"In lofty strains the bard shall tellHow Truxton fought, how Somers fell,How gallant Preble's daring hostTriumphed along the Moorish coast,Forced the proud infidel to treat,And brought the Crescent to their feet!"
"In lofty strains the bard shall tellHow Truxton fought, how Somers fell,How gallant Preble's daring hostTriumphed along the Moorish coast,Forced the proud infidel to treat,And brought the Crescent to their feet!"
"In lofty strains the bard shall tellHow Truxton fought, how Somers fell,How gallant Preble's daring hostTriumphed along the Moorish coast,Forced the proud infidel to treat,And brought the Crescent to their feet!"
"In lofty strains the bard shall tell
How Truxton fought, how Somers fell,
How gallant Preble's daring host
Triumphed along the Moorish coast,
Forced the proud infidel to treat,
And brought the Crescent to their feet!"
I was straining like a leashed hound to board a ship and fight for my brother's freedom, but no way was open to secure the release of the captives except by diplomacy. As a vent for my feelings in those first weeks of hot rage, I plunged into a study of the history of the Barbary pirates. Every outrage done by them was the occasion for an outburst of vain anger on my part. But was it, after all, vain? Later I had my wish and shared in a campaign to free three hundred American prisoners from captivity in Tripoli.
Meanwhile, we lost no time in sending to Alexander as comforting an answer as we could compose. He had asked that we send his mail to the care of the English consul who, he wrote, had obtained the consent of the Dey to send and receive letters for the American captives.
Dr. Eccleston assured Alexander that Mr. Samuel Smith, Maryland's representative in Congress, had taken an interest in the case and would urge Congress to procure his speedy release. It was easy to predict a swift release—but hard, we soon found, to obtain one. I haveheard men joke about the law's delays, but the delays of diplomats are longer yet.Alexander's captivity was to endure for years!
Fortunately for me in my pursuit of knowledge concerning these buccaneers, I could talk to the rector who had years before traveled through Mohammedan countries. He poured out to me freely his recollections of the miserable nations that occupied the African coast of the Mediterranean.
In books concerning these pirates his library was not lacking. He was a great bookworm—some of his people whispered that he would trade the soul of one of his flock for a rare book. He made friends with skippers, it was said, mainly to have them bring him the latest books from abroad. By trading with sailors, schoolmasters and preachers, he had acquired many volumes, among which were many books on travel and exploration.
Wrecking and piracy had been followed by the inhabitants of the communities bordering on the Mediterranean since the time of Odysseus. The rector read to me from Thucydides how Minos of Greece used his fleet to "put down piracy as far as he was able, in order that his revenues might come in." From Homer he read the passage, "Do you wander for trade or at random like pirates over the sea?"
WRECKING AND PIRACY
WRECKING AND PIRACY HAD BEEN FOLLOWED BY THE COMMUNITIESBORDERING ON THE MEDITERRANEAN SINCE THE EARLIEST DAYS.
In the first half of the last century before Christ, I learned, Cicilia and Crete were the chief buccaneering nations on the Mediterranean. Rome had ruined all of her rivals, and therefore made no effort to guard the seas from corsairs. Refugees from all nations joined the pirate fleets of Cicilia and Crete. The small communities surrounding these pirate states were forced to becomeallies of the pirate rulers. In addition to seizing ships and goods, the buccaneers became slavers, attacking small towns and carrying away men, women and girls. The island of Delos became a clearing-house for this traffic, and in one day ten thousand slaves were sold. It was said that while the harbor of Delos was supposed to offer mariners protection from pirates, the crew of a ship that anchored alongside a merchant vessel might be the kind that made merry with the merchantman's crew on shore, and, after learning of her cargo and destination, might follow her out of the harbor to cut the throats of her crew on the high seas.
Along the southern coast of the Mediterranean, in that part which is now called Barbary or Northern Africa, where Morocco, Algeria, Tunis and Tripoli lie, the galleys of Phoenician traders roved in these early times, exploring the rivers.
Following these traders came Carthaginian warriors who founded colonies upon this coast. Among these communities was the famous city of Carthage, that in time brought forth the mighty leader Hannibal.
Then came the Romans, who conquered the Carthaginians and turned their cities to ruins. Thus the entire territory became Roman African colonies.
Over six centuries after the birth of Christ, the Saracens began to invade this region. Their wars continued until by the eighth century all Roman authority was swept away, and Mohammedan rule was established throughout the country.
Born of my reading and thinking about Mediterranean pirates, through my dreams went a pageant of cruelcorsairs and pitiable captives. There was the corsair chief Uruj Barbarossa, who, hearing on his native island of Lesbos of the rich galleons that passed through the Mediterranean, entered the Sea in 1504 with a fleet of robber galleys and made an alliance with the ruler of Tunis whereby that port became the center for his thieving. This Barbarossa, or Red-Beard, was a pirate of the heroic order. On one of his first voyages out of Tunis he fell in with two galleys belonging to Pope Julius II, bearing rich merchandise from Genoa. These galleys were far bigger than his two galleots, yet Red-Beard attacked so fiercely that he overcame the foremost galley. As the second galley came up without having seen the outcome of the battle, he arrayed his sailors in the clothes of the Christian captives and, taking the second galley by surprise, captured her too. His victories made Europe tremble. Emperor Charles V of Spain in 1516 sent ten thousand veterans to Barbary to end Red-Beard's career. Barbarossa's army of fifteen hundred men was surprised by the Spaniards in crossing a river. Having crossed, he turned back on hearing the cries of his men and died fighting gallantly in their midst.
