Windjammers and Sea Tramps Part 6

And you who are listening, goodbye to you, For we're bound to Rio Grande!

And away--Rio, aye Rio!

Sing fare ye well, my bonny young girl, We're bound for Rio Grande!"

He was met by a shipmate just then who had been searching for him during several days. The song was cut short by the mutual warmth of greeting.

"What ho, Jack!" interjected the faithful comrade, with a gigantic laugh; "you are under very small canvas this morning. Have you been in heavy weather?"

"Yes," said Jack, "I have; but there's a fellow coming up astern must have had it worse than me. He _was_ under bare poles, but I see he's got a suit of newspapers bent now, and he's forging ahead very fast!"

There is a grim humour about this story which brings a certain type of sailor vividly to mind.

CHAPTER XIII

THE MATTER-OF-FACT SAILOR

I always feel inclined to break the law when I see a West End or any other dandy on a theatrical stage libelling the sailor by his silly personification: hitching his breeches, slapping his thigh, lurching his body, and stalking about in a generally ludicrous fashion, at the same time using phrases which the real sailor would disdain to use: such as "my hearty," "shiver-my-timbers," and other stupid expressions that Jack of to-day never thinks of giving utterance to. If theatrical folk would only take the trouble to acquaint themselves with the real characteristics of the sailor, and caricature him accurately, they would find, even in these days, precious material to make play from. Even Jack's culpable vagaries, if reproduced in anything like original form, might be utilised to entertaining effect; but the professional person insists upon making him appear with a quid rolling about in his mouth and his stomach brimful of slang, which he empties as occasion may require. It may or may not go down with their audiences, but the tar himself cannot stand it. I was seated beside a typical sailor in a London theatre not very long ago, and a few gentlemen in nautical attire came one after the other strutting on to the stage. Their performances were quite unsailorly, so much so that my neighbour said to me: "If this goes on much longer I shall have to go. Just fancy," said he, "a matter-of-fact sailor making such a d----fool of himself!" I reminded him that this achievement was not so rare an occurrence. But he was not to be appeased! The sailor of the olden times never used tinsel nautical terms. His dialect was straight and strong, and his peculiar dandyism very funny. His hair used to be combed behind his ears, he wore a broad, flat cap c.o.c.ked to one side, and his ears were adorned with light drops of gold or silver; and when he went forth to do his courting he seemed to be vastly puzzled as to the form his walk should take. Alas! all this has pa.s.sed away, and our eyes shall see it never more; but the fascination of it is fixed in one's memory, and it is pleasant to think of even now.

The average seaman has always expressed himself with unmistakable clearness on matters pertaining to his profession. I was walking down the main street of a seafaring town some years ago, when I saw a group of people standing at a window looking at an oil-painting of a large, square-rigged ship which had been caught in a squall. The royals and top-gallant sails had been let fly, and they were supposed to be flapping about as sails will in a squall if the yards are not trimmed so as to keep them quiet. There were two sailors in the group who were criticising the painting with some warmth: the ropes were not as they should be, the braces and stays were not properly regulated, and "Whoever saw sails flying about like that!" said the more voluble of the two. The other dryly retorted, "I don't know, mister, what _you_ think, but I want to say that I have seen them cut some d---- funny capers at times!" This very sailor-like sally both tickled the audience and convinced it that the sails were really correctly drawn.

On another occasion, during the prevalence of one of the most terrible easterly gales that ever visited the north-east coast, a mult.i.tude of people had congregated on the south pier at the mouth of the Tyne to witness the vessels making for the great Northern Harbour. The sight was awful in its peculiar beauty, the foam fluted and danced on the troubled air until it found a resting place far up the inner reaches of the harbour. There were seen in the distance two sailing vessels labouring amid a wrathful commotion of roaring seas. As they approached the harbour the excitement became universal. Women stood there transfixed with dread lest the storm-tossed vessels should be conveying some of their beloved relations to a tragic doom. Two gentlemen of clerical voice and appearance conversed with obvious agitation, one of whom audibly spoke of the grandeur and picturesque charm of the flurry of wild waters. "Look at them," said he, "as they curtsey and rustle along to the kiss of the tempest. Oh, it is a magnificent sight!" A few burly, weather-beaten sailors stood hard by.

