This was the only time he ever complained to me about the treatment he received from anyone. I was much amused, and humoured the old man into a good temper. He never quite forgave the insult that had been offered him, but went away satisfied that he had scored. Twelve months after this there were signs that the hard usage of his earlydays was breaking him up. He struggled on in the hope that his iron constitution would throw off the malady that held him in its grip, but ere long the suffering old hero passed away.

My brother once volunteered to teach another old illiterate, who shared his watch, to read and write. It was one of the most comical proceedings I ever witnessed, and when I reflect on it now I see a touch of pathos that fills me with remorse for the part I took in making fun of that fine seaman, who had been brought up in an atmosphere of heathenism, and was, in many ways, little better than a heathen himself. He stood six feet four inches, and had the frame of a giant; a large, well-formed head poised above a pair of broad shoulders; his face was strong and highly intellectual; his nose, mouth and full blue eyes indicated that he had sprung from a race of well-bred people who may have declined on their luck. Had his intellectual faculties been given a chance when young, he might have been great in any profession. As it was, he was merely a rough, uncouth man, but a well-trained and accomplished sailor. He had been trained in the hardest of all schools, that of the coasting trade, and he knew every swirl of the tide and every sandbank between St Abb's and Dungeness. He did not rise to be captain, though he frequently went as mate during the winter months. It was not until his ambition led him to a knowledge of the bigger world far beyond the continents of Europe that he determined to learn how to read and write. I am not sure whether he ever felt humiliated at having to seek the aid of a young man so much his junior and occupying a subordinate position to himself; if he did, I cannot recall having observed it. The owners' confidence in him must have been great. He was signed on the ship's articles as boatswain, but really he was intended to act as second mate, keeping the captain's watch and doing the ordinary duties of a second officer. The first intimation the captain had that his owner had sent such a strange personality was on the evening that the vessel was towed out to sea. The decks were in a condition of confusion, and this ardent officer was busying himself in getting them cleared up before dark. The master intimated to him that he was feeling very tired, and would like to lie down.

"You may go to bed, sir," said the officer, "and when you get there remember you have a better man on deck than yourself."

The captain stared at this extraordinary creature, and when he had recovered from his amazement at the unblushing audacity, he said:

"Sir, I wish to intimate to you that you are not aboard a collier brig, but a deep-water ship, and you are addressing a deep-water captain who has never been spoken to in such a strange way before."

"Good God, man!" said the irate second mate, "get away to your bunk, and don't stand there talking damned nonsense about what you call etiquette. I know nothing about that, but I'll take your ship along the coast for you, and I want you to know as well that I can handle a marline spike or a palm and needle with any of your South Spain dandies. You may go below, sir; I have not time to talk to you just now."

"Well, Joss," said the subdued captain, "I will admit I believe you are a better coasting navigator than myself"; and in the assurance that he was, the captain went below, and was not seen again until we got clear of the English Channel. The navigation was left in the hands of the mate and second mate. It was after reaching the north-east trade winds that the latter's elementary education began. The tutor could be seen any morning or afternoon watch below sitting on the forecastle floor working at the construction of a miniature full-rigged ship. His pupil sat beside him with the alphabet written on a slate, and as he advanced in knowledge, three letter, four letter and five letter words were given him, and it was when he arrived at this stage that the process became feverishly attractive and amusing. The following is something like how it appeared to those who were looking on:

"AND—and; FOUR—four," said the tutor, without lifting his eyes from his work.

"THEIR, what the h—ll's that, Jack?"

"Their," said John.

"THERE, that's a b—— jawbreaker, Jack?"

"There," said the tutor, and off he would go in his own peculiar way. Almost every word was introduced by a harmless swear, the droll thing being that my brother simply took it as a matter of course, and never laughed unless some unusually inventive oath combination was interjected; if the pupil confined himself to ordinary swearing, there was no interruption; he was allowed to rattle along in his own voluble way, letting fly vigorously at the inventor of "larnin'." The result was that Joss learned to read and write before the voyage was over. It is true there were few people outside the forecastle that could tell what it was all about, unless they studied very closely his eccentric pronunciation and the wild scrawl of his writing. He never went far enough to get even a second mate's certificate. He thought it an unnecessary waste of time, seeing that he intended to leave the sea as soon as he could attain a pilot's branch. This he succeeded in doing, and had a long and successful career; his fame as a pilot only equalled that which he bore when employed as a sailor. He lived to a good ripe age, and died in harness still adhering to the up-to-date belief that England was being imposed upon by "a set of b—— neckends (foreigners), who took the bread from the mouths of Englishmen." He is said to have saved and left a good deal of money, and this I can well believe, as even when a common sailor he lived far below his income. Joss, unlike most sailors, had not a note of music in his composition, but there were few professionals on the halls who could surpass him at step-dancing. I saw him dance the double-shuffle with a professional on one occasion in the Ratcliffe Highway. I think the place was called the "Gunboat," and he was there declared to be the champion. Joss considered it a part of a sailor-boy's training that he should learn to dance a hornpipe and other steps with facility, and he devoted a good share of his spare time to teaching recruits how to do it. Undoubtedly a good step-dance was a great acquisition on a long, dreary, ocean pilgrimage, and his performance always added to the amusement of a Saturday evening when a concert was organized. The songs were mostly comic, and were sung with an imitative touch of the professional dandy. Occasional lapses into sentimentality never failed to strike a penitent chord for some real or supposed sins that had been thoughtlessly committed. But the mood was merely of brief duration, and only required a comic interjection by someone to send the little community into prolonged gaiety. It was quite usual when they were in the mood to carry their revelry far into their watch below.

When the time came for the hand-spike to be thudded on the deck over their heads, and eight bells called them from slumber to duty, there were found some of whom it was said they would sleep with their heads in a bucket of water, and these were speedily brought to consciousness by the head of their hammocks being let fly by their less somnolent comrades. This was one of the jokes which often led to days of estrangement between the sleeper and the supposed culprit. It was always a mystery who committed the offence, as great caution was used to preserve secrecy. It was a wonder no necks were broken, notwithstanding the care taken to avoid injury in carrying out this mode of arousing the heavy sleeper. Many were undoubtedly hurt, but as there was a good deal of disgrace attached to sleeping on after being called, there was rarely open revolt or complaint made. Another method of dealing with hands who could not keep their eyes open when on watch was to reeve a rope through the scupper-hole, attach one end to the person, and the other to a coal basket, which was thrown overboard. If the vessel was travelling fast, the poor culprit was rudely awakened, and before he could extricate himself he was dragged into the lee scuppers. As that portion of the deck was usually flooded when the vessel had any speed on her, there were soon loud cries for mercy. When it was not prudent to adopt this plan, a bucket of water was thrown at the sleeper's head; this produced the idea of having to swim for it. I have often seen the culprit after an ablution of this character strike out on the deck until his hands or his head came in contact with something harder than either, and made consciousness revive.

But there were methods for dealing with the habit of sleeping on deck other than those, which were fraught with greater danger. I was serving on a vessel whose mate was in the habit of napping when on duty. It was arranged to stretch ropes across the deck about one or two feet from it, and about six feet apart. It was a dark, dirty night; the top of the sea was all alive with phosphorus, which made it difficult to make out lights. The mate slumbered peacefully, leaning against the weather topgallant bulwarks. The man on the look-out shouted: "A red light on the starboard bow!" The man at the wheel repeated it. The mate was awakened, and went straight into a panic.

"Where is the light?"

"On the lee bow," said the helmsman.

"I think it is green," he said.

"Yes," said the helmsman; "so do I."

"No, it is not green; it is bright," said the mate.

"What do you think?"

"I think the same as you, George," said the helmsman.

The mate proceeded to rush along the deck towards the bow; each rope tripped him up, and each fall caused him to see different-coloured lights. After a succession of somersaults, he arrived at the fore end of the vessel wide awake, but in a state of distraction. He called to the look-out man to point out the light he had reported, and a deep, sepulchral voice came from a tall figure robed in white, warning the officer of approaching disaster because of his neglect of duty. Suddenly a trumpet sounded, and in an instant the vision had disappeared, and in another two men stood at the bow. They each spoke to their officer, but he was speechless. At last he managed to jerk out:

"Did you see that figure?"

"No," said the men.

"Then," said he in great tribulation, "it is an apparition."

The ropes were removed, and when he made his way aft nothing interrupted his progress. What could it have been? His fear was terrific; he must have known that something like a joke had been practised upon him, but his superstition, together with the consciousness of having committed a criminal breach of duty, seized the imagination and made him desire to believe that a supernatural visitation had taken place. He was never known to sleep on deck again, and such was the shock to his nerves I am persuaded he did not do a great deal of sleeping below. Whether it was owing to this or not, the poor fellow never properly regained his equilibrium; and his judgement, never reliable before, became after this event a negative quantity. Long years afterwards he used to be chaffed about it, and stood it very badly. A few months since I chatted with one of the men who with myself took part in this plot. He still treasured it as a great diplomatic feat, and laughed immoderately at the recollection of the poor mate's troubles, and warmly complimented himself on the success of the enterprise, but added very seriously: "There is no knowing what might have happened had we all taken to napping. At the same time I am sure," said he, "this sharp lesson put him off doing it again, and it may have saved our lives, though, poor man, he wasn't very much use when left to himself."

