THE MAKING OF A SAILOR
BEFORE we had been out at sea a fortnight I was able to climb up the
lower rigging, and had learned several things about the ship. I was
very happy, I was never tired, and was only too ready to work off my
superabundant vitality. I also learned how to wash clothes. My first
attempt was a failure, a heavy shower of rain was falling, and one of
the sailors coming along the deck with an armful of dirty clothes,
called out to me: “Now then, Tommy, now’s the time to wash clothes,”
and following his example, I brought my dirty gear on to the deck in
the drenching rain, and soaping them well, tried to dolly the dirt out
of them by stamping and jumping on them with my feet as they lay near
the scuppers. Hanson roared with laughter at my efforts, and then came
along and gave me a lesson. I lost count of the days, they passed so
quickly, and were so full of interest. Every day I loved the sea more
and more, each day showed me some new beauty in it, and on fine days,
to see the sun rise and set on the water was a marvellous picture to
me, of which I never tired.
As was the custom on board ship, I learned to tell what day it was
by what we had for dinner, and what with the sea air, and the happy
healthy life I was leading, I was growing taller and stronger every
day. There was another boy besides myself on board, named Walter Jones,
a quiet, industrious boy. He was in the port watch, and we two spent
many an hour together in the dog watch, which is the sailors’ time
for recreation, learning to splice ropes, make fancy knots, and other
things that were necessary to the making of a good seaman. The chief
officer, in his gruff fashion, told us one day that a sailing vessel
was like a young lady in her best clothes--to look complete she had to
have them all on, and in good order; she must be washed and kept clean,
painted to look smart, have a brooch on her bosom, called a figure
head, jewel blocks and earrings for decoration, her dress must fit
well. Then, for adornments, you will put knots of ribbon on her, single
wall knots, single diamond knots, double diamond knots, Mathew-Walkers,
Turks’ Heads, and half a dozen others; then you’ve got to know how
she’s built, and what the hundred parts of her are called; you’ll have
to find out all about the bending and unbending of the sails, rattling
down and setting up rigging, the making of small stuff and so on. The
second mate took a special interest in us, and was always ready to
explain and show us anything that puzzled us. At night when it was our
watch, “the starboard watch,” on deck, he would call me aft on the
poop, and teach me the names of the principal navigable stars, pointing
them out to me and showing me their various positions during the night.
He told me of the wonderful order they kept; how for ages they had kept
their present position in relation to each other, never varying; just
as the Almighty Father placed them so they remained, never tiring,
never resting, never wearing out, or altering their distances, the
strongest proof of the work of the Omnipotent God. While he talked to
me, his young face would light up with a strange radiance.
“Ah, George,” he said to me once, “if you ever doubt God, or His love
and care for mankind, raise your eyes to those stars, and think of Him
who planned and placed them there, and your doubts will vanish.”
I never heard Mr. Weeler bully or swear at the men; he was firm and
just, he never asked a man to do anything he could not do himself, and
show others how to do; the men soon found this out, and would jump at
his call. To me he was an ideal sailor and a gentleman, and I learnt to
respect and love him. One day, just before we got the trade winds, the
ship was becalmed, and rolling about in a north-west swell. The sailors
were aloft, singing and whistling while doing their various jobs. I was
on the poop assisting the sailmaker by picking the old stitches out of
the sail he was repairing; he was one of the best men at spinning yarns
I ever knew, and listening to him made the time fly and work easy. I
had been thinking over what the chief mate had been saying about a ship
being like a young lady, and had noticed that we always spoke of a ship
as “she.”
“Sails,” I said during an interval of silence, “why is a ship always
called ‘she’?”
“Why, because she is rigged out like a woman; she has stays, and
crinoline, a waist, carries a bonnet on her square sails, tripping
lines to trip them up; she carries thimbles, needles and pins, and
above all she requires a man to manage her.”
Sails got no further with his yarn, and I had no time to reply to this
explanation. The captain was sitting on the wheel gratings aft, near
the helmsman; all of a sudden he jumped up and called out:
“Shark, oh, go for a hook, Sails; go to the steward, boy, and get a
lump of raw pork.”
