Jack In The Forecastle; Or, Incidents In The Early Life Of Hawser Martingale Part 31

Good humor is contagious; and it was owing to the cheerful, contented spirit, infused among the crew of the Casket by Silvernail's example, that they forbore from insolent remonstrances, and wisely resolved to bear the ills they had, rather,

"Than fly to others which they knew not of."

Such a man in the forecastle of a ship and in my seafaring days such men were not rare is a treasure. He lightens the labors of a crew, adds to the harmony and happiness of all on board, shortens a pa.s.sage, and, as a natural consequence, promotes the interests of the owner.

On one occasion, however, Silvernail's fondness for fun threatened to disturb the harmony which was wont to reign in the forecastle. Among the crew was a big, clumsy Dutchman, through whose thick cranium no joke could penetrate, and whose feet were of proportions as huge as his head, each resembling, in size and shape, a Brazilian catamaran. The men conversing one day of the dangers of the seas, and the best means of preserving life in cases of shipwreck, or when accidentally falling overboard, Hans, who cherished a strong attachment to his own dear person, expressed a regret that he had no cork jacket, by whose aid he could float above the waves.

"Be under no concern on that account," remarked Jonas. "If you were in the water, a cork jacket would be of no more use to you than a pair of curling tongs to Cuffy, the black cook. But don't try to swim. TREAD WATER l.u.s.tily with those mud scows (pointing to his feet) and you will never go to the bottom."

"You just let my foot alone," said Hans, his face glowing with indignation. "You are always poking fun at my foot, and I don't half like it. My foot is one very good foot, (holding it up, and swaying it backwards and forwards;) just fit to kick an impudent vagabone with and teach him better manners."

"That may be true," said Silvernail, with a provoking grin; "but if you should chance to miss the vagabone, as you call him, YOUR FOOT WOULD FLY OFF!"

This, and the loud laugh from his shipmates, with which it was attended, was more than even the phlegmatic Dutchman could bear. He made a furious pa.s.s at Jonas with his much-abused foot, which, if it had taken effect, would have demolished the joker in a twinkling. But Jonas stepped aside, caught the ponderous foot in his hand, and the next moment Hans was sprawling on his back. He arose, breathing guttural but incomprehensible denunciations against his tormentor, who escaped from his clutches by nimbly running up the ratlines to the foretop, where he could safely indulge his merriment over the wrath of the Dutchman.

I was often amused at the ingenious manner in which Jonas managed to get over a difficulty. One day when, with the wind abaft the beam, blowing a strong breeze, we were carrying a main-topmast studding sail, the boatswain very properly undertook to get up a preventer-brace on the weather main yard-arm. A rope was procured, which had already been considerably worn, and the boatswain expressed some apprehension that it was hardly strong enough for the service required. "O," said Jonas in an off-hand, decided manner, "it will hold on until it breaks; and if it was ever so strong it could do no more."

The boatswain appeared favorably struck with the unanswerable logic embraced in the remark, and made no further objection to the rope.

On this voyage I had one source of pleasure, of an elevated character, which was denied to the rest of my shipmates. This was my attachment to books. Before I left New Orleans, I purchased a variety of second-hand volumes; a miscellaneous collection, which enabled me to pa.s.s many pleasant hours on our pa.s.sage to Havre, and at the same time lay in a stock of information which might prove of great value at a future day.

In books I found biographies of good men, whose example fortified my mind against the temptations to vice and immorality, which beset the sailor on every side. They furnished me with an interesting occupation in an idle hour, acted as a solace for disappointment, and a faithful friend and consoler in anxiety and trouble; inspired me with a feeling of emulation, and bade me look forward with hope. Many is the hour when, after a hard day's work, or an exciting scene of peril or suffering, by the dim light of a tallow candle, or a lamp manufactured by my own hands, while others were lamenting their hard fate, or pouring out their indignation in unavailing grumblings, I have, while poring over a book, lost all sense of unhappiness, and been transported far away to other and happier scenes; sometimes exploring with Barrow the inhospitable wastes of Africa; accompanying Christian on his journey to the Celestial City; sympathizing with the good Vicar of Wakefield in his domestic misfortunes; sharing the disquietudes of Ra.s.selas in the "Happy Valley;"

tracing, with almost breathless interest, the career of some ancient hero whom Plutarch has immortalized, or lingering over the thrilling adventures and perils of "Sindbad the Sailor."

