was a slavish passion. He could not endure any liberties to be taken
with him, even by his employer or his equals on these two points. The
boys of his own and other ships knew this so well that they planned an
indignity that should lacerate his vanity. They knew he was very
partial to what are known by sailors as "two-eyed steaks," and that
never by any chance was he known to allow even his mate, much less any
of the crew, to partake of them except on special occasions, when he
distributed them himself. They were looked upon by him as a luxury, and
were actually kept under lock and key. These peculiarities of his had
often been freely spoken of, and now a conference of able-bodied seamen
in embryo decided that there should be no further tolerance of
parsimony and piety. It must be either one thing or the other. The
elder members of this august coterie gave instructions that the sacred
locker should be broken open and the contents thereof brought into
their presence on the quarterdeck. Each of the party was sworn to
secrecy in such a way that the dread of being haunted by unspeakable
troubles during the balance of their lives would have prevented any
breach of confidence, even had there been no higher sense of honour.
The bloaters were extracted at night and handed over to the recognized
authority. It was decided to decorate the vessel from topgallant trucks
to mainrail by attaching the herring to the signal haulyards about
three feet apart. Captain Bourne's beloved brig was forthwith then
trimmed in her frill of red herrings, and the equivalent to a vote of
thanks was unconventionally moved and carried for the fearless
assistance and patriotic advice rendered by comrades who upheld the
true national faith of being roundly fed with good joints of beef and
plum or suet pudding. After a few appropriate remarks in anticipation
of the trouble and sensation of the morrow, the young gentlemen
dispersed, each going aboard his own ship, while those belonging to the
_Cauducas_ tumbled into their hammocks and were soon fast asleep.
They rose at the usual hour the following morning, and while they were
having breakfast angry and excited voices were heard alongside; and as
they eagerly listened to the picturesque flow of profane language
intermixed with a few eloquent remarks to God to forgive such
irreverence, their minds were permeated with fear lest suspicion would
fall on them during the paroxysm of alternate rage and godliness.
Plunker was a powerful man, and when his anger was roused they knew by
experience it was not safe to interject a word either of denial or
assent; so they determined, when he called them to him, to pursue a
policy of negativeness, and trust to Providence to deliver them from a
position that was showing signs of serious consequences. While the
irate commander was in the white heat of a tremendous peroration, and
in the act of detaching the festoons of herring which he placed so much
value on, his owner, who had come down to see his property, as was the
custom in those early days, came laughing towards his much troubled
captain and greeted him with the advice not to take the matter too
seriously. It was obviously a practical joke intended for a purpose,
and he apprehended the intention was to convey the idea that a liberal
allowance of food should be served out to his crew, and that the luxury
he placed so much value on should no longer be the object of his
special care, but that he should take to heart the lesson just revealed
to him, and allow his people to partake generously of that also. As the
vessel was lying alongside a shipbuilding and repairing yard, a large
crowd of workmen had congregated to see so unusual a display.
Discourteous and jeering remarks were loudly spoken with the studied
intention of reaching the ears of the master and owner, and the news of
a revolutionary act having been committed within the precincts of an
unyielding discipline spread like an electric flash through the little
town, and the unknown perpetrators were eulogistically stamped as
heroes.
No one knew better than this old-time shipmaster the amount of capital
that would be squeezed out of the incident by the gossips, and no one
recognized better than he the amount of odium that would stick to
himself. The poor fellow had been stabbed in a tender spot, and those
who knew him intimately foreshadowed a long period of bitter suffering
for him. Indeed, there were those who openly stated that he would not
long survive the insult to his professional authority. He intimated to
his employer that it was his intention to forthwith hold a
court-martial in his cabin, and requested him to take part in the
investigation. The owner was a person gifted with a sense of humour. He
laconically expressed his willingness to remain aboard, but refused to
have anything to do with the official inquiry.
The mate's Christian name was Matthew, but he was commonly addressed as
Matt. The dignity of Mr was never by any chance applied to chief
officers of this class of vessel, though quarter-deck manners were
always strictly sustained so far as the captain was concerned. He was
the only person who claimed the right of being addressed as "Sir," and
he would brook no violation of its use. Matt, as he was called, was
made the medium of communicating the master's wishes that the
apprentices should meet him in his cabin immediately. The rugged
officer was smitten with the comical aspect of his mission, though he
carried it out in a strictly punctilious manner. These rough, uncouth
men never wilfully offended the susceptibilities of their commanders,
unless they became unbearably despotic, then they retaliated with
unsparing vengeance. The three apprentices promptly obeyed the command
given to them, and were ushered into the presence of their infuriated
captain. They were each handsome, broad-shouldered athletes, with keen,
sparkling, fearless eyes that indicated fearlessness. He made a short,
jerky, almost inarticulate speech on the wickedness and indecency of
committing an act of gross disrespect to the vessel, the owner and
himself, all of whom should have been shielded from ridicule.
