rapidly rose in their profession. They had no sooner got their extra
master's certificates than they were offered and accepted the command
of handsome square-rigged vessels employed in the Eastern trade, and
both of them became famous for making quick passages. The old lady who
had been their friend so long became impressed with the idea of their
reaching great heights, and was quite frank in stating that she was
proud to see the speedy advancement of two boys that had been reared
within sight of her home. She indicated to some of her closest friends
that she had no misgiving now about giving her granddaughters in
marriage to the young sailors, and this interesting confession was made
known to them by some unknown agent. They arrived in England within a
month of each other, and were quietly married. The venerable lady
settled a considerable sum on her granddaughters, and no lack of
instructions were omitted as to its purpose. The sailors said it was
very good of the old girl to do this for her young relatives, but they
each reminded their wives that they did not marry them for money. After
a brief holiday the brothers rejoined their respective ships, and
sailed, one from Liverpool to Australia, and the other from London to
Calcutta, and little did they expect when they parted that it would be
nearly two decades before they were to meet again.
Many years after, two vessels were racing down the China seas, one of
them a new barque heavily sparred and very crank, and the other a
large, full-rigged ship. Both were rushed through the sea at great
speed. The full-rigger, with Norman Burnside in command, drew ahead of
the barque and lost sight of her in the darkness. Between ten and
eleven at night the second officer was on the poop chatting with the
captain; the sky was cloudless, not a speck to be seen, and the wind
strong and steady; every stitch of canvas was set, when all of a sudden
the captain ceased conversing with the officer, told him that a white
squall was close upon them, and to call all hands to shorten sail. They
had only got a portion of it in when the squall struck her, and
everything had to be let fly. During the few minutes it lasted it was
terrific; many of the sails were torn to shreds, the masts were heavily
strained, and the vessel herself was well-nigh doomed. Nothing was seen
or heard of the barque after that night, but the fears of those aboard
the full-rigger were great lest trouble should have come to her. When
they arrived in London an account was sent to them of the loss of their
companion in the China Seas. The paragraph stated that the vessel was
struck by a white squall, thrown on her beam ends and literally
capsized; the captain was Norman's brother. He was on deck at the time
and tried to get down into the cabin to rescue his wife, but the rush
of water prevented him. She was drowned almost before his eyes, and her
body went down with the vessel. Some of the crew who were aft managed
with the assistance of the captain to get the gig disentangled from the
wreck, but he refused to save himself and had to be dragged into the
boat by force. Others of the crew clung to floating spars, and were
either killed or drowned, and only one survived until succour came. The
day following the casualty, those that took to the boat were picked up.
A day later a passing vessel saw some wreckage ahead, and as they drew
towards it they discovered a boy clinging to a spar which was being
tossed about by the motion of the sea. The vessel was at once hove to
and a boat went to his rescue. The only clothing he had on was a light
flannel shirt and a pair of drawers. The poor little fellow had tried
to lash himself to the spar with a piece of rope. When they got close
to where he was his feeble voice whispered from it a few words of
touching thanks; and then, as though a supernatural force had been
given him, he said in a tone that seemed to have been flashed from
another world: "It is too late. I am about to pass on to where my
mother is. I feel my stomach is chafed through." His face, it was said,
wore a spiritual air, and his eyes had an expression of quiet, resigned
sadness. They cast off the rope that bound him to the spar, took him
gently from it and placed his disembowelled body in the boat. His
remains were sewn up in a hammock, heavy weights were put at his feet,
and at the dead hour of the night the mourners, with uncovered heads
bowed in hallowed manifestation of pity, listened to the harrowing
words that came throbbing from the captain's lips as substituted for
the written funeral service. When he had finished, orders were
whispered to lower the body in silence down the side of the vessel, and
then the waters covered him over. Many weeks elapsed before it was
known that it was Mary Routledge's boy.
Nothing could exceed the genuine sympathy that was shown to the poor
distracted Kenneth Burnside, but all attempts at consolation were
received by him with a sad smile that conveyed the idea of an unhealing
wound. He lived the life of a recluse and never went to sea again.
VII
FORECASTLE LIFE
The modern sailor can have no idea of the hardships and discomforts of
his predecessors even up to thirty or forty years ago. Unless a person
has lived with sailors in the forecastle as one of themselves and taken
part in their daily life, no accurate conception can be formed of what
their peculiarities and conditions of life were. It may be that they
fluently cursed about the latter, and had some idea that they were
being imposed upon; but posterity must ever remember that they bore
their wrongs with heroism and with a steadfast belief in the
superiority over those of other nationalities of their owners, their
ships and themselves. Comparisons were never indulged in: they insisted
that all things British took in the nature of things first place, and
this child-like faith was never broken in spite of glaring, wicked
callousness to their men's sufferings on the part of some employers and
captains.
