At Spithead--Admiral’s Inspection--Sail to Plymouth--Departure
from England--My first Look-out--How to see--Phosphorescent
Waves--Making Sail--Our two Gun-boats--The _Plover’s_ Hawser
breaks--A Growl--Calms and Breezes--A Day’s Routine--Work and
Watches--Land ho! The Peak of Teneriffe--Anchor off Santa Cruz--A
Run on Shore--Mules, Fishwomen, and Shopkeepers--To Sea again--A
Taste of Black List--Strike me lucky--Guy Fawkes--Equatorial
Weather--Coming down anyhow--A Bit of Fun--Buckets and Hoses--A
Drencher for Captain and Chaplain--Cross the Line--Shaving and
Bathing--Besiegers and besieged--An Officer’s Honour, and a Pig’s
Feathers--Make him speak, Bulldogs--Shipmates and Messmates--A
rough Lick and Black-List.
On the 2nd of October, 1856, we steamed out of harbour to Spithead,
where we bent sails, got powder aboard, and prepared for admiral’s
inspection. Sir George Seymour, Port-Admiral, came next day, mustered
and inspected us. No sooner was the business ended, and he over the
side, than it was “up anchor,” “loose sails;” and before half an hour
had elapsed the _Highflyer_ was under all plain sail, and heading away
for Plymouth Sound, where we had to pick up a couple of gun-boats--the
_Opossum_ and _Plover_--for convoy to China. We ‘beat’ all the way in
the teeth of a westerly gale, with plenty of rain and cross lumpy sea,
and entered the Sound on the 4th, during the afternoon, and anchored
inside the breakwater. We could see nothing of importance, as the two
days we lay there were miserably wet and boisterous, and some of the
men, natives of the place, said, “’Twas regular west-country weather,
for Plymouth was the last place God A’mighty ever made.”
Our two little charges had been waiting for us some time, having fitted
out at the port, so they were not sorry when, having filled up with
all needful stores, we made the signal, ‘Prepare to weigh;’ and on a
beautiful October afternoon, and in a complete but not unpleasant calm,
we steamed from behind the quiet shelter of the breakwater, with a
tender on each side of us. Ere long the land appeared as a blue bank in
the distance, and the waves, which curled and frothed under our bows,
were those of the vast Atlantic; and our long voyage to the East had
commenced.
Although I felt a sad emotion at leaving Old England, and crossing the
wide ocean for the first time, yet the pleasurable feeling of love for
novelty predominated. A new ship, new companions, rather different
duties, different chiefs, and, above all, the thought of seeing such
a number of strange things and countries; all these combined, had I
attempted to give way to sadness, would have soon dispelled the cloud,
and showed me the bright side and no other. My first night’s watch was
another novelty, and I felt very proud when it came to my turn to go
on the ‘look-out;’ and I strained my eyes to the utmost, in order to
let nothing escape notice. If any one had accosted me then I should,
perhaps, have felt too important to answer, so great an idea had I of
the responsibility of my post; and, in truth, it is a responsible post,
for often through the sleepiness of the look-out, or his carelessness,
sad sights has the pale moon looked upon. Our superiors were very
strict with us on these occasions; a look-out caught napping, or “doing
his eyes good,” remained there for another hour, or sometimes all the
watch; and in daytime, if on the look-out at the mast-head, and you
fail to see a sail before it is seen from the deck, you get a good
wigging. To inexperienced, and at times to experienced eyes, mistakes
will happen; for often, after gazing till your eyes ache, the distant
speck turns out to be nothing, or you see something, you are not quite
certain. Look hard again, wink, rub your eyes, wink again; and then,
sure enough, on the distant horizon you see a speck (which would be
invisible to untrained eyes) like a snow-cloud, so white is it, but
the shape is unmistakable; so putting your hand to your mouth to drive
the sound downwards, you sing out, “Sail on the port beam, sir!” “Very
good,” responds the officer of the watch; and the result of the winking
and eye-rubbing is all over. This is not like the elaborate naval talk
which we read in novels of sea-life and adventure: it does not display
any sentiment, but is quite practical and every-day like.
Having nothing to do when I came off my post at the end of my hour, I
looked over the netting at the water, for a proof of what I had read
of its luminous appearance. All round the bows, as the waves dashed
against them, appeared like liquid flame, and the ship’s wake was a dim
track of phosphorescent light.
I seemed to enjoy being in so large a steam-ship, and was fond
of looking down the engine-room hatchways at the ponderous but
beautifully-working machinery; and long afterwards, when steaming in
calm nights, and everything on deck was quiet, I used to fancy the
engines said, as they steadily revolved, _Going ahead, sir--going
ahead, sir_. For three days we held on our tranquil course, under
steam, with smooth and clear water, and no indications of a breeze.
