Feeling rather sick, I was ushered in before a very handsome old gentleman, who was courtesy itself—Captain John Steele. Noticing that I was nervous, he said a few pleasant words on ordinary topics, just to put me at my ease, and then quietly, without any parade, asked me how I would begin to stow a cargo of beer in casks. Question after question followed, without any particular sequence, but in such a manner that it musthave been impossible for a book-instructed sailor to have answered them. Then he came to the "rule of the road." Handing me one model of a ship, he took two others himself, and bidding me consider myself at the helm of the ship I was holding, he began to manipulate his models and ask questions. At the expiration of ten minutes he was good enough to say that he had rarely come across any one with a clearer knowledge of this most important part of an officer's education. In thanking him, I could not help telling him of my experience with the schoolmaster's diagram, at which he laughed heartily. Thenceforward the examination proceeded smoothly to its close, which was considerably before the expiration of the time allowed for doing the navigation part only.
With my blessed slip of blue paper in my pocket, which I should exchange for my certificate as soon as the latter was prepared, I returned to the school to tell the crammer my good news. As soon as he saw me come in, he asked, "Have you got through your navigation?" "Yes," I replied. "That's good," said he; "now you must just hammer away at the rule of the road to-night as long as ever you can. If you do, you may squeeze through." I answered carelessly that I didn't think I could do much good like that. "Oh, well," he snapped; "do as you like, of course. Only, don't blame me for your failure." For all answer I handed him the order for my certificate.
As compared with some examinations I know, the above appears a very trivial business, and yet I am firmly persuaded that, as far as the seamanship goes,nothing could be more searching and complete. The navigation part is, no doubt, very easy, even the extra master's examination presenting no serious difficulty to a well-educated lad. That part may be learned—often is learned—without the learner possessing any knowledge of the sea at all. But the other, especially for master, with its searching questions into maritime legal matters, knowledge of the coasts added on to the intricacies of ship-handling under all circumstances of peril, is, I should say, perfect for its purpose, and such as no mere theorist can hope to pass. It may be true—I express no opinion—what I have been told about the laxity of examiners in some outports allowing duffers to slip through, but that is certainly not the fault of the examination as arranged.
And now I must apologize for having taken up so much space over this portion of my subject, and proceed to discuss the second mate's position in sailing ships. Before opening a fresh chapter, however, to which the importance of the matter fairly entitles it, I should like to say that there is an intermediate certificate which may be taken, of a higher grade than second mate, which is for use in small sailing ships which are not compelled to carry three certificated officers. It is called "Only Mate," and is rarely used. Its possession entitles a man to act as mate of a ship of a certain size trading to any part of the world. When an only mate is carried there will also be a second mate, but he need not be a certificated man. In practice he is usually a first-class seaman without any knowledge of navigation in the arithmetical sense, although I have been in twovessels as mate where my coadjutor in each case was a Russian Finn of fine mathematical qualifications, who had never troubled to take an English certificate nor ever practised his knowledge, confining himself solely to such practical seamanship as required doing, and also acting as carpenter and sailmaker. Both these men were perfect treasures, but only found scope for their varied abilities in small ships, where a man must be a jack-of-all-trades. Such men may also be found in the "down east" ports of the United States, and in British North America—seamen in the truest and fullest sense of the word; and I trust it may be long ere the advance of steam leaves them without occupation.
CHAPTER XV.
THE SECOND MATE (OF A SAILING SHIP).