I flew along the deck to the steward, who gave me a piece of salt pork
with the rind on, weighing about three pounds. The shark hook had ten
feet of chain attached to it, and the hook was about the size of those
you see outside the butcher’s shop for hanging quarters of beef to.
Attached to the chain were about fifteen fathoms of three-inch manilla
rope. When all was ready, the bait and hook were thrown over the stern,
and slacked away about thirty feet. I looked round the ship, but not a
sign of a shark could I see. The second mate at that moment called two
of the sailors down from aloft to help pull up the shark.
Now to my young mind they were counting their chickens before they were
hatched, but the captain, second mate and sailors were waiting to haul
it up, and I supposed they knew what they were about, so I asked the
second mate, whom I was standing near, if he could see the shark?
“No,” he replied, “but I can see his pilots, and I know he is near to
us.”
I must have looked bewildered, for he took me to the taffrail, and,
looking over the stern at the baited hook, I saw several small and
pretty fish, about the size of a herring, with whitish stripes across
their backs. “These,” he said, “are called pilot fish, they always
accompany a shark as a kind of satellite, and lead him to his prey.” As
he was speaking the pilot fish had been smelling round the bait, they
now darted away under the ship’s counter.
“Look out, look out,” cried the captain.
And slowly from under the counter came a huge, ugly, brown,
shovel-nosed shark, the first I had seen, a horrid brute, with two
large greasy-looking eyes. As it approached the bait, it turned over on
its side and shewed its white belly and its awful mouth with numerous
rows of sharp, saw-like teeth. It did not attempt to take the bait at
once, but just took a smell as it passed, swimming a few yards away.
Then it turned and made straight for the bait. As it drew near it
turned on its back, its mouth being right underneath, and making a
dart swallowed the bait, hook and a few feet of chain.
“Haul, haul, haul away!” cried the captain.
And haul away we did with all our might. When we had got him close to
the ship’s stern we found him heavier than we expected, so some of the
men were called to assist.
“Stop hauling,” ordered the captain, looking over the stern. “If we get
him on the poop, he will either burst the deck or the skylight with his
tail. Pull him up in the waist.”
So a line was rove through a block on the main topmast backstay and
bent on aft; then the order was given to haul away again, and away the
sailors ran along the deck with the rope in their hands. It was grand
sport for them, and they thoroughly enjoyed it.
When hoisted up to the block we saw the immense size of the creature.
The bight of rope was thrown over it, and it was pulled inboard and
lowered on deck. Then the rumpus began. It cleared everything within
reach. With one blow of its powerful tail it broke the hatch block that
was hooked near where it lay, and wriggling near the topsail halliards,
it bit through two strands of the rope. Then it lay still for a moment,
and the carpenter adroitly pushed a board under its tail, and with one
swift stroke of his axe cut it off. The shark was powerless after this,
and it was soon killed and cut up. It measured seventeen feet from the
tip of the nose to the tip of the tail. The girth just in front of
the dorsal fin was seventy-two inches, the jaw when opened to the full
extent measured twenty inches by eighteen. Its stomach was found to
contain a dead fowl that had been thrown overboard that morning, and
an old shoe that it must have got from some other ship. The liver was
cut up into small pieces and put into an empty kerosene tin and placed
in the foretop for the tropical sun to melt; when melted it is a good
cure for rheumatism and stiff joints. The mouth contained eight rows
of teeth, four on the top and four below, they were shaped like the
teeth of a saw. The jaw bone was taken out and cleaned, and also the
back bone, out of which two beautiful walking-sticks were made. For
the benefit of my young readers I will explain how these sticks were
made. The back bone was first cut into two lengths of thirty inches
each. They were then put into pickle in the harness cask for one night,
and hung up in the sun to dry. Then they were carefully scraped with
a sharp knife, and all particles of flesh taken off. The small holes
of the vertebræ were cleaned out with a sail needle and filled with
putty mixed with black varnish. Then a thin steel rod was run through
the centre hole where the spinal cord was, and screwed up with a nut.