Their accommodation was in the extreme fore-end of the vessel, and the
space allowed was low-roofed and cramped, frequently leaky and
invariably dismal. Immediately abaft the forecastle ladder was the
cable stage where hawsers, cable-chains, tar-barrels, tar-pots,
tar-brushes, marline spikes, serving-mallets, cork-fenders, water-casks
and other spare gear were stowed. The first impressions of smell to a
person who had been reared in a pure atmosphere were deadly. I think I
can feel all my first sensations even now. On each side of the space,
hammocks were slung to hooks, or to eyebolts fastened into the beams,
and on account of leaky decks the men were obliged to have oil-covers
hung the full length of the hammock like a tent to keep the water from
pouring on to them! There was great pride taken in the spotless
cleanliness of these canvas sleeping cots. The rings that the lanyards
and clews were attached to were neatly grafted, and the art of hanging
with accuracy so that the occupant lay in perfect comfort without fear
of being lurched out was often the cause of mutual criticism and heated
controversy. It looks a very simple matter, but there is an art that
has to be learned in slinging a hammock correctly. Alongside of them
were the seamen's chests, with skilfully carved oak or mahogany cleats,
grafted rope horseshoe handles, and turk's head at each side of the
cleats. These were painted white to give variety and effect. The lid
inside displayed a full-rigged clipper, barque, or brig, either under
full sail with a peaceful blaze of blue sea, or under close-reefed
topsails labouring in the wrath of a cyclone with a terrific turmoil.
Underneath this work of art was the name of the person to whom the
chest belonged, painted in block shaded letters, and the fate of many a
crew has been traced by the washing ashore of a relic of this sort. All
this was done by the sailor himself, and during the process of
elaboration many a castle was built in the air and many a vow made that
his conduct for evermore should be regulated by a strict adherence to
righteous principles. There was great competition in this as in other
things. The forecastle sides and the deck were whitewashed with lime,
and the floor in fine weather, at sea as well as in port, was kept
clean. The apprentices were made to take week and week about in
scrubbing the floor every morning, and sweeping it after every meal. In
well regulated vessels that sailed on long voyages, as soon as they got
into the N.E. trade winds the crew settled down to a daily routine
during the first hour or two of their watch below in the daytime, of
making, mending and washing their clothes. Some never got beyond this,
or making mats, but there were men who varied their pastime by carving
models of vessels, making wood sails or rigging, and fitting them out
in every detail. This work was done with great skill and neatness.
Those that could read and were fond of it gave a share of their time to
that. There were others who worked hard at learning navigation, their
chest lids serving as a desk. It occasionally happened that some of the
forecastle hands could neither read nor write, but if they were willing
to learn there was always someone ready to teach them, who in the
process of teaching learnt much that was useful to himself. A few
months ago there died an old man whom I taught to read and write when
he must have been over forty years of age. He was one of many skilled
seamen of that day who were much sought after to command collier brigs
during the winter months, notwithstanding they could not read, or write
their own names even. This man never failed to make the quickest
passages and voyages on record, and in the summer, without presuming on
having been master, he would ship on a deep sea vessel as able seaman
or cook. It was in the latter capacity that I first met him when I was
an apprentice of fourteen. I was seated reading Sir Walter Scott's "Old
Mortality," and laughing as heartily as a boy will at some of the
sayings and doings of the Covenanters, when he asked what amused me. I
told him, and he expressed a desire for me to read to him. I did so as
well as I could, and when the time came for me to resume my duties and
close the book, he said in a very sheepish way, "I wish I could read
and write; I would make a fortune if I could." I immediately offered my
services, and with a slight indication of sensitiveness he accepted
them. It was a long, dreary process, but my pupil was so eager,
especially after he got to know three letter words, I soon led him into
figuring--addition and multiplication sums--and two years after
starting him, he was learning from me what little navigation I was able
to impart. He seemed to pick this up instinctively, which gave him a
passionate desire to go to a navigation school, and in a short time he
had made such rapid progress that the teacher thought he could pass the
examination; and his opinion was confirmed by Ned going to Dundee and
passing at the first attempt. He got a mate's berth in the summer, and
went master in the winter, continuing to save money until he had
accumulated sufficient to purchase a small ketch which he owned
entirely himself. For some years he did well, then sold the little
vessel and commenced business ashore. I had not heard of or seen him
for many years, when one afternoon a friend of mine called at my office
and intimated that my old friend was in the workhouse, and had desired
him to call and inform me of it, feeling sure that I would not allow
him to remain there. I asked my friend to have him taken out and put
into respectable lodgings until I could get him some relief from a
philanthropic institution, and the odd easy jobs I saw put in his way
kept him comfortably. He often came to see me, and when I could spare
the time I gratified the fine old fellow's wish by encouraging him to
talk to me of those days that were such a joy to him. I believe he
regarded himself, when aboard one of my vessels, in the light of a
special guardian of my interests, and I think he must have assumed an
air of superiority over others which was occasionally resented. At any
rate, one morning on reaching the office I found him ready to receive
me; he was well dressed, clean-shaven and looked all over like a
captain of the old school. I saw he had a grievance, and he at once
plunged into the object of his visit; complaining that one of the
captains had treated him as none of the others would think of doing,
and when I asked what he had said to the captain to cause his
displeasure, he replied with energy and warmth that he had told him he
would "go and see his betters who had known him before he (the captain)
was born. And what do you think the impudent fellow said? He told me I
might go to h--ll if I liked, and so I'm here to see whether _he's_
to boss me, or if I'm to take orders from you. He actually had the
impudence to give me an order for my money on the office instead of
paying me as the others did in cash!"