At last, in the forenoon of the fourth day, it came; the engines
were stopped, the propeller had to take a holiday, and the boatswain
soon gave us work by piping “Up screw;” the little iron capstan was
speedily rigged, and we merrily danced the screw up for the first time.
“Away aloft; loose sails,” was the next order; and soon the ship was
covered in a cloud of canvas, and casting off the towing hawsers of the
gun-boats we sailed for some time merrily in company. But the breeze
freshening we soon outsailed them; and when one dropped rapidly astern
we took in our royals and hauled down flying-jib, but as the little
craft did not crawl up to us we wore and stood towards her. In all
this shortening and making sail I took an active part, because, being
fore-royal yardman, I had to loose and furl whenever the order was
given; but I liked it, and the motion of the ship was not quite new to
me. But before long the weather changed, becoming suddenly squally and
rainy, and the wind increasing we took in a reef. The gun-boats made
capital weather of it, and we always endeavoured, by keeping under easy
sail, not to lose sight of them.
My first Sunday at sea was not very encouraging; it was wet and stormy;
and after being drenched for four hours on deck I was at liberty to go
below into a stifling atmosphere, and with an empty stomach for another
four hours. “Who wouldn’t be a sailor?”
We were enjoying the fine weather that followed the three foul ones,
when a little incident occurred, which of course all had expected; the
_Plover’s_ good nine-inch cable-laid towing hawser parted. “Shorten
sail” again, of course: the royals were taken off, and the stunsails,
in a cloud of fluttering canvas, were hauled down for the time. The
hauling in of the hawser was not got through without some growling.
One old fellow--Frank by name--a notorious hand at it, saying, “Ah! if
this here’s going to be the game every other day, I know I’ll wish them
gun-boats to blazes!” “Well, you no call to growl, old Frank; we ain’t
hardly started yet.” “Hallo! Mouth Almighty; is that you?” retorts old
Frank. The hawser was soon spliced, and, by means of a line with a buoy
attached, paid out to the gun-boat; and we took her in tow once more.
The next incident that enlivened the monotony of our routine was the
sight of a fine shark, which we coaxed, but in vain, with all sorts of
delicate baits. Then it fell calm, and for forty-eight hours we were
rolling and straining about with an ocean around us like glass, but
whose bosom heaving with the long heavy swell tossed the buoyant craft
about anyhow. Then the breeze blew once more, and we youngsters began
to look eagerly for land; and we quite envied the man at the mast-head
his chance of first seeing famed Teneriffe. But before we do see it,
let’s have a look at our daily routine at sea.
Four A.M., “Watch and idlers to muster” (cooks, stewards, and boys,
are termed idlers). Five A.M., “Watch and idlers coil up ropes; wash
and scrub upper deck.” Three-quarters of an hour, “Coil down ropes.”
Then, if all plain sail were on the ship, “Reset sail; take another
pull of all halyards; _sweat_ the light sails up _taut_.” Seven A.M.,
breakfast. Half an hour, “Call the watch; watch below clean lower
deck;” watch on deck as requisite. “Divisions;” prayers. Twelve noon,
dinner. Two P.M., “Call afternoon watch;” employed on deck. At four,
“Call the first dog-watch.” And so on, with but little variation from
day to day; nothing meeting one’s gaze but the boundless waste of wild
blue water, enlivened now and then by a sail.
At last, on the morning of the 22nd, we sighted land from the
mast-head, and ere long it was visible from deck, looming grandly on
our starboard bow. The peak itself towering majestically above the
clouds, and capped with snow, was a grand and striking sight as we
drew nearer and nearer, till evening. We lay ‘on and off’ the island
all night, and getting the first of the sea-breeze at daybreak of the
23rd, sailed into Santa Cruz roadstead, clewing up and furling all
sails, and giving the governor a salute of twenty-one guns, which was
rather promptly returned by the lazy Spanish soldiers from one of the
dilapidated and worn-out looking forts.
It was a great treat to me, and in fact most of us youngsters, to look
upon land again, and get a glimpse of green trees and quiet-looking
houses. The island has a rocky and sterile appearance from the sea.
I went once on shore, and of course I saw the houses, vineyards,
churches, and Plaza, which latter, during some of the work-days, has a
very lively appearance. Mules do most, if not all, the goods traffic,
and it is amusing to watch the drivers as they shout, and cut all
sorts of capers at their animals, which patiently toil on down to the
landing-place with their different loads. First, they launch forth a
long string of abuse; and secondly, they deliver a most unmerciful
shower of blows on the backs of the poor beasts. These muleteers are
generally fine men. The dress of the fish-women on the landing struck
me as being very picturesque, and it is a pretty sight to see them with
their baskets of fish on the beach, the rays of the early morning sun
falling happily on their red and blue scarfs and snowy white aprons,
and still more showy head-dress. They wear no shoes or stockings. It
seemed to me that the town had a very eastern look about it, on account
of the houses being only two stories, and flat-roofed and whitewashed.
