While so much has been said of coaches, in the early numbers of "Notes
and Queries" and elsewhere, very little notice has been taken of another
mode of conveyance which has now become very important. I think it may
amuse some of your readers to compare a modern Gravesend boat and
passage with the account given by Daniel Defoe, in the year 1724: and as
it is contained in what I believe to be one of his least known works, it
may probably be new to most of them. In his _Great Law of
Subordination_, after describing the malpractices of hackney coachmen,
he proceeds:
"The next are the watermen; and, indeed, the insolence of these,
though they are under some limitations too, is yet such at this
time, that it stands in greater need than any other, of severe
laws, and those laws being put in speedy execution.
"Some years ago, one of these very people being steersman of a
passage-boat between London and Gravesend, drown'd
three-and-fifty people at one time. The boat was bound from
Gravesend to London, was very full of passengers and goods, and
deep loaden. The wind blew very hard at south-west, which being
against them, obliged them to turn to windward, so the seamen
call it, when they tack from side to side, to make their voyage
against the wind by the help of the tide.
"The passengers were exceedingly frighted when, in one tack
stretching over the stream, in a place call'd Long-Reach, where
the river is very broad, the waves broke in upon the boat, and
not only wetted them all, but threw a great deal of water into
the boat, and they all begg'd of the steersman or master not to
venture again. He, sawey and impudent, mock'd them, ask'd some
of the poor frighted women if they were afraid of going to the
Devil; bid them say their prayers and the like, and then stood
over again, as it were, in a jest. The storm continuing, he
shipp'd a great deal of water that time also. By this time the
rest of the watermen begun to perswade him, and told him, in
short, that if he stood over again the boat would founder, for
that she was a great deal the deeper for the water she had taken
in, and one of them begg'd of him not to venture; he swore at
the fellow, call'd him fool, bade him let him alone to his
business, and he would warrant him; then used a vulgar
sea-proverb, which such fellows have in their mouths, 'Blow
Devil, the more wind, the better boat.'
"The fellow told him in so many words he would drown all the
passengers, and before his face began to strip, and so did two
more, that they might be in condition to swim for their lives.
This extremely terrify'd the passengers, who, having a cloth or
tilt over them, were in no condition to save their lives, so
that there was a dreadful cry among them, and some of the men
were making way to come at the steersman to make him by force
let fly the sail and stand back for the shore; but before they
could get to him the waves broke in upon the boat and carried
them all to the bottom, none escaping but the three watermen
that were prepar'd to swim. {210}
"It was but poor satisfaction for the loss of so many lives, to
say the steersman was drown'd with them, who ought, indeed, to
have died at the gallows, or on the wheel, for he was certainly
the murtherer of all the rest.
"I have many times pass'd between London and Gravesend with
these fellows in their smaller boats, when I have seen them, in
spite of the shrieks and cries of the women and the persuasions
of the men passengers, and, indeed, as if they were the more
bold by how much the passengers were the more afraid; I say, I
have seen them run needless hazards, and go, as it were, within
an inch of death, when they have been under no necessity of it,
and, if not in contempt of the passengers, it has been in meer
laziness to avoid their rowing; and I have been sometimes
oblig'd, especially when there has been more men in the boat of
the same mind, so that we have been strong enough for them, to
threaten to cut their throats to make them hand their sails and
keep under shore, not to fright as well as hazard the passengers
when there was no need of it.
"One time, being in one of these boats all alone, coming from
London to Gravesend, the wind freshen'd and it begun to blow
very hard after I was come about three or four mile of the way;
and as I said above, that I always thought those fellows were
the more venturous when their passengers were the most fearful,
I resolved I would let this fellow alone to himself; so I lay
down in the boat as if I was asleep, as is usual.
"Just when I lay down, I called to the waterman, 'It blows hard,
waterman,' said I; 'can you swim?' 'No, Sir,' says he. 'Nor
can't your man swim neither?' said I. 'No, Sir,' says the
servant. 'Well then,' says I, 'take care of yourselves, I shall
shift as well as you, I suppose:' and so down I lay. However, I
was not much disposed to sleep; I kept the tilt which they cover
their passengers with open in one place, so that I could see how
things went.