Many more experiences not identical but similar to those I have been relating were crammed into a long passage, which relieved the monotony of the stereotyped character of everyday life. Day after day, when the weather was fine, the same kind of work was carried on with unbroken regularity. In the morning at five-thirty the cook made coffee for the watch on deck, and at six they commenced to wash bulwarks, decks, etc. By eight o'clock this was finished. The watch who had to relieve them were knocked out at seven-thirty, had breakfast and came on deck at eight o'clock. The duties of these watches varied: If the rigging was being rattled down, the mate's watch did the fore, while the second mate's did the main and mizen; or if it were only the fore, main, or mizen that was being "rattled," the port side was done by the chief officer's men, and the starboard by the second officer's. There was great rivalry among the seamen who were selected to do this or any other skilled work, but only in regard to the quantity done and its neatness. At times, of course, there was a common understanding that a certain number of ratlines should be put on. This greatly depended on the treatment they were receiving. If it was good, no restriction was arranged, for each tried to excel the other, and this applied to every department of work. Some of the dodges to evade work may not be written here; but if it could be done it would reveal a phase of sea life that has never been put into print. If it were not that our conventions forbid offending the finer senses it might be written, and thereby show something more of the really comic side of Jack when he is on the rampage against constitutional government. There were occasions when the pride of the British tar was not abashed at being called a dockyard loafer, but these were rare.

In making a sea passage there was great care taken that no chafing was going on to the foots of the square sails, nor to the rigging, when the yards were braced up against it. Hence thrum and sword mats were constantly being made and laced on in order to obviate the possibility of a chafe wherever there was a nip. Then the sails had to be kept in repair. Some sailors were clever with the marline spike: could do all manner of neat things about the rigging, but they were of no use with the palm and needle; while there were others who could do anything with both. Some captains through vanity and ignorance believed it to be "classy" to keep the men of the afternoon watch below on deck with the rest, and the sailor who had to take the helm at 6 p.m. was sent to have tea at five-thirty; the others were kept at it until six. Then the apprentices had to clear up the decks and sweep them down with a hair brush. The accumulation of dirt when far away from the centre of mucky industries has always been a great mystery to seamen. Interminable allusions were made to the late Mr Edward Cocker, writer, arithmetician and engraver, as being the only person who could have solved the problem. The phrase "according" or "not according to Cocker" was constantly used in connection with matters that the scientist does not appear to have included in his works, or in any way concerned himself about. The custom of keeping men up doing their afternoon watch-below was common though not universal; in fact the shrewd, sensible captain never did it unless it was a necessity, and it was a rule in all well-regulated vessels to give Saturday afternoons when at sea (and even in port when it could be arranged) to the men, in order that they might do their washing and thereby prevent them doing it on Sundays, which day was reverently spent by those who could do so in reading and re-reading letters that had been sent to them from their friends at home.

Those who have relatives at sea can never estimate to what extent a well-written, cheery letter is appreciated, and the influence it has in keeping the recipient out of mischief and in helping him to form good habits. I cannot sufficiently urge the importance of never allowing a sailor, no matter what his rank or capacity may be, to feel that he is being neglected by those of his family whom he desires to believe have a strong affection for him. I do not urge this exclusively in the sailor's interest, but also in the interest of those whose duty it is to keep him well supplied with news of what is going on at home. I have seen most deplorable results from this thoughtless indifference. There is nothing the average sailor looks forward to so keenly during a passage as the receipt of letters from home, and the disappointment of not receiving any as soon as the vessel arrives has not infrequently been the cause of irreparable mischief. If the relatives of these men could only witness the eagerness with which the arrival of the captain or his agent is watched for each day at noon, in the hope that letters may have come for them, they would realize how necessary it is to attend regularly to this phase of domestic life, and how little the trouble is compared with the joy it gives. On the other hand, I think if those who do not carry out the behest could see the effect of their callousness, they might either be frightened or filled with remorse and pity. But they cannot see it, and the poor fellows are often too sensitive about showing what would appear to them as feminine weakness, and so the thing in some cases drifts on, each not knowing the ugly consequences that are being inflicted on the other, until the climax inevitably comes and it is found the wreck cannot be repaired. I have drawn an extreme case, but there are such cases, and it is because I know of them that I have made the picture emphatic. All manner of excuses are made, such as being a bad letter-writer, and having so much to attend to, and "he doesn't reply to my or our letters as he should." My reply to this nonsense is, never mind whether he reciprocates your extreme condescension or not. The communication with him should be kept going, and if letters are bright, chatty, and without a word of indiscreet reproach for any lack of attention on his part, depend upon it he will ultimately melt into penitence and become a self-accused rascal. Of course I have known many cases where unjustifiable cruelty has been shown by sailors in not writing and in not answering letters sent to them by their wives, mothers or sisters. They did not really mean to cause suffering. They merely drifted into a condition of recklessness which perhaps their environments predisposed them to without ever reflecting that they owed the same duty to their relatives as they invariably complained was not being done to themselves.

I am reminded of a beautiful instance of unwavering devotion to a poor, wayward fellow, who was engaged to serve in the far eastern trade for three years. At each port the vessel touched at on the way out, letters were sent home, and every mail took letters to him, so that when he arrived at the port of discharge quite a batch were received. He wrote regularly for some months, then his letters began to fall off, and at last ceased coming altogether. For two years nothing was heard of his whereabouts except that which was gathered in a mysterious reserved way at the owners' office, and during the whole of these agonizing months never a mail went without a letter for him, and never a word of reproach was uttered or written, though the heart of the little writer was throbbing with soreness. The shipping newspaper was scanned each day, and whenever she saw the vessel he had left home in reported, her hope revived almost to the point of gaiety. Could she have known that her husband had long since left the vessel whose name she watched so eagerly, and the sight of which filled her soul with strange emotion, she might have succumbed to the numbing intelligence. When the weather was fine she strolled to the white sandy beach that was only a few minutes' walk from her house, and there she would give herself up to the luxury of day-dreams. Her fancy was sometimes pleased by the thought that she could see the wake of the beautiful vessel as it ploughed through the peaceful ocean. She listened to the gurgle of the miniature waves until the sigh of the night wind came and reminded her it was time to go home. These occasions were made memorable by the use they were put to. Many a subject for a new essay that was to be sent over the seas found its text on the lonely stretch of sand. Sometimes a shrewd hint was dropped in by the way that his communications must have miscarried, and that there was a painful longing to see his handwriting once again. "I cannot imagine you wilfully or negligently ignoring me," said the writer, but she had a grave suspicion that she was being neglected, and a still graver suspicion that the cause thereof was not excessive sanctification.

After twenty-four months of roving and of silence, a letter came from him announcing that he was tired of staying away, and by the time the letter was received he would be on his way home. He acknowledged having received a number of letters, and then proceeded in a clumsy way to make it appear that he had written, and many sanguinary descriptions as to how some people who were supposed to be concerned in the plot of withholding his letters had to meet their death at his hands. In due course he arrived home, but nothing could induce him to be drawn into a conversation about the missing correspondence. Time had made him more charitably disposed towards the mythical burglars of his precious documents, and no more threats were indulged in. The lady did not deem it wise to raise the question again, and seeing that nothing but harm could have arisen by doing it, I commend her for the wisdom of resisting the temptation of an inquiring mind. This woman's long-suffering, tactful endurance is an example of splendid magnanimity that might be emulated with advantage by those who may come under the devilish lash of similar treatment, and who may be prompted by the spirit of rebellion to make matters worse by indiscreet retaliation. The good woman won back the loyalty of her poor erring partner by her persistent gentleness and toleration.

The following is a portion of a letter I have come across, written many years ago, in which the writer's concern for the spiritual well-being of her sailor brother is very apparent. She knew that it was letters such as this that appealed to the susceptible seafarers. I have said it was their habit to read and re-read their letters every Sunday, especially if they were of a sentimental or religious character. Much of this letter is obliterated, as the person to whom it was addressed tumbled overboard with it in his pocket, and it has crumbled away:

"MY OWN DARLING BROTHER,—I cannot tell you all the joy I feel at being able to write to you in England again. It has seemed a long time while you have been away, and yet now, when you are nearly beside us again, it seems but as yesterday. This may arrive before you, but still it is happiness to think that your vessel's prow is turned homeward. Our love and prayers have travelled with you all the way, and I thank God that you are preserved thus far, and trust He will bring you safe to us all. I know you will be as glad as we are, and I know, too, that though it has pleased God to give you the blessing of that best love of all earthly love, yet you prize the old ties of home.

* * * * * *

"I think to cherish those who have loved him all his life is not the least of a man's duties, but I think where the love is, people don't think about the duty of it at all; it is given and received as a mutual blessing, for which the heart often rises up in silent thanksgiving. I trust, my dear, that you are keeping to your determination to live to God's glory. Don't be discouraged because of the difficulties of the way; the Bible, which I hope you study, says, 'Mighty is He that hath promised,' and the whole Book is full of promises of help to those who are in earnest, and you know if one is not in earnest even God cannot save us. We must do our part, and we must work out our own salvation. It is just and right that it should be so. The glories of heaven, the reward of dwelling for everlasting in an atmosphere of unspeakable purity, will be no reward to those who do not value purity and holiness. Those who do will strive for the reward with all their might, and when our weak and sinful nature overcomes the powers of evil within and without, He comes with His promised almighty help if we ask Him for it. How very tender the words of scripture are when speaking of God's children! He is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. God help you, my darling, to take this word to yourself.

"With devoted love from us all,

"Your loving

"SISTER."