Itmay be taken for granted by the uninitiated that there is almost as much difference to the beginner between taking charge of a steamer and a sailing ship as there is between wheeling a perambulator and driving a four-in-hand. In fact, I do not know but that I should be justified in saying that there is more. The young officer of a steamer has only to forget what gigantic forces he is controlling, be perfect in the "rule of the road," and he may go on serenely. But a new second mate, who has never in his life trimmed a sail to the changing wind, who has never had to exercise his judgment as to the taking in or making sail, whose knowledge, in fact, is as yet all theory, does not, as a rule, have a very good time when he is first compelled to put his theory to practical use. I was very fortunate. I joined my first ship as second mate in Port Lyttelton, New Zealand, theBulwark, of 1300 tons, belonging to Messrs. Shaw, Savill & Co. Her master was an elderly gentleman named Seator, one of the most lovable of men, and withal a first-rate seaman. He received me as if I had been a veteran, instead of a man coming straight from the fo'c'sle. And the mate, who wasalso elderly, was kind in a quiet way. I was then barely twenty-one years of age. My first assumption of responsibility took place when the ship was lying out in the bay ready to sail. The mate had unfortunately had a severe fall, which confined him to his berth, and the master was ashore. At about 10 p.m. the wind had increased to a gale, and anxious watching had assured me that she was dragging her anchor. Therefore I took upon myself to let go a second anchor. Just as I did so the master arrived, and seemed gratified that I had acted so promptly. We left the next morning, and I very proudly took the mate's usual place on the forecastle while getting under way. Never once did the master interfere with me in the conduct of the work, his apparent confidence in me giving me such confidence in myself that I felt as if I could not make a mistake. And when night came the good old man on going below and leaving me in charge, said, "If you want me, don't hesitate to call me at once. But don't call me if you can help it, as I am very tired; and, besides, I want you to feel free to do your own work."
Under such cheery and sensible treatment I naturally developed rapidly, as any man not absolutely worthless would have done. Yet I am sure that had I met on this, my first venture, with the skipper I was unfortunate enough to serve under two voyages after, I should have been completely spoiled at the outset. I have, however, alluded to this matter before, and gladly drop a very disagreeable subject.
The first duty of the second mate is to work hiswatch under the orders of the mate or the skipper. With regard to what I may call the secular work of the ship—repairs to rigging, cleaning, painting, etc.—it is etiquette for the second mate to receive all his instructions from the mate. But with regard to the working of the ship, setting or taking in sail, the second mate, being in charge of his watch while the mate is below, must receive any orders that may be given from the skipper direct. Really the starboard watch, which is always presided over by the second mate, is the master's watch, which the second mate keeps for him; and while it would be a decided slight to the mate for the master to come on deck during his (the mate's) watch, and begin giving orders over his head as it were, there is nothing of the kind involved in the master's doing so while the second mate is on watch. It is a usual practice in sailing ships when any large evolution is to be performed, such as tacking or wearing ship (that is, turning her round in the first case against the wind, in the second away from the wind), all hands shortening sail, getting under way or coming to an anchor, for the master to take charge. Then the mate goes forward, the second mate remains aft, and all general orders are issued by the master. I was, however, second mate of one fine ship where the master merely issued his order to tack or wear ship, as the case might be, to the officer of the watch, whether myself or the mate, and take no further part in the matter himself. This was very nice indeed for me, for it gave me practice. Up till that time I had never had an opportunity of putting a ship about; and although I knew very well how to do it, thereis nothing like practice. And some men are never better than bunglers at this beautiful evolution.
Whether he is respected by his watch as an officer should be depends, of course, upon himself in the first instance. Sailors are always keen to take advantage of a second mate, whom they regard as "everybody's dog;" and if he has not a masterful air, allied to a thorough knowledge of his duties, their behaviour towards him will very soon degenerate into downright insolence. Especially at night, when the sails require trimming. They know as well as he does that it is essential that he should have this done immediately it becomes necessary, and if he hesitates to do it from any fear of their grumbling, they will never do anything without a rumbling accompaniment of cursing, and he will soon find himself in hot water with the skipper for neglecting his most obvious duty. But if, on the other hand, he be ever so smart and willing, and the skipper be continually finding fault with him before the men, or taking work out of his hands, he will need all his patience to save himself from becoming utterly discouraged. In very few ships will he be allowed to do any navigation. Never once in the whole course of my experience did I see a second mate "taking the sun," and, in consequence, unless he be careful to practise in his watch below, he will find his navigation soon growing rusty.
