A MOCK COURT-MARTIAL.
Transhipped to H.M.S. _Queen_ (98)—Sailors’ appreciation of
books—The ship runs aground and sinks: with difficulty raised—A
mock court-martial on the master—Author made lieutenant with a
commission on a twenty-four-gun ship.
After completing our water and stores, we sailed, and made the circuit of
St. Domingo, and a month afterwards returned to Port Royal, where we found
the dignity ladies looking as blooming as black roses, and as it was
understood that we were to be paid prize money, a general invitation was
given to all the wardroom officers to a grand ball two days after our
arrival; for be it known to you, gentle reader, that humble mids are never
invited to dignity balls of the first class, which are given by the
mustees and quadroons. Some of these ladies are beautifully formed, with
handsome features. The second class generally consist of mulattos and
blacks; these last are the most numerous; the mids at their balls are
quite at home, and call for sangaree and porter-cup in first style.
At this period I had served my six years within a few months, when the
captain sent for me, and told me he intended sending me on board the
flag-ship on promotion. “I send you there,” added he, “beforehand, that
you may have the opportunity of becoming known to the commander-in-chief,
that at the expiration of your time you may be more immediately under his
notice and be sure of your promotion.” I thanked him sincerely for his
kind intention, and the following morning behold me, bed and traps,
ensconced in the starboard midshipman’s berth—one of the darkest holes of
a cockpit I ever was yet in—on board the _Queen_, a ninety-eight gun ship.
My messmates, ten in number, were the poorest of all poor mids. I was
welcomed to the mess by the master’s mate, who held in his hand a dirty,
empty bottle, with a farthing candle lighted in the neck of it. “Take
care,” said he, “you don’t break your shins over the youngsters’ chests.”
“Thank you,” said I; “but I always thought a flag-ship’s cockpit too well
regulated to have chests athwartships.” “Why, to tell you the truth,”
replied he, “those d——d youngsters are so often changing ships, being here
to-day and promoted to-morrow, that it is impossible to keep either
chests, mess or them in anything like order. I wish they were all at the
devil.” “Amen,” responded a person in the berth, whose nose was looming
out of a hazy darkness, “for, d——n them,” he continued, “they have eaten
all the cheese and have had a good swig at my rum-bottle, but I’ll lay a
point to windward of them yet.” These two hard officers were both old
standards. The last who spoke was the mate of the hold, and the other of
the lower deck. One had seen thirty-five and the other thirty-nine
summers. The hope of a lieutenant’s commission they had given up in
despair, and were now looking out for a master’s warrant. They were both
brought up in the merchant service, and had entered the Navy at the
beginning of the war as quarter-masters, and by their steady conduct were
made master’s mates, a situation which requires some considerable tact.
The greater portion of my hopeful brother officers were from eighteen to
twenty years of age. Their toast in a full bumper of grog of an evening
was usually, “A bloody war and a sickly season.” Some few were
gentlemanly, but the majority were every-day characters—when on deck doing
little, and when below doing less. Books they had very few or none; as an
instance of it, we had only one, except the Hamilton Moore’s and the
Nautical Almanack, among ten of us, and that was “Extracts from the
Poets.” One of the mates above mentioned, seeing me moping with the blue
devils, brought it me. “Here,” said he, “is a book nobody reads. I have
looked into it myself, but there is so much dry stuff in it, that it makes
my grog go too fast; but,” added he, “‘Dry’ is put under that part, so you
can skip over it.” Now, reader, the most beautiful passages of this
neglected book were from Dryden. The mate, happy, ignorant man, imagined,
in his wisdom, that where the abridgment of this poet’s name was placed,
it was to indicate to the reader that the poetry was dry and not worth
reading. Oh, Ignorance, thou art sometimes bliss, but in the present
instance it were not folly to be wise! I attempted to take the Irish
half-crown out of his mind by comparing some of Dryden’s passages with the
others, and he was as much convinced as a cable-tier coiling and
stowing-hold officer is generally capable of being, that the “Dry” poetry
was the best.
The captain of this ship was from the north, I believe, strictly moral and
as strict in discipline, admirably economical, and as regular in his
habits as any old-clothes man in Monmouth Street. He kept all the
cockpitonians on the _qui vive_, and as every recommendation went through
him to the admiral it was but good policy for the mids to be on the alert.
As all the lieutenants were constantly changing, those promoted making
room for others, I shall not describe their characters, except noticing
that the generality of them were good officers and gentlemen. A month
after I joined we were ordered to sail, and on going out of Port Royal
Roads we struck with great force on a sand bank called the Turtle Head.
