Windjammers and Sea Tramps Part 4

BRUTALITY AT SEA

In those days the deep-sea shipmaster looked upon the collier skipper as his inferior in everything, and regarded himself in the light of an important personage. His bearing was that of a man who believed that he was sent into the world so that great deeds might be accomplished. He lavishly patronised everybody, and never disguised his desire to repudiate all connection with his less imposing fellow-worker in a different sphere. He would pace the p.o.o.p or quarter-deck of his vessel with the air of a monarch.

Sometimes a slight omission of deference to his monarchy would take place on the part of officers or crew. That was an infringement of dignity which had to be promptly reproved by stern disciplinary measures.

There were various methods open to him of inflicting chastis.e.m.e.nt. An offending officer was usually ordered to his berth for twenty-four hours--that is put off duty. The seamen's offences were rigorously atoned for by their being what is called "worked up," _i.e.,_ kept on duty during their watch below; or, what was more provoking still, they might be ordered to "sweat up" sails that they knew did not require touching. This idle aggravation was frequently carried out with the object of getting the men to revolt; they were then logged for refusing duty and their pay stopped at the end of the voyage. It was not an infrequent occurrence for grown men to be handcuffed for some minor offence that should never have been noticed. The sight of human suffering and degradation was an agreeable excitement to this cla.s.s of officer or captain. If some of the villainy committed in the name of the law at sea were to be written, it would be a revolting revelation of wickedness, of unheard-of cruelty. Small cabin-boys who had not seen more than twelve summers were good sport for frosty-blooded scoundrels to rope's-end or otherwise brutally use, because they failed to do their part in stowing a royal or in some other way showed indications of limited strength or lack of knowledge. The barbarous creed of the whole cla.s.s was to lash their subjects to their duties. A little fellow, well known to myself, who had not reached his thirteenth year, had his eyes blacked and his little body scandalously maltreated because he had been made nervous by continuous bullying, and did not steer so well as he might have done had he been left alone. It is almost incredible, but it is true, some of these rascals would at times have men hung up by their thumbs in the mizen rigging for having committed what would be considered nowadays a most trivial offence.

One gentleman, well known in his time by the name of Bully W----, stood on the p.o.o.p of the square-rigged ship _Challenge_, and _shot_ a seaman who was at work on the main yardarm! It was never known precisely why he did it; but it was well known that had he not made his exit from the cabin windows, and had he not received a.s.sistance to escape, he would have been lynched by a furious public. This man once commanded a crack, square-rigged clipper called the _Flying Cloud_. His pa.s.sages between New York and San Francisco were a marvel to everybody. He was credited, as many others like him have been, with having direct communication with the devil, and is said never to have voluntarily taken canvas in. He was one of those who used to lock tacks and sheets, so that if the officers were overcome by fear they could not shorten canvas. His fame spread until it was considered an honour to look upon him, much less to know him. He became the object of adoration, and perhaps his knowledge of this swelled his conceit, so that he came to believe that even the shooting of his seamen was not a murderous, but a permissible act, so far as _he_ was concerned. But this man was only one among scores like him.

There was once a famous captain of a well-known Australian clipper, a slashing, dare-devil fellow, who made the quickest pa.s.sages to and from Australia on record. But at last he lost his head, and then of course his money, and died in very pinched circ.u.mstances. Poor fellow, he couldn't stand corn! The people of Liverpool gave a banquet in honour of him. He arrived late in the banqueting hall, and there were indications that he was inebriated. When he had to respond to the toast of his health he shocked his audience by stating that he would either be in h.e.l.l or in Melbourne in so many days from the time of sailing. Destiny ordained that he was not to be in h.e.l.l, and not in Melbourne either--only hard and fast on Australian rocks! His misfortunes and his habits soon put an end to his professional career, but his deeds are deservedly talked of to this day. He was undoubtedly one of the smartest men of his time, and ought to have been saved from the end that befell him.

