THE RISE OF THE MASTER (REAL).
_The Liner._
So far, I am afraid that in sketching out the possible rapid rise and
progress from college to quarter-deck I have not been very amusing or
enlightening. The non-professional reader will be bewildered by the
swift passage of the young sailor through the various grades without
any elucidation of the "how" of each process, while the professional
seaman reading it will smile sardonically, and endeavour to recall any
instances within his knowledge of such an upward flight. Feeling this,
I hasten to explain that the foregoing is but an impressionist sketch
of an ideal condition of things, and that such a smooth attainment
of the object of a young sailor's ambition is of the very rarest
occurrence. Moreover, it has to be remembered that only the favoured
few can have the advantage such as is conferred by a _Worcester_ or
_Conway_ training. The great majority of youths who take to a sea life
go direct to their apprenticeship from school--go, too, in vessels
whose owners have but few ships, and consequently small facilities
for advancing their apprentices in the profession when once their
indentures have expired. As I propose to deal with the apprentice
in a chapter devoted to him entirely, I must be careful not to say
too much now, so I will merely indicate the undoubted fact that
an apprenticeship to any firm of ship-owners, no matter what the
excellence of the individual apprentice may be, carries with it no
guarantee of employment after the apprenticeship is over. In this,
as in many other respects, the sea is unlike any other profession.
In a large engineering firm, for instance, it would be considered a
waste of good material to discharge apprentices when out of their
time unless they had proved themselves hopelessly incompetent. But it
is not possible for a firm owning, say, four ships and carrying six
apprentices in each of them, to find employment for those apprentices
when they are fit to assume the position of officers. The four masters
are not at all likely to resign their berths frequently, masters of
ships in an employ such as I am now speaking of usually retaining their
commands for many years. They block the flow of promotion, never very
rapid, so that it is no infrequent thing to see the same set of three
officers, master, mate, and second mate, in one ship for several long
voyages.
What, then, is the young newly passed officer to do when, with his
creamy new certificate in his pocket, he finds nothing before him in
his old firm but a voyage before the mast as an able seaman? Well, if
his folks have any acquaintances among ship-owners--in other words, any
influence in that direction--now is the time to use it. Or, if they
have any money to invest, they will not find it difficult to purchase
a certain amount of interest, which should, and generally does, result
in their son getting an opening for employment. But if neither of these
levers are available, the aspirant is almost certainly in for a bad
time. Probably the best course for him will be to put his pride in his
pocket, and take a berth before the mast, always keeping his eyes open
when abroad for an opportunity of slipping into a vacant second mate's
berth, where he will get the rough edges worn off his newness, and
become accustomed to command. In the mean time he must keep carefully
in touch with his old firm, so that should he be on hand when there is
a vacancy, he may not miss it. His great object, of course, will be
to get a footing in a good firm, owning many ships, where promotion
is fairly rapid for the smart officer. Of course, he will hunger and
thirst after a steamer; but, unless he makes up his mind to go in the
lowest class of tramp, and plod painfully onward at very low wages for
a long time, he had better stick to sailing-ships until he gets his
master's certificate.
This for reasons which will appear later on. Into this stage of the
officer's upward progress the element of chance or coincidence enters
so largely that it is impossible to do more than generalize as to the
probable time which will elapse before he reach the goal of his desire.
But there is one feature in such a career as I am now attempting to
sketch that has not its counterpart, as far as I know, in any other
form of employment whatever. It is in the seeking for a berth. I know
of no more depressing occupation than that of a capable seaman looking
for a ship as officer. It does not greatly matter whether he wanders
round the docks or goes to the owner's offices, he is made to feel
like a mendicant; and on board most ships he is also made to feel like
a supplanter when he asks for employment. To go aboard of a likely
looking ship seeking a berth, say as mate, and to meet the present
holder of the office, is the usual experience, and a most awkward one
it is.
Here the pushful man will score heavily. Putting all diffidence in his
pocket, he will broach his message, boldly disregarding the frowning
face of the gentleman in charge, who naturally looks upon him as a foe.
But the shy, reserved man (and both these qualities are very common
among seamen) will stammer and beat about the bush, conceal the true
nature of his errand, and retire awkwardly in considerable confusion.
Having obtained a berth, however, it will generally rest with himself
how far he will be able to raise himself by its means. True, there are
many things--which will be treated fully under the different headings
of the various officers--which by no fault of his own may hinder and
dishearten him, but the unattached officer must not allow them to daunt
him. He must persevere, keeping his weather eye lifting for every
opportunity of advancement, and especially perfecting himself in all
the complicated details of his profession, in anticipation of the day
when, a full-blown shipmaster, he will be where his longings have led
him.
It may be asked, "But what has all this to do with the master
himself--his duties, his position, etc.?" The question is quite
reasonable, and I feel the full force of it; but there is a
strong temptation to anticipate the succeeding chapters, when one
remembers the passage over the generally thorny way leading up to
the chief position on board ship. However, I will do my best to
avoid further digression, and proceed at once to give, to the best
of my ability, a sketch of that much-envied individual's privileges
and responsibilities. The first difficulty that presents itself is
classification. For, although the Board of Trade certificate of master
qualifies its possessor to take command of the most splendid liner, it
is absolutely essential to the assumption of chief charge of a tiny
schooner engaged in foreign trade. Yet it must be obvious that between
these two positions there is a great gulf fixed--not in qualification,
for there is really no reason why the holders thereof should not
change places at any time. In many cases it is accident alone that
determines whether a man shall be master of a liner or a clumsy little
brig, lumbering painfully across to the West Indies. In spite of this
fact, one cannot expect that the grand gentleman who commands such a
magnificent ship as the _Teutonic_ or _Campania_, for instance, should
be able to refrain from looking down upon his brother master of the
_Susan_, brigantine of two hundred tons register. To the liner master's
credit be it said, he does not show nearly the same _hauteur_ towards
his less fortunate fellow that he might reasonably be expected to do.
