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FRANK BROWN
Sea Apprentice
[Illustration: FRANK FLUNG ALL HIS WEIGHT ON THE LEE SIDE OF THE WHEEL.]
FRANK BROWN
Sea Apprentice
by
FRANK T. BULLEN, F.R.G.S.
Author of “The Cruise of the ‘Cachalot’”
“A Son of the Sea,” etc.
With Illustrations by Arthur Twidle
New York
E. P. Dutton and Company
31 West Twenty-Third Street
1907
TO
MY DEARLY LOVED FRIEND
THE REV. GUSTAVUS BOSANQUET
THIS STORY IS AFFECTIONATELY
DEDICATED
PREFACE
In order to make it plain to my readers that the following pages may be
read without danger of acquiring false information about the sea, or
the ways of its servants, I beg to say that every incident recorded is
fact, either well authenticated by others, or personal experience of
my own. About the merits of the _story_ I can, of course, say nothing,
but I assure my readers of the accuracy of the details and information
herein contained. I have naturally used the incidents to make a story,
and given fictitious names of ships, places, and people. And I am not
without hope that the reading of this book may be quite profitable to
parents of boys wishing to go to sea, as well as pleasurable to the
boys themselves.
FRANK T. BULLEN.
R.M.S. _Omrah_,
AT SEA IN THE GREAT AUSTRALIAN BIGHT,
_Easter Sunday_ 1906.
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. THE CALL OF THE SEA 1
II. OUTWARD BOUND 16
III. HIS FIRST GALE 39
IV. A GREAT FIGHT 62
V. AMONG THE ISLANDS 83
VI. INTRODUCES AMERICANS 110
VII. HOMEWARD BOUND 132
VIII. HOME AT LAST 156
IX. THE TESTING OF A MAN 181
X. A CATASTROPHE 201
XI. THE IMMUTABLE EAST 222
XII. FRANK GETS HIS OPPORTUNITY 250
XIII. “CAPTAIN” BROWN 272
XIV. TO SEA ONCE MORE 293
XV. THE BITTER LESSON ENDS 314
XVI. CONCLUSION 331
FRANK BROWN
SEA APPRENTICE
CHAPTER I
THE CALL OF THE SEA
“My dear boy, you are only feeling what I think most British boys feel
at some period of their school days, a longing for an adventurous life,
no matter what the outcome of it may be. Of course you can’t see one
inch beyond your nose, that’s not to be expected, any more than that
you should consider my feelings in the matter. You want to go to sea
and that’s enough--for you; but, Frank, aren’t your mother and father
to be thought of at all? I know of course that sailors are necessary
and all that, but what little I know of a sailor’s life and prospects
makes me feel that it is the last profession on earth that I should
choose for my son, especially after I have impoverished myself to
fit you to take your place in the great firm with which I have been
honourably connected for the last thirty years. There will always be
plenty of youngsters with unhappy homes and neglected education to take
up the business of seafaring, boys who have got nothing else to look
forward to ashore. But you’re not one of those, are you?”
The speaker, Mr. Frank Brown, was a man who occupied a responsible
position in the counting-house of a great manufacturing firm in the
North of England. Steady, faithful, if humdrum, service had raised him
from almost the lowest position in the office to the post he had held
for the last twelve years at a salary of £500 a year. He was happily
married, and had three children, two daughters aged twelve and sixteen
respectively, and a son, to whom he was now speaking, who came between
them, that is, he was now fourteen; a fine, healthy, and intelligent
lad.
But while Mr. Brown was almost a model member of that great middle
class which, in spite of what sensationalists may say, is in very truth
the backbone of our country, his horizon was exceedingly limited by
his particular business. Outside of it he was almost densely ignorant
of the world’s affairs. All his abilities, and they were undoubtedly
high, had been always concentrated upon his duties at the office, and
he had been repaid by a life devoid of care and external difficulties.
It never even occurred to him what “going to sea” meant for his native
land, namely, her existence as a nation. He did not know that there was
any difference between the Navy and the Merchant service, only thought
of the sailor as a picturesque, careless figure who led a life full of
adventure but empty of profit to himself, a rolling stone who could
never be expected to gather any moss.