In large ships where a boatswain is carried his position is peculiar, for the boatswain, being on deck all day, gets his orders from the mate, and the second mate has no business to interfere with him unless the yards want trimming or sail is to be made. And as invery few large ships is it the practice for the second mate to stick to the quarter-deck and attend solely to the handling of the ship by day as well as by night, he is often at a loss what to do. He cannot work under the boatswain; he cannot work with him, because there would be a conflict of jurisdiction; he must find some little job of his own. Where there is no boatswain this awkwardness does not arise. Here the second mate must carry on the work in his watch, and he will be thought all the more of if he be a good sailor-man. He will have to work as hard as, generally harder than, the crew; but that will do him no harm, rather good, for sailorizing is interesting work. Few sailors (who can do it) ever growl at being put to a job of splicing or kindred work. They feel it a dignity; and if you want to make a sailor quite happy and contented, the envy of all his shipmates, put him on sailmaking. He will never give any trouble, never shirk his work, and will seldom have any objection to working overtime.
So much for the second mate's duties while at sea. It will at once be seen that the best place for a second mate to get a thorough grip of his profession is in a small sailing ship, although he will, of course, look upon such a position only as a stepping-stone to something bigger and better as soon as possible.
In harbour his duties are very clearly defined. Whenever any cargo is being dealt with his place is in the hold, unless, indeed, it be such a cargo as coal. He is held responsible for the careful stowage, the careful discharge of cargo. In the majority of ports there are professional stevedores, who have made the placing ofcargo in ships' holds their business, and understand it thoroughly. These are always engaged where they can be got, for obvious reasons, chief among which are the facts that good stowage makes a ship hold more, and that, especially with certain cargoes, bad, careless stowage renders a ship unseaworthy. But they always require careful watching, because there are certain fundamental details which they will neglect in almost all cases unless there be some one on the watch. Moreover, there are many things, in a general cargo for instance, that are easy to pilfer, and this necessitates a close watch being kept.
Where no stevedores are to be obtained, the second mate is expected to be competent to stow the ship. And he then becomes, if he has thoroughly mastered the details of the work, quite an important personage, with nearly all hands under his command. Yet it must be said that a young second mate suddenly called upon to stow a ship would be very unfairly handicapped. His knowledge of the business would almost certainly be theoretical; and to be suddenly expected to put it into practice in an extensive manner, with perhaps twenty men under his orders, would be a severe strain. It would not be lessened, either, by the consciousness that most likely several of the men under his command would have had considerable practice, and would be by no means backward in their criticisms upon the young officer's movements.
Herein lies the essential difference between second mates in English ships and those in American and Canadian vessels. Here, in the majority of cases, thesecond mate is a youngster, gentlemanly, well educated, but unpractised. In handling neither ships nor men has he had any extended experience. He is really still at school, and he will often be made to feel the truth of that statement very acutely. But in the Yankee or Blue-nose ship the second mate will be generally found a large man with horny fists and hairy chest, a voice of thunder, and a will of iron. Long and arduous service at sea has raised him no higher than this, for he thinks scornfully of "book-larnin';" but he is a sailor of the very best type. As old seamen are wont to say, "Every hair of his head's a rope-yarn, an' every drop of his blood Stockholm tar." He never has any trouble with his men, for he will probably begin the voyage by knocking a few of them down on the first shadowy appearance of insubordination, which thereafter never dares to show its head. Woe unto the sleepy man who, at the cry of "Lee-fore-brace" in the middle watch, should heave himself slowly up from some comfortable corner, and grunt loud enough to be heard, "—— and —— the lee-fore-brace, an' the ship'n everybody aboard of her"! But such a thing on board of a Yank or a Blue-nose is unthinkable. In the first place, the unemployed members of the watch on deck would be well in evidence near the break of the poop, marching up and down to keep themselves awake—if, indeed, they were not at work scraping woodwork bright—and on an order being given they would spring, without other remark than a repetition of the order, cheerfully. No; the second mate does not suffer from insubordinate men there.