It must not be taken for granted that the reasons I have enumerated were the only ones that influenced the sailor not to write. There were motives that may tax the credulity of the reader, but they existed, nevertheless. I have served in vessels myself where a large proportion of the crew would not trust the captain to post any letters for them owing to the habit of mean peculation that was commonly practised by some captains in those days of grossly overcharging postage and putting the proceeds into their own pockets. But that was not the only method of pilfering from the poor creatures whose wages ranged from L2 15s. to L3 10s. per month, according to the trade they were engaged in, and might have a wife and group of children depending on them. The captains were purveyors of tobacco, and sold it to the crew at profits that far exceeded the limits of decency. Many of them carried what were known as slop chests, which comprised every article of apparel the sailors were accustomed to wear and use: oilskins, sea-boots, suits of dongarees, jumpers, ducks, dark flannel drawers, stockings, mufflers, mittens, blue flannel shirts, fustian and pilot cloth trousers, soap, soda, needles and thread, worsted, knives, and any other thing that was worn or used and likely to be marketable. It will be readily understood that men who traded in this way were not particularly anxious to have a well-fit-out crew at the beginning of a voyage, nor did they repine if bad weather prevailed at the outset. The worse the weather, the barer the sailor's kit, the better the market for the captain's commodities. These slop-chest skippers were perfect terrors to the needy mariner, and many a physical punishment would be endured so that he might be saved the ruinous cost of having to buy from his covetous commander, who was not satisfied with a mere hundred per cent., but regulated his prices according to the severity of the weather and the demand that might be made for his goods. These human vultures carried on a nefarious trade on lines that would have put a Maltese Hebrew to shame. When the days were radiant with sunshine, and the sea made glassy with continuous calms, the shrewd sailors who wanted supplies would apply for them, expecting that they could be had at reduced prices under such circumstances, but the predatory vendor did not do business on these occasions; he waited until the poor devils were overcome and punished by the treacherous icy winds and the mad rush of the waves that tumbled over them and made their sufferings so acute that they were driven to ask their captains to supply them with clothing, and the prices charged were such as to justify the sailors regarding the said captains as the worst types of usurers. A common phrase of the sailors in referring to this class of man was that he would not hesitate to rob "Jesus Christ of his shoe-strings." I have heard these nautical clothiers boast of how they had worked the oracle so that the wretched men who served under them would be obliged to come and on their knees beg that they might be forgiven for not taking the articles when offered, and that they might have them now when they had seen their error. Of course only the wasters would put themselves in any such position. A captain who traded in this way had a right to cover himself for the risk he ran, but it was a wicked imposition to charge more than a reasonable profit for clothing, tobacco, or postages. In settling up at the end of a voyage, the overcharges were frequently contested, and I have known cases where a substantial reduction was enforced. The rate of exchange at which the advances to the crew abroad were worked was invariably one that realized a profit to the captain and caused grave suspicion that a petty theft was being committed. Captains used to brag that they made as much as their wages came to by the sales from their slop-chests and tobacco. Judging from the amount of trade done and prices charged, I can quite believe this.

One of the most mischievous customs of that period was that of giving grog to sailors on Saturday nights, and whenever sail had to be shortened or any extra work done, and many a drunkard was made thereby. What suffering, what untold misery has been wrought by this damnable custom! The lives that have been sacrificed, the property damaged, and vessels lost by having grog aboard, and by captain and officers imbibing it and serving it out to the others with too generous a hand, can never be estimated. Much of the calamity that has occurred, and does yet occur, at sea could and can be traced to its direct use, and the unutterable grief and ruin it has brought into many a fine sailor's home is an odious testimony to those who put temptation in their way and perhaps encourage the use of it for their own benefit. A poor lad whom I knew many years ago acquired the taste for drink aboard the vessel he served in. She was what is called by sailors a grand grog-ship. He was assisting to discharge cargo, and in the middle of the forenoon the bottle was passed round. Being a general favourite with everybody, especially with the steward, whom he was always ready to give assistance to in many little ways, he jokingly asked him for "a good second mate's nip," a phrase which means that the rum or other spirits had to be three fingers up from the bottom of the tumbler glass. It was never doubted that the steward gave him a good deal more than the regulation quantity, for he became very lively soon after. Just at the time grog was served, empty waggons ran short, and the crew were ordered to do odd jobs. The poor lad was sent to the fore topmast head to splice a new lanyard into the main royal stay. He had done this, and was setting the stay up when the marline spike must have slipped out of the hitch in the lanyard. Suddenly the song he was singing ceased; a jerky, nervous shout attracted attention to what had happened; then the hush of anguish seized the horror-stricken spectators who watched the tragedy, and soon all was over. He tumbled backwards, and the sails all being loosened to air them and the topsail yard at the mast head, he fell over it, broke his fall on the foreyard, clutched at the reef points of the foresail, and then tumbled headfirst into the jolly-boat which lay at the bow, and was smashed to pieces. When the body was taken out of the boat it was seen that the flesh of his hands had been torn off by the clutch he made at the reef points.

The crew of this vessel was supplied with alcohol with the specific object of getting them to work hard at the discharging of the cargo. In plain language the owners or masters gave no thought to the personal effect of the custom so long as it did not interfere with their material interests, but should their policy cause the man to imbibe on his own account and commit a breach of discipline, or to be temporarily absent from work, he was punished with shameful severity, and in this the master or owner was encouraged both by written and unwritten laws. No account was taken of how far the employer was responsible in having helped his employee to form habits by which the law was broken. The poor lad who lost his life might have done so anyhow; but the impression that has been fixed on my mind is that the cause of his tragic death lay at the door of those who gave him the second mate's nip.

The unrestrained appetite of the old sailing ship seamen for doing something ridiculous was a problem that even those closely associated with them could never solve. When their minds were bent towards a freak they plunged into it regardless of consequences. The more daring the adventure the more enjoyment they got out of it. On a memorable occasion long ago, several ships' crews went ashore in a foreign port on leave, and at a late hour they were returning aboard their respective ships. Some were half seas over, and others badly sprung, but all seem to have been smitten with the idea of reckless mischief. Sentries were stationed along the banks of a river that Byron has sung of. They were not supposed to allow any one to pass without a permit, and as the seamen were not in the temper to brook coercion of this kind, they came into conflict with each other. One of the sentries struck a sailor, who attempted to pass the line, with his bayonet. This was the beginning of a carnival of lawlessness. The tars were maddened by the attempt to slay their comrade, and a wild rush was made upon several of the soldiers. They were promptly overpowered, disarmed, and their muskets used in disarming their friends who were panic stricken by the vigorous onslaught, and soon succumbed to Jack's bellicose persuasiveness. It then became an easy task to carry out the impromptu plan of campaign of putting each soldier into his sentry-box and casting both him and the box into the running stream. The call for help was unavailing; none came, and soon no voices were heard, but the following day the funeral knell was sounded by the roar of the cannon from the gunboats, splashing shot into the river with the hope that the vibration would resurrect the bodies of the victims from their muddy tomb. Many of them were brought to the surface by this means.

Jack is said to have thought it a great joke, and it must be admitted there is a grim humour in the cool audacious method of disposing of the human obstacles which stood in his way. No argument, however eloquent, could convince them that a murderous act had been committed. Their idea was that no b——y foreigner had any right to question the good intentions of a British sailor or to intercept his perambulations either drunk or sober. Pageantry and armed force did not appeal to them, but a kind word and an expressed desire to escort them aboard their ship would have caused them to fall on the neck of even a foreign soldier in adoration. The thirst for joviality often led wayward sailors to crave for drink, and under its baneful influence they were easily wafted into a delirium of foolhardy devices that would never have entered the mind of the ordinary mortal.

A large barque was once in mid-ocean homeward bound, and was beating against strong head-winds under whole topsails, courses, lower staysails, and jib. It was the starboard watch on deck from eight p.m. until midnight. The captain had retired for the night and left the second mate in charge. His watch, with the exception of one man, was composed of as fine a brood of young athletes as ever ran aloft. They were on the most friendly terms with their officer, whose genial disposition led him to converse with them. I daresay he was attracted by their boisterous cordiality. Be that as it may, he either winked at or encouraged the successful negotiations that were devised to induce the steward to invade the grog locker, which was situated beneath the captain's bed, and bring from it the jar which contained whiskey. At first Jimmy the steward was obdurate.

"It cannot be done," said he, "without wakin' the aud man."

"What the devil's the good of you talking that nonsense, Jimmy?" said the persuasive orators; "why, you know he'd sleep with his head in a bucket of slush."

"Yes, but I'm feared he'll waken, and then there'll be an almighty row."

"Well," replied the tempters, "we always thought you a real shipmate, and as full of pluck as a pitman's badger. What's come over you, man; surely its not the same old Jimmy Dinsdale that had the courage to stand before Hennan and Tom Sayers? It's not as though you were not going to have a nip with us."

"Look here," said one of the enterprising coterie; "if you are feared to go, show me, and you bet I'll have the stuff on deck in a jiffy. If I can do it, surely you can."

The form of dashing flattery, the appeals to his bravery and comradeship, and the prospect of himself partaking of the convivial cup, punctured Jimmy's will, and he fell. The coveted jar was brought on deck without arousing the captain, and the seamen insisted that they could not touch or taste till James himself had partaken; they would then have pleasure in drinking his health. This order of things was carried out, the second officer joining in by assuring his men that he "endorsed their complimentary remarks about the steward"; he was an ardent sportsman, said the condescending officer, "whose popularity was unequalled."

"Hear, hear," responded the breezy tars.