It soon became apparent that their professional pride had been touched by the poetic babble to which they had listened. One of them took upon himself the task of interjecting what the practical opinion of himself and friends was by addressing the aesthetic dreamer in accents of stern reproof: "_You_," said he, "may call it grandeur and picturesque and magnificent and curtseying, but we call it a d.a.m.ned dirty business. If you were aboard of one of them, you wouldn't talk about rustling through the cloven sea to the kiss of the tempest, you would be too tarnation keen on getting ash.o.r.e!"

The orator had just finished his harangue when one of the vessels, a brigantine, was crossing the bar. The supreme moment had come. All eyes and minds were fixed on the doomed vessel; men were seen clinging to the rigging, and one solitary figure stood at the wheel directing her course through a field of rushing whiteness. She was supposed to have crossed the worst spot, when a terrific mountain of remorseless liquid was seen galloping with mad pace until it lashed over her and she became reduced to atoms. Nothing but wreckage was seen afterwards. The crew all perished. It was a heartrending sight, which sent the onlookers into uncontrollable grief. The sailor was right: "It was a dirty business."

The sporting instinct in the _bona-fide_ British seaman was always very strong. The white-washed Yankee--that is to say, not a real American, but a Blue-nose, _i.e._, a Nova Scotiaman--was never very popular, because of his traditional bullying and swaggering when all was going well, and his cowardice in times of danger. Once a vessel was coming from 'Frisco, and when off Cape Horn she ran into an ice-berg which towered high above the sailors' heads. There was great commotion and imminent peril. A Blue-nose was chief mate, and he became panic-stricken, flopped on to his knees, and piteously appealed for Divine interposition to save them from untimely death. The second mate, who was a real John Bull, believed in work rather than prayer, at least so long as their position threatened sudden extinction. He observed the pet.i.tioner in the undignified position of kneeling in prayer beside the mainmast. It angered him so that he put a peremptory stop to his pleadings by bringing his foot violently in contact with the posterior portion of his body, simultaneously asking him, "Why the h--- he did not pray before? It's not a d.a.m.ned bit of good praying now the trouble has arisen! Get on to your pins," said the irate officer, "and do some useful work!

This is no time for snivelling lamentations. Keep the men in heart!" There was pretty fair logic in this rugged outburst of enlightenment. But while this striking flow of opposition to prayer under such circ.u.mstances was proceeding, the thought of peril was briefly obscured by the sight of a pretty little girl, a daughter of one of the pa.s.sengers, frollicking with the ice which had tumbled on the deck, in innocent oblivion of the danger that encompa.s.sed her. What a beautiful picture! By skilful manoeuvring the vessel was extricated from an ugly position, and the unhappy first mate who had neglected to put himself into communication with the Deity before the accident happened, became the object of poignant dislike for having broken one of the most important articles of nautical faith by doing so afterwards!

CHAPTER XIV

RESOURCEFULNESS AND SHIPWRECK

If the oceans of the world could speak, what marvellous tales of heroism they could relate that are hidden in the oblivion of their depths. Sailors generally are singularly reticent about their adventures. They are sensitive about being thought boastful; the nature of their training and employment is so pregnant with danger that they become accustomed to treat what most people would consider very daring acts as a part of their ordinary business that should not be made a fuss about. Hence many a gallant deed has been done that was never heard of beyond the ocean and the vessel where it took place.