One of my earliest recollections of the prowess of a second mate was in Bombay, on board that ill-fated ship, sunk the other day by the ironcladSanspareil, theEast Lothian. Her second mate, one of the ordinary, mild, callow, just-out-of-his-apprenticeship type, had been discharged, and the skipper had shipped a fresh one ashore who had been for some time in Nova Scotian ships. He was a splendid specimen of a seaman, not too tall, but finely proportioned, and of a very pleasant face. The first morning he was on board we were washing decks under the boatswain's direction. Mr. Eaton, the new second mate, was having a look round the ship, and strayed forward, where two men were passing water out of the big wash-deck tub. As Mr. Eaton passed, one of them, carelessly slinging a bucket towards the other, dropped it, cutting the deck badly with its edge. With a glance at the new officer, he burst out into furious cursing at the other man for not catching it, and wound up with a few remarks about the ship and all on board, as the custom is in such exercises. Mr. Eaton turned quietly to him, and said, "If you don't shut that foul head up, I'll shut it for you." The man, a huge New York nondescript, stared aghast for a moment, and then, deceived by Mr. Eaton's pleasant look, strode up to him, swearing horribly, and threatening to cut his liver out, among other pleasant things. For all answer the second mate leapt at him, seizing him by the throat and waistband, and next moment he was flying over the rail into the sea! Turning swiftly, Mr. Eaton was just in time to catch the other man in mid-rush at him with a squarely-plantedblow on the chin, which landed him a clucking heap in the scuppers. But by this time the other men had seen the fray, and rushed forward, shouting, "Kill him!" with many lurid accompaniments. The boatswain did not stir to interfere, and presently Eaton was the centre of a howling gang threatening his life. But he had armed himself with a "norman," a handy iron bar from the windlass, and none of them dare face him with that terrible weapon. The skipper and the mate came rushing forward, and, like sensible men, ranged themselves by the side of the second mate. In two minutes the whole tone of that ship was altered. It was never again necessary to resort to violence, for the men were respectful and willing, whereas on the passage out the unhappy second mate was afraid for his very life to give an order at night for fear of the volley of abuse to which he was invariably subjected by his watch. So he neglected or, rather, put off things which he should have done, until the skipper could stand it no longer, and gave him a severe scolding, and at his request discharged him in Bombay, a broken-spirited, almost worthless young man.
I earnestly hope that it will not be supposed from this that I love bullying or violence, or would advocate it. But where there is no weight of force behind an order, men will always be found to disobey or neglect it; and in the British Mercantile Marine it will often be found that a promising young officer's career is ruined just because he has once allowed a truculent bully to tell him to "go to hell," and has not knocked that man down. Often and often my blood has boiledwhen I have been before the mast to hear the language used by my shipmates to the second mate, who was only doing his duty in giving necessary orders at night. Foremast hands will growl at this, I know full well; but theyknowit is true. And it is a shameful thing that in ships where a man is simply treated as a dog, knocked down and jumped upon for half a word or even a wry look, the discipline should be perfect, the work, far harder than in any British ship, be smartly and willingly done; while in our own ships, where such brutality is impossible, and the work is reasonable, except in cases of emergency, discipline is almost unknown, and officers are subjected to the foulest abuse by men who thus take a mean advantage of our kindly laws.
I have dwelt upon this at so much length, because I do believe that it has a most distinct bearing upon the most important question concerning our Mercantile Marine of to-day. I allude to the matter of the employment of foreign seamen. Foreign seamen, especially Scandinavians, are not only biddable, they do not growl and curse at every order given, or seize the first opportunity to get drunk and neglect their work in harbour. Occasionally a truculent Norseman will be found who will develop all the worst characteristics of our own seamen, usually after a long service in British ships. And he is then a bad man to deal with. But insubordination in the absence of any means of maintaining discipline is a peculiarly British failing. There are no finer seamen in the world than British seamen, English, Irish, or Scotch does not matter; but they must have discipline. If any proof of this be needed,I have only to point to thepersonnelof the Navy. There are no aliens there. And for smartness, for the ability to rise to the occasion, and do deeds at which even our enemies stand amazed, they have no equals. Why? Because no breach of discipline can be made without its being swiftly followed by its due punishment. At least thatwasthe reason. Now, I believe that a race of men-o'-war's men have arisen who are capable of maintaining discipline among themselves, having so high a pride in their service, that they do not need any disciplinary restraint to keep them what they are—the finest body of men in the world. A state of things exists where, for the pure joy of service, the blue-jacket yields ready, implicit obedience to the youngest wearer of the Queen's uniform, even though the obeying one may, and probably will, be so able a seaman as to be capable of training, in all the intricate duties of a man-of-war, any officer on board. Loyal, earnest, and fearless, the man-o'-war's man of to-day is the fine flower of the sea; and if only it were possible to raise up such a body in the Merchant Service, no price would be too high to pay for the benefits it would confer upon Great Britain.