Jimmy had another nip, beamed all over with merriment, and pledged himself to live for evermore up to the high reputation they had given him, which he was proud to believe he deserved. At ten p.m. the wind and sea had increased, and the vessel was plunging her jibboom and bowsprit under. The second officer intimated that all hands would have to be called to reef the topsails and haul the mainsail up and stow it, but his men were imbued with heroic dash, and would not hear of such unseamanlike weakness. They assured him that they could take the sail in without calling the watch below. Amid much noise and many larks they managed to get the foretopsail reefed. A chanty was lustily sung when hoisting the yard up, and when they undertook to reef the main topsail it was quite obvious the over plentiful supply of grog was taking serious effect. Their articulation became thick and incoherent. They were alternately effusive with joy and senseless laughter, and occasionally quarrelsome. The lee yardarm man insisted on hauling out to leeward before the weather yardarm man told him to, which was of course contrary to the order of nautical ethics. The situation became very strained between the men to windward and those to leeward, because of the profusion of tobacco-juice the former were expectorating into the eyes of those to leeward, not intentionally, but with alcoholic recklessness. The elderly stout man of the watch felt that it was no ordinary occasion, and grunted out that he was b—— well going to lash himself to the haulyards, as he felt wearied. The lee yardarm man managed to crawl in on the foot-rope, got into the maintop, and fell asleep there, while the gradual cessation of speech from the champions to windward indicated that they also slept. The second officer and the helmsman conferred as to what had best be done, and concluded not to risk startling any of them out of their drunken unconsciousness by shouting, lest they should loose their hold and be smashed to pieces or fall into the sea; but as the watch was drawing to a close it was suggested by the sailor who was at the helm that he should go up aloft, and make his way noiselessly to the weather yardarm, for the two men who were there stood in the greatest danger. When he got to them he found both had partially secured themselves, though the least lurch of their bodies would certainly have placed them in a more perilous position. The young sailor's task was both delicate and difficult, but he managed it so well that no harm came to them. One of the men, as is the practice when reefing, was straddle legs on the yardarm, and had a turn of a rope round him. The other had his feet on the foot-rope, and his chest rested on the yard. They made a good deal of jovial noise when they were aroused, with the obvious intention of making it appear that they were very much alive. The stout man, who was in the slings of the mast, and the first to succumb, was rudely awakened by the rollicking yardarm man slapping him sharply on the back and shouting at him, "what the h—— he meant by sleeping there and risking his own and other people's lives?"

The phlegmatic gentleman grumbled out: "What business is that of yours?"

"Why," retorted the younger seaman, "you old scanamaran, you ought to be put in irons for the remainder of the voyage, and have your wages stopped into the bargain."

This was rather high-class audaciousness on the part of a young rascal who had just been rescued from a worse position while committing the same offence. The task of getting them round was nothing compared to that of getting them humoured into a sufficiently sober condition so that no mishap would befall them in the process of coming down the rigging. It is a perfect marvel how Providence protects people under the influence of drink. Almost every step downward threatened a calamity, so they slipped from one rattling to another until their feet landed on the topgallant rail, and they slid under the shear pole on to the deck. The second mate was greeted with much affection; the attitude towards him was that of men who had been a long time absent and come suddenly in contact with a dear friend. He was sensible enough to reciprocate the kindness shown him. The reefed topsail was hoisted vigorously up to the accompaniment of rapturous song. This being done, the watch below was called, came on deck, and received a greeting unequalled in every sense, but especially in its spirituous effusiveness. The faithful James was in great demand, and after a prolonged search he was found coiled up under the long-boat; an outburst of fluent profanity indicated that his condition did not warrant him being entrusted with any commission of grave, secret intricacy, so he was expeditiously stowed away in the galley for the remainder of the night, and the port watch that had just come on deck were bitterly chagrined that they were not given the chance of "liquoring up," as they called it, with their shipmates. The following day they proclaimed Jimmy a pink devil for getting intoxicated, and his confederates were treated to a withering flow of invective for not keeping some of the stolen property for them. The captain was serenely ignorant of what was going on, but in the morning at breakfast his attention became centred on the worthy James, whose performances were of an unusually destructive character. The steerage and cabin exhibited heaps of broken crockery-ware, mixed with the humble repast that hungry men had been looking forward to. Jimmy, in an ordinary way, was really a devotee of religion, who adhered to all its forms most rigidly so long as drink was kept out of his way. He could quote Scripture by the fathom, and when in his cups used to do so copiously. The captain said to him:

"Any one with half an eye can see, sir, that you have been at my grog."

James became virtuously indignant.

"Captain," said he, in a thick, guttural voice which indicated whiskey, "you judge me wrongly"; whereupon, falling on his knees, he clasped his hands, and in the attitude of prayer began as follows: "O Lord, forgive the captain. Judge me, O Lord, for I have walked in mine integrity: I have trusted also in the Lord, therefore I shall not slide."

The mate, a burly fellow who stood hard by, muttered:

"Get up, you d——d fool. You have slid." Whereupon the pious James called him a liar, and continued:

"Examine me, O Lord, and prove me: try my reins and my heart."

When he had finished the sentence, the captain interposed:

"I'm quite satisfied that you are intoxicated, and must request you, Mr Jones, to see that he is put to bed before he does any more mischief. I shall keep my grog under lock and key for the future."

This strong indictment caused James to become piously agitated. The mate eloquently remarked:

"Yes, it is all damned fine quoting Scripture, but that won't give us our breakfast. What do you say, Mr Second Mate?"

"Amen," said the gallant officer, and, with a merry twinkle in his eye, he added in a whisper, "but I don't quite agree with the grog being locked up."

Jimmy was very popular with all aboard, and everyone was full of sympathy with him for having had the misfortune to fall into disgrace. In a few weeks after his fall he was paid off in Bristol, and to celebrate the occasion he and a young lad, who was much devoted to him, had a glass together. He was very fond of his wife and his home, and used to confide all manner of sacred things to his young friend. They were walking down a fashionable street together, and observing a well-dressed lady looking in a shop window, he remarked to the youth:

"That is a fine dress the lady has on. I would like to have one like it for our Nanny (meaning his wife). I wonder if it cost much."

His young companion was eager to have some sport out of the incident, so he urged him to ask her how much the dress cost. He was not quite sure of the propriety of doing such a thing, but was reassured of this by his friend in whose judgement he had profound confidence; so he went up to the lady, took hold of her dress, held it up in his hand beyond the limit of discretion, and asked her in pure Anglo-Scotch how much a yard it might cost. The lady was startled, and looked contemptuously at him.

"Sir," said she, "how dare you! whatever do you take me for?"

"I take you for a lady," said Jimmy, "and I'm asking how much a yard your dress cost, because if it's not over dear I would like to buy one for wor Nanny."

His young friend kept close to him, and was in convulsions of laughter; but seeing he was drifting into trouble he advanced towards where they stood and tried to explain to the lady that it was he who had prevailed upon his friend to satisfy his curiosity as to the price of her dress. Up to that point she seemed to be embarrassed, and did not know whether to resent such unconventional conduct or not. She asked if they were sailors; they replied in the affirmative. It then seemed to dawn upon her that it was merely a mischievous prank being played on her interrogator; but she was assured in a sailorly manner by both that they knew it was very funny, but they were in earnest all the same. She realized the true situation and laughed very heartily.

"Come along," said she, "and I will take you to the shop where I got this dress."

Jimmy assented, but suggested that she should walk ahead of them; but the lady insisted that she wished them to talk to her of their sea experiences, and before the shop was reached James had told her with touching simplicity about his fall and how penitent he was, and that he felt he ought to do something for the wrong he had done his wife, who would be very grieved when she heard of it.

"Will you tell her?" asked the lady.

"Tell her," said he; "why, I wouldn't dare do any other. I tell her everything."

"Ah," said she, "sailors are very confiding. Now we are at the shop; come with me, both of you."

The material was asked for, and the announcement of the price nearly made Jimmy run out of the establishment.

"I am very sorry," said he, "but I cannot afford to buy it."

"How many yards does it take to make a dress for me?" asked the lady at the shop-woman, without heeding his remark. She was told.

"Then," said she, "cut me a couple of yards extra, include the trimmings, make it into a parcel, and send it and the bill to me at once. Now," she continued to her two sailor companions, "come to my home with me and have tea; by that time the material which I have bought for your wife will have arrived."

"Madam," said the much-affected James, "surely you're no going to buy that garment for me?"

"Oh yes, I am," said she, laughing; "don't say more about it, but tell me some more of your adventures." And, fearing she was neglecting the youth who had got over his frolicsome fit and become very shy, she added: "I wish both of you to talk to me."

However, the youngster preferred to allow his friend to have all the say, and contented himself by chipping in only when there was a pause or when he was referred to. In due course they arrived at a mansion which stood in beautiful grounds. The sailors were in awe, and reluctantly followed their hostess. They had never seen anything like it before. They were taken into a room that to them was gorgeous. Tea was brought in, and two other ladies joined the party. They made both sailors feel quite at ease, and before very long they were talking with as great freedom as though they had been in the forecastle. The ladies were made very mirthful, and laughed merrily at many of the quaint yarns that were told them, which were for the most part personal. Jimmy told them of his domestic bliss and the form of petticoat government that controlled him in a charmingly simple way; and his companion had to relate all about his home and when and how he came to go to sea. He became quite confiding, and asked them to read some letters he had just received from his sister, so that they might form some idea of the home he came from. They declared they were the sweetest and best-written letters they had ever read.