Captains who claimed public attention for reasons that would not now be looked upon with favour were usually known by the opprobrious name of "Bully this" or "Bully that;" but "Jack the Devil" and "h.e.l.l Fire Jack" were perhaps as widely used names as any others. There were various causes for the acquisition of such distinction. It was generally the fearless way in which they carried sail, and their harsh, brutal treatment of their crews that fixed the epithet upon them. I am quite sure many of them were proud of it. They were conscious of having done something to deserve it. It will appear strange that seamen should have been found to sail with such commanders; not only could they be found, but many were even eager to sail with them, the reason being that they desired to share some of the notoriety which their captains had acquired. They loved to talk of having sailed in a vessel made famous by the person who commanded her, even if he were a bully! His heroics were made an everlasting theme. The A.B.s rarely made more than one voyage with him; many of them deserted even at the first port. The dreadful usage, and the fear of being killed or drowned, were too much for them sometimes.

CHAPTER X

BRAVERY

Amid the many sides of the average sailor's character there is none that stands out so prominently as that of bravery and resourcefulness. Here is an instance of both qualities.

Three or four years ago a Russian Nihilist made his escape from the Siberian mines and travelled to Vladivostock. A British ship was lying there, and the poor refugee came aboard and claimed the protection of her captain. The vessel could not sail for a few days, which gave his pursuers an opportunity of overtaking him. They got to know where he was, and proceeded to demand that he should be given up.

They relied, as many other whipper-snappers do, on the importance of their official position and the glitter of their elaborate uniform to strike awe and terror into the soul of the British captain! They soon found out what a mistake they had made. "Gentlemen," said the resolute commander, "the person whom you call your prisoner has placed himself under the protection of the British flag. A British ship is British territory, hence he is a free man, and I must request that you cease to molest us or make any attempt to take him by force." They urged Imperial penalties and international complications; but this brave and resourceful man disregarded their threats, again reminding them that he stood on the deck of a British vessel; and that if they did anything in violation of his power and authority, complications would arise from his side instead of from theirs. He was allowed to sail with his interesting pa.s.senger aboard, and I hope the latter was genuinely grateful to his heroic protector for ever after. The name of such a man should be covered with imperishable fame.

Here is another bit of quiet bravery, loftier than the slaughter, in hot or cold blood, of one's fellow-creatures!

About twenty-eight or twenty-nine years ago, a German vessel ran into and sank off Dungeness an emigrant ship called the _North Fleet_. She was a fine vessel. Her commander had married a young lady a few days before sailing from London, and she accompanied him on the voyage. When the collision occurred there was a rush made for the boats. Men clamoured for a place to the exclusion of women and children! The captain called out that he would shoot the first man who prevented or did not a.s.sist the women to save themselves, and I believe he had reason to put his threat into practice. He stood on the p.o.o.p with his revolver in hand ready for action. When the proper time came, he asked his bride to take his arm, and led her to the gangway. They kissed each other affectionately. He whispered in her ear, "Courage, dear, I must do my duty." Then he handed her into the boat which was in charge of an officer, and exhorted him to take special care of her whom he had so recently led from the altar and to whom he had said his last farewell! He then proceeded to his post on the quarter-deck, and stood there until the vessel sank and the sea flowed over him. The opinion at the time was that he could have saved his life if he had made an effort to do so. I question this very much, as many of the people were picked up in the water, clinging to wreckage; the boats being overcrowded. The only way by which he could have been saved was to displace some one or clutch at a piece of wreck. He preferred death to the former, and there is no evidence that he did not attempt to save himself by means of the latter. The probability is that he gave any such opportunity to some drowning man or woman, and sacrificed himself. Honour to this brave man who died, not while taking life, but in saving it!

CHAPTER XI

CHANTIES

The signing on and the sailing from Liverpool or London docks of these vessels were not only exciting but pathetic occasions. The chief officer usually had authority to pick the crew. The men would be brought into the yard and formed into line. The chanty-man was generally the first selection, and care was taken that the balance should be good choristers, and that all were able to produce good discharges for conduct and ability. It was a great sight to see the majestic-looking vessels sail away. The dock walls would be crowded with sympathetic audiences who had come not only to say farewell, but to listen to the sweet though sombre refrain that charged the air with the enchanting pathos and beauty of "Goodbye, fare you well." The like of it has never been heard since those days. Attempts have been made to reproduce the original, and have failed. n.o.body can reproduce anything like it, because it is a gift exclusively the sailors' own, and the charm filled the soul with delightful emotions that caught you like a strong wind.