The master, who was as ignorant as he was conceited, had taken charge of
the ship before she was out of pilot water, and in less than half an hour
after the pilot left us she struck. As we were still in sight of the
vessels at Port Royal, we made the signal for assistance, and soon
afterwards saw a frigate and a store ship coming out towards us. The sea
breeze began to set in, which drove us more on the shoal, notwithstanding
that we had carried out two anchors ahead. At length she thumped so
violently that we jumped at least a foot high from the deck. I could not
refrain from smiling to see the captain and officers with serious, long,
anxious faces, cutting capers against their will. The rudder and false
keel soon parted company, and we all expected to see the masts jerked out
of their steps. On sounding the well we found the ship making water
rapidly. The pumps were set to work, but in vain. She soon sank in three
fathoms and a half water, and we had eighteen feet of water in the hold.
The frigate and store ship, with some smaller vessels, had anchored as
near us as they could with safety. The small craft came alongside and took
out our guns and stores, and one hundred additional men were sent on board
us to work the pumps. Pumps were also sent from the dockyard, and were
introduced into the hold through the decks, which had been scuttled for
that purpose. On the morning of the third day we had got everything,
except the lower masts and bowsprit, on board the lighters, and by the
exertions of the men at the pumps, which had been incessant for three days
and nights, we had lightened her, and she floated off the shoal. The
frigate took us in tow, and in three hours afterwards we were lashed
alongside the dockyard. The fatigue and want of rest, for not a single
hammock had been piped down during the time the ship was on shore, threw
about fifty men into the sick list, and several of them died at the
hospital afterwards. The seamen of the fleet in general had a great
aversion to go to the hospital, and when ill used to entreat the doctor
not to send them there. It was said of the matrons, which did not redound
to their credit if true, that when a seaman died, and was reported to
them, they exclaimed: “Poor fellow! bring me his bag, and mind everything
belonging to him is put into it.” This they considered their perquisite.
Surely this is wrong and robbery! Ah, Mr. Hume! why were you a puling,
helpless babe at that time? Had you been a man and known it, you would
have called for reformation and been the seaman’s friend.
We had now a difficult and arduous duty to perform, which was to heave the
ship down keel out. I was stationed on the lower deck with a party of
thirty seamen to keep the chain pumps going as long as they would
work—that is, until the ship was nearly on her side. In about twenty
minutes she was nearly on her beam ends, when all the temporary stanchions
which had been fixed to keep the deck from yielding gave way like a
regiment of black militia in chase of Obie, or Three-fingered Jack in the
Whee Mountains, when they are in full retreat. I was standing at this time
in no enviable position, my feet rested on the combings of the main
hatchway with my back against the deck. I expected every moment to have my
brains knocked out, but this apprehension was soon superseded by a cry
from the shore of, “Make for the stern ports and jump overboard; the
hawsers are stranded; there will be a boat ready to pick you up.” “Sooner
said than done,” thinks I to myself; “I wish with all my heart that the
first lieutenant who ordered me here was in my place, and he would find
the order practically impossible.” Another cry was then heard: “Hold all
fast on board!” “You are a wise man,” thinks I again for that order; “it
is the very thing we are determined to do.” “All’s safe,” was the next
squall through the trumpet, “the mastheads are secured to the beams.”
“Thank you for nothing,” said I to myself, “it’s more good luck than good
management.” When the ship was hove down, we got some of the pumps to work
on the side next the water, as it had gone from the well, and in a few
hours kept her clear. On the fourth day we righted her, as the dockyard
maties had botched her up.
We had now to wait about six weeks for the rudder; in the meanwhile we got
on board the water, provisions and stores, and fresh powder, the last
having had a ducking. From the time the ship came to the yard we had slept
and messed in the capstan house, consequently we had not an opportunity of
holding a cockpit inquiry on the master’s conduct for running the vessel
on shore. The second day after getting on board we put on our scrapers and
toasting-forks, and assembled in the larboard berth, which was illuminated
for the occasion by four farthing candles. The court consisted of fourteen
members. I was chosen president; a black man who waited on our berth was
to personate the master. After taking our seats according to seniority, we
declared we would show neither favour nor partiality to the prisoner, but
try him fairly by the rules of the cockpit. I began, as president, by
asking him the reason he let the pilot quit the ship before she was clear
of the shoals.
Prisoner: “’Cause, massa, I had berry good opinion of myself, and I tink I
sabby de ground better den dat black scorpion who call himself pilot.”
President: “If you knew the channels better than the pilot, how came you
to let the ship get on shore on the Turtle Head shoal?”
Prisoner: “Ah, Massa President, me no tink Turtle Head lib dere; me tink
him lib tree legs more west. De chart say him moral impossible he lib so
near Port Royal.”