Next through my fancy passed Kheyr-ed-din, Red-Beard's brother. Having slain Red-Beard, the Spaniards could have driven the corsairs out of Africa, but instead of waging further war, the army returned to Spain. Kheyr-ed-din then assumed command of the sea rovers, and with a fleet of one hundred and fifty galleys and brigantines engaged an Allied Christian fleet of one hundred and forty-six galleons under Admiral Andrea Doria. The battle amounted only to a skirmish, for Andrea Doria, although his vessels were manned by sixty thousand men—forces far greater than that of the infidels—retiredwhen the Moslems had captured seven of his galleys.
Next in the pageant passed the great corsairs of the battle of Lepanto, where the Turks, then at the height of their glory, suffered a crushing defeat at the hands of the brilliant young emperor, Don John of Austria.
The Moslems, before this historic date of October 7, 1571, were threatening to overwhelm Europe. They desired to make the rich island of Cyprus one of their stepping-stones to the mainland. Venice, who owned the island, resisted the claims of the infidels. The Moslems thereupon threatened to conquer Venice herself. That city's fleet was too small to cope with the great navy of the Turks. Philip II of Spain, appealed to by Pope Pius V, went to her aid. The Holy League to protect Christendom against the infidels was formed.
Don John of Austria, brother of Philip, was chosen to lead the Christian fleet. He was tall and handsome, and, although only twenty-four, had distinguished himself in wars against the Moors. He went to join his navy in a dress of white velvet and cloth of gold. A crimson scarf floated from his breast. Snow-white plumes adorned his cap. He looked every inch a hero, and every inch a hero he proved himself to be.
He found himself at the head of the greatest Christian fleet that had ever assembled to fight the corsairs. Three hundred vessels and eighty thousand men sailed forth under his command. The men were incited to battle by news of the almost unbelievable cruelties the Moslems had inflicted upon the Venetian garrison of a city in Cyprus which they had captured. The captain of theVenetian troops, Bragadino, had had his ears and nose cut off. He was next led around before the Turkish batteries, crawling on hands and knees, laden with two baskets of earth. Whenever he passed the quarters of the Turkish general, he was forced to kiss the ground. Next, with Mustapha, the Moslem general, looking on, he was flayed alive, and his skin, stuffed with straw, was then paraded through the town.
Resolved to end forever such atrocities, the Christian fleet sought that of Ali Pasha, the Turkish admiral. Three hundred galleys, with one hundred and twenty thousand men, composed the Moslem fleet. They came on with their decks covered with flags and streamers, while, hid by this glory of banners, the galley slaves, chained to the oars, toiled beneath the lash. The two fleets met near the Gulf of Lepanto. Don John's lookout, from his perch on the main-top, discovered a white sail. Behind it came sail after sail, until the full strength of the Turkish navy was in sight.
Don John ran up his signal for battle—a white flag—and went in his gig from galley to galley, encouraging his men.
"Ready, Sir, and the sooner the better!" they replied to his question as to their preparedness.
As a last act before battle, Don John unfurled a standard containing the figure of the Saviour, fell on his knees and prayed for God's blessing on his cause, then formed his line of battle. The fire from the huge floating castles that belonged to his fleet created a panic among the Turks and broke their line. The ships of both sides came together in a confused mass, so that their decks, almost joined together, formed a huge platform upon which the Christians and Turks battled.
Ali Pasha, the Moslem admiral, came alongside of Don John's ship and was on the point of boarding it when the galley of the Spanish captain Colonna rammed his vessel, while its crew poured a destroying fire across the Turkish galley's deck. Ali Pasha was slain. The Ottoman emblem fluttered down from the mast of the flagship, and the Christian ensign rose in its place. Heartened by this victory, the other Christian galleys triumphed over their foes. Such Turkish ships as were able to escape fled, pursued by the Christians. The Moslems lost over two hundred ships. Twenty thousand of their men perished. The Christian fleet lost over seven thousand men. Twelve thousand Christian slaves were set free from the Turkish galleys.
The Pope who had urged that the Christian fleet be assembled cried in thanksgiving: "There was a man sent from God, whose name was John."
Following these great corsairs came cruel, mean-spirited buccaneers, whom I was glad to dismiss and replace in my imaginings with that noble captive of the Turkish pirates, Miguel Cervantes, who, after his release was to write the immortal book, "Don Quixote."