The whole was then varnished, and a beautiful stick was the result.
The handle was made some time afterwards with the bill of an albatross
caught off the Cape of Good Hope.
We got the north-east trade winds the following day, and I began to
realize the true beauty of a sailor’s life, sailing along with a
cloudless sky and fine clear weather, when every breath is life full
and free, and the sea just lumpy enough to remind you that you are out
of soundings. Every day we passed some homeward bound ships--in many
cases two or three years had elapsed since they had sailed from dear
old England. Then there would be signals, that language of the sea,
and which I thought was wonderful, good wishes were exchanged for a
pleasant voyage, the dipping of the ensigns, and away again. Then I saw
the dolphins, porpoises, and flying fish darting hither and thither,
and I thought how much more beautiful they looked in reality than in
books, everything was wonderful and beautiful. My heart was young and
knew no care.
We crossed the equator on the thirty-second day out, and two incidents
happened on that day that I shall never forget. Just after breakfast
the chief mate called me aft, and then sent me to fetch Walter Jones.
Wondering what he wanted us for we went to him on the poop where he was
standing with his long spying glass, looking over the ocean.
“Now boys,” he said, “we shall cross the equator to-day, and if you
have good eyesight and a clear day, you should be able to see the line,
now then, Walter, you look first.”
Walter looked long and earnestly through the glass.
“Can you see anything, here let me see,” and he took the glass in his
hands again. After fixing it again he gave it back to Walter who had
another good look.
“Why, yes, sir,” he said, “I believe I can see a line, it is very
faint, but I think it is there.”
“Now, George,” said Mr. McLean, “you look, look well, and let me see if
your eyesight is as good as it looks.”
I took the glass and raised it to my eyes, and there sure enough was a
line right across. What a wonderful thing that it could be seen.
We thanked Mr. McLean and went back to our work, and it was many a long
day before we found out that it was a joke that had been played upon
us, and that the line we saw was a hair placed across the glass.
The other incident was a visit from Father Neptune--one of the few
romances left to the sailor in sailing ships, and in this visit Walter
Jones, two of the sailors and I, had the pleasure and privilege--which
is doubtful--of taking part. In preparation for the event a topmast
stun-sail was rigged on the after skids and filled with salt water,
about three feet above this a stage was also rigged, and this
completed, all the visible preparations for the visit of his majesty.
We crossed the line on the thirty-second day out at noon, and precisely
at that hour Father Neptune and his wife (the steward and sailmaker)
accompanied by his retinue, which consisted of a doctor, barber,
and policeman, came over the bow. Then, after a few preliminaries,
the second mate read to the sea king a list of the introductions to
be made. The captain and chief mate meanwhile standing on the poop
watching and enjoying the proceedings.
I, as the youngest member of the crew, was the first to be introduced,
and after the list was gone through, to my surprise I was captured
by the policeman, roughly examined by the doctor, and hoisted on the
stage. The policeman again seized hold of me, the barber having in his
hand a can of lather made up of slush and filth from the galley, with
which he started to lather my face, head, and neck.
“What is your name?” he asked.
“George Farrar,” I began, but the filthy brush was into my mouth.
“Ugh,” I spluttered.
“What port do you come from?” was again asked me.
“Liverpool,” I said quickly. Again the brush was into my mouth, but I
was too sharp for them and closed my teeth with a snap. “Ugh, ugh,”
I spluttered again, but it was no use, my face was then scraped with
a bent hoop-iron razor, after which I was pitched into the stun-sail
bath, well soused, and then allowed to emerge a Son of Neptune--a
genuine deep-water sailor.
The list included Walter Jones, and two of the crew, named Hans and
Peterson, much to their disgust but to my delight, for I had begun to
think that I was the only one to be treated in that fashion, so now,
having been shaved first, I had the pleasure of watching the others,
who enjoyed it about as much as I had done. When the list was completed
we had a “rough house” in the stun-sail bath, but somebody cast a hitch
adrift, and we came down on the main deck “lumpus.”