There is not a crew that sails on salt water that could not relate after every voyage they make events and doings thrilling with interest which would be considered stirring and brave if they had taken place on sh.o.r.e among persons other than sailors. It is no uncommon thing to hear the cry "A man overboard!" while a vessel is being rushed through a heavy sea at a great speed, and the alarm is no sooner given than some gallant fellow is seen to jump overboard to his rescue. Not long ago a large vessel bound out to the west coast of South America was running before heavy north-east trade winds and a high following roller. A man was seen to fall from the foretopsail yard right overboard before the order could be given to haul the vessel to the wind. One of his shipmates plunged into the bosom of a mountainous sea without divesting himself of any clothing; even his boots had to be taken off in the water. The ship was promptly brought to the wind, and skilfully manipulated towards the drowning man and his rescuer. The order was given to lower the cutter, and a scramble was made for the distinction of being one of the crew. The two men battled with the waves until the boat reached them. They were taken into her and saved. A short paragraph in the newspapers telling the simple story was all that was heard of it.

Three years ago, Mr. Barney Barnato, the millionaire, was coming home from South Africa, and when off the Western Islands, from some cause or other he fell overboard. The mail steamer must have been going sixteen or seventeen knots an hour at the time, but it did not prevent the second officer (I think it was) from jumping in after him and recovering his body, though, alas! it was inanimate. This brave fellow's act was made famous by a gifted and wealthy young lady pa.s.senger falling in love with him, and he of course with her. They have since been married, and I wish them all the blessings that earth and heaven can bestow upon them. I believe Mrs. Barnato and the executors of the genial Barney showed their appreciation in a suitable way also.

Few people except sailors and pa.s.sengers who may have witnessed it can fully realise how difficult it must be to keep an eye on a person in the sea, even if it is perfectly smooth. It is one of the most exciting experiences of sea-life. All except the rescuing party and the man at the wheel run up the rigging and gaze with frantic eagerness to keep in view and direct the boat towards where they think the object of their mission is. It often happens that all their efforts are unavailing, and when the search has to be given up a creepy sensation, like some shuddering hint of death, takes possession of you. I have more than once felt it. Sailors on these occasions are subdued and divinely sentimental, though their courage remains undaunted.

There are, however, phases of bravery, endurance, and resourcefulness that test every fibre of the seaman's versatile composition; and a communication to the outer world of the tremendous struggles he is called upon to bear would be calculated to stagger the lay imagination. It would take a s.p.a.cious library to contain all that could be written of his bitter experiences and toilsome pilgrimages throughout ages of storm and stress. The pity is so much of it is lost to us, but this again is owing to the sailor's habitual reticence about his own career. A characteristic instance of this occurred to me about six months ago. I had business in a shipyard, and the gateman who admitted me is one of the last of the seamen of the middle of the century.

