There were four young men, and one who was an occasional substitute,
who served the six months that we were in Hong Kong harbor, and at
other times, in rowing us ashore and in our visits to ships. Sometimes
the service took several hours; the distance was now and then great.
When we went ashore at Anjer we were rowed four miles; when we went
to church we were each time absent from the boat on shore two hours;
calls, shopping, business, made large drafts on their patience;
for though our visits ashore gave them also opportunity to supply
some wants as well as to gratify their curiosity, still there were
unavoidable delays on our part which could not have been to the young
crew always pleasant. In no instance did they manifest that they felt
these visits to be irksome. In looking back upon their unwearied,
prompt, always cheerful service, I feel that we owe them more than
thanks; but I fear to write this lest I incur the disapprobation of
some of the officers, who would be moved to tell me that the young
men had as easy a time as though they had been tarring down, mending
sails, scrubbing brass; that passengers must be careful how they praise
sailors. This shall be remembered and duly practised on board ship; but
on shore the names of Parslow, Twichell, Coffin, Ryder and Treadwell,
will always be associated with happy hours. May the young men be
successful master mariners, and while they are mates may they know how
to mingle kind words with discipline.
“HOLD THE REEL.”
During the whole voyage from first to last, it was always exciting
to hear the mate issue this summons. Generally, we knew by it that
the ship was going at such a quickened speed that the mate wished to
verify it by measurement. When the order was given, two of the boys
came aft; one of them took from the locker the reel which had on it a
line of several fathoms; the other held the glass. The end of the line
which was thrown into the water had on it a wide piece of thin wood,
triangular. The line was fastened to it through each of the angles, so
that the piece of clapboard stood upright in the water, thus feeling
the draft as the ship went on. The reel was held by the boy in both
hands over his head to keep the line from running foul. Pieces of tape
were tied into the line twenty-two and a half feet apart. The glass ran
fourteen seconds. When it was empty the boy cried, “up;” and the mate
knowing how many knots had passed through his hand in fourteen seconds,
easily reckoned how many knots (or miles) an hour the ship was running.
We never went over thirteen and a half; sometimes only two; and in a
dead calm a reel could not have turned; our rate of motion would have
been 0. Perhaps in a short time a breeze would be setting us forward,
so that the mate would call out, “Hold the reel.”