And he was a perfect type of many thousands of his class, whom it
is impossible not to admire, while bewailing the narrowness of their
minds, the restriction of their intellectual boundaries. He had never
contemplated the possibility of his son striking out an original line
for himself, having in his own mind mapped out that son’s career, and
now when in stammering accents and blushing like a girl that son had
suddenly announced his determination to “go to sea,” he was filled
with dismay. His mental vision showed him a hirsute semi-piratical
individual reeking of strong liquors and rank tobacco, full of strange
oaths and stranger eccentricities, but entirely lacking in the
essential elements of “getting on,” which, to tell the truth, was to
Mr. Brown the chief end of man.
Now Frank junior cared for none of these latter things, because he had
never thought about them. Food and clothes and home comforts came as
did the sunshine and the air. From his earliest recollection he had
never needed to concern himself with any of his wants, because they
were supplied in good time by the care of his dear mother. A perfectly
healthy young animal, and free from vice because he had led a sheltered
life, he had given no trouble, but having lately taken to reading
stories of adventure, principally of the sea, he had suddenly felt the
call of the wild, the craving of the bird reared in the cage to escape
therefrom upon seeing a wild bird fly past or upon inhaling a breath
from the forest or field. This primal need held him, and so, although
he hardly knew how to express himself, he stood his ground, and to his
father’s address only replied, “I feel I must go, Dad. I don’t know
why, but I feel I shan’t ever do any good here. Do let me go.”
And that was all they could get out of him. The tears of his mother
and the expostulations of his father were equally of no use, and
besides, it must be admitted that he was secretly encouraged (which was
needless) by his eldest sister, who said, “I glory in you, Frank; if
I was only a boy I’d go, see if I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t stick on this
mill-horse round day after day, never getting any further forward, not
I. I’m proud of you, old chap.”
Many a private confabulation did these two hold together, the
subject always being the glorious adventure of a sailor’s life, the
splendid opportunity of seeing the world and of doing the things that
stay-at-homes only read about and gape over, until the boy was ready to
do anything, however foolish, to gratify his craving. But, like many
other boyish fancies, I think this might have worn off, if it hadn’t
been for a circumstance occurring accidentally just then which clinched
matters.
The family went, as they usually did, to Lytham for their summer
holiday, Mr. Brown chuckling at the thought that while they could enjoy
the sea-air his boy would not have much chance to pursue his hobby,
even though so closely in touch with the sea, from the absence of
shipping. And for a little while it seemed as if in his enjoyment of
bicycling, swimming, and boating, which all the family were fond of,
Frank had forgotten his desire for a sailor’s life, the subject being
tacitly dropped.
Then one day when they were all having a pleasant sail in a small
boat, a piece of carelessness on the part of the boatman caused the
main sheet to jam just as a sudden puff of wind came down and heeled
her over. In a moment all of them were struggling in the water, and a
tragedy was imminent. But a smart little yacht ran down to them and,
how they never knew, in a few minutes they were all rescued and were
being swiftly carried shoreward very wet and frightened, but extremely
grateful to their preserver, a hale, seaman-like man of about sixty
years of age, who handled his little vessel as if she was part of
himself.
On reaching the shore Mr. Brown begged their preserver, who had
introduced himself as Captain Burns, retired master mariner, to visit
them at their hotel that evening in order that he might be properly
thanked for his great skill and opportune help. The captain accepted
gaily, but made light of his services, and hoping that they would feel
no ill effects from their ducking, bade them good-bye until the evening.
“What an adventure,” said Mr. Brown, “and what a splendid man that
Captain Burns is, to be sure, a regular old sea-dog.” Then he stopped
and looked at his son, who, with flushed face and sparkling eyes, was
evidently enjoying to the full this episode so much to his taste.
From then until the evening the talk, however much the father and
mother might try to change the subject, ran continually upon the merits
of sailors, especially their resource and courage in time of danger;
and the parents sighed repeatedly as they realised how the event of
the day was working, in spite of themselves, against their cherished
hopes.
