.

The captain's prompt espousal of the second mate's cause showed that he

would stand by his officers, and it had the effect of making the crew

more respectful and careful.

Being the third mate, I was of course in the mate's watch; my duty

was to follow up the execution of the mate's orders, and look after

the little details of work. I must know the place for everything

and see that it was in its place. When the decks were cleared up at

night, if the mate in his inspection spied a stray marline-spike or

serving-board, it was the third mate who had to answer for it. If a

sailor wanted spunyarn or seizing-stuff to work with, it was the third

mate who must know where to find it and run and get it, or if the

lockers were not in order or the tar-barrel fetched adrift he was the

first looked at for blame. In his turn of course he could growl at the

sailors, but that was rather poor satisfaction, and he had not filled

his office many days before he came to the conclusion that it was a

most thankless billet, and that a third mate's portion contained "a

larger share of kicks than of coppers." I was only nineteen years old.

The sailors looked upon me as a youngster, and were not inclined to be

particularly respectful, thinking I wouldn't dare to use force with

them.

The captain watched me very closely, wishing to train me up in the

way I should go, and many a harsh-sounding order or rebuke I got from

him on deck, all the more galling because given in the presence of

the men. But personally the captain seemed favorably inclined toward

me, or else he feared lest I might make a report of his doings to the

owner, and thus sought frequent opportunities to talk with me and

smooth over my ruffled feelings. It is not customary for a captain to

have any conversation with a third mate, and I was not quite sure as

to his motive, though I leaned to the latter opinion, judging from

the tenor of all his stories, talk and advice, which was to the sole

end of discipline, or, perhaps more exactly, of fighting sailors. In

consulting with the mate as to this he gave me a decided opinion. "All

the old man wants," said he, "is to have you tarred with the same brush

as himself, and then he thinks you wouldn't injure him ashore, for you

know it doesn't do for the pot to call the kettle black."

One day we were reefing the mizzen-topsail and I was astride of the

yard-arm hauling out the weather earing. The captain saw from the deck

that the men had not gathered up all the slack sail on top of the yard,

before tying the reef-points; and he at once set up a roar of mingled

oaths and orders, which, with a storm howling past my ears produced a

bewildering effect. With some difficulty I divined the pith of his

remarks, and gave the necessary directions; but this was not enough for

the captain, who sang out to me, "What's the use of sitting there and

talking to them, get up on the yard and kick their heads off." A good

deal more followed, but I was too angry to hear anything else and paid

no attention.

The captain saw that I was rather out of sorts for the rest of the

day, and in the dog-watch came up to me as I was leaning against the

booby-hatch and began in his pleasant fluent way to tell me a story.

"You never met Mr. Jones of Baltimore did you?"

"No sir, I never did."

"Well, he was my second mate, when I had the ship 'Daphne' in the China

trade."

I had heard from good authority on shore that the "Dublin" was the only

ship Capt. Streeter had ever commanded, and since being at sea with him

I had learned that Mr. Jones was his ideal officer, and whenever he

wished to give a hint to his present mates upon points where he felt he

could not command, his favorite and usual method was to convey it in a

story about Mr. Jones, and Mr. Jones' name had already become a by-word

among the officers. I knew what was coming and prepared to receive

instructions.

"Mr. Jones," continued the captain, "never went aloft to reef topsails

without having a belaying pin stuck into the leg of his boot. He used

to take his stand in the slings of the yard, and if the sail wasn't

picked up pretty lively, before you could count twenty he would have

been out on both yard-arms, and hit every man a tap on the head that

made 'em take hold like young tigers. Then when the sail was reefed

he'd sing out, 'lay down,' and as every man got into the rigging, if

he wasn't mighty spry, he'd get helped along with a kick, and then

he followed the last man down and jumped on his head and shoulders,

if he could overtake him. I tell you it was fun to see them scatter

when he said 'lay down.' They would come sliding down the backstays

like a parcel of monkeys, and once a Dutchman, who happened to be the

last man, and saw the second mate's boots just above his head, got so

frightened that he jumped down from half way up the main-rigging and

broke his leg. I had to scold Jones though a little for that, as the

galoot was laid up the rest of the voyage."

"I should think that was rather poor economy," said I, "to lose a man's

labor for several months, for the sake of gaining a few seconds time in

getting down from aloft."