The streets are wide, and pretty clean. The shopkeepers didn’t appear
to be overburdened with business: many were sitting at their doors,
dreamily smoking their pipes in the warm noonday sunshine.
We lay here five days, taking in fuel and provisions, and early on
the morning of the 28th the screw was again set in motion, and out
we steamed, with our two chicks in tow, and away we sped on the open
sea, with smooth water beneath us and a bright sky above, until the
wind helped us once more; and very pleasant did our southward course
appear to me. But one day the first-lieutenant ordered me with a
message to one of the engineers. I couldn’t find the man, and in my
simplicity came back and reported my failure to the officer. “Oh, you
can’t! To the mast-head with you! Up ye go, now!” So up I went, and
sat there for two hours, and when I came down, without any word of
ado or explanation, he gave me “four days’ number two black list,”
which, interpreted, means I had to drink my grog on the quarter-deck,
and stand there for one hour at dinner-time, and again for an hour
and a half in the evening, during my own time. In this way a little
variety was made in one or two of my pleasant days within the tropics.
Of course shipmates and messmates make remarks upon one another’s
punishment. “Well, John,” says Briggs to me, “what did ye get? what
did he do to you?” “Oh, so and so!” “Well, strike me lucky, I’m blest
if that ain’t a shame! I hope the black muzzled rascal’ll croak afore
morning,” are some of the expressions used on such occasions.
On the 5th of November we made up a guy, and having paraded him round
the decks, and sung in memorable verse his atrocious crime, triced him
up to the foreyard-arm, with a lantern tied to his feet, the admiration
of all beholders; after which he was hauled down and well tarred,
and we set him on fire and hove him overboard. He floated a long way
astern, blazing fiercely, till one wave bigger than the rest doused his
light, and we gave three hearty cheers at his double punishment.
On the 12th we neared the line, and began to have a specimen of
equatorial weather: tremendously hot, with squalls and rain, not such
rain as I had been used to; but it “came down anyhow,” and, as Jack
would say, “it hadn’t time to rain.” It seemed to me as if the words
were literally verified, “And the windows of heaven were opened.” The
thunder and lightning in these regions made a great impression on me. I
had formed a kind of vague idea of the thing, but the reality, on the
open sea and at night, quite undeceived me.
Of course we had a bit of fun on the line; old hands know all about it,
but this is to amuse boys. The evening of the day before we crossed we
were made aware of our trespass on Neptune’s estate by the tops being
alive with men, who drew up water in fire-buckets with long lanyards
from alongside, and hove it down on the astonished mob beneath. Hoses
were laid along the decks from the foremost pumps, and these being
well manned below, those on deck, who of course were passed hands,
pointed their spouts at whom they pleased. I went on deck with only a
thin pair of cotton drawers on. I hadn’t been up ten minutes before
the hose had been pointed at me often, and I soon took rather an
active part in being drenched and drenching. The hose spared nobody,
not even the captain, an old sailor. I see the gallant chief as he
appeared that evening; he was coming leisurely up the companion-ladder,
as was his wont, when the hissing column of water, aimed full in his
face, utterly surprised him for the moment; but he soon recovered,
and fisting a bucket of water which stood handy, capsized it over his
tormentor. Our good chaplain, too, was most pitiably drenched, and was
fain to betake himself below again with all possible speed. This was
the prologue. The next day, 14th, we crossed the line, and now, boys,
pay attention, if you want to know what a sea-going frolic is. A lower
stunsail was stretched over the gangway, forming a sort of basin, or
bath, which was filled with water; for sailcloth, being closely woven
and of stout material, holds water well. Delicately balanced upon a
grating over this bath was a stool, upon which the novices had to
sit, in order that, having gone through the first forms, they might
be in an excellent position for the second, that is, the ‘dousing.’
The greenhorn being placed on the stool, was asked, “What’s your name?
Where d’ye live?” No sooner did he open his lips to answer, than the
shaving-brush, primed with filthy lather, was thrust suddenly into
his mouth. It was no good to kick against it, for this was always
resented by a threefold dose. The victim was afterwards shaved with a
piece of smooth iron hoop; the ‘bumptious’ ones had the benefit of the
first-class razor, with great notches in the edge, assisted by a more
nauseous and unctuous lather, and rendered more effectual by a series
of thumps and kicks. Finally, he was canted head over heels into the
aforesaid sail, where the ‘bears’ soon fisted him, and gave him, while
still half stupefied and bewildered, a shameful ducking, whether he
liked it or not, and then let him go.