But when the captain arrived to dinner and allowed himself to be drawn
out by Frank, telling marvellous tales of adventure in foreign lands
and on lonely, stormy seas, even the staid father felt his breath come
short and his heart swell, and he began to enter into the feelings
of his boy, who hung entranced upon every word which fell from the
captain’s lips.
At last, during a momentary lull in the conversation, Mr. Brown said
hesitatingly, “I am afraid, captain, that your yarns, marvellously
interesting as they are, will frustrate all the pains I have been
taking lately to persuade my boy that he ought to give up his idea
of going to sea. You seem to have magnetised him. I thought he was
enthusiastic before, but I am afraid he won’t listen to my reasoning at
all now.”
There was a dead silence for a minute or two, during which Frank looked
pleadingly at his parents, and the captain was evidently embarrassed.
Then the latter broke the awkward pause by saying, “If I have come
athwart your wishes in any way, Mr. Brown, with regard to my young
friend here, I’m very sorry. And you’ll know I had no intention of so
doing. But you’ll know, too, that when a British boy feels the call of
the sea he doesn’t need any encouragement to make him persevere in his
attempts to get to it, and everything told him in order to discourage
him only seems to have the opposite effect. I’m sure I feel that what
I’ve said about my experiences, although I don’t deny that I am proud
to have gone through them, ought to make anybody feel that any life
was preferable to a sailor’s. But when you come to think of it, there
is something splendid in the way in which our youngsters crave to face
danger and hardship in a calling which has done so much to make our
good old country what it is. Goodness knows where we should be without
this fine young spirit, for you know we must have sailors, or what
would become of us as a nation?”
“There, there,” burst in Mr. Brown hastily, “don’t say any more. You
convince me against what I consider my own better judgment, and I don’t
mind admitting that, although it has cost us many a bitter pang to
bring ourselves to the idea of parting with our only son, my wife and
I agreed last night that we would no longer oppose him in his wishes.
But we want advice as to the best means of gratifying his wish, so that
he may get the most effective start possible in the profession. I am
quite ignorant of everything concerning the beginning of a sea career,
but I am absolutely convinced of the necessity of starting right in any
undertaking. So I shall be grateful for any advice you can give me on
the matter.”
“Good man,” replied the captain, “you can count on me to do all I can
for him. First of all I assume that he is healthy and hardy, and that
his eyesight is all right as regards colour blindness; for I may as
well tell you at once, that unless that is all right, it is absolutely
useless for him to give another thought to a seafaring career. But we
can settle that at once. Here, Frank, let me put you through your first
examination.”
And the captain, amidst the keenest interest on the part of the whole
family, proceeded to question the boy as to the colour of everything
in the room. In five minutes he professed himself perfectly satisfied
that, whatever else Frank might fail in, his eyesight was all right.
Frank gave a great sigh of relief, and the captain went on to say that
on the morrow he would write to several shipping firms known to him who
owned sailing ships--he didn’t believe in steamers for beginners--and
when he had learned their terms, and what vacancies were available, he
would let Mr. Brown know, and advise him further as to his choice.
After which he took his leave with a fervent handshake from Frank,
who looked upon him as a sort of hero-deliverer who had come just in
the nick of time to save his hopes from being thwarted. The parents,
as might be expected, did not feel any such enthusiasm; yet even they
were relieved, as people usually are when, after a long period of
indecision, they have made up their minds to a certain course, however
distasteful such a course has once appeared to them.
Three days afterwards Captain Burns again called on the Browns with a
lot of correspondence from his ship-owning acquaintances, and after
carefully going over the merits of each opening presented, gave his
advice to accept the offer of quite a small firm in Liverpool, owning
three barques of medium size, from 800 to 1200 tons, usually making
very long voyages to out-of-the way parts of the world, wherever, in
fact, they could get remunerative freights, no easy thing in these days
of universal steamer competition.