"I have had you brought to me," he said, "in order that I might learn
from your own lips whether you are the perpetrators of this base
robbery and vile insult to myself. I ask each of you, are you guilty of
committing or assisting to commit this villainous insult on myself?"
The owner, who was standing in the steerage brimming over with the
ludicrous character of the previous night's frivolity, was heard to
chuckle and say: "What damned nonsense to ask such a silly question!"
[Illustration: CAPTAIN PLUNKER ASTONISHED.]
Each of the lads stoutly denied having any knowledge of what had
happened, whereupon Plunker called them "a set of damned lying
mutineers, who ought to be swung to the yardarm." This phrase was
commonly used at that time whenever it was thought necessary to
emphasise displeasure. Sanguinary penalties were roundly threatened to
them and to their scoundrelly accomplices. Leading questions were put
in a more or less forceful way, but the boys determined to preserve a
secretive and even aggressive aspect, which sent their burly commander
into an ecstasy of violence. At last, despairing of getting any
satisfaction, he told them to get out of his sight. And tradition says
that he was never known to smile again; but the _Cauducas_ became from
that day one of the best found vessels, and her crew the best fed that
sailed out of port. There was no more concealment or locking up, or
doling out of Yarmouth bloaters, or any other thing. A great change had
been wrought in the hitherto inexorable old man of the sea. His conduct
became marked by a generosity that wiped out recollections of past
meanness. His natural make-up prevented him from giving prominence to
his better side, or of making himself endeared to those faithful men
who spent a long life in his service, sharing his precarious fortunes
in working and navigating a vessel that his contemporaries predicted
would carry him and his crew to a tragic doom. Yet this man of icy
exterior, blunt, uncouth and ofttimes vulgar manners, had beating
within him as big a heart as ever was planted in a human breast. His
men knew that there was a power about him that fascinated them. They
could not call it affection, but it was something akin to it: a strong
magnetism, indeed, that inspired their confidence and caused them to
follow him into dangers that resembled the very jaws of death. It was
never a thought of his to show any tender feelings. His susceptibilities
would have been much offended could he have been presented with the
idea that he had a soft place anywhere in his heart. This reluctance to
be supposed effeminate was a characteristic of the age which caused
many acts of injustice to be committed in order that the reputation for
stern, slashing, devil-may-careness should be established, and many a
fine fellow did violence to his whole nature by the desire to be
considered a desperado.
This, however, never appeared to be an ambition of Captain Bourne. All
he seems to have aimed at was to inspire his crew with an affection for
his much beloved vessel, and not on any occasion or under any
circumstances to be thought soft, or weak, or womanish. This of course
could only be assumed, because he never conveyed his thoughts to
anybody.
Long after the herring incident this little vessel was being loaded,
waiting for favourable wind and water so that she might start on her
voyage to Boulogne. She had been detained several weeks, when a fine
N.E. wind and high tide enabled him to pass out of port. It was called
in those days a sea tide, and several masters availed themselves of it
to put to sea. Before this little fleet of collier brigs got as far
south as Flamborough Head, it was blowing a fresh gale, and big lumps
of sea were slashed over them. The pumps of the _Cauducas_ were
continually kept going, and there was much concern as to the crew being
able to keep the water under. Her decks were opening and shutting, and
her timbers were making suggestive noises. She scudded across Boston
deeps under two close-reefed topsails and reefed foresail until abreast
of Cromer high land, when the gale subsided, and before the Cockle
light-ship was reached the wind had shifted into the south-south-east.
With the help of the flood tide she was beaten through the Gat into
Yarmouth roads, where the anchor was dropped, a good scope of chain run
out, sails furled and ship pumped dry. Then the forecastle hands cast
lots who should keep the first anchor watch. The hand who picked the
shortest piece of matchwood had to accept the position of having to
take the first two hours; then all the rest turned in.