"The wind was fair, but over-blow'd so much, that in those
reaches of the river which turn'd crossway, and where the wind
by consequence was thwart the stream, the water went very high,
and we took so much into the boat, that I began to feel the
straw which lay under me at the bottom was wet, so I call'd to
the waterman, and jesting told him, they must go all hands to
the pump; he answered, he hoped I should not be wet; 'But it's
bad weather, master,' says he, 'we can't help it.' 'No, no,'
says I, ''tis pretty well yet, go on.'
"By and by I heard him say to himself, 'It blows very hard,' and
every now and then he repeated it, and sometimes thus: ''Twill
be a dirty night, 'twill be a terrible night,' and the like;
still I lay still and said nothing.
"After some time, and his bringing out several such speeches as
above, I rous'd as if I had but just wak'd; 'Well, waterman,'
says I, 'how d'ye go on?' 'Very indifferently,' says he; 'it
blows very hard.' 'Ay, so it does,' says I; 'where are we?' 'A
little above Erith,' says he; so down I lay again, and said no
more for that time.
"By and by he was at it again, 'It blows a frett of wind,' and
'It blows very hard,' and the like; but still I said nothing. At
last we ship'd a dash of water over the boat's head, and the
spry of it wetted me a little, and I started up again as if I
had been asleep; 'Waterman,' says I, 'what are you doing? what,
did you ship a sea?' 'Ay,' says the waterman, 'and a great one
too; why it blows a frett of wind.' 'Well, well,' says I, 'come,
have a good heart; where are we now?' 'Almost in Gallions,' says
he, 'that's a reach below Woolwich.'
"Well, when we got into the Gallions reach, there the water was
very rough, and I heard him say to his man, 'Jack, we'll keep
the weather-shore aboard, for it grows dark and it blows a
storm.' Ay, thought I, had I desir'd you to stand in under
shore, you would have kept off in meer bravado; but I said
nothing. By and by his mast broke, and gave a great crack, and
the fellow cry'd out, 'Lord have mercy upon us!' I started up
again, but still spoke cheerfully; 'What's the matter now?' says
I. 'L--d, Sir,' say's he, 'how can you sleep? why my mast is
come by the board.' 'Well, well,' says I, 'then you must take a
goose-wing.' 'A goose-wing! why,' says he, 'I can't carry a knot
of sail, it blows a storm.' 'Well,' says I, 'if you can't carry
any sail, you must drive up under shore then, you have the tide
under foot:' and with that I lay down again. The man did as I
said. A piece of his mast being yet standing, he made what they
call a goose-wing sail, that is, a little piece of the sail out,
just to keep the boat steddy, and with this we got up as high as
Blackwall; the night being then come on and very dark, and the
storm increasing, I suffer'd myself to be persuaded to put in
there, though five or six mile short of London; whereas, indeed,
I was resolv'd to venture no farther if the waterman would have
done it.
"When I was on shore, the man said to me, 'Master, you have been
us'd to the sea, I don't doubt; why you can sleep in a storm
without any concern, as if you did not value your life; I never
carry'd one in my life that did so; why, 'twas a wonder we had
not founder'd.' 'Why,' says I, 'friend, for that you know I left
it all to you; I did not doubt but you would take care of
yourself;' but after that I told him my other reason for it, the
fellow smil'd, but own'd the thing was true, and that he was the
more cautious a great deal, for that I took no thought about it;
and I am still of opinion, that the less frighted and timorous
their passengers are, the more cautious and careful the watermen
are, and the least apt to run into danger; whereas, if their
passengers appear frighted, then the watermen grow sawcy and
audacious, show themselves vent'rous, and contemn the dangers
which they are really exposed to."--p. 130.
We are not bound to suppose that this is plain relation of matter of
fact, any more than the _History of Robinson Crusoe_; but it is a
graphic sketch of life and manners worth the notice of those who study
such things. It forms at least a little contribution to the history of
travelling in England. A passenger who had just landed from a Gravesend
boat, to pursue his journey by land, might well be thankful to "be
received in a coach" like that which had been started at York near half
a century before.
Alpha.
* * * * * {211}