He gave as his reason that this firm was not a limited company, but
privately owned, and that the owners took a direct interest in the
welfare of their servants, especially of their apprentices, whom they
looked upon as their personal protégés, for whose well-being they were
directly responsible. The premium they demanded was £50 for four years,
half of which was returnable as wages. The requisite outfit would cost,
so the captain said, about twenty pounds, and the total cost for the
four years would be, or rather should be, less than £100. And if his
advice were taken to accept the terms of Messrs. Chadwick & Son, Frank
would within three weeks be at sea and his career begun, as they had a
ship now loading for several ports in the South Sea Islands. She was a
nice handy barque of about 1000 tons, only about fifteen years old, and
he (the captain) knew her very well as being a most comfortable ship.
Of course, having put himself implicitly in the captain’s hands, Mr.
Brown had no criticisms or objections to offer, or any reasons for
delay. And so the next few days were very busy ones for both him and
his son, and they made many visits to Liverpool under the guidance of
the captain, who seemed to know everybody and his way about everywhere.
They found the owner very courteous and sympathetic, but did not see
the master of the _Sealark_, as the barque was called, he being at
home in Scotland on leave. They saw the vessel though, going on board
of her in the Brunswick Docks, where she lay awaiting her cargo.
Both Frank and his father were very quiet as they explored the vessel’s
cabin and fo’c’sle, under the guidance of the worn-out old sailor who
was acting as shipkeeper, Captain Burns not being with them. Everything
looked so cold, and cheerless, and forlorn. Besides, there was a smell
hanging about everywhere as of decaying things or bad drainage, which
made both of them feel quite faint and sick, in spite of the keen wind
which was blowing across the ship, and seemed to search every corner of
it.
At last Mr. Brown, unable to subdue his curiosity any longer, asked the
old seaman whatever the stench could mean, Frank listening eagerly for
the answer.
“Oh,” replied the shipkeeper, “she’s just home from the Chinchee
Islands with guanner, and that stinks about as bad as anything I knows
on.”
“Do you mean to say, then,” asked the father, “that the poor fellows
who sailed this ship had to bear this horrible smell all the voyage?”
“Oh no,” answered the ancient mariner, “only on the passage home,
about three months and a half. And then, you see, as they had the full
flavour of it while they was aloading her, they’d got so used to it
they wouldn’t notice it when they got to sea. It wasn’t near so bad
then, although it was wuss nor what it is now. But lord bless you, sir,
this ain’t nothin’. I ben shipmates with a cargo of creosoted sleepers
out to Bonos Aires, an’ the stuff was that strong our noses useter
bleed when we come in the fo’c’sle. An’ all the grub was flavoured
with strong tar, so that when we did get some fresh grub we’d lost our
taste. Didn’t get it back, either, for a jolly long time. Now guanner
only makes your grub a bit high-flavoured, sort of gamey, like as I’m
told the gentry fancies their vittles. It all depends upon taste, and
sailors ain’t supposed to have any.”
Turning to his son, Mr. Brown said, “My boy, this is very different
from what you expected, isn’t it? There isn’t much romantic adventure
here, only dirt, discomfort, and squalor. I’m afraid you’ll repent very
sorely of your decision.”
“Oh no, Dad,” eagerly responded Frank, “I knew I should have to rough
it, everybody has to that goes to sea. And I expect she’ll be very
different when we get to sea and all the crew on board.”
“Ah, that she will,” interrupted the shipkeeper; “you wouldn’t know her
when once the crew’s settled down to work and cleaned her up. It’s no
place to judge a ship in dock, when there’s been nobody by her for a
week or two except a shipkeeper. She gets all neglected like an empty
house without a caretaker.”
Frank’s face shone with gratitude for the comfort, and even Mr.
Brown looked less worried as he realised the truth of what the old
man said. But he could not help feeling grieved to think how all the
little niceties of life in which his son had been brought up would be
out of the question here--the little den pointed out to him as the
“half-deck,” or boys’ apartment, being no larger than the boot-room at
home, or about six feet square, and with absolutely no fittings of any
kind except the four bunks. However, he reasoned that Frank would look
at these things in a different light altogether, and, stifling a sigh,
he tipped the old man liberally and took his departure, saying no more
to his son on the subject that day.