A sailor before the mast, as well as the inmates of the cabin, has many hours on every voyage, which may be and should be, devoted to reading and study. When a resident of the forecastle, I have by my example, and by urgent appeals to the pride, the ambition, and good sense of my shipmates, induced them to cultivate a taste for reading, and awakened in their minds a thirst for information. Some of these men, by dint of hard study, and a determination, even at a late day, to shake off all profligate habits, and be something more than a common sailor, qualified themselves for a different station, and eventually became respectable shipmasters and merchants.

We lost one of our crew overboard, on this pa.s.sage, in a manner somewhat singular. He was an Italian, called Antonio, and remarkable for a love of cleanliness a priceless virtue, when not carried to excess. He was continually washing his face and hands, as if to get rid of impurities communicated by the atmosphere. One Sunday afternoon, with a strong breeze on the quarter, the brig was reeling it off at the rate of eight or nine knots, and a rough and turbulent sea was helping her along.

Notwithstanding the wind was three or four points abaft the beam, Captain Mott insisted on carrying main-topmast and middle staysails, and occasionally when the vessel was a little off of her course, the main-topmast staysail sheet, which was fastened to a cleat in the main deck, would give a "slat," with great violence. Antonio had just left the helm, and, according to his usual custom, proceeded to draw a bucket of water from alongside, in which to immerse his face and hands. But while he was stooping, in the very act of performing his ablutions, the brig, through the inattention of the helmsman, was run off her course nearly before the wind, the staysails were becalmed and the main-topmast staysail sheet, that is, the rope which kept the sail in its proper position, give a terrible jerk, caught the unfortunate Italian behind, lifted him from his feet, and actually tossed him over the gunwale. The thing was so sudden, he had not time to struggle, or even to scream, as he sank beneath the billows, while the brig swept onward, leaving him far astern. The cry, "A man's overboard!" was instantly raised by those who witnessed the sad event. One man sprang into the weather main shrouds in order to keep an eye on the poor fellow who became a martyr to cleanliness. The helm was put down, the brig rounded to, and sails laid aback. But attempts to rescue him were fruitless. He was not seen after he struck the water.

After having been about forty-five days at sea, we got sight one morning of "the Caskets," in the middle of the English Channel, about thirty miles west of Cape LaHogue, and on the following day entered the harbor of Havre, the seaport of Paris, situated at the mouth of the Seine.

Chapter x.x.xIV. THE GENERAL ARMSTRONG

Nothing remarkable happened during our stay in Havre, excepting an unpleasant affair in which our good-humored shipmate, Jonas Silvernail, played a princ.i.p.al part. The master of an English brig, an ignorant man, but excessively arrogant and presuming, one day took some of our men to task on the quay, accusing them of having taken a portion of his crew to a grog-shop, where they plied them with liquor until they were drunk, and then left them alone in their glory.

Jonas, in behalf of the crew of the Casket, stoutly but respectfully denied the correctness of the statement, so far as himself or his shipmates were concerned, and was about making an explanation, which must have been satisfactory, when he was interrupted by the excited Briton, who not only gave him the lie direct, but went so far as to define, in coa.r.s.e and profane language, the particular character of the lie.

Jonas, although a model of subordination on shipboard, nevertheless possessed the spirit of a man, and would not brook abuse or insolence from any one who had no rightful authority over him. His eye sparkled, his lip quivered, and his fingers convulsively contracted, while he remarked, in a tone somewhat emphatic, "When a blackguard gives a gentleman the lie, he is, of course, prepared to defend himself!"

Acting upon this supposition he levelled a blow at the Englishman's face, which laid his cheek open to the bone, and stretched him on the wharf in double-quick time, as flat as a halibut!

Here was a pretty business! The affair looked serious for Jonas, as the Englishman swore vengeance against the Yankee ruffian, if there was any law or justice among a frog-eating people! Jonas was arrested, but by the kind agency of Mr. Beasley, the American consul, he was relieved from restraint on payment of a moderate fine. The choleric Briton was taught a valuable lesson, and in all likelihood put a curb on his tongue ever afterwards when talking to strangers, especially if the stranger happened to be a Yankee!

After having discharged our cargo of cotton, we sailed from Havre in ballast. We encountered a strong head wind in the chops of the Channel, and were beating about for several days. One night we were steering a course about north-north-west, under single-reefed topsails, courses and spanker, with the wind at west, while the fog was so thick that the jib-boom could hardly be seen from the forecastle, and supposed ourselves at least thirty miles to the southward of the Scilly Islands.