"I am sure," said the hostess, "you must be fond of your sisters."

He admitted he had good reason to be proud of them, as they were not only good sisters but clever ones.

"But now," said he, "it is time for us to go, and I thank you on behalf of myself and my friend for your great kindness towards us."

Jimmy was handed his parcel, and in the course of a few original sentences he committed himself, his friends and his family to obligations of gratitude for generations to come. A five pound note was put into the hand of the younger sailor, who declined to take it, but the good woman said:

"I am sure you will not intentionally give me pain by refusing to accept a small gift from me. You have told me that it is your desire to take a present home to your sisters, and I wish you to buy something suitable for them with what I have given you."

"Yes," said the young man; "but I intended to buy it with my own money."

"I know you did," said she, smiling, "but I am informed you are going to try and pass the Board for second mate, and that it will cost you a good deal. Now I wish you to get your certificate and to use your own money to enable you to go to school and stay long enough ashore to do so without feeling pinched."

With marked self-consciousness he agreed to accept the gift, and they each thanked her again with all the natural gratitude that sat so lightly on this class of sailor. And when she and her friends said good-bye they felt that they had been the guests of big-hearted English women. As soon as they had passed outside the gate, Jimmy remarked that "there was none of the jellyfish shake of the flipper about them folk."

The two friends walked down the principal street together, and had it not been the prevailing opinion that sailors of that time did not meditate either coherently or incoherently, they might by their manner have been thought to be in deep soliloquy, whereas their silence was merely momentary. Any one hard by could have heard a spontaneous "Well, by George, we are in luck! What an experience!" And then in a sharp, jerky utterance: "Why, there's Jack Rush ahead of us. Won't he get a surprise when we tell him where we have been and how it all came about?"

When they came up to Mr Rush he was found to be more than half-seas-over, and commenced grinding out odds and ends of profanity about the shabby trick that had been played on the port watch on the occasion when the captain's grog was purloined and some people had to be sent to bed.

"Shut up about that," responded the conscience-pricked James, in a sudden gust of rage.

"All very well for you to say 'shut up,' but why the syntax didn't you save some of the stuff for our watch: that's what I want to know?" said the injured mariner, with an intoxicated air of Christian virtue. Jimmy's friend, anticipating trouble, came to the rescue by judiciously calling his attention from his grievance and asking where their shipmates were, as he wanted to stand drinks and relate to him and them the singular experience and good fortune of Jimmy and himself. Whereupon Mr Rush became effusively obliging, and guaranteed to have them in the midst of their friends in a few minutes. No further reference was made to the escapade that was remembered with such aversion, and they were soon reunited to the whole of their comrades, who received them with the joy of reclaimed brethren. They had entered upon the initial stages of a vigorous spree, and were cheerfully ready to listen to Jimmy's romantic story. They were not even envious of him, but they did resolve amid a chorus of merriment to emulate him in the art of sampling ladies' dresses, and in the exuberance of uncontrolled mischief some of them went forthwith on the expedition. Needless to say the experiment was not an unqualified success. They found that their rude pleasures were neither understood nor appreciated by the ladies of Bristol, and I have reason to know that some of the more enterprising came to sudden grief.

These freaks of sailor life are recorded, not with a view of holding him up as a drunken, ill-behaved, lawless creature, but merely as incidents that seemed necessary adjuncts of his calling, and for the purpose of showing the mischief that may be caused by supplying him with drink or putting temptation in his way. For even in these days he is deplorably susceptible to influences that are injurious to him. He is very weak, very reckless, and also very human; but I am inclined to demur at the notion that in the good old times he was pre-eminently so. There is one characteristic of the whole class that should never be overlooked, and that is their devotion to one another.



VIII

GRUB

In the extreme end of the forecastle, above what is called the forehook, was a locker to keep the beef, duff (pudding) and sugar kids, bread barge and other small stores, such as tea, sugar, coffee, etc. If these were not carefully covered over, and there was any rain, or if sea-water came aboard, they soon were destroyed, and the apprentice whose work it was to look after them was held to blame by the men who meted out punishment to him in one way or another, but they themselves suffered the penalty of his fault, for they were reduced to short rations until the following week's allowance was distributed. It was customary for the captain to weigh or serve out the stores, and many a mean trick was adopted at the expense of the poor sailor by the use of false scales, weights, or measures. I have seen instances of this most wretched and meanest of all thieving more than once. One incompetent conniver at inexpiable wrong thought by cheating his men out of a portion of their meagre allowance he would make the insufficiency of stores put aboard by the owner spin out till the voyage ended. The water was served out just as exactingly as anything else, and as soon as the day's allowance was handed over to each man, the bung was put in the cask with canvas nailed over it, and the dipper, which is a long, narrow copper or tin pot, with a lanyard attached to it, was bent on to the signal halyards and run up to the masthead, so that no one could sneak any more water than their whack during the close time. In spite of gross imposition, which, if committed amongst any other class of workmen would have provoked the spirit of murder, these jovial, light-hearted fellows were always ready if it was fine weather to spend the dog watches in providing amusement for each other, and at the close of each entertainment they never overlooked what was inherently believed the patriotic duty of combining a display of loyalty to their sovereign with a proportionate degree of disloyalty to the captain and owner who were responsible for supplying them with food that even a Russian serf might have felt justified in complaining about. So a doggerel verse was composed and sung fervently to a modified form of the National Anthem by way of intimating their grievance forcefully to the notice of their commander. Relevancy did not come within the compass of their thoughts; what they desired was to sing something that would strike home, so the anthem was chosen as the most fitting benediction of all. Here are the words:

God save our gracious Queen! Long may she reign over us! Pea-soup and pork amongst all hands of us, Not enough for one of us, God save our Queen!

After this had been repeated several times over, it usually happened that one of the songsters who claimed to be gifted with more perspicuity than his comrades would remind them that he had seen the old squirrel wriggle under the lash of the song. And so their wretched days of starvation were often made shorter by a more or less harmless attack on the poor skipper, who might only be the instrument of a parsimonious managing owner. But that was not the only method adopted of showing their dissatisfaction. The seaman who had the most flippant tongue and legal mind was chosen (or, as frequently happened, he selected himself) to introduce a deputation of the whole forecastle. I always look back on these episodes as amongst the most comical of my sailor life. The spokesman would pick up the unpopular food, and with the air of an oriental dignitary march at the head of his shipmates right up to the captain, plant the wooden kid down on the deck at his feet, and ask if that "was the sort of grub for men to do a hard day's work on; besides, it was beef or pork, not bones or fat pork we signed for." If the captain happened to be a conceited, combative person, he would at once reply that he fed them according to what he thought they were worth. Then there were heated altercations, which sometimes ended in blood being spilt, or some of the crew being put in irons and logged for having instigated rebellion on the high seas. "I'll teach you to impeach my authority," the stupid, arbitrary tyrant would say; "you shall be fed on the smell of an oil-rag in future, and have your wages forfeited at the end of the voyage into the bargain." Alas, this wicked threat was too often carried into effect so far as the forfeiture of wages and ill-treatment were concerned. Whereas the diplomatic, sensible master would deal with a case of this kind in a way that was calculated to soften Jack into a condition that resembled penitence, and make him feel as though he were a pig for having complained in this direct way at all. I know there are cases that cannot be dealt with at sea in any other than a despotic fashion, and although there is no necessity to show weakness, there is as a rule a better chance of governing men by kindness than by adopting a harsh, unyielding attitude towards them, as though they were Mohammedan dogs.

A vessel short of provisions is seldom heard of in these days of steam and up-to-date precautions, but a generation ago it was a common occurrence. Landspeople used to speak of it as one of the ordinary risks of a sailor's profession that the general public had no particular interest in, excepting that it added somewhat to seafaring romance. I have often wished that those whom I have heard speaking in a casual, airy fashion of this phase of sea-life could have the faculty of imagination put into them so that they might realize what really happened to those who had to experience the manifold sufferings and privations of being short of water and provisions in mid-ocean where there was little chance of seeing a sail for days, and when perchance a vessel was seen, the weather might be so boisterous that communication could not be effected, or they might even be short of provisions. In order to minimize the suffering of hunger and thirst, sailors sometimes buckled their stomachs in with a belt, and those who had not a belt did so with cord. Hunger is a terrible sensation anywhere, but it is doubly intensified at sea when there is no hope of it being appeased, and the whole surroundings become impregnated with a sense of coming doom. Those who have never known the pangs of prolonged hunger may have some idea of it conveyed to them by trying to imagine that some wild animal is tearing at their internals. That is an accurate description of it, and I should like to know what other thing is calculated to create madness sooner. Sailors of that generation never made a noise about their troubles once they got ashore and left them astern, and so the possibilities of recurrence were left open. One feels inclined bitterly to assail the owners, their captains and the general public, for having allowed such things to happen, but in common fairness we must put some of the responsibility on the seamen themselves for playing into the hands of a gang of unmitigated blood-suckers who, in some cases, purchased silence by paying compensation for the time the men were short of grub; but never more than the bare cost of the food for the time they were short of it was allowed. In the majority of cases payment was evaded altogether. I have been amongst this sort of thing on several occasions, and feel some difficulty in writing with calmness when I reflect on all the unnecessary hardships and sufferings that were caused by sheer wanton greed. On four different voyages I learnt how terrible it was to be short of provisions and water, and in three out of the four this was preventable. The first case was excusable owing to the long continuance of easterly gales in the chops of the English Channel. Some vessels managed to reach Scilly or Falmouth, but many failed to do so, and we were amongst the many. On several occasions we were nearly able to fetch into port, and then the wind increased and we drifted back into the ocean. This gaining and losing process went on for three or four weeks. Each fresh sail sighted was signalled or hailed to the effect that we were short of provisions and asking if they could supply us, and invariably the reply came back, "Impossible: our supplies have run out." We in turn were frequently appealed to for succour, but had to plead the same thing. The one redeeming feature of the critical position of the large fleet that was held in the grip of the wind for so long a time was the knowledge that we were all in the same predicament, and if we could not supply each others' wants we had at least the pleasure of companionship, and this kept us from losing hope until a slant of wind came to our aid and carried us into port. In this case we had been on very short rations for many days, and yet there was never a word of recrimination, and singularly little grumbling except at the perversity of the wind.

