The Forecastle
The Forecastle
WHEN a new schoolhouse or any public building is planned, every attention is given to sanitation. When a private home is being built, it is expected to be fitted with every modern convenience and every improvement conducive to good health. When a new passenger steamer is launched, the public seek for all comfort, where they may abide during their short stay on board, and if a cargo steamship is ordered every attention is devoted to space for freight and cattle. But on that very vessel, so distinctly modern in every other respect, there is seemingly hardly any thought given to improving the condition of the forecastle.
I am glad to say that there are some masters of the ocean steamers who recognize room for improvement, and who are exerting themselves in the interest of their men. Lately we have seen large passenger steamers launched whichare provided with large mess-rooms for the sailors and firemen, and we have one and all rejoiced at this gradual improvement. The laws of the United States and Great Britain provide on board their ships so much breathing space for each man. The law governing United States vessels reads thus: “Every place appropriated to the crew of a sea-going vessel of the United States, except a fishing vessel, yacht, pilot boat and all other vessels under two hundred tons register, shall have a space of not less than seventy-two cubic feet, and not less than twelve square feet measured on the deck or floor of that place for each seaman or apprentice lodged therein: Provided, That any such sea-going vessels built or rebuilt after June 30th, 1898, shall have a space of not less than one hundred cubic feet and not less than sixteen square feet measured on the deck or floor of that space for each seaman or apprentice lodged therein. Such place shall be securely constructed, heated and ventilated, protected from weather and sea, and, as far as practicable, properly shut off and protected from the effluvium of cargo or bilge water.” I do not know the exact space Great Britain grants her seamen, but by observation Ishould say they have about the same amount of space as our American seamen—that is to say, a space hardly as large as a good-sized grave. I am not now condemning the ship owners; they give the men what they are allowed. Nor am I writing in the spirit of the fault finder, but as one whose heart’s desire is to have the men of the sea so treated and housed on board their ships that they may believe they are men, that they be treated as such, and may be appealed to live their highest and best lives. The safety of life and property at sea depends upon the competency of the crew, and if we are to have efficient men, and an adequate merchant marine, and men of intelligence and skill, we must offer some inducements to secure such men and not the riff raff of the world.
How is this legally allotted space given to the sailor? In a room in the forward end of the ship, sometimes in the middle, known as the “forecastle”—a room with a dozen or more men in it, where at the most six men could miserably exist—a room (a few exceptions) poorly lighted and inadequately ventilated. In such a room the seamen smoke, eat, sleep and have their being. It is their home on shipboard. It is toosmall for a mess table. The food is brought in large pans, placed on the floor, and each man coming from his work has to make an effort, climbing over the pan of soup or meat, to get some share of it for himself. There are a few forecastles in which there are mess tables on which these pans are placed for men to “dig and get at” the contents.
As we approach some modern steamship’s forecastles it seems strange the sanitation should be so different from what it is on shore. We all know that in bad weather at seamen are exposed on deck. They wear their oilskins and rubber boots; they go below after spending four hours on deck. They are compelled to hang up their wet oilskins at the head of their bunks or on the bulkhead of the forecastle, and throw their sea-boots under a bunk where they may find them when called again to go on deck. We also know that the work in the fireroom is dirty. Where can a fireman hang up his dirty fireroom clothes wet through with perspiration? There is no place except it be over the top of his own bunk.
There was a certain steamer in port. It was mid-winter. I went on board the day she docked.Such a dismal sight! Every man forward was discontented and disgruntled. The dark forecastle was somewhat lighted by the coating of ice on the sides of the ship forming the forecastle. It was raining, and, without exaggeration, the sloppy mud and dirt was at least one half inch deep, covering the whole forecastle floor. There was some heat from the steam-pipes, which was thawing the coating of ice which covered the roof and sides of the place. One of the firemen asked me to feel of his bed. I did so; my heart was sore. Every article of clothing and his bed clothes were wet through from the drippings of the thawing ice. The water falling from the roof and sides of this half-heated dismal hole made it resemble a cave where the ebbing tide had just receded. This was the condition of an old cattle and freight steamer.
I told one of the men about the Sailor’s Haven and gave him an invitation to visit us. He looked at me and said, “To h—l with you and your mission!” Just then one of the mates rebuked him, saying, “Don’t talk that way to the gentleman; you know he’s not to blame for our treatment.” Before I left the ship I had a longtalk with him. He apologized for his unkind language, and said he felt we worried ourselves too much about getting them into heaven and not enough about bettering their surroundings on earth.
That evening I was conversing with a chief engineer of another steamer. I told him of my experience on that ship. I remarked that it must be very hard for those men who had worked on deck in the cold to have to spend their evenings in such a miserable den. My heart even went out more in sympathy for the firemen than for the sailors, for they had been doing their work down in the bowels of the ship, with greasy hands and arms, half choked and black as negroes with cold dust. They must bathe on deck in a wash deck bucket, and make the best of what was given them.
“True enough, Mr. King,” he replied, “I admit that things could be better, but if you knew it all you would agree with me when I say they don’t deserve anything better. These men don’t and won’t appreciate anything else. Some steamship companies have tried their best to improve the surroundings of the crew, but they have so abused what has been done for themthat they are given up by most companies as a hopeless lot.”