I have dwelt upon this subject more fully in this chapter, for the reason that I know there is more of the spirit of insubordination in the second mate's watch than in the mate's; because I feel sure that, if the second mate were only more thought of and more loyally supported by masters and owners, something might be done to make our Merchant sailors a more decent lot all round. At least, so it appears to me.
CHAPTER XVI.
THE THIRD MATE.
Wehave now exhausted, as far as the present work goes, the three official titles used in the Merchant Service; that is to say, with regard to the certificates issued. Master, mate, and second mate are alone recognized as responsible officers by the Board of Trade. Yet, with the growth of the steamship, it has become inevitable that more officers should be employed, and so, as I have pointed out before, in some big ships you may have eight or more officers, of whom only two have officially recognized titles. Notwithstanding this, they will all be certificated men, and some of them, perhaps all, will have passed through all the grades before beginning at the bottom of the ladder in the great company whose service has attracted them. Thus, in many cases it will be found that the third mate of a fine steamship holds a certificate as master extra, and is as good a seaman and navigator as can be found anywhere. His duties are responsible and important, for he keeps a watch, taking charge of the great ship alone. From what has preceded this, it will be seen that he must be eminently fitted for such a responsible position, andnot only he, but the fourth or fifth mate likewise, with neither of whom, however, do I propose to deal here. Their position being, as I have said, unofficial and abnormal, and their duties varying with the ship and her peculiar service, it would be impossible for me to deal with them extensively. But let no one imagine, therefore, that they are to be ignored. True, their pay is small, but their prospects are good. They are in the direct line of succession to the hierarchy of the sea, and in due time, failing accident, they will command one of those splendid leviathans that are the pride and glory of ocean traffic.
Of these unofficially-recognized officers the third is thedoyen. At any moment he may be called up higher and become one of the great three. And no one connected with the great liners thinks lightly of him. He holds an honourable post and leads a not at all unpleasant life, always cheered by the prospect of immediate promotion. He is very seldom called the third mate, but the third "officer," in the endeavour to add, if possible, a more dignified air to his rather commonplace title. It almost seems a pity that these great steamship lines do not have a system analogous to that of the Navy, where, once a lieutenant has passed his examinations, he is then eligible for the highest posts, his promotion being only a matter of time. And once he takes his place as a lieutenant he is on perfect equality as regards rank with all the other lieutenants on board, with the sole exception of Number 1, the first lieutenant. None is afore or greater than another. So I should think it might be in a great liner, where all theofficers will likely hold the same certificate. Below the second, or navigating officer, they might all rank alike as watch officers, or some such title, and their pay should be on the same level, as with the naval lieutenants, where the only difference is in small increases for special duties.
When we step down from the liner into the tramp there is a woeful collapse. Of course only the very best type of tramp and the largest will carry a third mate at all, and he has no position worth talking about. From what I have said in the foregoing pages about the life of a second mate on board a tramp some idea will be gathered of what sort of a post athirdmate would hold in such a ship, where one is carried. It is an even chance that he would not receive the poor compliment of a handle to his name. Thus it comes about that he is usually in evil case, without respect from the crew, and generally looked upon as a loblolly-boy to the mate, or a call-boy to the skipper when going in or out of harbour, standing by to work the engine-room telegraph when required. Yet he does get some practice on the bridge at sea, where the mate will use him for a relief at times, and as he gets experience allows him to take a watch in the day while he (the mate) is busy elsewhere.