In 1575 Cervantes set sail from Naples for the coast of Spain in the vesselEl Sol. His brother, Rodrigo, went with him. They were returning to Spain, their native land, after serving as soldiers of fortune abroad. Cervantes was the son of an impoverished nobleman of Castile. He had commanded a company of soldiers on board theMarquesaat the Battle of Lepanto. In this battle he lost his left arm. He bore with him a letter of testimonial from Don John, stating that he was asvaliant as he was unlucky, and recommending him to Philip II of Spain.
His ship was almost in sight of the desired haven. The coast of Barbary which lay on the shore of the Mediterranean opposite from Spain was feared by the Spaniards because it was infested with pirates, but it seemed that on this occasion they were to escape attack.
Suddenly, however, three corsair galleys, commanded by Arnaut Memi, pushed out from the Algerine shore. TheEl Sol'scaptain tried his utmost to escape, but was overtaken. A desperate engagement followed, in which Cervantes fought with valor, but the pirates were in overwhelming numbers and the master of theEl Solwas at last forced to strike his colors.
Deli Memi, a renegade Greek, took Cervantes as his captive. Finding upon his person the letters of recommendation from Don John to the King of Spain, the pirate thought that a rich and powerful person had become his prisoner and so set a high ransom price upon him. To make Cervantes the more anxious to be delivered from captivity, Deli Memi loaded him with chains and treated him with continued cruelty.
As a matter of fact, Cervantes was poor both in money and the means of borrowing it. His father, in the second year of his sons' captivity, managed to raise enough funds to secure the release of one of them, but Deli Memi, thinking Miguel of more importance than his brother, kept the future author and set free Rodrigo. Upon this, Cervantes planned to escape. In a cavern six miles from Algiers a number of fugitive slaves were hiding. Rodrigo promised to send a Spanish ship to take away these refugees. The captive Cervantes was to join them. The ship arrived but some Algerine fishermangave the alarm and the vessel was obliged to put out to sea without the fugitives.
The Dey of Algiers, learning of the hiding place from a treacherous comrade of Cervantes, sent soldiers to seize the escaped slaves. He was a murderous ruler. Cervantes later in "Don Quixote" gave the Dey eternal infamy by thus painting one of the characters in his colors:
"Every day he hanged a slave; impaled one; cut off the ears of another; and this upon so little animus, or so entirely without cause, that the Turks would own he did it merely for the sake of doing it and because it was his nature."
"Every day he hanged a slave; impaled one; cut off the ears of another; and this upon so little animus, or so entirely without cause, that the Turks would own he did it merely for the sake of doing it and because it was his nature."
Cervantes took the blame for the entire project on himself. Threatened with torture and death, he held to his story. The ruler, amazed at his boldness, departed from his usual custom and purchased Cervantes from Deli Memi for five hundred crowns.
Again and again the Spaniard tried to escape, always at the risk of being punished with death. At last, when his master was called to Constantinople, and was taking Cervantes with him in chains, a priest obtained his ransom for one hundred pounds, English money, and Cervantes was free to go home and enter upon the literary career that brought forth "Don Quixote."
The nations of Europe by persistent effort could have wiped out piracy along the entire Barbary coast, but instead they continued to allow their shipping to be preyed upon, paid ransoms meekly, and sent bribes in the form of presents to the greedy and insolent rulers. France incited the pirates to prey upon the shipping of Spain; Great Britain and Holland urged the corsairs to destroy the sea commerce of France—each great powersought the pirates as an aid to bar their rivals from the trade of the Mediterranean.
The consuls sent from Europe to these provinces were often seized as hostages by the pashas, deys and beys to whom they toadied, and if the fleets of their countries in a spasm of rage at some fresh indignity attacked the Barbary ports, the consuls were tortured. For instance, when the French shelled Algiers in 1683, the Vicar Apostolic Jean de Vacher, acting as consul, was blown to pieces from a cannon's mouth.
While we who were interested in the captives lamented that the nations of the world, our country included, were so slow to wipe out these pirates, my thoughts ran back to the story of an adventure that had been passed on to me through some family chronicles, of one of our ancestors who fought against this same race of corsairs. This Forsyth was an English sailor. He shipped in theDolphin, of London, along with thirty-six men and two boys, under Master Nichols, a skilful and experienced skipper.
While in sight of the island of Sardinia, in the Mediterranean Sea they caught sight of a sail making towards them from the shore. Master Nichols sent my forbear into the maintop, where he sighted five ships following the one that had already been discovered. By their appearance they were taken to be Turkish corsairs.
TheDolphinwas armed with nineteen guns and nine carronades, the latter pieces being used to fire bullets for the purpose of sweeping the decks when the ship was boarded by enemies. These guns were made ready to resist an attack, the men were armed with muskets,pistols and cutlasses, and the assault was awaited with courage. Master Nichols, upon the poop, waved his sword as confidently as if the battle was already won. His example did much to hearten the crew for the ordeal confronting them.