"It paid though, after all," answered the captain, "for Jones could get

as much work out of six men as _some_ could out of a dozen. It's worse

economy to be too humane with sailors."

"If that is being a smart officer I hardly think I shall become one,"

said I.

"I'll tell you what it is, you'll never make one unless you give up

some of your conscientious scruples. I must say you do very well about

your work, but you're too humane a man to go to sea, and if you want to

get along in this profession you've got to leave your nice principles

on shore. There's no religion off soundings. The captain of a ship has

got to be a liar, a cheat, a swearer, a fighter and a tyrant; in fact,

if you mean to be a good mate or a good captain you've got to be a

rascal."

"If good principles are good for anything they are good for

everything," I replied, "and if what you say is true, either this is a

profession no one ought to follow or else religion is a sham and ought

to be hove overboard entirely. A good God would never have imposed laws

upon us which would interfere with our necessary occupations, and I

don't believe he meant the Golden Rule to be confined to the shore."

"That all sounds very fine," said the captain, "and perhaps you'd

better knock off going to sea and set up for a parson. But you mark my

words, if you go to sea, you'll have to give up your principles sooner

or later, and you may as well make up your mind to it now. I've seen

a good many that started as fair as you've done, but it didn't last

long. But here we've got proof right alongside of us. Just look at Mr.

Howard's watch there. Every time he opens his mouth you see them piling

along like greased lightning, and he gets half a dozen answers for

every order. But your men don't answer you half the time, and they move

slower than real estate in Chelsea.

"Now if you saw a man walking alongside of a high brick wall, and you

politely asked him to step along a little faster, he'd stop and look at

you; but if you told him the brick wall was tumbling down over his head

you'd see how quick he'd make the dust fly. It's just so with a sailor,

if you are civil to him he won't care a curse for you, but if you let

him know there's something coming down on his head he'll move quick and

respect you. A man didn't answer Mr. Jones once, and he just picked up

the carpenter's caulking mallet and hit him over the head. He never had

to speak twice to him after that."

Finding the captain had got back to his favorite Mr. Jones, I thought

it was of no use to prolong the talk, and it being my watch below I

went to my room. Sitting down upon my chest I thought of the contrast

between the captain's instructions and the teachings of home, and

wondered if I must abandon the latter. It was very evident that there

was not the strict discipline in the mate's watch that there was in

the second mate's, and the captain's comparisons galled me; but it

seemed to me that the discipline in our watch was good enough; the

men did their duty well and were respectful, except that they were not

always particular about answering and sometimes walked along the deck

to ordinary work, whereas the second mate's men always ran, knowing

that a belaying pin or stick of fire-wood would be hurled after them if

they didn't. I felt the captain was right in saying that such strict

discipline could not be maintained, except by working on the fears

of the men, but the question with me was whether it was necessary to

be so strict. Our men in a squall, or gale of wind, would be just as

smart as the second mate's. It was only in ordinary and comparatively

unimportant work that they were at all behind-hand, and I made up

my mind that a system which necessarily required inhumanity and a

sacrifice of honorable principles must be wrong, and I would have as

little to do with it as possible. Opening my chest I took out a bundle

of letters and selected one from my father. It was an answer to one I

had written from City Point, in which I spoke of the severe discipline

which was maintained on board the "Dublin," and the course which was

required of the officers, and asked for advice.

The reply was as follows: "I see that you are partaking of the

responsibilities of life. I should wink at some things--not see them.

I would not be what they call a 'martinet' in discipline, making much

of little things, and enforcing little rules with an air of authority.

But I would establish my character with the men for good nature,

making them feel that in not obeying they offend against kindness. I

do believe that the Gospel contains all the principles necessary to

guide us in government, and that the ways in which God treats us may

often safely be adopted. Men are very sensitive to kindness. If you

have opportunity to show it without risking authority, it is well. I

do not believe that it is necessary to speak always in a tone of stern

authority. I would be very slow to strike if I were you. But remember

that you are now one of the 'powers that be,' and they are 'ordained of

God.' He will help you govern if you look to him, for government is a

divine ordinance; and a third mate is as really government as Lords of

Admiralty or Secretary of the Navy."