That sort of view of their respective positions is usually taken by
people ashore, who know just enough of the conditions to enable them to
make such a tactical mistake.
The master of a great liner is in a really enviable position--not,
perhaps, as regards his earnings in solid cash, for it still remains to
the discredit of British seafaring that its most highly placed officers
are far worse paid than men greatly their inferiors engaged in business
ashore. But in power, in importance in the eyes of his fellow-men, in
comfort, he is far before them. His are the responsibilities, upon him
rests the reputation of the ship among the people who pay the piper,
the passengers, but beyond that his life is rightly looked upon by
his less fortunate brethren as one long holiday. No laborious keeping
of accounts for him, no worrying about freights or scanty passenger
lists, no anxious study of weather charts or calculation of course to
be pursued in reference to the time of year and consequently prevalent
winds. At the appointed time for sailing he comes upon the bridge, and
greets most cordially or nods most frigidly to the pilot according to
his temperament. That individual, one of the elect of his fine calling,
is paid by the company for his exclusive services, and it is his duty
to see the monster ship safely through the intricacies of the river
mouth out into free and open waters. The master's presence on the
bridge is a matter of form--necessary, however, because by some queer
twist of maritime law, although ships going foreign are compelled to
take a pilot who is responsible for her safe conduct out to certain
limits, the master's responsibility is always alive. Should the pilot
lose the ship and the master not be on deck, the latter would be held
equally to blame, although at what precise time his intervention would
be permissible is left delightfully ambiguous.
The pilotage limit is reached, and the pilot gets into his own place on
board of his own cutter; the voyage is begun. Now is the master lord
indeed; but such a ship as this will have at least six officers, of
whom most likely all will hold certificates as Master Extra. Each of
these in their turn take charge of the ship under the master's orders,
subject to certain regulations peculiar to the different companies, and
the least tribute that can be paid to them is that every one of them
is probably fully as competent to command the ship as is the master
himself. It is etiquette, however, for him to remain on the bridge
while the vessel is in waters that may by any stretch of nautical terms
be called narrow, although he does not interfere in any way, if he be
a gentleman, with the handling of the ship. The navigating officer
(usually the second officer) works assiduously at nautical astronomy,
calculating the position, the error of the compass, etc., continually,
but his work is checked by the master and the other officers, who work
the main details independently of him.
No ships afloat are navigated with more jealous care than these, no
ships can show a more splendid record of actual correctness in working,
and it needs a strong personality indeed on the part of the master to
avoid laxity. Having so fine a set of subordinate officers, why should
he trouble himself? The love of holding the reins, jealousy of the
slightest encroachment upon his prerogatives, will usually keep him
from this, but the temptations to enjoy the charmingly varied society
in the midst of which he moves as king is certainly very great. All
honour to these capable gentlemen that so few of them succumb to it.
Whenever stress of weather demands their presence on the high and
lofty bridge (Mount Misery, the wise it call), they will be found
there, cheery and confident, with apparently no sense of weight of
responsibility upon them, although they might well be excused if their
brows were permanently furrowed with anxious thought. To know that
upon you rests the charge of two thousand souls, to say nothing of
from half to three-quarters of a million pounds' worth of property
being hurled over the howling sea at the rate of twenty-five miles an
hour, is surely enough to give even the most jovial heart pause. Yet
these splendid men conceal with great ease any appearance of worry, and
behave as though they had nothing more serious on their mind than the
making of an Atlantic passage pleasant to their guests.
The master of a ship cannot enjoy that peculiar repose common to every
other member of his crew. Deeply as they may feel the weight of their
special responsibility while on watch, the moment they are relieved
the relief is complete. No matter how black the outlook, it is the
other fellow's business now. The relieved one goeth unto his bunk,
and divesting himself of his clothing, passes into dreamland as free
from care as if in some cosy bed ashore. Not one vestige of his late
anxieties trouble him. They will come on again all too soon; meanwhile
he will get as much sleep into the allotted hours as possible, and
nothing short of a summons from his commanding officer shall disturb
that calm. The poor skipper, on the other hand, has no such relief.
He must cultivate confidence in his officers, or want of rest will
soon make an old worn-out man of him; but in any case he must be
always ready to assume full responsibility. I have often wondered how
the masters of swift Atlantic liners can keep up their spirits as
they do, knowing what a number of derelicts there are lurking about
the Atlantic. I suppose they say to themselves that, remembering the
wideness of the sea, there are an infinity of chances against their
striking against any one of those awful shifting dangers, numerous
though they be. And they must cultivate a habit of refusing to
contemplate possible disasters that are by no means inevitable, else
would they soon become unfit for their position.
It must not be forgotten that they are in the last resort also
responsible for the performance of the tremendous giants below, the
steam-engines that thrust the vast fabric through the seas at such
headlong speed. But, unlike their brethren in the Navy, they do not
think lightly of the engineer. They recognize to the full his wonderful
ability and trustworthiness, and I think I am well within the mark in
saying that no department of the ship's management gives them less
anxiety than the most important of all, the engine and boiler-rooms.
For it is impossible to conceive of even a second-rate engineer rising
to be in command of a liner's engine-room. There is a process of
weeding-out in action there that is very efficient, so that while it
is conceivable that by a combination of favourable circumstances and
highly placed influence a duffer _might_ come to command a fine ship,
the same thing could not happen in the engineering department.