When the foremost ship came within range, Master Nichols ordered his trumpeter to sound and his gunner to aim and fire. The leading ship, which had gotten the wind of theDolphin, returned the fire as fiercely. This ship, which was under the command of a renegade Englishman named Walshingham who acted as admiral of the Moslem fleet, came alongside of theDolphin. She had twice as many pieces of ordnance as theDolphin, and had two hundred and fifty men to match against the forty men on the English ship's decks. These boarded theDolphinon the larboard quarter, and came towards the poop with pikes and hatchets upraised to slaughter.
However, theDolphin'screw had a carronade in the captain's cabin, or round house, and with bullets from this they drove the infidels back, while their own gunners continued to pour shot into the corsair. At last the Turkish ship was shot through and through and was in danger of sinking. Walshingham therefore withdrew his men from theDolphin'sdeck and sailed his ship ahead of the English vessel, receiving a final broadside as he passed.
Following Walshingham's ship, two other large Turkish vessels came to attack, one on the starboard quarter, and the other on the port. Each of them had twenty-five cannon and about two hundred and fifty men. With scimiters, hatchets, pikes and other weapons, they poured on to theDolphin'sdeck where the others had left off. One of the most daring of the Turks climbed into themaintop of theDolphinto haul down the flag, but the steward of the ship, espying him, took aim with his musket. The Turk dropped dead into the sea, and the flag still floated.
These boarders were repelled in the same fashion. TheDolphin'screw fired their small battery with great effect into both ships. They too, torn and battered, passed on at last to mend their leaks.
After them came two more ships as well-armed and as well-manned as those that had passed out of the fight. The gunners of theDolphindisposed of one of these quickly, and she hurried to get out of range. The crew of the other one, however, approaching on the starboard side, boarded theDolphinwhere the earlier assailants had entered, and swarmed up the deck crying in the Turkish tongue: "Yield yourselves! Yield yourselves!" Their leaders also promised that the lives of the Englishmen would be spared, and their ship and goods delivered back to them.
"Give no ear to them! Die rather than yield!" cried Captain Nichols. His men fought on doggedly, plying their ordnance against the ship; playing upon the boarders with small shot; meeting them in hand-to-hand encounters.
Suddenly smoke poured out from the hatches of theDolphin. The infidels, fearing that their own ship would catch fire from the burning vessel, retreated from theDolphin, and permitted their ship to fall far astern of her.
TheDolphin'sintrepid crew now set to work to quench the flames and succeeded. A haven was near, into which they put, the enemy ships having gone ashore in other places to save themselves from wreck.
In these three battles, theDolphinlost only six men and one boy, with eight men and one boy hurt. The Moslems lost scores of men. Master Nichols was wounded twice. The ship arrived safely in the Thames, near London—a plain merchant ship, manned by ordinary sailors, but as meritorious of honor as any ship that fought under Nelson or Drake.
I was glad that the story had been passed down to me. I thought of the two boys in the crew—one killed, the other wounded. I resolved that when my chance came to help rid the seas of these buccaneers I would try to fight as nobly.
The Egyptian Murad had surprised the sailors of Baltimore by purchasing a schooner that had seen service as a privateer. He had changed its name fromSallytoThe Rose of Egypt. He announced that he intended to open trade with Mediterranean cities, and that he would make our town his headquarters. Enlisting a crew from idle men along the wharves, he began to load the vessel with goods for which there was a market in the Orient.
This scheme vastly puzzled the commodore. "I'd like to get to the bottom of it. It's my private opinion that he deserves a tar-and-feather party, but I haven't anything to proceed on but strong suspicions. Every time I go to look in on Congress, blast me, if I don't run afoul of Murad. He told me, the last time, that a naval committee desired to question him on trade conditions in the East. Time must hang heavy on the hands of our representatives—hobnobbing with such a fellow! They better spend their hours in finding a way to set our American lads free from Turkish chains. Can't they see what Murad's up to? I can give a guess that'll turn out to be pretty near the truth. He's spying on Congress for the rulers of Barbary! If I can only get proof of it, we'll hang the Egyptian to theSally'syardarm!"
There came a turn of events that prevented the commodore from making further inquiry into Murad's affairs—though it did not hinder him from spreading his opinions. The Administration chose the old sea-dog as a confidential messenger to bear certain important dispatches to Commissioner Benjamin Franklin, in Paris. Off he went, promising to return within six months, and pledging me that when he came back he would have a serious interview with the rector that would result in my getting permission to go to sea.
Meanwhile the rector had gone to Virginia to attend a conference of ministers. He came back aflame with a new purpose, and with lips set in a thin line that spoke determination.
"These stout-hearted settlers who are flocking out to settle in Kentucky," he said, "are sheep without shepherds! I have learned that there is a woeful lack of ministers in the new settlements. I have determined to spend a year there. My friend, Joshua Littleton, will occupy my place here until I return. He is a scholarly man. Your studies will not suffer under him."
