British Sailors.—A hearty cheer.—Seamen are sad clumsy fellows at some
things.—The pretended sailor.—Jack in the wherry.—A squall.—The
chain cable.—The sailor’s marriage.—The arrival.—Banns.—
Disappointment.—Doctors’ Commons.—License.—The church gates.—The
robing-room.—The ceremony.—The Prayer Book.—The Bible.—Jack happy.
“What handy and hearty fellows sailors are, uncle; we have just seen
one, and he gave us such a hearty cheer!”
“It has been said, that a British sailor can only give free vent to his
feelings by a hearty cheer. It is his mode of thanksgiving for a benefit
received; with a cheer he honours his friend, defies his enemy, and
proclaims a victory. Sailors may be hearty, but how do you make them out
to be handy? In many things they are the clumsiest fellows in the
world.”
“Do you say so! What are they clumsy in doing?”
“Oh! in things without number. In the first place, they are bad hands at
passing by a messmate in distress without relieving him; then they know
nothing about running away from danger; you cannot teach them, any how,
to forget an old friend; and they are the awkwardest fellows in the
world in striking their colours when alongside an enemy.”
“You are right! you are right, uncle. About half an hour ago a sailor
came up to us, and said that ‘Poor Jack’ was ‘in shallow water,’ and
that, having nothing in his ‘bread-room,’ he would let us have a real
India silk handkerchief for little or nothing.”
“And did you buy his handkerchief of him?”
“No, uncle. But we were so pleased with what he told us of his cruises,
and battles, and shipwrecks, that we gave him all the money we had.”
“Ay, well, that would answer his purpose quite as well. It is possible
that you may have fallen in with a ‘true blue,’ but I am very doubtful.
It was but last week that a fellow accosted me with the old story about
a ‘King’s ship.’ ‘The winds blowing great guns in the Bay of Biscay, O!’
‘breakers ahead!’ a ‘lee shore and a wreck!’ but he had stumbled on a
Tartar; for a few questions about sea affairs made him look all manner
of ways at once, and it was a clear case that he would have willingly
given up a part of his ill-gotten prize-money to have secured a retreat.
At first I used him tenderly, treating him with only a few points of the
compass backwards—north-by-west, north-north-west, north-west-by-north,
north-west, north-west-by-west, and west-north-west. This was, as I well
knew, all Dutch to him. Seeing him look rather queerish, I opened upon
him with my ‘tiller-ropes,’ ‘gun-tackle,’ ‘mizzen-jears,’ ‘jib-halyard,’
‘fore-braces,’ ‘deep-sea-line-blocks,’ ‘top-sail-sheet-bits,’ ‘main-top
bow-lines,’ and ‘ringtail-booms,’ until he looked as frightened as if I
had been a wild man of the woods. At last, seeing that he was preparing
to scud before the wind, I poured in a broadside of ‘Brail up and haul
down the main-top-mast stay-sail!’ ‘Bear a hand, my hearty!’ ‘Man well
the lee-brail, and down haul!’ ‘Gather in the slack o’ the weather
brail!’ ‘Let go the halyards!’ ‘Ease off the sheet!’ ‘Haul down, and
brail up briskly!’ ‘There! let go the tack, and stop the sail to the
lee-fore-rigging!’ ‘What! are you off? then up all hammocks!’ ‘Prepare
for action!’ ‘Fire to the larboard!’ And away ran the rogue, forgetting
how he had been wounded by a nine-pounder, as nimbly as though a press-
gang had been at his heels.”
“It served him right, uncle! that it did.”
“A true-hearted sailor would rather take in a reef of the main-top-sail
in a hurricane than skulk about in such a manner under false colours.
“Some time since a Jack-tar, seated in a wherry, was rowed up the river
Thames, against wind and tide. He had just returned from India; and,
sailor-like, was industriously disposed to get rid of his spare cash. He
had a pipe in his mouth, and the clouds of smoke poured forth showed
that the smoker was in earnest; while with his right hand he flourished
a flexible bamboo. Behind him was a large shaggy Newfoundland dog, who
appeared as well pleased as Jack himself. Before him sat a musician,
with a huge drum and pandean pipes, playing away with all his power.
“As Jack passed the vessels in the river, and the wharfs, and the
drinking-rooms overlooking the water, he was cheered continually. When
he arrived at St. Katherine’s Docks he quitted the wherry, and hopped
along on his real leg, for his other was a wooden one, as nimbly as a
kangaroo, while the spectators, assembled to witness his landing,
greeted him with a cheer. Jack and the Newfoundlander were soon stowed
in a coach; the musician occupied the roof, striking up ‘Rule
Britannia!’ and the crowd loudly cheered as Jack drove off, waving his
hat good-humouredly from the coach window. What became of Jack
afterwards is not known; but it is easy to imagine, that at the end of a
few days’ cruise he would not have a single shot in his locker.”
“Then he would be off to sea again?”
“No doubt he would. Whether at sea or on land, seamen seldom keep out of
squalls long together.”
“What is the real meaning of a squall?”