He was for many years master of sailing vessels belonging to a north-east coast port. He is a fine-looking, intelligent old fellow. I knew him by repute in my boyhood days; he had the reputation then of being a smart captain, and owners readily gave him employment. After greeting me with sailor-like cordiality, he commenced to converse about the old days, and as the conversation proceeded the weird sadness of his look gradually disappeared, his eyes began to sparkle, and joy soon suffused his ruddy face. His soul was ablaze with reminiscences, and his unaffected talk was easy and delightful to listen to. I was reluctant to break the charm of it by introducing a subject that might be distasteful to him. It was my desire to hear _from his own lips_ a tale of shipwreck which is virtually without parallel in its ghastly tragedy. I instinctively felt myself creeping on to sacred ground. As soon as I mentioned the matter his countenance changed and he became pensive. A far-off look came over him, which indicated that a tender chord had been touched. Obviously his thoughts were revisiting the scene of a fierce conflict for life. The sight was sublime, and when I saw the moisture come into his eyes and his breast heave with emotion, it made me wish that I had not reminded him of it. At length he began to unfold the awful story. He was master of a brig called the _Ocean Queen_. I think he said it was in the month of December, 1874. They sailed from a Gulf of Finland port laden with deals. After many days they reached the longitude of Gotland; they were then overtaken by a hurricane from the west which battered the vessel until she became water-logged and dismasted. The crew lashed themselves where they could, and huddled together for warmth to minimise the effects of the biting frost and the mad turmoil of boiling foam which continuously swept over the doomed vessel, and caked itself into granite-like lumps of ice. At intervals they would try to keep their blood from freezing by watching a "slant" when there was a comparative smooth, and run along the deckload a few times, keeping hold of the life-line that was stretched fore and aft for this purpose. After twelve hours the force of the tempest was broken, and they were able to take more exercise, but they were without food and water, and no succour came near them. They held stoutly out against the privations for two days, then one after another began to succ.u.mb to the combined ravages of cold, thirst, and hunger. Some of them died insane, and others fought on until Nature became exhausted, and they also pa.s.sed into the Valley of Death. There were now only the captain and a coloured seaman left. The wind and sea were drifting the vessel towards the Prussian coast, and on the fifth morning after she became water-logged the wreck stranded on a sandy beach two hours before daylight. The captain and his coloured companion attached themselves to a plank, and by superhuman effort reached the sh.o.r.e. They buried their bodies up to the waist in sand under the shelter of a hill, believing it would generate some warmth into their impoverished systems. Their extremities were badly frostbitten, and when they were discovered at daylight by a man on horseback who had been attracted to the scene of the wreck, they were both in a condition of semi-consciousness.

He galloped off for a.s.sistance, and speedily had them placed under medical treatment, and under the roof of hospitable people. A few days' rest and proper attention made them well enough to be removed to a hospital. It was soon found necessary to amputate both of the coloured man's legs, and also some of his fingers. The captain had the soles of his feet cut off; and he told me that he always regretted not having the feet taken off altogether, as he had never been free from suffering during all these years. He said the doctor advised it, but that he himself was so anxious to save them that he preferred to have the soles sc.r.a.ped to the bone, hoping that the diseased parts would heal; "but," said he with an air of sober melancholy, "they never have."

Long before this story of piercing sadness, and horror, and heroism, and superb endurance was finished, I felt a big lump in my throat, and every nerve of me was tingling with emotion; and as I pa.s.sed from the presence of this n.o.ble old fellow and pondered over all he had so reluctantly and modestly told me of himself, it made me conclude that I had been holding converse with a hero! I have been obliged to confine myself to a brief outline of this tale of shipwreck.

There are incidents of it too painful to relate, and I am quite sure I am consulting the wishes of the narrator by abstaining from going too minutely into detail. The main facts are given, and they may be relied on as absolutely true.

The seamen of the middle of the nineteenth century were trained to be ingenious and resourceful in emergencies, and, as a rule, they did not disgrace their training. If a jib-boom was carried away, a mast sprung, or a yard fractured, they had only to be told to have it fished. They knew how to do this as well as their officers did, and would not brook being instructed. If a mast was carried away they regarded it as a privilege to obey the captain's instructions to have jury masts rigged, and it is not an exaggeration to say that astonishing feats of genius have been done on occasions such as these.

In 1864 I was an apprentice aboard a brig bound from the Tyne to the Baltic; Tynemouth Castle bore west 60 miles. A strong north-west wind was blowing, and the sea was very cross. A press of canvas was being carried. The second mate being in charge, orders were given to take in the foretopgallant sail. It was clewed up, and just as another apprentice and myself were getting into the rigging to go up and furl it one of the chain-plates of the maintopmast backstays carried away. The maintopmast immediately snapped and went over the side, dragging the foretopmast with it.

Fortunately we had not as yet got aloft, or we would have come to a precipitate end. The storm was increasing, and the confusion of ropes, chains, sails, spars, &c, all lurching against the side, caused the captain and his crew much concern, lest the vessel should be so injured as to endanger her safety. The men worked like Trojans to minimise danger, and to save as much gear as possible to rig jury masts with.