The mate was always called at the turn of the tide to swing the vessel,
so that the cable did not foul the anchor. This was done by a skilful
manipulation of the yards and fore topmast staysail. Some mates had
quite a genius for this piece of real seamanship. Others never got
within the fringe of doing it successfully, and the result was that
many a mishap occurred in consequence of cables fouling the anchor
stock, or flukes, thereby pulling it out of the ground and causing it
to drag. It was also the occasion of many bitter quarrels between
master and mate. The former may have been a duffer at the manoeuvre
himself, but that did not bother him now that the position had changed.
Even a consciousness of the mate's knowledge of his fallibility did not
qualify his hostile remarks; indeed, the recollection of it never
failed to increase his anger. As a matter of fact, the knack of doing
it was a gift that no amount of training could create if it was not
inborn. I have known apprentices, after they have been at sea a year or
two, become really adepts at swinging ship at a single anchor, and many
of the seamen prided themselves in being able to do it well. A more
difficult task was that of preventing turns getting in the cable when
riding with both anchors down, and in skilled hands it could very often
be obviated. The thoughtful master or officer made a practice of coming
on deck at irregular hours during the night while anchored in a
roadstead, so that the men might become impressed with the idea of
never relaxing their vigilance. Notwithstanding this care it was not an
infrequent thing for the watch to be caught napping. On one occasion a
collier brig had been windbound for several days in the Yarmouth roads.
The mate was accustomed to pay nocturnal visits on deck, and had
suspected that a great deal of napping was done before the galley fire,
and he had his suspicion confirmed when coming up one night
unexpectedly, and, stealthily making his way to the galley, he found
both doors closed; no one was to be seen anywhere; he looked down into
the forecastle and saw one hammock vacant, so he made his way to the
galley again and listened, and heard someone snoring. He asked who was
there several times and got no answer. He then tried the door, but the
inmate had anticipated an invasion and had wedged it so that no one
could open it from without. The mate was seized with a superstition, or
exasperation, or both, so he drew a belaying pin from the rail, brought
it strongly in contact with the door, and loudly asked who was there. A
husky voice from within answered in broad Northumbrian accent: "Thor's
neebody heor!" "Then by Gox," said the excited mate, "Ye'ar the beggar
I've been luckin' for these last few neights!" The slumberer was the
person who ought to have been pacing the deck. Needless to say, he
became the object of much vituperation, and was never again trusted to
look after the lives of his shipmates or the property of his employer.
Similar incidents to this occurred on every collier vessel.
The _Cauducas_ was several days windbound. The crew had repaired
rigging, running gear, and sails that were damaged during the storm,
and they now welcomed a change of wind which came, so that the voyage
might be continued. The anchor was weighed, and every stitch of canvas
was spread and bellied out with a strong flowing wind. By the time the
Kentish Knock Lightship was reached the wind had increased so that the
topgallant sails had to be furled and two reefs taken in the topsails.
The North Foreland was passed and a course shaped for Boulogne. The
wind had increased to a gale, and the sea in the Channel was as cross
and as angry as it well could be. Every preparation was made for
entering port; mooring ropes and cable chains were got on deck so that
the anchors might be used if necessary. She was run well over towards
the French Coast before she could be hove to to take a pilot aboard.
This having been done, orders were given to square away for the
harbour. The sea was breaking a good distance off, and the prospects
for entering looked very ugly. The captain was at the tiller and was
unusually agitated. The pilot's excitement remained subdued until the
sinister commotion of seas was within easy distance. He then became
voluble in his orders. The little vessel rushed into the merciless
liquid breakers at great speed. One of them broke over the bluff of the
bow, carrying the bulwarks away, and at the same time the cable chain
was lurched over the side. The master rushed from side to side with the
tiller, irrespective of the pilot's equally chaotic orders. The crew
became alarmed for their safety, while the captain and pilot vied with
each other for first place in exhortation to keep cool, but neither the
one nor the other was cool. The pilot called out in very broken English
"Port" and "Starboard" in quick succession. The master answered "Port"
and "Starboard" each time the order was given, adding each time as an
addendum, "Look at that blooming cable chain hanging over the side!" so
that the confusion of orders and irrelevant responses to them became a
menacing danger to safe navigation. The pilot swore in French at the
captain, requesting him to steer the vessel and not to mind the ----
chain being over the side, and the captain delivered himself in even
more forceful language at the pilot for arrogance in dictating orders
as to how he should conduct himself; and in order to minimise the guilt
of hard swearing and to appease his conscience for having offended the
God of the British people, as soon as it was uttered the pilot begged
forgiveness, and then poured forth his anger in a flow of strong French
adjectives. The crew, being well trained and accustomed to perils of
this nature, did their part of the necessary work irrespective of
orders. They saw, however, that trouble would come to them if the
master could not be persuaded to forget that the cable chain was
overboard, so they induced Matt to go and offer to give him a spell,
and to everybody's surprise he was willing to give the steering into
the hands of his mate, who knew as well as either himself or the pilot
the way into the harbour.