I know that many of the men going to sea have to learn the meaning of new conditions before they can value them; the failure of some to appreciate an improvement only shows more clearly the need of the improvement. Their very faculties for appreciating better conditions are nearly dead, and must be quickened and developed. We have to face the ignorance of those who need our help, and gradually carry on our reforming movements. The clean, respectable seamen will help the untidy, careless fellows to appreciate what is being done for them, and will join hands with the ship owners in making the sailor’s calling desirable. A ship’s forecastle is not a temporary place for some college student who is working his passage across the Atlantic during his summer vacation. It is the permanent home of the sailor. Therefore, if we are to have good men on our vessels, we must offer them comfortable quarters. The mechanic or laborer on land leaves his work at the close of the day, and goes to his home. There is a change, a new atmosphere greets him; not so with the sailor. The forecastleis his home. Debarred as he is from the society and companionship of his own people, he above all men should have the greatest comfort and the best of treatment when off duty.
I could endure the forecastle for a trip across, I could do the work on deck, or shovel coal in the fireroom, but I could not follow the sea for a living to-day and think that until my hair turns gray, and my hands tremble through age, I must eke out such an existence. Yes, a thousand times let me break the stones on the streets for a mere pittance, so that when my day’s work was over, I could find a shelter of warmth and cleanliness, even though it were poor and humble.
Now and again we find a steamer whose owners have given considerable thought to the crew. I call to mind a certain steamer which was in Boston not very long ago. In this vessel the twelve sailors had four large rooms. There was a good-sized mess-room near these quarters. Everything was neat and clean and manifested a spirit of cleanliness. Pictures of loved ones were hung up, there was a spirit of content prevailing on that vessel. Men lose all interest in keeping a place clean whenthey are huddled together like sheep in a pen.
The strongest and best of men are influenced by their surroundings. We shamefully admit this weakness, for we know as men we should be strong enough to master all our circumstances, and not they us. How then can we expect men who are ignorant of the laws governing their health to rise up and not be influenced by their circumstances? How do we expect our men in the engine room and on deck to be otherwise than they are? The hopeful sign is to find so many dissatisfied with their surroundings.
Not long ago I visited the firemen on a steamer. It was supper time. The room was dark, even though the sun was shining on deck. I thought one of my feet was in something slippery, and, going to the door of the forecastle, I discovered I had stepped into the “black pan.” This was a pan of food which consisted of the leavings of the cabin and engineers’ mess-room. The men, seeing I was embarrassed, said: “That’s all right, Mr. King; we have had all we want of it.” I have lived in forecastles where the conditions were almost as bad as this, but that was twenty years ago, but even then there were not somany of us huddled in one room. Suppose we go on board some of the finest and best steamers; go forward and visit the forecastles. You will find a large, undivided space, a place where a dozen men may be able to move around in comfort, containing from twenty to forty men. Their clothes are hung on lines around their bunks. At its best you will say: “What a gloomy den!”
I have never witnessed such a miserable condition on board ship as I encountered in the forecastle of an ocean steamer one Sunday morning. I went on board to invite the men to the services at the Mission. About thirty-five men were in a room filled with bunks, with a narrow passage between them. The men were asleep. Just then a fireman entered with a large black pan and a kettle, and calling at the top of his voice “Hash!” he placed the pan and kettle on the dirty floor. The call of “hash” made the men roll over and think of getting up. The odor of that room was villainous. The night through, these men had smoked and slept, and in that same atmosphere they were called to eat their breakfast. One man tried to light his pipe as he was turning out,and shouting to me said, “Mr. King, can’t you do something for us? Look, sir, the match won’t burn, the air is so thick in here.” I did indeed feel sorry for him. Were I in his place, I would climb on deck, be it hot or cold, and in God’s pure air eat my meals. It is fortunate they have an abundance of fresh air on deck to help counteract the impure atmosphere of the forecastles.
On some of the ships the petty officers are put four and six men in a room; they keep their quarters clean and enjoy the comfort of being somewhat private in their lives on shipboard. The interest they take in keeping neat and clean where four are placed in a room is very noticeable. All of these petty officers were once in the forecastle, and, having left it, and appreciating something better, show that those in the forecastle to-day are capable of properly receiving improvements.
Before I close let me say what I think would improve the situation. First, abolish the forecastle as it is built to-day in one large room; put in its place fair-sized rooms, each to accommodate at the most four men. Let these rooms be known as the men’s quarters. Put in each room aclothes locker, in which clothes can be put away. Have these rooms sheathed, so as to protect them from the ice coated iron of the ship’s side and iron deck above. Also have a good ventilator and a comfortable steam heater in each room. Have a mess-room that will seat every man when the ship is in port, when all the crew are eating at the same hour. Have it put away from the men’s quarters. Let there be a man shipped to be known as the forward mess steward, his duty at sea and in port to care for the dishes, knives and forks which the ship should provide; hold him responsible for all the utensils, having him turn them over to the chief steward at the end of the voyage. Have him keep the mess-room and men’s quarters clean. Have a large bathroom and lavatory far away from the men’s quarters and mess-room, put in it lockers for oilskins and sea-boots—as many lockers as there are rooms; men in room No. 1 to use the corresponding numbered locker in the bathroom. The forward mess steward, or two stewards, if needed, must keep this bath clean and sweet. If the ship should be built for carrying cattle, have the cattlemen’s quarters in some part of the ship where they cannot interfere with theregular crew. Then there will be no danger of oilskins and clothing hung out to dry being stolen by the cattlemen.
I might write of some officers’ and engineers’ quarters, yes, and of captains also, and tell how miserably they are housed on some ships. On some of the steamers the officers and engineers find it a hard matter to get in and out of their rooms when the cattle are on board. May the day soon dawn when a sailor going on his ship will not have to think of pots, pans and spoons for use in a kennel, but will go expecting the treatment of the workingman ashore. Then the owners of vessels will be blessed by them where now they are cursed.