I did not like Mr. Littleton. He was a little dried-up man, too much occupied with studies to pay attention to the welfare of his pupils. I had a feeling that he regarded me merely as a mechanical thing that must be made to utter words and rules. You may note Mr. Littleton's industry by this advertisement that appeared frequently in a local journal:
"There is a School in Baltimore, in Market Street, where Mr. Joshua Littleton, late of Yale Colledge, teaches Reading, Writing, Arithmatick, whole numbers and Fractions, Vulgar and Decimal, The Mariner's Art, Plain and Mercator's Way, also Geometry, Surveying, the Latin tongue, the Greek and Hebrew Grammars, Ethicks, Rhetorick, Logick, Natural Philosophy, and Metaphysicks, all or any of them at a reasonable price."
"There is a School in Baltimore, in Market Street, where Mr. Joshua Littleton, late of Yale Colledge, teaches Reading, Writing, Arithmatick, whole numbers and Fractions, Vulgar and Decimal, The Mariner's Art, Plain and Mercator's Way, also Geometry, Surveying, the Latin tongue, the Greek and Hebrew Grammars, Ethicks, Rhetorick, Logick, Natural Philosophy, and Metaphysicks, all or any of them at a reasonable price."
After I had gleaned from him all he knew of the "Mariner's Art" I was eager to escape.
When the rector rode away on horseback to follow Daniel Boone's trail, I began to spend along the wharves all the time I could find. Murad invited me to inspectThe Rose of Egypt, and soon I was as much at home on board of her as were the sailors the Egyptian had shipped.
Murad, in his endeavors to make me feel at ease, spun yarns about his career that were as fascinating as any tale Scheherazade told. One vividly described how he, having been driven from Alexandria through persecution, decided to earn his salt by assuming the character of a dervish—a rôle in which he had to pretend to be both a priest and a conjurer. He professed to be a devout Mohammedan, and practiced this holy profession of dervish by giving advice to the sick, and by selling, for considerable sums of money, small pieces of paper on which were written sentences in Turkish from the Koran, which he sanctified by applying them to his shaven and naked crown.
At a place called Trebizond he was informed by the people that their ruler was dangerously sick and threatened with blindness. He was ordered by the ministers of the Bashaw to prescribe for him. Through files of armed soldiers he was conducted into the presence of the sick monarch. Calling upon the officers to kneel, he displayed all the pomp and haughtiness that is expected of a dervish. After invoking the aid of Allah and Mohammed, he inquired under what disease the Bashaw labored. Finding that he was afflicted with a fever, accompanied by a violent inflammation of the eyes, Murad made bold to predict that he would recover both health and sightby the time of the next new moon. Searching in the pouch containing his medicines, he produced a white powder which he ordered to be blown into the ruler's eyes, and directed that a wash of milk and water should then be used. He likewise recommended that the patient be sweated by the use of warm drinks and blankets.
He was well rewarded with money and presents.
The next day the caravan he was traveling with departed for Persia, and Murad, hoping to be nine or ten days' journey from Trebizond by the time of the next new moon, so that he might be quite out of reach in case his remedy should harm instead of help the Bashaw, departed with it.
The caravan was a large one and heavily loaded. A few days later it was overtaken by a lighter caravan, also from Trebizond. Murad, trembling in his shoes, heard two men of the newly arrived caravan talking to each other concerning the marvellous cure of the Bashaw. He learned that the court and citizens of Trebizond were singing his praises, and searching for him to heap rewards upon him.
"I was tempted to return," Murad concluded his yarn, "but I began to wonder what the restored Bashaw would say if some jealous physician should investigate my remedy and find thatI had blown lime in the Bashaw's eyes to eat the films of disease away!"
Before the rector went away, Murad had been a weekly visitor to our home. He was a well-educated man, and Dr. Eccleston was glad to chat with one who could discuss the affairs of the universe and delve back into classical times. The Egyptian had restless eyes. They roved over every book in the library. Several times itseemed to me that he was trying to lead the conversation back to the theme of the treasure tomb. He would ask the rector if he had heard that a certain statue had been unearthed in Greece, or if he knew that an expedition was on its way from London to Egypt to delve for traces of a race that flourished before the Egyptians. The rector's eyes would light up, and he seemed to be on the point of answering, but always he checked himself and turned the topic. On one of these occasions his glance darted towards a locked bookcase that stood in the corner of the library. Murad's glance followed his.
When the rector went west Murad began to call on Mr. Littleton, who also received him in the library. His visits stopped suddenly. Then he announced his date of sailing. I kept putting two and two together, and one night, as I lay awake thinking about all these strange things, it suddenly flashed on me that the Egyptian had discovered the location of the rector's diagram of the treasure chamber, and that one of the reasons for his sailing was to search for the treasure. I searched in the corner of the library towards which the rector had glanced while talking to Murad, and found that the lock to one of the bookcases had been forced. A leather-bound tome, "Travels in the Holy Land," was missing.
In an instant I decided to accept Murad's often-urged invitation to sail with him.
Murad now told me that, as a matter of form, I should have to apply to his mate, Mr. Bludsoe. He led me down the deck and whispered to the mate, who eyed me sharply. Then the mate spoke:
"Can you steer?"
"Ay sir," I answered glibly, "I can reef and steer. Ican make a man-rope knot, crown a lanyard, tie a reef-knot, or toss a royal bunt!"