After reading this over again, I imagined how Capt. Streeter would

sneer at the idea of influencing sailors by kindness, and could almost

hear him saying, "The only thing that will influence a sailor is a

belaying-pin. Be kind to them and they'll only laugh at you."

When twelve days out the welcome cry of "Land, ho!" was heard in the

morning, and in the horizon, above a low, narrow bank of clouds,

appeared the top of the mountain on Pico, one of the "Western Islands,"

or Azores, at least sixty miles distant. This mountain is over 7,500

feet high, and can be seen in a clear day one hundred miles at

sea. In the afternoon we passed to the southward of, and near to,

Fayal, then by Pico, catching a glimpse of St. George's Island in the

distance between them. The rich verdure of these islands and their

elevations--for Fayal has a mountain of three thousand feet--were

pleasant changes from the blue and level waters; and all enjoyed that

beautiful afternoon as we glided swiftly by these mid-ocean oases. Even

the captain and second mate laid aside their accustomed scowl, and not

an oath polluted the balmy atmosphere. St. Michael's was passed on the

starboard hand in the evening, and the next day we came up with an

English schooner bound from London to St. Michael's, but steering for

Spain. Capt. Streeter told the skipper that he had sighted the island

the evening before, and gave him his longitude. The schooner turned

about and steered in the other direction.

It was blowing a pleasant westerly breeze this day; but at noon a

school of porpoises came dashing along, passed the ship's bow without

stopping to play around it, as they are so fond of doing, and made

away towards the north-east. The captain said it was a sure sign that

the wind was coming from that quarter; for sailors regard it as an

established fact that porpoises either go "head to the wind," or else

towards the quarter of a coming breeze.

The porpoises and the captain were right this time. The wind gradually

hauled around by the N. to N.E., and by night the ship was braced sharp

up on the port tack. The Mother Carey's chickens were flitting about in

the ship's wake very actively, uttering their feeble chirps with more

animation than usual. The captain, noticing them, and at the same time

perceiving a low bank of clouds to windward, predicted a speedy advent

of the gale. He proved a correct interpreter of the signs. We were

called out in the night to shorten sail, and for twenty-four hours were

hove to under the close-reefed main-topsail. Speaking of the Mother

Carey's chickens, the captain asked me if I ever had smelt one, and

said:

"I once caught one with a hook and line, and killed it, thinking I

would stuff it; but I had not got far along with the work before the

odor made me sick, and I hove it overboard. Though it was eight years

ago, the smell is on my hands still. You know they say, that all the

sailors that die at sea turn into Mother Carey's chickens, and the

captains into albatrosses; and I expect this odor hangs on to me

because I love sailors so well. But I must give you a chance to judge

for yourself."

A day or two after, in a calm, he shot one at a little distance from

the ship, and made one of the boys jump overboard and swim for it, in

spite of his dread of sharks. When he had obtained it he roused me out

of a sound nap to come out and smell of it, very much to my disgust. I

found its odor was, to say the least, rather disagreeable.

The afternoon before making the land, the captain ordered the mate

to get the anchors on to the rail and bend the chains. Mr. Morrison

proceeded to carry out the order, but to his great annoyance Capt.

Streeter came forward and kept putting in his oar, giving suggestions

and directions. This was a thing so peculiarly in the mate's province,

which, if one did not understand it, would prove him lacking in

the lowest qualifications for a mate's situation, that the worthy

official's temper was greatly aroused. He suppressed it for a time; but

at each interference his face grew redder and redder, and when at last

the captain told him that the ring of the anchor ought to be brought

closer up to the cat-head, the storm burst forth, and turning around

with a fiery face and defiant eye, he said, "Capt. Streeter, just go

aft and mind your own business; I can take care of the anchors."

"I want you to know that I am captain of this ship, and I'll do what I

please," answered the captain, pale with rage.

"I know you're cap'n; but I want you to know the owners put me aboard

to be mate, and I've let you do my work long enough."

All the men stood amazed at the mate's daring in thus confronting our

ferocious captain, and looked for nothing short of his being murdered;

but to our great surprise the captain cooled down, and in a mild,

persuasive way said: "But, Mr. Morrison, just look at the philosophy of

the thing," (a favorite phrase with him), "you see if that anchor--"

"There's no philosophy about it," burst out the mate's sharp voice.