Nothing whatever could be said in defence of the other cases, for the vessels were not only sent away from a home port criminally short of supplies, but they left the port at which they loaded for home with only sufficient stores to last half the time it would take to make the passage with average success; and not having any good fortune at all, our allowance was reduced before the passage was half covered. We swept past the last port of call with the wind right aft. The captain and steward knew that the provisions were getting low, but the former decided to trust to Providence giving him a fair wind all the way, so we romped along for several days, and then adverse winds came and everybody realized the seriousness of the position. Orders were given that all hands had to be put on half fare, and not many days elapsed before every article of food was exhausted and we had to broach our cargo of lentils and sustain ourselves on lentil soup. Even that had to be sparingly used on account of the scarcity of water. On some days we drifted under two close reefed topsails into the heart of the western ocean and out of the regular track of vessels bound out and home. Whenever the weather fined down, sail was set according to the force of the wind which kept in the N.E., varying perhaps a couple of points each way. A look-out man was kept on the maintopmast crosstrees from dawn until sunset each day to watch for passing vessels, and long, painful days rolled on without our sighting anything. Sometimes a sail would be seen hull down or too far off to attract attention. This naturally had a saddening effect, and we wished they had never been seen; but in spite of privations, which increased day by day, there was a gaiety kept up until the last sweeping up of the provision lockers had taken place, and we were reduced to the exclusive diet of boiled lentils, which I have heard is considered by some people to be a luxury; but whether this be so or not, I never wish to realize its taste again. May Providence protect me from ever again having to put it to my lips.

Up to a certain point our impoverished crew had borne the strain on their minds and stomachs very manfully, but the period of despair was now come. They talked indeed of which one among their comrades should draw the lot that by shortening his life would prolong theirs. Sickness had smitten some of them so that they could barely crawl on deck. Each day showed signs of a galloping atrophy. Letters were written to their relatives conveying in a matter-of-fact way all they were enduring: no flowery phrases; no attempt at effect; but merely a statement of bald fact. These communications were to be put into the orthodox bottle and dropped into the sea in the hope that the sombre tidings would be picked up and read at home. The stage of openly cursing the owner had long since passed. Now and again they wondered if their spirits would haunt him in the event of their having to succumb, but that was only a passing mood. Their thoughts were mainly centred on charitable and domestic matters, and what would be the end of all their sufferings. It is a strange destiny which causes the agony of despair to be prolonged, and then when life seems to be flickering out, suddenly the angel of death is withdrawn and light and life burst forth with a radiance that fills the sufferers with hope. The look-out man at the mast-head shouts as loud as his strength will allow: "A sail! A sail on the starboard bow, crossing our track! The vessel is hull down." Immediately the whole crew except the man at the wheel are in the rigging scanning the horizon, and a running flow of conflicting opinions are expressed as to the exact course she is steering and whether she will discern our flag. The captain gives peremptory orders to set every stitch of canvas and ease the yards, so that his vessel might go quicker and meet the other at an angle. Something like superhuman effort was made by enfeebled men to get the canvas smartly set. The sight of the vessel impressed them as a providential apparition. In less than an hour the hull came in view. It was seen that the stranger was under a cloud of sail, including royals, and topgallant studding sails on both sides. A fresh wind blew right behind her, and the sea, though not rough, was showing white feathers on the surface of the Atlantic rollers. The signal that we were without any provisions was hoisted, but no notice was taken of it. Night was drawing near, and the clipper was slipping fast away from us. Our captain ordered his vessel to be hauled close to the wind again in case the flags might be obscured by running free. It turned out that this might have been the case, as we had no sooner manoeuvred in this way than they began to take the other vessel's studding sails in and haul to the wind. Our vessel's course was shaped towards her, and when we had got fairly close to her both vessels had all small sail taken in, courses hauled up, and their main yards laid aback. Our pinnace was then hoisted out, and we proceeded to row alongside a beautiful tea clipper. We were a lantern-jawed, scarecrow lot, and our general appearance emphasized the story we had to tell of the privations we had suffered. We had scarcely strength enough to lift the oars into the rollicks, much less pull the boat through a choppy sea. The captain and crew of the British clipper were very kind, supplied all our needs, including tobacco, though we did not ask for the latter; this was obviously given to express more emphatically their sympathy and kindly feelings towards us. Very little water could be spared, as sailing vessels at that time were nearly always stinted in accommodation for water supply, but we were very grateful for the sacrifice the captain made in allowing us to have even a few breakers full. The act which touched the heart-strings most was the request made to their captain by his crew to be allowed to row the supplies to our vessel. It was granted by him and thankfully accepted by us; and over all the years which have passed since that scene took place it has constantly lived in my memory as one of the many traits that endear the sailor to his fellow men. This self-sacrificing crew had been caused much additional hard work on account of our misfortunes; some of them were losing their watch below; and all of them had the arduous task of hurriedly taking in the necessary sail and manipulating the yards so that a communication could be effected, and then, after their mission was done, the vessel was put on her course, and all the work of setting sail, etc., had to be done over again. We knew all this, and therefore appreciated all the more the little touch of sympathy which prompted them to add to their labours by undertaking the work they saw we were hardly fit to perform. Before leaving the hospitable deck of the clipper our captain made a well-chosen and appropriate little speech of thanks to our benefactor, by whom it was suitably responded to; and then a cordial shaking of hands took place, and we parted with hearts full of gratitude to those who had so beneficently helped us. When we got aboard three cheers were rung out from both vessels, and then their yards were filled and sail made, and we swept away from each other into the gloom of the gathering night.

An unthought-of protracted passage was in front of us, and long before it was completed the fresh water ran short again; but we were more in the track of vessels then, and succeeded in getting a further supply which lasted until our arrival at Falmouth, where all our ills were soon forgotten amid the charm of its scenery and the atmosphere of congenial excitement which the tavern of that day afforded. Songs were sung and step-dancing, such as none other but a sailor could do, as usual aroused and kept local interest on the stretch. The audiences were composed mainly of sailors, their sweethearts for the time being, or those directly interested in him. Indeed these were occasions when the place was kept humming with a salty brightness. Jack had the singular gift of making his own amusement, and so long as he kept from taking too much drink he was not only a source of pleasure to himself, but in his way entertained other people. Of course the sailors here, as always, told their experiences to each other when they met, and incidentally their owners came in for a share of contumely such as "God-forsaken robber," or "scrape-backed thief who was not fit to carry guts to a bear," and other more or less harmless invectives.

The men were rarely vindictive or bitter even, after the thing had passed on, and an example of this was shown in the story I have been relating where there was just cause for resentment and claim for compensation, and yet none was made, nor was compensation asked for or offered in the other two cases which I have mentioned, although they were on almost identical lines with the first. On these last occasions the crew lived on Indian corn for two weeks. The corn was put into canvas, battered as small as possible, then put through the coffee mill, and after the last process it was made into bread or puddings; but the mill did not last long, so we were driven to eat it in a very rough state, and soon experienced the penalty of doing so. We could not have kept on eating it. The captain reported that he had been obliged to broach the cargo for food, and the receivers charged him with the estimated amount used. He and his crew thought this very mean, and I think I remember them expressing strong regret that they hadn't scuttled the —— ship and thereby have inflicted great personal loss on the owner of the cargo who, they apprehended, would have rather seen them starve than that a bag or two of his cargo should be used for the purpose of saving their lives. That was the impression they had formed. Of course it was a harum-scarum impression, but it gratified them to hold it. The real culprit was the owner of the ship, who had not provided sufficient stores. He had not escaped notice, but the meaner sinner had obscured him for the moment.