"I fear," he said dryly, "that you are too expert for our forecastle. The men will be jealous of you. How are you as a cook?"
"I can make coffee and peel potatoes," I said more humbly, "and I know how to fry potatoes, and bacon, roast beefsteak, and cook oatmeal."
"Get your things and come aboard," he said, "such an all-around fellow is spoiling on shore."
I was by no means a greenhorn aboard a schooner. No boy could grow up in a seaport town without becoming familiar with ships, and be sure that I was no exception. The wharf and river had been my play region since earliest childhood. There were a number of yawls and cutters which the boys of the town were allowed to use when their owners did not require them, and in these we held mimic warfare, playing at buccaneers, or pretending that we were Yankee sailors fighting off English press-gangs. Sometimes a kindly skipper would allow us to explore his vessel, and there was always an old sailor of deck or dock willing to show a lad how to tie a rope or haul in a sail. Thus I became familiar with sailing ships from stem to stern and from the main royal truck to the keel.
"Now, my brave boys, comes the best of the fun.All hands to make sail, going large is the song.From under two reefs in our topsails we lie,Like a cloud in the air, in an instant must fly.There's topsails, topgallant sails, and staysails too.There is stu'nsails and skysails, star gazers so high,By the sound of one pipe everything it must fly.Now, my brave boys, comes the best of the fun,About ship and reef topsails in one!All hands up aloft when the helm goes down,Lower way topsails when the manyards goes round.Chase up and lie out and take two reefs in one.In a moment of time all this work must be done.Man your headbraces, your halyards and all,And hoist away topsails when it's 'let go and haul!'"(Ditty sung in early days aboard Salem ships.)
"Now, my brave boys, comes the best of the fun.All hands to make sail, going large is the song.From under two reefs in our topsails we lie,Like a cloud in the air, in an instant must fly.There's topsails, topgallant sails, and staysails too.There is stu'nsails and skysails, star gazers so high,By the sound of one pipe everything it must fly.Now, my brave boys, comes the best of the fun,About ship and reef topsails in one!All hands up aloft when the helm goes down,Lower way topsails when the manyards goes round.Chase up and lie out and take two reefs in one.In a moment of time all this work must be done.Man your headbraces, your halyards and all,And hoist away topsails when it's 'let go and haul!'"(Ditty sung in early days aboard Salem ships.)
"Now, my brave boys, comes the best of the fun.All hands to make sail, going large is the song.From under two reefs in our topsails we lie,Like a cloud in the air, in an instant must fly.There's topsails, topgallant sails, and staysails too.There is stu'nsails and skysails, star gazers so high,By the sound of one pipe everything it must fly.Now, my brave boys, comes the best of the fun,About ship and reef topsails in one!All hands up aloft when the helm goes down,Lower way topsails when the manyards goes round.Chase up and lie out and take two reefs in one.In a moment of time all this work must be done.Man your headbraces, your halyards and all,And hoist away topsails when it's 'let go and haul!'"(Ditty sung in early days aboard Salem ships.)
"Now, my brave boys, comes the best of the fun.
All hands to make sail, going large is the song.
From under two reefs in our topsails we lie,
Like a cloud in the air, in an instant must fly.
There's topsails, topgallant sails, and staysails too.
There is stu'nsails and skysails, star gazers so high,
By the sound of one pipe everything it must fly.
Now, my brave boys, comes the best of the fun,
About ship and reef topsails in one!
All hands up aloft when the helm goes down,
Lower way topsails when the manyards goes round.
Chase up and lie out and take two reefs in one.
In a moment of time all this work must be done.
Man your headbraces, your halyards and all,
And hoist away topsails when it's 'let go and haul!'"
(Ditty sung in early days aboard Salem ships.)
One night in May, Murad sent word to me that we were to sail at four o'clock the next morning. I went to bed as usual, but before the hall clock struck three I was out of my window with my luggage and on my way to the ship. When I went aboard I found that all of the confusion of spare rigging, rope, sails, hawsers, oakum and merchandise that I had noted on the deck the day before, had been cleared away.
All of the crew were Baltimore men. Some of them were honest, goodhearted fellows. Others were ruffians. I recognized Steve Dunn and some of his gang amongthe crew. Baltimore had evidently become too hot to hold such rascals.
Samuel Childs, who had sailed under Commodore Barney, took me under his wing, although he swore that I should have been keelhauled for going to sea without asking the advice of the rector or the commodore.
"But," I protested, "they are both out of the city, and if they knew the reason I had for going, they would approve."
"I don't like to see the skipper taking such an interest in you," Samuel said with a shake of his head. "Mr. Bludsoe, the mate, is a fine man. You can trust him as you would a father. But these Orientals—I question their motives. True, Murad was a skipper in the Sultan's navy, but he's hiding something. He's more than a mere captain. We older men can take care of ourselves, but you've had no experience with men. You'd better stick close to me aboard ship, and closer still when we land!"