“A squall is a violent gust of wind, that comes on a ship suddenly, and
sometimes does a great deal of mischief in a very little time. There are
parts of the world where you are more liable to them than in others. The
first time that I was in a squall in the Mediterranean it put the
surprise upon me. There was a small black cloud to windward in the
south, but I should have thought little of it, had not a bluff old tar
pointed to it and said, ‘There’s a capful, my hearty.’ What he said was
true enough, and we had it in quick time too. The course of the ship was
altered, to scud before what was coming, and the hands went aloft to
take in sail. By this time the cloud had spread and neared us, and all
at once, without warning, the squall came. The sheets and ropes cracked
and snapped in the wind, the fore-sail was torn to ribands, the rain
fell like a torrent, and away went the ship, running almost gunwale down
in the water. But if the squall came without notice, it quitted us
without notice, for in half an hour the sky was clear, the wind down,
and the ship all in order, making her way through the waves.”
“When a squall comes on, sailors should get out their anchors, and the
strongest cables they have, to keep the ship steady.”
“The cables must be very long, boys, to enable them to anchor in the
middle of the Mediterranean. Perhaps you have never read the account
given by Captain Hall, of attempting to anchor in deep water with a
chain cable!”
“No, never! Please to tell us all about it.”
“I have it at hand here, and will read it to you. He says, ‘The chain
cable is difficult of management in deep water; that is to say, when the
soundings are more than twenty or twenty-five fathoms. Nothing is so
easy as getting the anchor to the bottom in such cases; it is the
_facilis descensus_ with a vengeance! But when the anchor is to be
pulled up again, then comes the tug. I once let go my anchor, with a
chain cable bent to it, in forty-five fathoms, without having calculated
on the probable effects of the momentum. Though the cable was bitted,
all the stoppers snapped like packthread; and the anchor, not content
with shooting to the bottom with an accelerated velocity, drew after it
more than a hundred fathoms of chain, in such fearful style that we
thought the poor ship must have been shaken to pieces. The noise was
like that of rattling thunder, and so loud that it was impossible to
hear a word; indeed it was even difficult to speak, from the excessive
tremour caused by the rapid and violent passage of the links, as the
chain leaped, or rather flew up the hatchway, flashing round the bits,
and giving out sparks like a fire-work. Finally, it tore its way out at
the hawse-hole, till the whole cable had probably piled itself on the
anchor in a pyramid of iron at the bottom of the sea. The inner end of
the cable had, of course, been securely shackled round the heel of the
main-mast, but the jerk with which it was brought up made the ship shake
from end to end as if she had bumped on a rock; and every one fully
expected to see the links fly in pieces about the deck, like chain-shot
fired from a cannon. It cost not many seconds of time for the cable to
run out, but it occupied several hours of hard labour to heave it in
again. The ordinary power of the capstan, full manned, scarcely stirred
it; and at the last, when to the weight of chain hanging from the bows
there came to be added that of the anchor, it was necessary to apply
purchase upon purchase in order to drag the ponderous mass once more to
the bows.’”
“How it must have frightened them when the anchor and chain cable ran
out in that way!”
“British tars are not very soon frightened, though I dare say that it
made them look about them. If you are in the mood to listen to a
laughable story, I can tell you a very curious tale of a sailor’s
marriage that happened some time since. It was told me a few days after
the ceremony.”
“Can you? Please to begin it at once. Please do!”
“Well, then, you shall have it without delay, as nearly as I can
remember, in the language in which it was related to me. That the story
has been a little embellished there can be no doubt.
“Some years ago, a certain church in the metropolis stood in need of
repair; and the bishop gave order that such marriages only should be
solemnized therein as had been, before commencing the repairs, proposed
by banns three times, but that in cases where the banns had not been put
up three times, the marriages should be deferred until they had been
regularly proposed at a neighbouring church, recently erected. No wonder
that this arrangement occasioned some sad disappointments.”
“Ay, that would disappoint those that came to the church to be married,
and could not.”
“On Monday morning a jolly Jack-tar hove in sight, rigged out
excellently; under his convoy was his sweetheart Poll, who bore down
gallantly, her sky-scrapers fluttering in the wind. After a little
heeling to larboard and starboard on the part of Jack, he came with Poll
into safe moorings, entering the church door under a press of sail.”
“We can just fancy that we see them.”
“As Poll stood up the middle aisle, with her pendants flying, she seemed
a prize fit for an admiral, and Jack himself was as right and tight a
bit of craft as could be seen on this side the Channel. Jack was not
long in hailing Mr. Parson, and in giving him to understand that he was
bound for Cape Matrimony!”
“That’s so like a sailor.”
“On looking over the banns-book, however, the worthy minister discovered
that Jack’s marriage had been proposed twice at that church, and once at
the new church, and, therefore, in conformity with the order of the
bishop, the banns had to be put up twice more in the new church before
the marriage could be solemnized.”
“What did the sailor say to that?”