Following the shaving, three cheers were called for by the second mate
for the captain, Father Neptune, his wife, and retinue, the ship and
her crew. The disguises were taken off, and we enjoyed the rest of the
day as a holiday.
A few days after our visit from Father Neptune, we got into the
Doldrums, and after being driven hither and thither by the light
winds which blew from all quarters, then having got through, we had
strong, squally weather throughout the south-east trades. Here it was a
constant round of furling and unfurling of the light sails, and Jones
and I got quite proficient at it, and I felt a bit proud of myself, but
true to the letter is the wise old saying that “pride comes before a
fall,” for so it happened to me.
When the command was given one day to furl the main-topsail, I followed
in the rear of the other sailors, for I felt fit for anything, so up I
went until I reached the under side of the maintop. Now the others had
swung themselves up in the proper way by the futtock shrouds without a
moment’s hesitation, for they were old hands, but when I looked at the
overhanging top, and realized that I must climb around it with my head
slanting away from my feet, my heart failed, and I clung motionless to
the shrouds.
“What are you about, you young fool, swarm up, swarm up will you.”
It was the voice of the first mate, hoarse with anger and it made me
wince as from a blow.
“All right, sir,” I said, and made a desperate effort to go still
higher. But, unfortunately, my right foot lost its hold upon the
rope-ladder, and, in trying to swing it back my left foot also let
go, and there I hung by my hands alone, unable to recover my footing,
and certain that I should be dashed to death on the deck if my grasp
failed, but luckily for me the first mate saw my danger.
“Look out for that youngster by the maintop there,” he shouted, for I
was swaying with the pitching of the ship. “Look slippy, or he’ll drop.”
Hans, who was nearest to me sprang to the maintop, and sliding down
through the lubber’s hole he reached out and caught me, drew me back
into the shroud, so that I was once more able to get my feet upon the
ropes.
“Here, give us hold of your hand,” he said, “and get up through the
lubber’s hole, if you don’t know any better than that, it’s time you
did.”
I was too glad at being safe to mind the contempt with which Hans had
spoken to me, so I crawled up through the hole of the main-top provided
for such emergencies. Hans went back to his place on the yard. As I
watched the big square sail being clewed up according to Mr. McLean’s
orders, I wondered how long it would take me to become so expert. When
this was done and we returned to the deck, I followed, and would gladly
have slipped out of sight, for I was vexed with myself at the sorry
figure I had made in my first attempt to go up aloft, but no sooner was
I on the deck than Mr. McLean called me to him.
“So that’s the way you go up aloft, eh,” he said, “you ought to have
brought your nurse with you to sea. You stood a good chance of breaking
your neck, what sort of a sailor are you going to make, if you go on
like that.”
My blood boiled, although I was still feeling the effects of my fright,
but I said nothing, and then he put his hand on my shoulder and said,
“my lad, you’ve a lot to learn yet, and the sooner you set about it the
better.”
A sudden resolution came into my mind, and, without waiting to think,
I went to the main shrouds, and, climbing to the futtock-shrouds, set
myself to the task of reaching the main-top in true sailor fashion. My
muscles quivered and my breath came in short quick gasps as I leaned
once more over that great space below me, but setting my teeth, and
breathing a prayer to God to help me, I made another effort, and found
to my relief that I had succeeded, and at last I was on the maintop. A
glad sense of triumph filled my heart, and following the shrouds with
my eyes to where they ended at the main-top-mast head, I determined to
reach that too before I went down again.
“I’ll try, anyhow, it’s not as bad as what I have just done.”
So, climbing cautiously, I reached the head without any very great
difficulty, and after holding on for a few minutes to rest, I came back
to the main-top. When it came to leaving it for the deck I hesitated,
but no, I said to myself, and sure enough I did and managed all right,
without having to go through the lubber hole.
I thought no one had noticed me going up, and hoped they had not, but,
to my surprise, the chief mate called me to him.
“I see you’ve got the right grit in you my lad,” he said kindly,
“that’s the only way to learn the ropes, you’ll soon get the run of the
rigging.”