An extraordinary characteristic of this age was the sailor's jealousy lest improper innovations should be introduced into the mode of taking their food. Knives and forks, cups, saucers, soup and plain plates were a violation of sound forecastle principles, which in their eyes threatened a coming degeneracy of the profession. Their use was viewed as an attempt to become aristocratic, and those who dared adopt it were looked upon as fops and mongrel seamen. The average man believed in his tin pot, plate and pannikin, galvanized soup spoon and clasp knife; there were no second course articles recognized. The tin pot had a hook in front so that it could be hooked on to the galley grate to boil, though it was not uncommon in long voyage ships to dispense with the hook pot and have instead a large kettle for the whole of the forecastle hands. The tidy man kept his utensils spotlessly clean. At seven bells in the morning the watch below were knocked out to have breakfast; this generally consisted of cracker hash, i.e., bread hash; or cold salt beef or pork, whichever joint they had had on the day previous hot for dinner; if she was a well-found ship butter was supplied; they always had tea or coffee for the morning meal. If the breakfast was of beef or pork, the platter or kid was put on the floor, and each seaman took the piece of meat he intended to cut in one hand, cut it off the junk with his clasp knife in the other, and if by any means he happened to touch that which he did not cut he was submitted to severe chastisement by being forcibly put over a chest lid and given a dozen hard slaps with a boot jack. The piece of meat intended to be eaten was put on a hard ship biscuit which served the purpose of a plate, and was cut as required with the clasp knife and put into the mouth with the right hand. Dinner was served at noon. On Sundays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, it was beef and duff, according to scale; Saturdays, beef and "strike-me-blind," i.e., boiled rice; Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, pea-soup and pork. The mid-day meals were partaken of in a similar way to the breakfast, except that the tin plate was used for either duff and molasses, or pea-soup, or rice; it might not be used for the beef or pork—this greatly depended on the natural delicacy of the seamen, many of whom proclaimed that fingers were made before knives or forks, therefore it was proper that they should be used in preference. If he possessed a chest he sat on that, and his knees served him as a table; if he had no chest, then he sat on the floor or on the forehook, i.e., a beam which stretches across the bows. This class of food and the method of eating it went on uninterruptedly during the whole voyage. The duff, which was made of flour, water and fat, was boiled in a canvas bag made in the shape of a nightcap; it was very leathery, and was responsible for much dyspepsia. It was cut into equal parts according to the number of men who were to share it. On Sundays a few currants or raisins were scattered amongst the flour and water; this was considered a luxury which was often taken off at the caprice of the captain. Sailors have the character of being born grumblers, and their knowledge of maritime law is much exhibited by them at meal times. Poor creatures, what trouble they get themselves into at times through this belief of theirs in their legal acquirements! There is a story of a sailor who, insisting on breaking the law because he was positive he was not breaking it, got himself put into prison in consequence, whereupon a forecastle friend called to see him. He immediately exclaimed on seeing and shaking hands with his friend, "I know d—n well, Jim, they cannot put me in here, and they'll have to pay for it."

"What's the use of talking such d—— rot, you fool? Why, you are here!"

On another occasion a large, square-rigged vessel belonging to London arrived in the West India Docks, and the captain, on being asked by his owner what sort of a crew he had, replied that they were sailors all over, always grumbling about their work or their grub, and it did not matter what they got to eat they would always find something else they wanted. The owner declared that he would provide a meal for them that would satisfy, and there wouldn't be a single request for anything else. The captain said he did not know what he was undertaking. The owner said: "Well, captain, if I do not succeed in satisfying them I will pay you one hundred pounds."

"Done," said the skipper.

The crew's accommodation was in a house on deck; it was arranged to have the skylight up and the side windows open, so that everything that was said could be heard outside. The meal was cooked and served by first-class men, and it was given on the occasion of the owner's birthday. A large party assembled aboard, and the host addressed the men appropriately, asking them to accept his hospitality. The sailors' spokesman replied that they never wished to serve a better governor than he, and the banquet commenced. The owner, his wife, and his daughter—a beautiful girl of twenty—together with the captain, went quietly up the ladder at the fore-end of the house and listened to what was said. The owner was grateful at hearing such good things said about himself, though the eulogy was flavoured with a pungency of language that was not intended for delicate ears. At last one of the crew finished, tossed his tin plate on the floor, and said:

"That's a damned good dinner, boys."

A second, third and fourth said the same thing. The owner was worked up into an ecstasy of joy, and poked the skipper in the ribs as the others kept throwing their plates down and expressing satisfaction. The owner whispered: "It's a walk over, captain."

"Not yet," responded the skipper.

The last of the three broke the continuity of complete satisfaction by remarking that the dinner was all right, but to make it perfect their wives and sweethearts should have been asked. The captain became obviously nervous, and asked the owner and his wife and daughter to withdraw, but they refused. Then came the last but one, who said that the only thing that would make the dinner faultless to him would be that he should propose marriage to the owner's daughter and be accepted. The mother and daughter became virtuously agitated, and the captain again urged withdrawal, but they insisted on staying for the last chap's opinion, who became eloquent in his praises of all concerned. "But," said he to the last speaker, "you want to have the old man's daughter in marriage. I don't mind her so much; the only thing that would make me satisfied with the thing would be for the owner to die, so that I might marry his widow and get the coin."

The captain nearly took a fit, and the worthy host exclaimed: "Oh, mon dieu!" Thereupon the ladies became hysterical, and the commander having recovered from his embarrassment, said:

"Well, I suppose you will admit that I was right?"

"Yes," said the owner; "I never for one moment anticipated it would take both my wife and daughter to satisfy them, but you have won, and my faith in the possibility of pleasing sailors is broken. You shall have the hundred pounds."

There is a more recent story, which is said to be quite authentic. It neither belongs to the class of vessel or period with which I am dealing, but there is something in it that is characteristic of the old sea cook who was devoted to his ship and his employer. Lord Randolph Churchill was travelling on a steamer owned by a well-known Line, and had reason to complain of the cooking and the quality of the food, so he wrote in the visitors' book that both were bad. The old chief cook took it to heart; and several years after poor Lord Randolph had ceased to live, as the old man himself lay dying, his family saw there was something troubling his mind. They asked him if it was something in connection with his work.

"Yes," said he, mournfully, "it is, and I want you to send for Mr ——," who was an old and trusted servant of the Company. The official went to the cook's home, and before leaving him asked what it was that made him unhappy.

"Well," replied the old fellow, "I have never got over what was said about the food years ago, and I wanted to see you about it, so that you might hear me say before I die: 'May the Lord forgive Lord Randolph Churchill for saying the cooking and food of the —— Line was bad!' Now I have got it off my chest I can die happy." And before the official left, the old man had passed away.

Amongst the numerous traditions which cling to the sailors of these good old days of which Mr John Ruskin used to speak so reverently, was one of a London baker, who was known to have amassed fabulous wealth in manufacturing biscuits from ground bones and selling them for human food to complaisant shipowners who were of kindred spirit to himself. Hundreds of poor seamen who were obliged to eat this vile stuff called bread, provided by their God-forsaken employers as per scale of one pound per day per man, had their bodies saturated with disease. Nay, hundreds of them were killed by its use, and those who survived its poisonous effects had to thank the pure air of the sea and a good deal of self-sacrifice on their own part by preferring to starve themselves rather than eat it.

This system of villainy was openly carried on long after I first went to sea, and although the London purveyor had passed to another place he must have left behind him a set of imitators who acquired an equally charming aptitude for murder by supplying vessels with deadly food of one kind and another. The tradition went on to say that ultimately he died, and having sold himself to "Jimmy Square Foot," his spirit was transferred from Ratcliffe Highway to a volcanic island in the Mediterranean called Stromboli. There he frequently appeared in his professional garb, standing by the edge of the crater along with his satanic friend who was reputed to have secured an eternal lease of this rock in order to provide a suitable abode for some of those to whom he had been closely attached during their earthly pilgrimage. Whenever the volcano was unusually active, the sailors who were in the vicinity would say, "Ah, Jimmy is taking it out of the old Baker to-night."

The first time I visited this part of the world, the vessel I served in was creeping close past Stromboli with a light wind. Some of the forecastle hands became reminiscent. They spoke of how they had been fed on biscuits made by the gentleman whom they had seen standing by the molten fire gesticulating to be taken from it. Strange tales were related as to the reality of this notorious person's existence. I listened with feverish greed to the yarns until my vision became confused and I fancied him not only close by me but imagined I heard his sombre cry of despair beseeching our compassion. The sailor's delight in hyperbole led one of our comrades to relate most charmingly the story of the baker's first appearance in Stromboli. An English barque some years ago lay becalmed within a mile from the Stromboli shore. The captain and officers knew the biscuit manufacturer well. The chief officer whose watch it was walked the quarter deck in deep meditation. A sailor who was at the wheel suddenly became aware of two figures close to the crater. One was stoking and the other was vehemently urging him to greater effort. He called out excitedly:

"Look! Who's that standing by the glare of the fire? My God, if we were not safe on salt water I would say we were near enough to hell!"

"What do you mean?" asked the flurried chief officer.

"I mean," said the sailor, pointing towards the shore, "the flames and the figures yonder. May heaven send a breeze so that we may get away from the sight of it."

The mate was over-awed; he steadied his nerves, took up the telescope and looked towards the crest of the hill for a few seconds. The glass dropped suddenly from his hands on to the deck, and he exclaimed:

"The Lord save us! It is the London baker with Jimmy Square Foot. Jump down and call the captain while I say a few words of prayer."

The hand who aroused the commander told him that they were too near the nether regions. The captain rushed on deck, and in a nervous tone asked what was the matter.

"The matter?" responded the officer, "there is what's the matter. Look at them, and if you are not satisfied that we're as near hell as ever we will be until we get into it, I am."

The captain was agitated and tremulously stuttered:

"Why it's the baker! How piteously he pleads to be rescued, but we can do nothing for him."

The day, hour and minute of the appearance were entered in the log-book, and when the vessel arrived home, the tale was told and paraphrased in a way that attracted national attention. The comparing of notes disclosed that the entry in the log-book corresponded chronologically with the date and time of the baker's death.