The chanty-man was a distinguished person whom it was impolitic to ignore. He was supposed to combine the genius of a musical prodigy and an impromptu poet! If his composition was directed to any real or even imaginary grievances, it was always listened to by sensible captains and officers without showing any indications of ill-humour.

Indeed, I have seen captains laugh very heartily at these exquisite comic thrusts which were intended to shape the policy of himself and his officers towards the crew. If the captain happened to be a person of no humour and without the sense of music this method of conveyance was abortive, but it went on all the same until nature forced a glimpse into his hazy mind of what it all meant! Happily there are few sailors who inherit such a defective nature. It is a good thing that some of these thrilling old songs have been preserved to us. Even if they do not convey an accurate impression of the sailors' way of rendering them, they give some faint idea of it. The complicated arrangement of words in some of the songs is without parallel in their peculiar jargon, and yet there are point and intention evident throughout them. For setting sail, "Blow, boys, blow" was greatly favoured, and its quivering, weird air had a wild fascination in it. "Boney was a warrior" was singularly popular, and was nearly always sung in hoisting the topsails. The chanty-man would sit on the topsail halyard block and sing the solo, while the choristers rang out with touching beauty the chorus, at the same time giving two long, strong pulls on the halyards. This song related mainly to matters of history, and was sung with a rippling tenderness which seemed to convey that the singers'

sympathies were with the Imperial martyr who was kidnapped into exile and to death by a murderous section of the British aristocracy. The soloist warbled the great Emperor's praises, and portrayed him as having affinity to the G.o.dlike. His death was proclaimed as the most atrocious crime committed since the Crucifixion, and purgatory was a.s.signed as a fitting repository for the souls of his mean executioners. The words of these songs may be distressing jargon, but the refrain as sung by the seamen was very fine to listen to:--

HAUL THE BOWLING (SETTING SAIL)

Haul th' bowlin', the fore and maintack bowlin', Haul th' bowlin', the bowlin' haul!

Haul th' bowlin', the skipper he's a-growlin', Haul th' bowlin', the bowlin' haul.

Haul th' bowlin', oh Kitty is me darlin', Haul th' bowlin', the bowlin' haul.

Haul th' bowlin', the packet is a bowlin'; Haul th' bowlin', the bowlin' haul.

As for the song itself, it was as follows:--

BONEY WAS A WARRIOR

Oh, Boney was a Corsican, Oh aye oh, Oh, Boney was a Corsican, John France wa! (Francois.)

But Boney was a warrior, Oh aye oh, But Boney was a warrior, John France wa.

Oh, Boney licked the Austrians!-- Oh aye oh, Oh, Boney licked the Austrians!-- John France wa!

The Russians and the Prussians!

Oh aye oh, The Russians and the Prussians!

John France wa.

Five times he entered Vienna!

Oh aye oh, Five times he entered Vienna, John France wa.

He married an Austrian princess, Oh aye oh, He married an Austrian princess, John France wa.

Then he marched on Moscow, Oh aye oh, Then he marched on Moscow, John France wa.

But Moscow was a-blazing!

Oh aye oh, But Moscow was a-blazing, John France wa.

Then Boney he retreated, Oh aye oh, Then Boney he retreated, John France wa.

Boney went to Waterloo, Oh aye oh, Boney went to Waterloo, John France wa.

And Boney was defeated, Oh aye oh, And Boney was defeated, John France wa.

Oh Boney's made a prisoner, Oh aye oh, Oh Boney's made a prisoner, John France wa.

They sent him to St. Helena!

Oh aye oh, They sent him to St. Helena, John France wa!

Oh Boney was ill-treated!

Oh aye oh, Oh Boney was ill-treated, John France wa!

Oh Boney's heart was broken!

Oh aye oh, Oh Boney's heart was broken, John France wa.

Oh Boney died a warrior;-- Oh aye oh, Oh Boney died a warrior, John France wa.

But Boney was an Emperor!

Oh aye oh!

But Boney was an Emperor, John France wa!

This song never failed to arouse the greatest enthusiasm, so much so that the officer in charge had to keep a keen eye on what was going on and shout out "belay!" before something should be broken! The sailors' regard for the great Emperor was a pa.s.sion; and as they neared the final tragedy they seemed to imagine they were in combat with his foes, so that it was dangerous to leave them without strict supervision.