“No sooner was this made intelligible to Jack than he began to overhaul
the minister with a little of his old-fashioned lingo. ‘Wait a
fortnight, Mr. Parson! No that I won’t for the West Indies; so you may
just as well give over your palavering, and pick up your book. I came
here to be spliced, and spliced I’ll be. Wait a fortnight! that’s a good
un! Why, haven’t we made signals for three Sundays? how long would you
keep us cruising about, while you are in snug quarters? The long and the
short of it is this: Poll and me have come here to be spliced, and we’ll
wait a fortnight for nobody.’”
“The sailor spoke his mind pretty freely, however.”
“The minister, knowing the free habits of sailors, bore Jack’s
observations with great good humour, but told him it was utterly
impossible to marry him. ‘I am sorry for it,’ said he, ‘but if you were
to give me the navy of England I could not marry you.’ This remark was a
broadside that almost laid Jack on his beam-ends, but he plucked up his
spirit, went on another tack, and instead of rashly boarding his
opponent, tried to enter on a friendly parley. ‘Why, look you, Mr.
Parson,’ said he, ‘I’ll tell you how the land lies. I shall be off in a
few days on a cruise, and if I goes to sea, and leaves Poll in port,
she’ll get spliced to somebody else, before I comes back again, so you
see I can’t wait a fortnight.’”
“Oh! oh! oh! Then he was afraid to trust Poll, though he was going to
marry her.”
“Jack’s rhetoric, however, was all in vain, for the minister told him,
that if he must be married that day, there was no other way than going
to Doctors’ Commons for a license. ‘And who’s Doctor Commons,’ inquired
Jack; ‘and what will the shiners be?’ No sooner were these questions
answered, than away goes Jack. ‘Never mind, Poll; never mind, Mr.
Parson! I’ll soon be back.’ Saying this, he quits the church, jumps into
a coach at the coach-stand near the church gates, and gets under weigh
to Doctors’ Commons, telling the coachman, that if he did not sail right
afore the wind he should get no shot out of his locker.”
“The sailor was in right earnest about the matter.”
“The morning was wearing away, and there was but little time to spare,
but Jack came back in as fine style as if he were chasing an enemy’s
frigate. Nimbly as a harlequin he skips along the churchyard, and makes
for the altar, holding the license in his hand, crying out ‘All’s right,
Poll! all’s right, Mr. Parson! Here’s the bit o’ paper! plenty of time.
Never mind, Poll! all’s right!’ It was of little use that the clergyman
tried to prevail on Jack to behave with the gravity and decorum fitting
the place and the occasion, so much were his spirits excited. When the
clergyman examined the paper, he found, so far from things being all
right, that all was wrong, for the license set forth that the marriage
was to take place at the new church, and not at the church they were
then in. ‘Never mind, Poll! Never mind, Mr. Parson! plenty of time!’
cried out the undaunted sailor; and what with pushing Poll, and hurrying
on the parson, he got them into another hackney coach, and set off for
the new church—the distance was very short.”
“He deserved to be married, for all his trouble; surely he was not again
disappointed?”
“It seemed as though poor Jack was to be weather-bound, for on every
fresh tack the wind was against him. No marriages being expected that
morning at the new church, the high iron gate was closed, and the
sexton, who had the key, was not there. Now the iron gate would have
been but a trifling impediment to Jack, but it was an effectual barrier
to Poll and the parson.”
“Poor Jack would soon have mounted over the gate, no doubt, had he been
by himself.”
“At last the key was procured, the clerk was in attendance, and the
whole party proceeded with all necessary despatch down the long gravel
walk to the church. Jack every now and then crying out, ‘Never mind,
Poll! Never mind, Mr. Parson! plenty of time!’ The time, however, grew
very short, and the worthy minister was obliged to do his best to
prevent any disappointment taking place; but when he hurried to the
vestry, where the robes were kept, the door was locked. There was no
time to send for the key. It was a case of necessity, and the kind-
hearted clergyman resolving to do all he could, proceeded to the altar
without his surplice, that he might begin the service in time, for not a
moment was there to lose. What was his annoyance to find that the Book
of Prayer was not there. So closely was he driven for time that, after
despatching a boy to a neighbouring house for a Prayer Book, he began
the service trusting to his memory.”
“If he had not been a good-natured clergyman he never would have done
all that.”
“No doubt a Prayer Book might have been found in one of the pews, but
there was nobody present who could be spared to look for one, and the
time for beginning had been delayed till the last moment. To the great
relief of the clergyman, the boy soon returned with the book he had
brought, but when the worthy minister opened it he found that instead of
a Prayer Book, it was a Bible!”
“We never heard of so many hindrances to anything before in our lives.”
“Further delay was out of the question; there was no time for him to go
back for another book, so the clergyman, trusting to his memory,
completed the ceremony without one, to the great joy of the married
couple. No sooner was the ceremony over than Jack, who could not be
restrained, capered about in a most indecorous manner. He danced his way
along the aisle, slapt the kind-hearted minister on the back, called him
a ‘true-blue,’ and a ‘hearty good fellow,’ and declared it would do him
good if Mr. Parson would join him in drinking Poll’s health in a
bumper.”
“Well, that is the oddest tale we ever heard. Poor Jack was married to
Poll after all.”
“He was: but if you are to know anything about the military and naval
duties of soldiers and sailors, I must not relate many such long and
laughable stories.”
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