Contemporary with this traditional gentleman was a well known shipowner, who was notoriously mean and wicked towards the sailors who manned his ships. Prayers of a highly peculiar character were continuously made that he should be transported to the same region of warmth as the Baker. Of course all shipowners are relegated to these parts when they do anything to excite the anger of Jack. But the owner of whom I am writing had put himself beyond all forgiveness; he was an unspeakable wretch who would stoop to the most revolting methods of sensuality. The sanctity of homes was invaded by the fiend who carried on a double game of starving his men and destroying all that was dear to them. The curses that were continuously poured forth upon him from all parts of the world cannot be spoken; they may only be imagined. Ultimately he died amid a storm of rejoicing, and when the hearse came to take him to the graveyard the horses are said to have refused to carry the body. It was no sooner placed in the hearse than they went wild and smashed the conveyance; other horses were brought up, but they were equally obdurate and violent, and it became necessary to employ men to carry the coffin, but only the lowest roughs could be found for the service. The community, especially the seafaring part of it, were convinced that his wickedness had been so great that even the devil refused to have anything to do with him in a respectable country. He was forthwith passed on to Stromboli to assist the Baker in his arduous task of keeping the fires going, and for the purpose of confirming the sailors' belief in the law of retribution. This traditional person was a butcher—if it be safe or lawful to use such a phrase as "tradition" in connection with one of the mariner's solemn planks of faith. He left a large fortune behind, which has been a curse to his descendants, and it would have been a great disappointment to the contemporary seamen if it hadn't, as much of their time was used in the imprecation of ghastly forms of punishment and in imagining modes of disposing of what they vehemently avowed was ill-gotten wealth.

In my youthful days I listened to these tales and drank them in with juvenile credulity. How often have boys remained on deck during their watch below to get a glimpse of these personalities, and sometimes I imagined I could see all that others had told me they had seen. Incidents of this kind varied the monotony of a long passage, as the talk about it went on until some other thing equally sensational developed. To make any attempt at ridiculing the reality of such things was to offer a gross insult to the seamen's susceptibilities.

To say that shipowning, even in the early part or middle of the last century, was synonymous with a system of heartless starvation would be too sweeping an assertion to make. There always have been men who strove to act generously towards the people serving in their vessels, though these, I am persuaded, were in the minority, and it is to the credit of that minority that they had to struggle against precedent, example, and it may be the habitual conviction that it was part of the sailor's business to take whatever food was put aboard for him. Running short of provisions was to them only an incident natural to the sailor's calling. This view had been handed down by successive generations of avaricious stoats, not the least prominent and contemptible of whom was Elizabeth, with her chilly heart, at one time receiving from Drake the spoils of his voyage in the Pelican; at another walking through the parks publicly with him, and listening with eager fascination to his stories of "amazing adventure," adventures that some of her Catholic subjects maintained to be "shocking piracy." We all remember the story of his sailing off with bullion from Tarapaca worth half a million ducats; also of the chase and capture of the Cacafuego, which had aboard the whole of the produce of the Lima mines for the season, consisting of silver, gold, emeralds and rubies. The hanging of Mr Doughty Philips, the spy, was talked of; the cutting off from the Church of God for cowardice of the chaplain, Mr Fletcher, and the chaining of his leg to a ringbolt in the deck until he repented of his sin. And she is so much interested in all these things that a royal banquet is held aboard the Pelican. Her Majesty attends and knights Drake. Mendoza demands for his master the stolen treasure. Leicester wants to share it with his friends; but Elizabeth puts her foot down and maintains it to be a legal capture which must be held. She conceives this to be a part of the game. Subsequent events cause Drake to plead with her to grant supplies, and she rebukes him for his extravagance. The Armada is close at our shores. Lord Howard reminds her that food is exhausted and that her sailors are having to catch fish to make up their mess, and yet they are praying for the quick arrival of the enemy. Their commander says English sailors will do what they can to vanquish the invaders, but they cannot fight with famine. "Awake, Madam," writes the poor distracted Lord admiral; "awake, for the love of Christ, and realize the danger that confronts the nation." He managed this time to squeeze one month's rations out of her, but when asked if any more should be provided, this lovely virgin monarch replied peremptorily, "No!" And when the great Armada came in sight there was but two days' food remaining. "Let tyrants fear," she says; "I have always so behaved myself that under God I have placed my chiefest strength and safeguard in the loyal hearts and good will of my subjects"!! She knows that she has the body of a weak and feeble woman, but she is assured she has the heart of a king, and rather than any dishonour should grow by her, "I myself will take up arms and be your general, judge and rewarder of all your virtues." That is all very pretty, and sounds pre-Napoleonic, but we cannot all swallow sweet, cantish little nothings in place of food and wages. Better would it have been had Elizabeth shown some practical evidence of "devotion" to her "people" by granting supplies and food to her starving sailors who fought and won in the most deadly naval encounter that the world has ever known. Their stomachs were empty but their hearts were big, though many of them went under with sickness brought on by famine, while she held tight that seven hundred and fifty thousand pounds which Drake brought home for her. It is amazing that a historian should be found to regard that speech of hers as being "free from affectation." But one historian not only says this, he adds: "She was the protector of her country, and the prudent executor of its will." She was nothing of the sort; on the contrary, she was a cold, greedy, heartless termagant, who risked the loss of her country by her parsimony, and it was only saved by the dauntless courage of the famishing seamen. I think that is one of the most gruesome and humiliating pieces of British history: for the monarch of a great empire to exhibit herself in the light of a sailor's boarding-housekeeper; squeezing his life's blood out, and herself handing down to posterity a character for meanness that would put to the blush the owner of a collier brig whose main idea of economy may be starving his crew. When I hear her spoken of as the Good Queen Bess, I think of how she ordered the Puritan lawyer, John Stubbs, and the printer of his pamphlet to be led to the scaffold and have their right hands driven off by the wrist with a butcher's knife and mallet, and how in God's name she commits many other unspeakable acts of devilishness, the most dastardly of which was her refusal to provide food for the thousands of brave men who saved her and her kingdom. What a contrast between this woman and the great Queen Victoria, whose long career is free from a single act of cruelty, and whose whole life teems with good deeds, while Elizabeth's reeks with an odour so bad that no student of history can peruse the account without wondering why she was allowed to live; for truly she was as bad a shrew as ever wore a skirt!



IX

MISCELLANEOUS

Fifty or sixty years ago the N.E. coast ports were all tidal; no harbours of refuge; no twenty-four feet on any of the bars at low water as there is now; no piers or breakwaters projecting as they do to-day far into the German Ocean. It therefore frequently happened that during neap tides there was not sufficient water over the bars for even the shallowest drafted vessels. In that case, if the weather was fine, i.e., wind off the land, and smooth water, the vessels were taken outside, and the balance of their cargoes sent to them by a peculiar type of lighter known in that part of England by the name of keels. These craft were skilfully managed by two men called keelmen, who worked them up and down the stream with the tide and manipulated them with long oars. One of these lighters was being rushed out of the river by a heavy westerly wind and a current of abnormal velocity. The two men were doing their best to control their little vessel towards its destination, when the skipper spontaneously observed that they were going to drift out to sea unless aid came to them, or some means of stopping her progress were not adopted. He naturally bethought himself of the anchor, and shouted out to his mate:

"By gox, Jimmy, w'or gan to drift into the German Ocean! Let go the b—y anchor!"

The mate shouted back:

"What the devil's the use of lettin' go the anchor when there's ne chain fast te'ed?"

"Never mind a d—n about that," shouted the skipper at the top of his voice and with feverish excitement. "Chuck the b—y thing ower and trust to Providence for'd hangin' her. We better de that, ye' fool as drive to Norraway or some other place o' worship!"

The anchor was thrown over, but Providence did not yield to Geordie's persuasive ingenuity, thereupon his faith gave way and he switched his mind and utterance on to a singular form of petition to "Had her, Lord, had her" (hold her). History tells us that Geordie believed this latter appeal to have been answered, as it fell calm, and the sea became still.

Some sailors were rowing off to their vessel in a jolly-boat on the same occasion, and when the wind went down a dense fog came on, with the result that they missed their ship. They were all night in the fog, and in the morning as there was no indication of it clearing up they were filled with anxiety. At last one of their number said there was nothing else for it but to pray, and called upon a companion to do so, but he said that he had never prayed in his life.

"I don't know what to ask."

"Divvent ask," promptly replied his shipmate, "until you've made all kinds of promises"; whereupon all kinds of specific pledges of an extraordinary character were prompted, and the praying commenced and was continued with great facility and becoming earnestness, when all at once the sailor who had suggested prayer called out:

"Stop, stop! Don't commit yourself too far. I think I see the land," and the man who was in the act of praying opened his eyes, beheld the land himself, and called out:

"Why the devil didn't you tell me sooner, before I made all them promises?"

"I cautioned you as soon as I saw it myself," said his friend; "why didn't you keep your own eyes open?"

"Eyes open, d'ye say? How d'ye think a man can pray with his eyes open, you fool?"

* * * * * *

These men belonged to an old-fashioned race, sailed in old-fashioned ships, at a time when the old-fashioned winters, as they are sometimes called, were a terror to underwriters, owners and seamen alike; for the easterly gales always left in their wake along the whole seaboard relics of devastation. Wrecks used to be strewn all over the coast, and sombre tokens of bereavement were everywhere visible. When the White Sea, Baltic and St Lawrence were closed to navigation, the class of vessels that were employed in these trades were either sent to the Bay of Biscay or the coast of Portugal with coal in order that they might bring from that country to this cork or salt, or both; and from the French ports in the Bay of Biscay cargoes of sugar were frequently obtained as return cargo; but the coal freights were generally so good at that time that vessels could be brought back in ballast and then leave a big profit.