This was the only time he ever complained to me about the treatment he
received from anyone. I was much amused, and humoured the old man into
a good temper. He never quite forgave the insult that had been offered
him, but went away satisfied that he had scored. Twelve months after
this there were signs that the hard usage of his earlydays was breaking
him up. He struggled on in the hope that his iron constitution would
throw off the malady that held him in its grip, but ere long the
suffering old hero passed away.
My brother once volunteered to teach another old illiterate, who shared
his watch, to read and write. It was one of the most comical
proceedings I ever witnessed, and when I reflect on it now I see a
touch of pathos that fills me with remorse for the part I took in
making fun of that fine seaman, who had been brought up in an
atmosphere of heathenism, and was, in many ways, little better than a
heathen himself. He stood six feet four inches, and had the frame of a
giant; a large, well-formed head poised above a pair of broad
shoulders; his face was strong and highly intellectual; his nose, mouth
and full blue eyes indicated that he had sprung from a race of
well-bred people who may have declined on their luck. Had his
intellectual faculties been given a chance when young, he might have
been great in any profession. As it was, he was merely a rough, uncouth
man, but a well-trained and accomplished sailor. He had been trained in
the hardest of all schools, that of the coasting trade, and he knew
every swirl of the tide and every sandbank between St Abb's and
Dungeness. He did not rise to be captain, though he frequently went as
mate during the winter months. It was not until his ambition led him to
a knowledge of the bigger world far beyond the continents of Europe
that he determined to learn how to read and write. I am not sure
whether he ever felt humiliated at having to seek the aid of a young
man so much his junior and occupying a subordinate position to himself;
if he did, I cannot recall having observed it. The owners' confidence
in him must have been great. He was signed on the ship's articles as
boatswain, but really he was intended to act as second mate, keeping
the captain's watch and doing the ordinary duties of a second officer.
The first intimation the captain had that his owner had sent such a
strange personality was on the evening that the vessel was towed out to
sea. The decks were in a condition of confusion, and this ardent
officer was busying himself in getting them cleared up before dark. The
master intimated to him that he was feeling very tired, and would like
to lie down.
"You may go to bed, sir," said the officer, "and when you get there
remember you have a better man on deck than yourself."
The captain stared at this extraordinary creature, and when he had
recovered from his amazement at the unblushing audacity, he said:
"Sir, I wish to intimate to you that you are not aboard a collier brig,
but a deep-water ship, and you are addressing a deep-water captain who
has never been spoken to in such a strange way before."
"Good God, man!" said the irate second mate, "get away to your bunk,
and don't stand there talking damned nonsense about what you call
etiquette. I know nothing about that, but I'll take your ship along the
coast for you, and I want you to know as well that I can handle a
marline spike or a palm and needle with any of your South Spain
dandies. You may go below, sir; I have not time to talk to you just
now."
"Well, Joss," said the subdued captain, "I will admit I believe you are
a better coasting navigator than myself"; and in the assurance that he
was, the captain went below, and was not seen again until we got clear
of the English Channel. The navigation was left in the hands of the
mate and second mate. It was after reaching the north-east trade winds
that the latter's elementary education began. The tutor could be seen
any morning or afternoon watch below sitting on the forecastle floor
working at the construction of a miniature full-rigged ship. His pupil
sat beside him with the alphabet written on a slate, and as he advanced
in knowledge, three letter, four letter and five letter words were
given him, and it was when he arrived at this stage that the process
became feverishly attractive and amusing. The following is something
like how it appeared to those who were looking on:
"AND--and; FOUR--four," said the tutor, without lifting his eyes from
his work.
"THEIR, what the h--ll's that, Jack?"
"Their," said John.
"THERE, that's a b---- jawbreaker, Jack?"
"There," said the tutor, and off he would go in his own peculiar way.