The accident happened at 6 a.m., and at 8 p.m. the wreck had been cleared away and all the necessary gear saved. Over and over again during that toilsome day men risked their lives to save a few pounds' worth of gear; indeed, it was a day of brave deeds. On the following days it blew a hard northerly gale so that the vessel had to be hove-to. After that it gradually fined down, and the task of rigging jury topmasts began. It took four days to accomplish all that was necessary; and, although the men were f.a.gged, they were also proud of their work. Any adverse criticism would have been visited with rigorous penalties. They were not boastful about it, though they quite believed a smart job had been carried out; and perhaps they took some credit to themselves for saving the vessel from total destruction. I have reason to know that neither the owner nor his underwriters estimated their services as being worthy of any recognition whatever. It was a custom in those days to guard strictly against the sin of generosity, even to recompense brave deeds done or valuable services rendered!

A fine clipper barque in those old days, one that was originally built for the tea trade, and had made many successful pa.s.sages with that cargo from China to London, acquired an enviable reputation for her sailing qualities, but, like many others, she was driven out of the trade by the introduction of steam and more modern methods of transit. She, however, still continued to make for her owners large profits in the West Indian and American trades.

In 1873 freights were very good out and home from the higher Baltic ports, and the owner decided to make a short voyage in that direction before resuming the West Indian employment. She had made a rapid pa.s.sage from the Tyne, and was sailing along the island of Gotland with a strong northerly wind. The season was far advanced, and the captain was carrying a press of canvas which made her plunge along at the rate of at least twelve knots an hour. The captain, who had been on deck nearly the whole pa.s.sage, set the course, and gave strict instructions to the second mate, whom he left in charge, to keep a sharp look-out while he was below having a wash.

It was 8 p.m.; the moon was just coming from below a hazy horizon, which made it difficult to see anything under sail except at a short distance. The look-out suddenly reported a vessel under sail right ahead without lights. The helm of the barque was starboarded; but it was too late. The vessel, which proved to be a brig, struck and raked along the starboard side, carrying away nearly the whole of the fore, main, and mizzen rigging, irreparably damaging some important sails. As soon as it was discovered that the colliding vessel had suffered no material damage, the captain gave orders for the vessel to be put on her course, and to unbend the torn sails and bend a fresh set before starting to secure the lee rigging, so that as little time as possible might be lost. While this was being done a minute survey was being made by the captain and the carpenter to ascertain the extent of the damage to rigging, chain-plates, and hull. It was found that the latter was uninjured; but the shrouds and chain-plates were badly damaged, especially the latter, and the only way of securing the rigging thoroughly was to heave-to for a while and pa.s.s two bights of hawser chain under the bottom so that some of the starboard fore and main rigging could be set up to it. This was soon done, and the barque put on her course once more. The men worked with commendable skill and energy during the whole night, and when the livid grey of the dawn came they had all but finished their arduous task.

Fortunately the wind kept steady on the port beam, so that the damage to the starboard rigging could be secured without interrupting the progress of the voyage, it being on the leeside. At 9 a.m. the watches were again resumed, and those whose duty it was to be on deck proceeded to carry out the finishing touches. These were satisfactorily completed, and by the time the evening shadows had fallen the temporary repairs were closely scrutinised and p.r.o.nounced so strong that no gale could destroy them. The moaning of the hoa.r.s.e wind through the rigging, and the sinister appearance of the lowering clouds as they hurried away to leeward, indicated that mischief was in the air, and that there was every probability of the soundness of the renovated rigging being promptly tested. The wind and sea were making, with swift roaring anger, but not a st.i.tch of canvas was taken in, every spar and rope-yarn aboard was feeling the strain as the clipper was crashed into the surging waves which flowed between the sh.o.r.es of an iron-bound gulf. The vessel was swept with exciting rapidity towards her destination, but before morning dawned the gale had become so fierce sail was ordered to be shortened. Soon the course had to be altered, and the full weight of the tempest was thrown on the damaged parts. The crew had the encouraging satisfaction of seeing that their hastily accomplished work refused to yield to the vast strain it was suddenly called upon to bear. They arrived at their discharging port without further mishap, and, with the exception of fitting new chain-plates to connect the shrouds to, everything else was secured by the crew, and she was brought home without incurring any further cost to her owners and underwriters. A very profitable voyage was made, and the captain had the distinction of receiving a condescending benediction from the manager on his arrival home. He was told with an air of unequalled majesty that in many ways the mishap was disastrous, "but,"

