THE SECOND MATE (IN STEAM).
Upon approaching this portion of my subject I am somewhat alarmed at
the prospect before me. For in all that I set down in this book I
strive to be perfectly truthful, not only according to the light of my
own experience, but in compiling the traditions of the service as they
have become known to me. In doing this I am quite well aware that many
whose opinions I value will be offended--it is but natural that they
should be. We often invite criticism from our friends, and really think
that we desire to be told the truth about ourselves. And so long as the
truth is pleasant we enjoy hearing it so much, but when our weaknesses
come up for review, however gently, we seldom succeed in keeping our
temper, even though we know full well we should be grateful. In what
has gone before I hope I have not trodden too heavily upon any of
my friends' pet corns, but in what is now to come I fear that some
heart-burnings will be unavoidably produced; because the second mate
has to pass through that most unpleasant time, common to nearly all
professions, when those above him feel it somehow to be their duty to
snub, annoy, and discourage him, with a view perhaps to stiffening his
moral fibre. Yet the impression produced is usually that of a time of
misery such as we would not go through again for a great deal.
But here again there is a great range of status. Between the second
mate of a large passenger steamer--who is usually a man of large
experience, holding a master's certificate, and having occupied many
superior positions before--and the second mate of a small sailing ship
making his first appearance on the quarter-deck in charge is all the
difference imaginable. The one is a most important officer, usually
the navigating officer of the ship and principal watch-keeper. His pay
is equal to that of many a master of a splendid sailing ship, and his
superiors would no more dream of insulting him or bullying him than
they would think of flouting the chief engineer. They are perfectly
well aware of the fact that before he reached such a post as that he
must have proved himself a competent man. The poor fellow, however,
who for the first time mounts the quarter-deck the ink scarcely dry
upon his certificate, may, and very probably will, have reason before
long to wish that he had been content to remain in the obscurity of the
forecastle. According to the bent of mind possessed by his commander
and, in a less degree, the mate of his ship, so will he be. In some
cases it will turn out that no amount of kindness and help given by his
superiors is of any avail. The neophyte is no good. In some mysterious
manner he has managed to satisfy the examiners at an outport where
rules are not so rigidly maintained as they are, say, in Liverpool
or London. So he has a certificate, but he is a dunderhead without
resources, untrustworthy, not able even to keep awake in his watch on
deck, and ignorant of the first principles of his calling. Much may be
excused in a skipper who finds that he dare not trust his second mate
in charge of the watch except in a dead calm; who, coming on deck to
have a glance round, will discover his junior officer, instead of being
acutely anxious to justify his elevation to command, is lolling on a
hen-coop asleep, while the vessel, with yards untrimmed, is wasting
the wind, and the man at the wheel is making mental notes for future
reference.
Under such exasperating conditions, especially if the master has
had no voice in the selection of this young officer, but has been
compelled to receive him because he was sent on board by the owners,
it is hardly to be wondered at if, his indignation getting the better
of him, his remarks are calculated to make the offender very unhappy.
Such an occurrence, however, is, for the reason I have already given,
impossible in a fine passenger steamer. So carefully are the officers
chosen, so rigidly is their previous experience insisted upon, that
only those who have proved their trustworthiness are allowed upon
the bridge at all to take charge of the ship. And of them the second
mate is the principal. It is, I believe, in most lines of passenger
steamers--I know it is in some--the practice to keep a list of officers
employed, and every accession to their ranks--no matter how high his
previous qualifications may have been--must go in at the bottom. And
it is of no earthly use attempting to get one's name upon that list
unless one's record is a good one. Then, when appointed to a ship, she
will be the least important of the fleet, and the recruit commences
his upward climb, his career carefully watched every step of the way
and its incidents recorded. By this means it is assured, as far as is
humanly possible, that by the time the officer takes command he is the
very best man for the position that care and forethought can procure.
And how wonderfully is this carefulness justified! Analyze the records
of our great passenger lines and see--despite the dangers of the seas,
the high speed, and absolute necessity for punctuality--the almost
invisible percentage of disasters occurring. It is a truly wonderful
proof of the value of our Merchant officers.
The second mate, then, of a liner has attained unto an exalted and
honourable position. He may, it is true, be a long time yet before he
gets command, but he has soared far above the contemptuous estimate in
lower circles of a second mate's position. Beneath him are quite an
army of juniors. I well remember the awe I felt when, some years ago,
fortified by a letter from a gentleman to whom I had been introduced,
I went to the stately offices of the P. & O. Company in Leadenhall
Street. I had a first mate's certificate, and, being unmarried, felt
that I could take a very subordinate position for the privilege of
getting my foot upon the ladder of such a company. But my hopes were
dashed at the outset by Captain Angove, the marine superintendent, who
said that while my papers were all they could wish, I must have some
experience in steam (which I had not). If I could again come before
them with six months' experience as an officer of a steamer, no matter
how small, they could put me on their list, and I should enter as
sixth supernumerary mate of such a ship as the _Rome_ or _Carthage_,
which were then new! My heart sank within me. I had never imagined a
ship with seven or eight mates before; and, disregarding the positive
evidence before my eyes of the rapidity (comparative) of promotion,
as shown by the commanding presence of several masters who were then
in the office, I gave up the idea, feeling that life was not long
enough. Promotion by seniority is a good rule, when it is tempered by
careful watchfulness of the candidates; and I do not believe that it is
anywhere more wisely used than it is in our great steamship lines. When
once the candidate has passed the preliminary stages of his novitiate,
and has entered the service of a great line, he has only to do his
duty, and in due time he will, if he live, certainly arrive at one of
the most coveted positions known to seamen--that of master of a great
steamship.