Jonas and myself, who were walking the main deck, while the boatswain was leaning lazily against the quarter rail, and the captain and mate were sleeping in their berths below, were startled by a dull, moaning sound, which, ever and anon, seemed to come up from under the lee bow.

The noise became more distinct. "What can it be?" said I, alarmed.

"I know it now," exclaimed Jonas. "It is the ROTE of the breakers dashing against the rocks, and we must be lively, or we shall soon be in kingdom come. Boatswain!" shouted he, "Breakers! Breakers ahead! Call up the captain!" and hastening forward he made such a noise on the forecastle as to rouse out all hands, who rushed on deck marvellously lightly clad, but prepared to encounter some mighty evil.

The captain was awakened by the word "breakers," a word which sounds ominous in a sailor's ears, and was on deck in a trice. He heard the rumbling noise, the character of which could not be mistaken. "Ready about!": he screamed. "Stations, men! Hard down the helm!"

The brig came up into the wind, the sails shivered, but owing to the head sea or some other cause, she would not come round, and soon gathered stern way. But captain Mott was a good seaman. "Brace round the head yards!" he exclaimed. "Lower away the spanker peak!"

The brig, by the action of the helm, the head sails being thrown aback, fell off rapidly on her heel, and soon gathering headway, barely cleared the dark and rugged cliffs of St. Agnes in the north, which now, as well as the powerful beacon light by which they were surmounted, broke through the dense fog.

It was a narrow escape. Fifteen minutes more would have carried us among the sunken rocks and ledges which are piled together in admirable confusion on the southwest side of the Scilly Isles, and the vessel and all hands would have been among the things which were.

The wind came round to the eastward on the following day, and we shaped our course across the Atlantic, bound for Savannah, whither we arrived, without the occurrence of any remarkable incident, about the first of May, 1817.

Having pa.s.sed a couple of months in Savannah a few years before, I was aware from personal inspection of the wretchedly low character of the sailor boarding houses in that city; and I shuddered at the idea of pa.s.sing the few days or weeks of my sojourn in Savannah at one of these "omnium gatherums" of intemperance and iniquity.

I gave to my shipmates such a graphic but faithful description of the sailor boarding houses in Savannah, that the boatswain of the brig, with Jonas Silvernail and William Jones, agreed to join me in trying to secure quarters of a character somewhat more respectable than the dens of iniquity frequented by sailors. We flattered ourselves there would be no difficulty in finding such a boarding house as we wished, knowing there were many mechanics at that time in Savannah, temporary residents, who were accommodated with board in well-regulated families at a reasonable rate, and we saw no reason why we should not be treated with equal favor.

Accordingly, the day after our arrival in port, having received our discharge, we carefully removed from our hands all stains of tar, rigged ourselves out in our neatest apparel, put on our most sober and demure faces, and started off on a cruise after a boarding house. We had received some desultory information from persons we had fallen in with about the wharves, which in a measure influenced our course.

We were not particularly successful in our quest. The simple fact which we could not deny, that "WE WERE SAILORS," was sufficient to bar every door against our entrance. It was in vain we represented ourselves as remarkably staid and sober sailors, possessing amiable dispositions, not given to liquor or rowdyism, and in search of quiet quarters in a respectable family.

To all this the one fatal objection was opposed, "WE WERE SAILORS,"

and of course could not reasonably expect to be received into any respectable house. No faith was given to our professions of sobriety.

The term "sailor" in the minds of those good people was synonymous with "blackguard" or "drunken vagabond." It comprehended everything which was vile or wicked. After applying at more than a dozen different places, and finding the estimate of a sailor's character every where the same, and that exceptions to the general rule in this case were not allowed, we reluctantly abandoned our exploring expedition, disgusted and mortified at finding such unfounded prejudice existing against sailors, whom WE not only believed to be human beings, and ent.i.tled to rights, privileges, and indulgences as such, but a cla.s.s of men which actually included many worthy, honest, well-behaved individuals, as well as those of an opposite character. We could not but doubt the policy as well as justice of a line of conduct which represses every effort on the part of seafaring men to cultivate a self-respect, and elevate themselves in the scale of society; a line of conduct which is calculated to thrust them contemptuously back, and plunge them deeper in the slough from which, perhaps, they are striving to emerge.

In those days there was no "Mariner's House" or "Sailor's Home"

established in our large seaports by true philanthropists for the benefit of seamen, where this useful but too long neglected and condemned cla.s.s might find a quiet, well-regulated, and respectable house, with its doors thrown open to receive them.