But while all this was taking place on deck, a different scene was
going on below, where most of the men having resolved not to be shaved,
had unshipped the hatchway ladders fore and aft, and congregated in a
body, so that if the shaving party showed their noses below in order to
force the unwilling ones up, they might get what they didn’t bargain
for. One or two attempts were made to drag up some of the youngsters,
but our side gallantly rescued us, and the advocates for the razor drew
off discomfited.
All this time there was a precious noise below, and, as one of the
west-country men said, “We were all talkers and no harkeners.” At last
the third lieutenant made bold to come from the wardroom and approach
our entrenchment: we let him come pretty close, and heard his request
that we would drop all this nonsense and get shaved; but, no; the men
wouldn’t hear of such a thing, and he was pelted back with sundry dirty
swabs and other missiles into his own quarters. The other officers,
seeing him defeated, desisted from any further parleying for a time,
and we were left to ourselves; except now and then an attempt at
surprise by the upper-deck party; but it wouldn’t do; we were on our
guard, and always pelted them off.
At last, the men getting quiet, the first-luff came forward, and
calling one of the men by name, said he wanted to speak to him: “Oh
no, sir--you want to get me shaved. I’d rather not come, sir.” “But,”
says the officer, “I’ll give you my word of honour I won’t harm you.”
“Yes,” sings out somebody from the crowd, “honour hangs about you like
feathers on a pig.” The officer now began to be irritated: “Oh, I know
what you want, sir,” says the man. “You don’t catch me like that.”
At last the officer lost his temper; perhaps all the quicker because of
the wet cloths and swabs with which he was kept aloof. However, by dint
of threats, he got the man out, and of course the lieutenant marched
him in triumph on deck, where he was shaved with a vengeance. Seeing
their cause lost, the men submitted, and one by one sneaked up and
went through the ordeal. I had been waiting to go through the process
for some time; at last the stool was vacant. I jumped up. “What’s yer
name?” No answer. “What’s yer name?” Still speechless. “Make him speak,
bulldogs,” says Neptune. Whereupon a little girl (Neptune’s daughter),
assisted by her brother, bit my toes unmercifully. “Oh! oh!” I cried,
when dab went the nasty brush into my mouth. Then old Nep said, “Pass
him through, he’s a quiet character,” and capsized me over to the care
of the bears, who dipped me under once; and then scared and gasping for
breath, I scrambled out of the sail. These bears are men who stand in
the sail, ready to receive and duck the novice as he descends from the
stool. I didn’t relish the rough handling and treatment, and the severe
sousing, but I submitted with as good a grace as possible, and took my
turn at laughing at my comrades who succeeded me. After all the new
men had gone through their initiation the decks were cleaned up, the
sail was triced up to dry; and discipline again prevailed. So ended our
homage to Neptune.
I had begun by this time to know my new shipmates and their different
dispositions. Some among them, like myself, were making their first
voyage, and had come to sea to gratify a roving fancy; but the hope
of seeing other people and countries kept them from dwelling too much
upon thoughts of home and repentance for the past. My messmates I had
also learned to know and understand, and although most of them were
rough and rude, and one or two sour-tempered and illiterate, there was
generally a warm heart underneath, and I was never molested on account
of my book-reading and quiet-loving propensities. But go to sea if you
want to know what a rough lick from an officer’s tongue feels like
and produces. One dinner-time I went aft to fetch something, when the
first-lieutenant, who was walking the weather-side, called out, “Here,
hi! where are you going?” I answered; and he went on: “Sir, what are ye
laughing at?” (There was not a smile on my face.) “I’m not laughing,
that I’m aware of, sir.” “Oh! you’re _not_ laughing? Stand there.
Quartermaster, go for the master-at-arms.” While that personage was
coming, the lieutenant declared he would teach me to tell lies. “I
didn’t tell a lie, sir,” said I, indignantly. “Silence! I’ll gag ye if
you say another word.” Bitter tears rose to my eyes, but I kept them
down.
By-and-by Jondy came up, touched his cap to the lieutenant: “Sir?”
“Give this boy five days’ black-list, for insolence, and contempt of
the quarter-deck.” I was dismissed with feelings not easy to describe.
I know I heartily hated that man from my first experience of him;
and he would always--deserved or not--come down upon me. Most of the
men disliked him thoroughly, and nicknamed him “Black Jack,” and the
“Devil’s own Playmate;” and they often used to say, after he had been
punishing unjustly, “I don’t wish him no harm; only hope he’ll fall
down and break his neck. Yes, and if he was to fall overboard, I’d
heave him a grindstone, or shove my hands in my pockets.”