Samuel was our chantie man, and good service he did in stimulating us to work the windlass in hauling up the anchors—sometimes buried so deep in the mud at the sea's bottom that it needed the liveliest sort of chantie to inspire our hearts and strengthen our sinews. The secret of the swift way in which we heaved up the anchor, cleared away lashings, pumped the ship, unreeved the running gear, and mastheaded the topsails lay in the fact that the chantie caused us to work in unison. No matter how tired we were, our spirits rose and the blood coursed as we worked to the chantie Samuel roared forth:
"Way, haul away;Oh, haul away, my Rosey.Way, haul away;O, haul away, Joe!"
"Way, haul away;Oh, haul away, my Rosey.Way, haul away;O, haul away, Joe!"
"Way, haul away;Oh, haul away, my Rosey.Way, haul away;O, haul away, Joe!"
"Way, haul away;
Oh, haul away, my Rosey.
Way, haul away;
O, haul away, Joe!"
There being a fine breeze from the shore, we made sail at the wharf and headed out to sea. As the wind increased, all sail was made, topmast stun'sail booms were run out, stun'sails spread, anchors secured, and all movable things on deck were made fast. When we hove the log it was seen that we were doing better than ten knot, a rate of speed that made Murad well satisfied with his ship.
We were mustered aft—watches were to be chosen. There were ten able seamen, three ordinary seamen, and one boy—myself. The men were divided between the port and starboard watches. Mr. Bludsoe, the chief officer, was in command of the port watch. Mr. French, the second officer, was in charge of the starboard watch. When we were not attending to the sails, we were kept busy scraping, painting, tarring and holy-stoning.
At four bells—six o'clock—the port watch came on deck to relieve the starboard. The starboard watch then went below for supper, and were allowed to remain off duty until eight o'clock—eight bells. The port watch was then relieved by them, and its members were allowed till midnight for resting. Short "dog" watches were provided for so that the port and starboard watch had eight hours off instead of four hours' duty every other night.
When the watch was changed, the man at the wheel was relieved, the lookout man climbed to the topgallant forecastle to relieve the weary lookout who in loneliness had faced exposure to the weather for four hours, whilethe rest of the men smoked their pipes in as comfortable places as they could find, and swapped yarns.
The cry that caused the most excitement aboard ship was "All hands shorten sail." This meant "going aloft." The order had no terrors for me, thanks to my early experiences on schooners in the Chesapeake Bay.
It is not much of a job to go up the masts in calm weather. Indeed, on a calm moonlight night, a place on the crosstrees was my favorite spot. One seems to be then on the top of a mountain looking out on an enchanted land. But when the seas are heavy it is a different matter. The force of the gale that leads the mate to bawl his command to shorten sail pins you against the mast. The rain lashes you, and sometimes there is sleet to prick you like swords' points. The man above you may kick you with his heel as he comes to grips with his task. The officers on deck and the boatswain on the yardarm have their eyes fixed on you and the rest of the watch. The canvas must be mastered and every man must do his part. Overhead the spars and yards pitch and reel. The yard you stand on seems almost as unstable as the waves that leap up to engulf you.
On the first day out, two of our men had a fist-fight due to trouble that arose between them while they were aloft. Wesley Burroughs had stopped in the shrouds as if he meant to go no farther. Giles Lake, who was behind him, thought to find favor with Bludsoe, the boatswain, and began to prick Wesley's legs with his knife.
The result, however, was not what he expected. Wesley continued his ascent, but when the task was done and the two had reached the deck, he went at Giles,who was much larger, like a thunderbolt. Under the eyes of the boatswain, who seemed to think Lake deserved the punishment, he knocked his tormentor down, seized his own sheath knife, and returned prick for prick.
An ordeal I feared was that of initiation by King Neptune. I was relieved when Samuel told me that Neptune's visit came only when a ship crossed the equator, and thatThe Rose of Egyptwould not cross that imaginary line. He satisfied my curiosity by describing his own experience.
After breakfast on the morning the ship crossed the equator, he was ordered to prepare for shaving. The crew blindfolded him, led him on deck, and bound him in a chair.
A voice said:
"Neptune has just come over the bow to inquire if anyone here dares to cross his dominions without being properly initiated. Samuel Childs, prepare to be shaved by the King of the Seas, a ceremony that will make you a true child of the ocean!"
His shirt had been stripped off his back. A speaking-trumpet was held to his ear, through which a voice thundered:
"Are you, O landsman, prepared to become a true salt?"
"I am!" Samuel said boldly.
"Apply the brush!"
When the bandage was removed from the victim's eyes, someone stood before him dressed like Neptune, with gray hair and beard and long white robes. In his right hand he held a trident; in his left hand the speaking-trumpet. In a sailor's hand was a paint brush thathad been dipped in tar. With this thin tar Samuel was lathered, the tar being later removed with fat and oakum.
Neptune then said: "You may now become an able seaman. You may rise to boatswain and to captain. If you are killed or drowned, you will be turned into a sea-horse, and will be my subject. You may now eat salt pork, mush, and weevilly bread. Do it without grumbling. I now depart!"
Samuel was again blindfolded. When the bandage was removed, Neptune had disappeared. It was told Samuel that he had dashed over the bow into his sea-chariot.