said the manager, "I am impelled to confess that it is atoned for by the singular display of merit which has been shown in not only extricating your vessel from a perilous position, but for your expedition and economy in carrying out the repairs!" The captain responded to this eloquent tribute by a.s.suring his employer that he was deeply grateful for this further token of his confidence, and very shortly after he was materially rewarded from quite an unexpected source by being offered the command of a fine steamer, which he only accepted after considerable pressure had been brought to bear on him by the owners of the steamer and his own friends.

Long before steamers had captured the coasting trade of the northern coal ports, a brig which carried coal from the Tyne, Blyth, or Amble to Calais, was caught by a terrific gale from the east when returning north in ballast. She managed to sc.r.a.pe round all the points until Coquet Island was reached, when it became apparent from the sh.o.r.e that it would be a miracle if she weathered the rocks which surround that picturesque islet. Her movements had been watched from the time she pa.s.sed Newbiggin Point, and grave fears for her safety spread along the coast. The Coquet was closely shaved, but she was driven ash.o.r.e between Alnmouth and Warkworth Harbour. The position was excitingly critical. It was low tide, and the storm raged with malignant force, so that when the flood made there seemed little hope of saving the crew. As to the vessel herself, it was only a question of time until she would be shattered into fragments.

A large crowd of people had congregated as near to the wreck as it was prudent, for the waves swept far up the beach. The crew sought refuge in the forerigging, as heavy seas were sweeping right over the hull, and as no succour came to them one brave fellow made a small line fast to his waist, and sprang into the cauldron of boiling breakers. He reached the sh.o.r.e almost lifeless, and his gallant act was the means of saving several of the crew, who dared to risk being hauled through the surf. Alas! as often happens, some of them still clung to the rigging that held the oscillating mast. It was a.s.sumed that they must be benumbed, or that they dreaded being dashed to death in the attempt to attach themselves to the rope that had been the means of rescuing their shipmates. The people gesticulated directions for them to take the plunge, but it seemed as though they were riveted to a tragic destiny.

Darkness had come on, and some one in the crowd shouted at the top of his voice, "Silence! I hear some one shouting."

Instantly there was a deathlike hush, and mingling with the hurricane music of the storm, the sweet feminine voice which was said to be that of the cabin-boy was heard singing--

"Jesu, lover of my soul Let me to Thy bosom fly, While the nearer waters roll, While the tempest still is high.

Hide me, oh my Saviour, hide, Till the storm of life be past, Safe into the haven guide, Oh receive my soul at last."

These sentences came tossing through the troubled darkness, and when the last strains had faded away the subdued anguish of the people was let loose. Women became hysterical, and strong men were smitten with grief. It was a soul-stirring experience to them; and their impotence to save the perishing men was an unbearable agony. A shriek from some of the crowd told that something dreadful had happened. All eyes were directed towards the wreck, but nothing could be seen now but a portion of the half-submerged hull. The masts had gone by the board, and soon the coast was strewn with wreckage; she had broken all to pieces. When daylight broke, a search-party found the little songster's cold, clammy body. They wiped the yellow sand from his eyes and closed them, and in the course of the day his fellow-victims were laid at rest beside him.

CHAPTER XV

MANNING THE SERVICE

At the present time there is much writing and talking as to how the merchant service is to be kept supplied with seamen.