"I don't want to have any talk with you. I'll only treat you with the

contempt you deserve," and turning his back towards him, he drowned

another mild reply by shouting: "Lower away the fish-tackle!" and

giving continuous orders to the men. The captain, finding himself

literally checkmated, walked aft, apparently calm, but with a tempest

raging within. He sat down on the booby-hatch, and tried to devise

some means of humiliating the mate. His schemes always reached their

culminating point in his brick-wall theory, but when he thought of the

expediency of applying it in this case, and letting the brick-wall come

down on Mr. Morrison's head, he muttered: "He's such a fiery tempered

man, I guess it won't do."

As soon as the mate had got the anchors placed, he told me to secure

them and to clear up, and then went aft, thinking he might as well

settle matters now, if they needed any more settlement.

The men all took sly glances after him, and whispered to each other

that they thought there'd be a fight now; and some offered to bet the

mate would come out best. The captain was very much the mate's superior

in size and build; but the latter was a perfect tiger when aroused, and

was just as fearless, in fact, as the captain in his harangues to his

officers pretended to be.

As soon as he got aft the captain caught a glance of his eye, and

his brick-wall plans were entirely dispelled. In a conciliatory tone

he began, "Mr. Morrison, I think there's no need of your getting so

excited about a little thing. You know every one has their little ways."

"I know you have," said the mate, "and very contemptible ones they

are. I came aboard of this ship with as good a will as ever a man had,

and meant to do my duty faithfully, but you've interfered with all my

work; you stop every job that I get under way, and though I've been

twenty-five years to sea, I'm not trusted even to bend a jib or brace

the foreyard."

"But you know I'm captain of the ship, Mr. Morrison."

"Then you ought to keep in the captain's place, unless there's nobody

below you that knows anything. But from the first day I came on board,

you've undertaken to do my work, and you don't know whether I am

capable of it or not; and you've done it so poorly, I'm ashamed to have

the ship go into port. I've always seen a captain show some respect

to his mate; but you never have a civil word for me on duty, and your

silly, lying stories don't make up for it."

"You must make allowances," replied the captain; "you can't expect a

man always to be smooth-tempered. When Mr. Jones was with me, I--"

"Mr. Jones was a fool, if all you say of him is true," interrupted the

mate. "No one with any respect for himself can make allowance enough

for you; your knock-down principles and vile language are disgraceful."

For every word the captain advanced, the mate brought out two dozen,

and so fast there was no interrupting him. At last the captain found a

retreat by noticing that the sails were lifting, and he gave the order

to brace forward the yards and take in the lower-studding-sail. Going

to the cabin he for once left the mate to work alone, and afterwards

found some relief to his pent up rage by calling the two boys to come

aft with a watch-tackle and taughten up the ropes.

There was kept hanging up in front of the cabin a fathom of ratline

stuff, doubled up and seized, so as to make a loop for the hand and

bring the two ends together. Slipping this over his hand and shaking

the ends, he called out the ropes to the boys, and if they made any

mistake, or were not quite lively enough, he gave them what he called a

dose of rope-yarn tea, by bringing the "cat" down on their backs. This

treatment made them so bewildered and frightened that they made all the

more blunders, and half of the time got hold of the wrong ropes, giving

the captain an excuse for beating them to his heart's content.

He found this such a good relief for a pent-up temper that he

frequently put it in practice, when galled by the mate's contempt

and indifference, and all through the voyage the boys were made the

scape-goats for Mr. Morrison's sins against the captain.

That evening the captain told me that if the night was fine he expected

to sight Cape Spartel, the point of the African coast at the entrance

of the Straits, before morning, as it was mountainous land and could

be seen sixty or eighty miles. At 2, A.M., the lookout discovered it

on the starboard bow. I went into the cabin, and waking up the captain

said to him:

"Cape Spartel is in sight, sir!"

"What!" said he, in a very sharp tone.

I repeated it, and went on deck.

Soon the captain came out and after looking at the land, without

addressing any one, began to swear in a loud tone, saying, "I expect

my officers will take charge of the ship soon, for even the third mate

undertakes to tell me what land we make." A good deal more followed

about "making them know their place."

When he had gone below I asked the mate, what all this breeze meant?

The mate asked me what I said to the captain when I called him, and

then said to me, "The old man must be raving because you said Cape

Spartel is in sight, instead of saying 'there's land in sight.'"