We returned, crestfallen and disheartened, to the brig, and pa.s.sed another night in the forecastle; and the next morning, being compelled to find an asylum on sh.o.r.e, we inspected several of the sailor boarding houses, with a view to select the least objectionable for our temporary home. There was little room for choice. The landlords were all swaggering foreigners; their rooms were filled with a dense effluvia arising from a combination of odors, in which the fumes of tobacco and rum const.i.tuted a prominent part; and drinking grog, playing cards and dominoes, swearing, quarrelling, and fighting seemed to be the princ.i.p.al occupation and amus.e.m.e.nts of the main portion of the boarders.

Such were the scenes I was destined to witness in Savannah; such were the men with whom I was compelled to a.s.sociate; such were the temptations to which I was subjected, and which few could pa.s.s through unscathed; such were MY "schools and schoolmasters" in early life.

After much hesitation and many misgivings, we finally established our quarters at the sign of the "General Armstrong," which was kept by John Hubbard, a tight little Irishman, a regular "broth of a boy,"

illiterate, not being able to write his name, with a tongue well steeped in blarney, with a conscience as elastic as a piece of India rubber, and a consummate adept in the art of wheedling a sailor out of his money.

The sign which was placed conspicuously over the door of this boarding house was a popular one, and well calculated to attract. It was not intended to represent General Armstrong of revolutionary memory, the avowed author of the treasonable "Newburg Letters," but the American privateer of that name, riding at anchor, and in the act of battling with the British boats in Fayal. Hubbard had been a petty officer in the privateer, and prided himself on the part which he took in that memorable affair, and on which he dearly loved to dwell, to the great admiration of his half-drunken auditors.

The General Armstrong privateer was a brig belonging to New York, mounting a battery of eight long nines and a twenty-four pounder amidships. The brig, a remarkably fast sailing vessel, was commanded by Samuel C. Reid, a young and gallant sailor, who displayed much courage, activity, and skill in hara.s.sing the enemies of his country on the high seas, and had been successful in capturing many valuable British ships.

While cruising off the Western Islands in the autumn of 1814, the privateer being short of water, to procure a supply put into Fayal on the morning of the 26th of September. On the afternoon of the same day three English ships-of-war arrived, anch.o.r.ed at the entrance of the harbor, and received from the pilots and fishermen intelligence that the far-famed American privateer General Armstrong was then in port, and lying beneath the guns of the fortifications.

Captain Reid, witnessing the arrival of these ships, did not consider himself altogether safe from attack. He knew that his vessel was particularly obnoxious to the British, who would be likely to disregard neutrality laws, spare no pains, and overcome almost any scruples in order to insure her destruction; also, that Portugal was a feeble power, which existed only by the sufferance and protection of Great Britain.

Therefore Captain Reid, instead of relying on international law as a barrier against aggression, determined to rely on himself and the brave men with him; and when the British ships appeared in the offing, he commenced making vigorous preparations for defence. As soon as it was twilight he commenced warping his vessel nearer the sh.o.r.e. This manoeuver was seen from the decks of the English squadron, which consisted of the Plantagenet ship-of-the-line, the Rota frigate, and the Carnation gun-brig; and four boats were immediately sent off, filled with armed men, who pulled directly towards the privateer.

But Captain Reid was watching the movements of the enemy. He ordered his men to pause in their labors, and stand ready to give their visitors a warm reception. When the boats arrived within speaking distance, he hailed, but received no answer; the boats pulled on in gloomy silence.

He hailed again, but there was no reply, but the men redoubled their efforts at the oars. Captain Reid, aware there was no time to be lost, hailed a third time, ordering the boats to keep off, or he would fire into them. The boats kept on. The word was given to "FIRE," and a volley of musketry was poured into the densely crowded boats, causing great confusion and killing and wounding a large number of the crews. The fire, however, was returned by the British, and the first lieutenant of the privateer was severely wounded and one man was killed. After a sharp, but severe contest, in which the enemy made desperate attempts to get alongside, the boats hauled off and returned to their respective ships.

Captain Reid knew this was only the beginning of the drama. He encouraged his men, and got in readiness for a more serious engagement.

He moored his vessel close to the sh.o.r.e, loaded his large guns to the muzzle with grape and canister, and every musket with bullets and buckshot. His men were all on deck ready and eager to meet the foe.