Almost every word was introduced by a harmless swear, the droll thing
being that my brother simply took it as a matter of course, and never
laughed unless some unusually inventive oath combination was
interjected; if the pupil confined himself to ordinary swearing, there
was no interruption; he was allowed to rattle along in his own voluble
way, letting fly vigorously at the inventor of "larnin'." The result
was that Joss learned to read and write before the voyage was over. It
is true there were few people outside the forecastle that could tell
what it was all about, unless they studied very closely his eccentric
pronunciation and the wild scrawl of his writing. He never went far
enough to get even a second mate's certificate. He thought it an
unnecessary waste of time, seeing that he intended to leave the sea as
soon as he could attain a pilot's branch. This he succeeded in doing,
and had a long and successful career; his fame as a pilot only equalled
that which he bore when employed as a sailor. He lived to a good ripe
age, and died in harness still adhering to the up-to-date belief that
England was being imposed upon by "a set of b---- neckends
(foreigners), who took the bread from the mouths of Englishmen." He is
said to have saved and left a good deal of money, and this I can well
believe, as even when a common sailor he lived far below his income.
Joss, unlike most sailors, had not a note of music in his composition,
but there were few professionals on the halls who could surpass him at
step-dancing. I saw him dance the double-shuffle with a professional on
one occasion in the Ratcliffe Highway. I think the place was called the
"Gunboat," and he was there declared to be the champion. Joss
considered it a part of a sailor-boy's training that he should learn to
dance a hornpipe and other steps with facility, and he devoted a good
share of his spare time to teaching recruits how to do it. Undoubtedly
a good step-dance was a great acquisition on a long, dreary, ocean
pilgrimage, and his performance always added to the amusement of a
Saturday evening when a concert was organized. The songs were mostly
comic, and were sung with an imitative touch of the professional dandy.
Occasional lapses into sentimentality never failed to strike a penitent
chord for some real or supposed sins that had been thoughtlessly
committed. But the mood was merely of brief duration, and only required
a comic interjection by someone to send the little community into
prolonged gaiety. It was quite usual when they were in the mood to
carry their revelry far into their watch below.
When the time came for the hand-spike to be thudded on the deck over
their heads, and eight bells called them from slumber to duty, there
were found some of whom it was said they would sleep with their heads
in a bucket of water, and these were speedily brought to consciousness
by the head of their hammocks being let fly by their less somnolent
comrades. This was one of the jokes which often led to days of
estrangement between the sleeper and the supposed culprit. It was
always a mystery who committed the offence, as great caution was used
to preserve secrecy. It was a wonder no necks were broken,
notwithstanding the care taken to avoid injury in carrying out this
mode of arousing the heavy sleeper. Many were undoubtedly hurt, but as
there was a good deal of disgrace attached to sleeping on after being
called, there was rarely open revolt or complaint made. Another method
of dealing with hands who could not keep their eyes open when on watch
was to reeve a rope through the scupper-hole, attach one end to the
person, and the other to a coal basket, which was thrown overboard. If
the vessel was travelling fast, the poor culprit was rudely awakened,
and before he could extricate himself he was dragged into the lee
scuppers. As that portion of the deck was usually flooded when the
vessel had any speed on her, there were soon loud cries for mercy. When
it was not prudent to adopt this plan, a bucket of water was thrown at
the sleeper's head; this produced the idea of having to swim for it. I
have often seen the culprit after an ablution of this character strike
out on the deck until his hands or his head came in contact with
something harder than either, and made consciousness revive.
But there were methods for dealing with the habit of sleeping on deck
other than those, which were fraught with greater danger. I was serving
on a vessel whose mate was in the habit of napping when on duty. It was
arranged to stretch ropes across the deck about one or two feet from
it, and about six feet apart. It was a dark, dirty night; the top of
the sea was all alive with phosphorus, which made it difficult to make
out lights. The mate slumbered peacefully, leaning against the weather
topgallant bulwarks. The man on the look-out shouted: "A red light on
the starboard bow!" The man at the wheel repeated it. The mate was
awakened, and went straight into a panic.
"Where is the light?"
"On the lee bow," said the helmsman.
"I think it is green," he said.
"Yes," said the helmsman; "so do I."
"No, it is not green; it is bright," said the mate.
"What do you think?"
"I think the same as you, George," said the helmsman.
The mate proceeded to rush along the deck towards the bow; each rope
tripped him up, and each fall caused him to see different-coloured
lights. After a succession of somersaults, he arrived at the fore end
of the vessel wide awake, but in a state of distraction. He called to
the look-out man to point out the light he had reported, and a deep,
sepulchral voice came from a tall figure robed in white, warning the
officer of approaching disaster because of his neglect of duty.
Suddenly a trumpet sounded, and in an instant the vision had
disappeared, and in another two men stood at the bow. They each spoke
to their officer, but he was speechless. At last he managed to jerk
out:
"Did you see that figure?"
"No," said the men.
"Then," said he in great tribulation, "it is an apparition."