"I know better now," Samuel explained to me. "Neptune was impersonated by Jim Thorn, our oldest sailor. His long beard was made of unraveled rope and yarn. He perched under the bow and climbed aboard by the chains."
My first turn at the wheel, with Samuel standing by, was a curious experience. Told to steer southwest, I found that I swung the wheel too far, and that the direction was south southwest. When I tried to swing back to southwest I went too far in the other direction, and was steering southwest by west. In a few hours, however, I had mastered the trick. I loved to steer. It enabled me to escape the dirty work of tarring, painting and cleaning. Yet I never took the helm without thinking of how my father had been killed at the wheel of theHyder Ally.
Whistling aboard ship was a custom disliked by the old sailors. They entertained a superstition that he who whistled was "whistling for the wind." On one of my first nights at sea, feeling lonesome, I puckered my lipsand began to blow a tune. Along came Samuel. He paused beside my berth.
"My boy," said he, "there are only two kinds of people who whistle. One is a boatswain. The other is a fool. You are not a boatswain."
He passed on. I never whistled again aboard ship.
When we were within the vicinity of the capes, there came a calm spell in which our schooner barely moved. While we were fretting at this snail's pace, a frigate, enjoying a wind that had not come our way, overhauled us and hove to across our bows, displaying the British flag.
"Have your protections ready, lads," the mate said, squinting across the water, "that ship is looking for men to impress!"
A boat put out from the frigate's side and came towards us.
"On board the cutter, there," called our mate, "what do you want with us?"
"On board the schooner," came the reply, "we're looking for deserters from the British navy. Let drop your ladder!"
We obeyed. A spruce, slender, important, yet surprisingly youthful lieutenant came over the side.
"Compliments of Captain Van Dyke, of His Majesty's shipElizabeth," he said to the skipper and the mate, "we desire to inspect your crew."
"It's a high-handed proceeding," said Murad, his black eyes snapping, "but since we are only slightly armed, I suppose we must submit. My men are all American citizens. Each has proof of it." He turned to the mate, "Mr. Bludsoe, have the men lined up."
The lieutenant passed down the line, scrutinizing theprotection papers and asking searching questions. I was the last one, and as my turn came, I began to turn cold with dread, for, fearing that I would be kept from shipping, I had neglected to get a protection paper. Putting on as bold a front as I could muster, I looked up at the lieutenant. He had friendly blue eyes—he was not at all like the dreadful impressment officer of my imagination.
"Please sir," I said, "I shipped without taking the trouble to get a protection. I'm an American to the backbone, though. I was born in Baltimore and my father was killed fighting the British during the war of Independence. He was on theHyder Allywhen she captured the English ship, theGeneral Monk. I don't want you to take me because I have a brother who is a prisoner in Algiers, and I expect to join the new American navy and go to fight for his release!"
He laughed. "If we robbed you of a father, I think it's due you to be allowed to go your own way. I should say that your brother requires your aid more than we do, so I'll take your word for it that you're a Yankee. Better not go to sea again without a protection paper. I happen to be a particularly tender-hearted officer."
He went down the side.
Samuel Childs gave me a slap on the back that took my breath away.
"Youngster," he said, "that's the first time I've seen a British officer pass by an American without papers. Blast them, if they would give their men better pay and stop flogging them through the fleet for offences hardly worth one lash, they wouldn't have to be taking us to fill the places of their deserters!"
It was a grand though often terrifying sight to seethe ship in a storm flying beneath leaden clouds. With the main topsail and fore topmast staysail close reefed; with the masts tipping over as if they were going to plunge their tops into the sea; with spray showering upon us; with mountainous waves following us as if they would topple their full weight over our stern; it was a sight to make one both marvel and tremble.
In such a storm we lost James Murray, an ordinary seamen, well-liked by all.
We were in a heavy sea. The clouds were so low that they enveloped our mastheads. Tremendous waves beat against our bow, so that our plunging stem was like a knife cutting a way through them. All hands were called to shorten sail as the wind increased into a gale. The men who were light of weight went out along the yardarms, while the heavier men remained closer to the mast. The upper mizzen topsail was being furled when a sudden gust of wind blew the sail out of their grasp.
Murray, who was one of the outermost men, was thrown off the yard into the sea. As the great waves tossed him up, we saw him struggling to swim, handicapped as he was by his heavy oil-skins. A boat was cleared away and volunteers were called for to endeavor to rescue Murray. I stood forth with the rest of the crew—I saw no one hold back—but a crew of our strongest men was chosen, and all we could do was to stand on a yard and watch the progress of the little boat. The seas poured into her. We could see two of her men baling desperately. At last we lost sight of her in the mists. An hour later, when we were worrying greatly over the fate not only of Murray, but also of the boat's crew, the mist cleared and showed our location to themen struggling out there in the furious ocean. They gradually made their way towards us and were pulled on deck exhausted. They said that they had caught one glimpse of Murray, but as they pulled desperately to reach him the mist had drifted between him and them—a mist that was to him as a shroud.