The seas broke heavily over her until she entered the mouth of the
harbour. A crowd of their fellow-townsmen from other vessels had come
on to the pier with the object of rendering any assistance they could,
and by their goodness and skill she was moored without the necessity of
letting go the anchors or even breaking a ropeyarn. Plunker was very
grateful to these fine fellows for the valuable service they had
rendered. They knew that he was never effusive about any favours
conferred upon him, so were content to receive a plain "Thank you." The
local sailormen of that time used to caricature him running in confused
frenzy from side to side of the quarterdeck with the tiller, and
imitate the pilot and himself haranguing each other to keep cool, and
immediately afterwards breaking out into violent attacks on each
other's capacity for giving and receiving orders.
This strange being, at a time when he was passing through the peril of
facing death, never lost the power of making his men feel that he was
above their level. Even his undignified altercations with the pilot,
and his mixed erratic exclamations on the subject that obviously
troubled him, in no way diminished the awe in which he was regarded.
The vessel was moored alongside the quay, and great care was used in
having the fenders properly placed, so that her aged planking would be
preserved from chafing. Had she been the king's yacht, no greater
attention could have been given to prevent this.
[Illustration: "THERE WERE MANY CALLERS."]
The following morning there were many callers alongside, and many
congratulations offered to the captain and his crew on a safe
deliverance. There were shipbrokers, shipmasters, seamen and all grades
of dockworkers; each of them showed a common desire to be unusually
kind. The English vessels in port had their flags half-mast. Someone on
the _Cauducas_ asked the reason for this, and the reply came in subdued
tones that the _R----_ had come in on the last flood, and her master
reported having had very heavy weather crossing the Kent. Everything
had been swept from the deck, and Captain Bourne's eldest son, who was
serving as able-seaman, had been knocked off the lee foretopsail
yardarm while assisting to close reef the topsail. He held on to the
reef-earing as long as he could, but the flapping of the sail soon
caused him to call out to his shipmates, "I can hold on no longer," and
before any aid could be given he had slipped his hold and fallen into
the sea, and the surges covered him over.
The news of his son's tragic end was communicated to Captain Bourne by
his faithful mate, who pathetically, and with unconscious humour,
exhorted his master not to give way to grief. "It is a bad job," said
he, "but it would have been much worse had it been ourselves, and we
were very near done for." His bereaved master was a man of very few
words. He asked some particulars without apparent emotion, and then
proceeded to his cabin, where he was found shortly afterwards praying
in a simple, touching way to Almighty God that the body of his son
might be picked up so that it might be taken to his home. He petitioned
fervently that his younger boy might be spared to him. It seemed as
though his communion with the Deity had given him a glimpse into
futurity, or a presentiment of further bereavement. He was recalled to
material things by being reminded by the cabin-boy that the mid-day
meal was ready. He took his place at the table and proceeded to make
inquiries as to whether the discharging of the cargo would commence
that day. The mate informed him that he did not think there was any
intention of doing so, whereupon he replied, "I must go ashore and stir
them up." The masters and mates of the other vessels in port would have
come in a body to condole with him for the loss of his son, but they
knew that he loathed outward signs of soft emotion, and in any case
would never allow sentiment, no matter how justifiable, to come between
him and his business obligations.
He was well known in business circles for his devotion to the interests
of his employers. That was his first and last thought, and when he went
forth to do their business he wasted neither time nor words. He
possessed a natural gift of diplomacy, and wrote no letters. He had the
knack of conveying what he wanted to be at, and his quaint way of doing
it, though it might amuse, always inspired the person who was addressed
with the belief in his soundness, so that few men succeeded as he did
in getting what he wanted. On the occasion of which I am writing, the
merchants received him with obvious sympathy, and he was promised a
quick dispatch. That night he got the boy to write a few lines to his
wife at his dictation. They were very brief, very melancholy, very
reverential. Here is the letter:
"DEAR WIFE,--We arrived here yesterday after a very rough passage.