Next day they said good-bye to their friend Captain Burns, who promised
to correspond with them, and left Lytham for home, Frank almost
bursting with pride as he donned his new uniform and thought of the
sensation he would make among his friends at Dewsbury. He tried hard
not to be self-conscious, but it was a complete failure, for he knew
how his sisters were gloating over him and saw how fondly yet sadly his
mother’s eyes dwelt upon her handsome boy, looking so smart and manly
in his new rig.
It was all like a glorious golden dream, and if ever a boy was happy he
was. He did not even begrudge the delay, though it would be ten days
before he was due to join his ship, because it would give him time to
enjoy his triumph while pretending that he was only anxious to get away.
What a lovely time he had, to be sure, filling the hearts of all his
boy friends with black envy of his luck, as they called it, being made
much of by everybody, and seeing his father and mother grow prouder of
him every day as if he was a young hero. Indeed it was a good job for
him that the time was short, or he would have been utterly spoiled,
for every one did their best to turn his head.
But the time flew by, and at last the eventful morning arrived when he
must go. He was to make the journey to Liverpool alone because business
claimed his father, and his mother was not strong enough for such a
trial. But that only made him feel prouder of his independence, and
although he could not help feeling a lump in his throat as he stood at
the carriage window and waved farewell to his parents and sisters on
the platform, he speedily forgot them in boy fashion as he lolled back
in his seat and assumed the air of a man while the train sped swiftly
towards Liverpool.
Arriving at the Exchange Station, he skipped nimbly out upon the
platform and gazed around him, somewhat bewildered at the noise and
bustle, until he caught sight of the burly figure of Captain Burns,
who, according to his promise, was there to meet him. They were soon
in a cab, and, with Frank’s chest and bag on top, threaded the crowded
streets towards the dock. Neither of them said much, for although Frank
had a thousand questions to ask, he was, like most boys, shy with his
elders, and Captain Burns had put on the “Captain” for the occasion.
They were soon alongside the _Sealark_, which, even to Frank’s
inexperienced eyes, looked very different from when he had last seen
her. Her sails were bent and her rigging was all in place, while quite
a gang of men were busy all about her putting the complications of
her gear in readiness for use at sea. They did not pause to admire
her, for Captain Burns was not one of those garrulous old sailors who
are such a nuisance to youngsters because they will keep talking and
teaching as they call it, but getting swiftly on board and depositing
Frank’s luggage in the house, they sought the mate at once.
He was not a prepossessing personage, being a rough, coarsely clad man
of about forty, with a voice like a bull and a scowl as if he had just
taken offence at something. But he was very civil to Captain Burns,
who, introducing Frank, said, “Here, Mr. Jenkins, is my young friend
Frank Brown, the latest candidate for acquaintance with Sou’spaining.
Try and make a man of him; he’s keen enough, I know, and he’s come to
the right quarter for experience.”
The mate nodded with a grim smile, saying, “You’re about right there,
sir. I’ll put him through his facings all right. He’ll be a reg’lar
tar-pot by the time we get back.”
“Now then, Frank,” said Captain Burns, “this is the chief mate of the
ship. Next to the captain he’s your boss, and if you only do what he
tells you as well as you can, and as quick as you can, and never try
and skulk, he’ll make a prime sailor of ye. And that’s what you want
to be, you know. Now go and change those fine clothes for a suit of
dungaree, that blue cotton stuff, you know. Put your uniform away, for
you won’t want it for a long time, and make haste on deck again ready
to begin work. You can’t begin too soon. Now good-bye and good luck to
ye, and don’t forget to show willing, it’s only skulkers that get into
trouble at sea.”
And as Frank turned away towards the house, Captain Burns said to the
mate, “I think he’s a bit of the right stuff, strong and healthy, and I
believe he’ll turn out all right. Try and bring him on for my sake, and
if you succeed with him I won’t forget you; you know I’ve got a bit of
a pull at the office. So-long.”
And he was gone, having done his best for our hero as he considered,
but having certainly arranged for Master Frank as severe a series of
surprises as ever boy had. For the mate turned away muttering, “All
right, Captain Burns, if I don’t put him through it won’t be my fault,
and if he doesn’t earn his Board of Trade he can’t blame me. Silly
young ass, I suppose he’s worried his people to death to let him be a
sailor, and now he thinks he is one. Well, we’ll see.”