"Well, I must say, he is stuck up," said I. "I asked him the other

day what the longitude was, and I thought he was going to eat me up,

he gave me such a savage look, and all the satisfaction I got was the

information that it was the first time a third mate had ever asked him

such a question. He makes so free with me telling his dirty stories and

spinning yarns about Mr. Jones, that it didn't occur to me I was going

to insult his dignity by asking such a question."

"I could tell him," said the mate, "that he is the first captain I ever

knew to spin yarns to his third mate. His dignity begins at the wrong

place. If he wants his officers to respect him, he must show himself

worthy of respect, instead of being the blackguard that every true man

must loathe."

There was this peculiarity about the cabin, that sounds from the deck

could be heard there very distinctly, and as the mate was in the habit

of holding forth to me in a night-watch concerning the captain's

character, that individual often got the benefit of it. It was contrary

to his idea of discipline also to have any conversation carried on

between officers on duty, and only a few days before he had told me

that he did not wish me to talk with the mate.

All these remarks just made found their way to the captain's opened

ears. To put a stop to it he came out on deck, and passing by us walked

aft without saying a word. Upon looking in the binnacle he saw by the

compass that the ship was a point off her course, and jumping to the

rail he drew out a belaying pin and struck the man at the wheel two

or three blows on the head. He then went around the lee side into the

cabin, and the mate coming aft found the helmsman crying, and learned

the cause.

The next forenoon brought the ship into the Straits of Gibraltar, and

the interesting scenery did a little towards relieving the ill-humor

which had settled on all both fore and aft, in consequence of the

events of the last twenty-four hours. The wind was from the eastward,

dead ahead, and as the ship beat from shore to shore through its length

of fifty miles, striking and constantly changing views were presented

by the rugged African mountains on one hand, the more fertile Spanish

hills on the other, and ahead, the noble and world-renowned Rock of

Gibraltar, three miles in length and 1600 feet high. Its outlines

well represent a crouching lion, an appropriate symbol of its silent

batteries, ready at a moment's notice to pour forth destruction upon an

approaching foe. A strong current runs almost always from the Atlantic

into the Mediterranean, though modified by an easterly wind, and this

helped the "Dublin" to windward, so that at night she passed Gibraltar

looming up high and dark against the starlit sky.

That evening the captain tried his usual panacea upon my moodiness, I

being the only officer he seemed anxious to propitiate, for reasons

best known to himself. His conversation comprised stories about "Mr.

Jones," and explanations of the "philosophy of the thing" as applied

to currents, which in this case he demonstrated, that as water cannot

always run into a place unless some runs out, there must be a hole

underneath the Isthmus of Suez to let it run through into the Red Sea.

And then he evidenced that he was not insensible to the influence of

the noble scenes and historical interest which had surrounded us that

day, by remarking how much of a charm it gave to sea-life to visit such

interesting localities, and he added: "How pleasant it is too, to think

that we are going to visit the land where our Saviour was born!"

I was almost as much astonished by the fact of the captain's mentioning

that name calmly and soberly, as at the information that Christ was

born in Italy. I had already measured his stock of knowledge, and had

received many similar pieces of information before, which, knowing the

captain's conceitedness and temper, I thought it good policy not to

contradict; though even my usual reply of, "Is it so, sir?" sometimes

aroused his ire, as implying a doubt of his correctness in making

assertions; such, for instance, as, that Gibraltar belonged to France,

or that the clouds were six hundred miles above the earth, or that

the moon had no influence over the tides. I felt inclined to try the

experiment, if it was possible to convince him of an error, or rather

to make him acknowledge one--a matter upon which I had great doubt. I

cautiously said: "Christ wasn't born in Italy, was he, sir?"

"Of course not," said the captain; "haven't you read the Bible enough

to know that? I mean Europe; doesn't Italy belong to Europe?"

"Yes, sir," I replied; "but I've always understood that Christ was born

in Palestine, which is a country of Asia."

"Of course he was," said the captain. "I know that very well; and

that's just what I meant to say. We're going to visit that part of

the world where Christ was born. Europe, Asia and Africa make one

hemisphere, don't they?"

"Yes, sir."

"And isn't America a separate one?"

"Yes, sir: one is called the Eastern, and the other the Western

hemisphere."