I hope you're well as it leaves me at present. The _R----_ arrived
this morning's tide, and reports that Jack was knocked off the
foretopsail yardarm, and they never see'd him again. He shouted
'Guidbye, I cannot hold on any longer.' I asked God to have his
body picked up and sent home, and while I was doing it, a queer
thought came over me that little Bobby was being washed overboard
from the _Savannah_. I hope it's not true, and that God won't take
him from us as well. No more at present, from
_HIS_
"JOHN X BOURNE."
_MARK_.
He seems to have had a rugged anxiety that the mother of his drowned
son should be given a prompt opportunity of sharing his sorrow. It was
not usual for these shellbacks to write letters while on a coasting
voyage. Indeed, they were very cautious about doing it at any time in
case even members of their own families should think them
tender-hearted. Moreover, those who could not write or read were very
sensitive about allowing others to do it for them.[1]
[1] It may be as well to explain here that the straddle-leg
patent, as it was called, often caused sailors to be both killed
and drowned. They used to give advice in a flippant way to each
other that if they were forced to let go their hands to be sure
to hold on by the skin of their teeth or their feet. This little
joke was rarely successful in saving them from being smashed to
pieces or drowned. The invention by Collin and Pinkney for
reefing and furling, and subsequently the double topsail yards
introduced by the Americans, did a great deal towards preventing
loss of life, and certainly saved many a spar from going over the
side. It was found that there were fewer accidents both in life
and property by the use of the latter. Occasionally the patents,
which have been long out of use, went wrong, and the sail could
neither be got up nor down, but this never happens when proper
care is used with the double topsail yarders. With these a vessel
may be put under close-reefed topsails in a few seconds.
In due course the cargo of the little brig was discharged and the
ballast was brought alongside. The side ports were knocked out, and the
crew commenced to throw the ballast into the hold, as it frequently
happened that only one side was available. A couple of hands were
placed in the hold to shovel it over to the opposite side in order to
keep the vessel upright. While this was being done the captain
proceeded to collect and pay his accounts. Cheques or bills of exchange
were dispensed with as a rule, and the freight was paid over the
counter in sovereigns, and scooped into a leather bag. This was taken
aboard and concealed in the master's room. It was a rare thing for the
freight to be wrongly settled, or go astray after it was settled. Men
like Captain Bourne had a mysterious way common to themselves of
counting and calculating, and any breakdown in their system (for each
had his own) would have made a deep wound in their pride. The day after
the ballast was all in and trimmed, orders were given to unmoor, and
the little craft sailed out of the harbour with a fine southerly wind
and all sail set. The breeze carried her as far north as Flamborough
Head, when it gradually veered into the west and kept steady, but blew
so hard that the topsails had to be double-reefed.
It was the morning watch from four to eight. The cabin-boy was called
at seven o'clock to prepare breakfast and polish the brass stove and
ashpan. The captain heard the little fellow doing his morning work, and
called out to him, "Boy!"
"Yes sir," said the boy.
"How is the wind?"
"I will go and ask," said he.
He came down and conveyed the pleasing intelligence that it was still
west and they were close in by Whitby Lights.
"Come into my berth and get yourself a glass of gin, my canny lad,"
said the indulgent skipper, "and see that I am not disturbed for
breakfast. Don't call me until she is abreast of Sunderland."
"All right, sir," said the boy, and availed himself of his master's
kindness by taking a second mate's nip out of the gin jar which was
kept under his bed. The little fellow wondered what had caused such a
convulsion of endearment, as Captain Bourne's demeanour had hitherto
been the very antithesis of external tenderness. About an hour had
elapsed when he was asked again "How the wind was."
[Illustration: HAVING A NIP.]
"W.N.W.," said the youth, "and inclined to break off" (i.e., norther).
"What are you making such a noise about?" growled the now uneasy
captain; "shut my door so that I may be quiet; and get the cabin
properly scrubbed out ready for going into port."
The wind had freshened, the vessel began to jump into a nasty head
swell, and in order to ease the strain on the rigging the necessary
sail was shortened. Captain Bourne was aroused by the sombre music of
the wind rustling through the rigging and making occasional discordant
noises. His mind became centred on the possibility of the voyage being
prolonged, and in order that his suspicions should be confirmed or
otherwise, he called with a deep, agitated voice for the boy to come to
him; and when he presented himself the captain asked in a tone which
indicated coming trouble: "How is the wind now?"