Here the chart was examined, and the shoal was in reality laid down in a
wrong place. This saved the master, or he must have been smashed. Here the
court adjourned to consider the sentence. After laughing and joking some
short time in the larboard wing, we again assembled looking as solemn as a
Lord Chancellor, when I, as the noble president, addressed the prisoner as
follows:—
“Prisoner, this honourable Court having duly considered the unseamanlike
and stupid blunder you have committed, do adjudge you to be suspended from
your duty as master of this ship for six calendar months, in order to give
you time to reflect on the mischief you have done and the great expense
you have occasioned by running His Majesty’s ship on a shoal called the
Turtle Head; and they advise you not to be so self-sufficient in future,
and, if it be not morally impossible, to clothe yourself with the robe of
humility, and to put all your conceit into the N.W. corner of your chest,
and never let it see daylight. And the Court further adjudges you, in
consequence of your letting the pilot quit the ship before she was in
sea-way, to be severely reprimanded and also admonished as to your future
conduct, and you are hereby suspended, reprimanded, and admonished
accordingly. I dissolve this Court. Master Blacky, get dinner ready as
fast as you can, as we are very sharp set.”
“Yes, massa,” was the answer; “to-day you hab for dinner salt junk and
bargeman biscuit, and to-morrow you hab change.” “What do you say, you
black woolly-headed rascal?” said one of the mids. “Why, I say, massa, you
hab change to-morrow—you hab bargeman biscuit and salt junk.” “Why,” said
another horrified mid, “I heard the caterer order you to get some fish
from the canoe alongside.” “Yes, massa, dat berry true, but de d——d black
scorpion would not sell ’um to massa midshipman, cause he no hab pay for
fish last time.” “If you mention that again,” said one of my messmates,
“I’ll crack your black cocoa-nut, and if you do not get some to-morrow,
I’ll take care your grog shall be stopped.” Here the caterer of the mess
interfered by promising the mess should have some fish for their dinner
next day, and the contest ended. Master Blacky started up the ladder to
stand the wrangle in the galley for our dinner, and shortly after we
attacked a tolerably good-looking piece of King’s own, with the addition
of some roasted plantains, which our black factotum had forgotten to
mention in his bill of fare.
Having procured our rudder we sailed to prove, the middies said, “Whether
promotion should be stopped or not by the ship’s sinking or floating?”
Fortunately for us, by the aid of the chain pumps twice a day, she did the
latter. We continued on a man-of-war’s cruise there and back again for
five weeks, and then returned to our former anchorage. During this short
cruise I had prepared myself for passing, and soon after our arrival, my
time being served, I requested the first lieutenant to speak to the
captain that I might pass for a lieutenant. “Go yourself,” said he, “and
tell him. He is in his room at the capstan house. I’ll give you the jolly
boat.”
I was soon on shore and at the door of his room. I knocked. “Enter,” said
a voice not at all encouraging. “What do you want, any orders?” “No, sir,”
said I, with one of my best quarter-deck bows, which appeared to soften
him. “I hope I am not intruding; I have taken the liberty of waiting on
you, sir, to acquaint you that I have served my time.” He was half-shaved,
and my visit appeared unfortunately ill-timed, and I began to apprehend by
the expression of his countenance, and the flourishes he made with his
razor, he intended making me a head shorter. “Who sent you to me at this
inconvenient time?” asked he. “The first lieutenant, sir,” said I; “he
thought it was better for me to inform you before you went to the
Admiral’s pen.” “Oh, very well; you may go; shut the door, and let the
barge come for me at seven o’clock.” On board I repaired, and delivered
the message. I kept pondering whether my hardy, half-shaven captain’s
manner was favourable to the information I had given him or not. My
messmates were anxious to know how I was received. “Not very graciously,”
was my reply. Next morning, to my agreeable surprise, I was ordered to
take the barge, and go on board the _Alarm_ frigate, where I met my old
captain, who shook hands with me, and two others. “Well,” said the former,
“are you prepared to prove you are an able seaman and an officer?” “I hope
so, sir,” said I. He introduced me to his two brother officers, and
informed them I had sailed with him some time, and that I had frequently
charge of a watch. We all descended to the cabin, where Hamilton Moore’s
“Epitome,” a slate and pencil were placed before me. I was first asked
several questions respecting coming to an anchor, mooring, tacking,
veering, and taking in sail. I was then desired to find the time of high
water at different places, and the variation of the compass.
They appeared satisfied with my answers and solutions, and before I left
the ship they presented me with my passing certificate. On the following
day I took the oath of allegiance, abused the Pope—poor, innocent man—and
all his doctrines, and received my commission for a twenty-four gun ship
which I joined the day after. I left some of my messmates with regret, as
they were made of the very stuff our Navy required.