Guilds, Navy Leagues, and other agencies of talk have been set at work to solve what they term a problem. Theories that are exasperating to read or listen to have been indiscriminately forced upon an enduring public; and after all the balderdash and jeremiads that have flowed copiously over the land we are pretty much where we were. The modern shipowner and his theoretic friends prefer to waste their energy in concocting theories to solve an imaginary problem--the only problem being that which exists in their own minds. There is nothing else to solve. Once the mildew is out of the way and the doors are set wide open, we shall soon have a full supply of recruits. During the last few years several steamship owners have so far overcome their prejudices as to take apprentices. Those who have worked it properly have succeeded; while others complain of the system being absolutely unsuccessful. My own impression is that the want of success is not the fault of the lads, but those who have the controlling of them.

Mr. Ritchie, when he was the head of the Board of Trade, introduced a system of barter, whereby a certain reduction of light dues was to be made to the firms who undertook to train boys for the merchant service and the Royal Naval Reserve. Needless to say, the very nature of the conditions caused it to fail. In the first place the parents of the boys looked upon the proposal as a form of conscription; and in the second, owners would have no truck with a partial abatement of the light dues. They very properly claimed that the charge should be abolished altogether. All other countries, except America and Turkey, have made the lighting of their coast-lines an Imperial question; and America only levies it against British shipping as a retaliatory measure.

Mr. Ritchie lost his chance of doing a national service by neglecting to take into his confidence shipowners who were conversant with the voluntary system of training seamen. Had he done this, it is pretty certain they would have guided him clear of the difficulties he got into, and his measure would have been fashioned into a beneficent, workable scheme instead of proving a fiasco.

There are shipowners who believe that it is the duty of the State to pay a subsidy of twenty to fifty pounds per annum for every apprentice carried. I have always been puzzled to know from whence they derive their belief. When pressed to state definitely what arguments they have to give in favour of such a demand, their mental processes seem to become confused. They are driven to prophetic allusions to future naval war, and the usefulness of seamen in that event. Of course no one can dispute the usefulness of sailors at any time and under any circ.u.mstances; but if that is the only reason for asking the Government to pay owners part of the cost of manning their ships, then they are living in a fool's paradise, and are much too credulous about public philanthropy, and very un.o.bservant and illogical too if they imagine that national interests are entirely centred in the industry they happen to be engaged in. It would be just as reasonable for Armstrong's or Vickers' to request a subsidy for training their men because their business happens to be the manufacture of guns and the construction of warships. Or on the same logical grounds the ordinary shipbuilder and engine-maker would be justified in cadging subsidies for training every branch of their trades, and thereby work their concerns at the expense of a public who are not directly connected with them. But no one has ever heard of these people making any such demand on national generosity.

I believe I am right in stating that there are only very few shipowners who advocate such a parochial view. The great bulk of them regard it with disfavour, first, because it smacks of peddling dealing; and, secondly, even if it were right they know that State aid means State interference, and State interference savours too much of working commerce on strictly algebraic lines, which only an executive with a wealthy, indulgent nation behind it could stand. The Chamber of Shipping last year vigorously declared against subsidies of this kind; and the way in which the proposal was strangled leaves small hope of it ever being successfully revived.

An encouraging feature of the situation is that the Shipping Federation has at last taken the matter up. The late Mr.

George Laws was always in favour of doing so, but unfortunately he got scant support from his members. Since his death, and the p.r.o.nouncement the Chamber of Shipping gave in its favour at the last annual meeting, Mr. Cuthbert Laws, who succeeded his gifted father, has with commendable energy and marked ability undertaken the task of reviving the old system of every vessel carrying so many apprentices.

He is penetrating every part of Great Britain with the information that the Federated Shipowners are prepared to give suitable respectable lads of the poor and middle cla.s.s a chance to enter the merchant service on terms of which even the poorest boy can avail himself, without pecuniary disability; and I wish the able young manager of the most powerful trade combination in the world all the success he deserves in his effort, not only to keep up the supply of seamen, but to raise the standard of the mercantile marine.