But this is, perhaps, straying from the second mate too far. Indeed,
there is little more to say of his most enviable and onerous position
in this type of ship. The very fact of his being navigating officer
speaks for itself, for the navigating of a ship that is flying over the
sea at a speed little less than that of one of the Metropolitan trains
for a week at a time is of itself a great task. And the man to whom it
is entrusted holds a position the honour and responsibility of which
cannot be lightly esteemed. When, in addition to this, he is known as
the first of that fine band who take it in turns to handle the vessel
by day and night upon the exalted bridge, and, going into harbour, has
charge of the after-part of the deck, while in port he is responsible
for what goes on in the hold with respect to the stowage of the cargo,
I am sure it will be conceded that his position is one that can be held
only by a good man. His comforts are many, quite compensating him for
the hardship of watch-keeping. He has plenty of society, for, besides
the number of junior officers and engineers, association with whom
is as free and unrestricted as it is among the commissioned officers
of a man-o'-war--and, for the same reason, the equality of status,
though not of rank--there are the passengers. And although his pay
is not large, his treatment is so good that many a man ashore with
far higher pay might well envy him. He has the very best of food and
accommodation--as good, in fact, as he could obtain at a high price in
a first-class hotel. On all of which accounts, if he isn't happy, he
ought to be.
But as with the master and mate, so with the second mate, when once we
step down from the great liners to the smaller passenger ships. More
work, fewer comforts, much less pay; no crowd of junior officers, or
great crews amply sufficient to do all that there is to be done. Still,
even here there are many advantages, and a second mate, remembering
that he is working his way upward, has little to complain of. It is
the same in the biggest cargo steamers, tramps of the highest type. In
fact, some of these are, for the officers, the most comfortable ships
afloat, and the pay does not differ much from that given in the liners
proper. They are the plums of the profession, and, as such, according
to the universal law, seldom attainable by the friendless young man,
struggling by his own merits to climb from the forecastle to the
quarter-deck.
When we have left these splendid specimens of marine architecture, and
come to the tramp proper, we begin to wonder how it is that second
mates persevere at all. They have a thankless task. The manning of
these vessels is on such a meagre scale that the second mate will
usually have to work harder than any of the crew. That, of course,
is no evil in itself, but it becomes an evil because it lessens the
respect in which an officer is held by his watch, generally composed
of men who are never inclined to be over-respectful. Many and many a
large tramp to-day is steadily boring her way through opposing seas,
outward or homeward, on a voyage of several thousands of miles, where
the watch on deck will consist of the second mate and three men. The
second mate's orders are never to leave the bridge upon any pretext,
unless relieved by an officer. Well, besides himself there are only the
master and mate. The first he dare not call to relieve him; the second,
having his own watch to keep in his turn, must not be disturbed. Yet
there is much work to be done--cleaning ship principally, but also
setting and taking in sail. I know there is a prevalent idea ashore,
very naturally, that steamships never carry any sails unless they break
down. But that is quite wrong. The few sails that a tramp steamer
carries are set whenever the wind is favourable, or it is imagined
that they will help in the slightest degree. And who is to set them?
One man is at the wheel, for no one has yet been clever enough to
invent a ship that will steer itself; one man should be on the look-out
night and day. But where is the tramp steamer that can afford such
extravagance as that? At night he will be at his post, of course, and
the remainder of the watch--one man--will be resting. If a sail is
to be set or taken in, what is to be done? According to the law the
second mate should refuse to quit his post on the bridge, and since
it is absurd to suppose that one man could accomplish such a task as
setting a sail, he would leave it unset. Such independent behaviour
would, however, certainly result in his services being dispensed with
at the earliest possible moment. So the practice is for the second mate
to come off the bridge, the man to be called off the look-out, and the
trio having left the ship plunging blindly along over the gloomy sea,
at dire peril to herself and any other vessel that may be near, do
their best to accomplish their task in as short a time as is possible.
In the day no pretence of a look-out is kept from the forecastle, and,
during the second mate's watch, the bridge is usually vacant also,
unless the master choose to remain up there while the second mate, with
his two grubby assistants, scrubs and polishes about the deck like any
overworked housemaid. Theoretically, of course, this menial occupation
is no part of his duty. Moreover, in the event of any accident
occurring, he is certain to be severely censured, if not deprived of
his certificate, for being off the bridge during his watch on deck.
And it will not avail him in the least to declare that it would be
impossible for him to keep the bridge and do what was expected of him
as well. As before stated, should he refuse to do work about the deck
with the men and insist upon obeying the law, he would certainly lose
his berth at the end of the voyage. Therefore, in practice, he trusts
to luck, and does the only thing open to him if he would keep his
berth, _i.e._ risks the lives of all hands and the safety of the ship
continually. It is said of the second mate that he doesn't get his
hands out of the tar-bucket by becoming a second mate. That is only
partially true, as I have shown; but it is absolutely true to say that
no tramp second mate can hope to keep his hands out of the paint-pot,
or the soogee-moogee bucket, or off the coal shovel. He may be called
Mr. Brown, second officer of the s.s. _Albacore_, but he is nothing
else than a maid-of-all-work on a trifle more than an able seaman's
wages.
In harbour he has the holds to look after. Here, perhaps, he is
slightly better off than his harassed superior on deck, whose
distractions I have endeavoured to sketch briefly in preceding
chapters, because he has only one thing to attend to. But he also has
often a gaudy time, as the Americans say, with native stevedores, whose
one aim in life is to do nothing, and failing that, to do as little as
possible wrongly. And he, knowing how essential it is for the safety of
the ship that her cargo shall be properly stowed, has many anxieties,
unless he quite neglects his duty and dozes peacefully, trusting to
luck that things will somehow come all right.