Nor is his position greatly different in a sailing ship. Of course only the largest sailing ships will pretend to carry a third mate, who is almost always the senior apprentice in the last year of his time, or making another voyage after his time is up, on an able seaman's wages but with quarters aft. It may be statedat once that he has no settled duties. He is always attached to the mate's watch, and may be of considerable use to that hard-worked officer, or a source of much annoyance to him. Where (and I have personally known such cases) he is a blockhead, but has sufficient owners' interest to keep him in a post where he is of no use, he will make the mate so angry that he will implore him to do whatever he likes as long as he doesn't get in the mate's way. And he will probably then divide his energies to killing time, lounging in the boys' house, yarning, and generally exhibiting that sad spectacle—a young man wasting his life, squandering opportunities that many a friendless youngster would give all he possessed to obtain. The men make a butt of him except in harbour, where, as he is usually well supplied with money by his fond parents, they are full of compliments to him in exchange for sundry drinks or the price of them. He is to be seen in all his glory, with a well-fitting uniform on and his gilt-badged cap stuck right on the back of his head, dawdling about the bars in Melbourne or Sydney, or parading the streets with questionable lady friends, who, when his back is turned, allude to him as the "poop ornament."
Now, I would not have it supposed for a moment that I intend this to be a picture of the average third mate. By no means. But this particular type of third mate is very well known to most officers of fine sailing ships and as cordially detested. He is bred of careless skippers, influential friends, and parents who dote on him and supply him with far too much money. There is, happily, a far more general type of thirdmate, who is thoroughly anxious to make himself fit for the position he hopes presently to occupy. He is not noticeable for being extra well dressed when at sea, for he is too fond of having his fist in the tar-pot or manipulating a marline-spike to admit of his wearing much finery. And in bad weather it is his pride to be first aloft at shortening sail; and if he can only beat the smartest man forward in getting out to the weather earing, at reefing top-sails or a course, he is delighted beyond measure. Such a young mate, if he has the master he deserves, will often find, on the passage home, the mate's watch handed over to him entirely at night, the mate remaining on deck all day and devoting all his energies to getting the ship as spick-and-span as possible for going into dock. In this way he gains just the experience he needs for taking up his position as second mate when the opportunity arises, and he becomes an officer who can not only tell a man to do a thing, but can show him how to do it if he doesn't know.
In a fine ship which I will not name there was a third mate of the dandy type I have endeavoured to portray on the preceding page. The master was a gentleman who tried to have man-o'-war conditions on board as far as possible, and consequently never interfered with the work of the ship beyond consulting with the mate. And the mate, a splendid seaman of the old school, was so disgusted with the third mate that he allowed him to loaf away his time just as he chose. He never reported him to the master for inefficiency, but just ignored him. Upon the vessel'sarrival in Adelaide the second mate received an offer to go mate of another ship, and the master allowed him to go. Now, had Mr. Third Mate been any good he would of course have stepped into the second mate's berth, but, as the mate said, "He's about as much fit to be second mate of this ship as I am to be Prime Minister of England." I joined the ship in Adelaide as second mate, being two years younger than he was. But I was strongly recommended by my old skipper, whose ship was laid up for sale, and I obtained the post with ease. This so exasperated the third mate that he actually dared to sulk in his cabin, and refused to even pretend to work on the passage home. I cannot tell how it was he was allowed to do this, but it was even as I say, until, when we put into Cape Town to land some passengers, the skipper discharged him. He went ashore a disgraced man, who stood no possible chance of getting a ship again as an officer, and probably went to the dogs entirely, all the money that had been spent upon him entirely wasted.
In many of the large American and Blue-nose ships a third mate is carried, but he is of a different type altogether. As these ships do not carry apprentices, they usually breed their officers up from lads who areprotégésof the master or mate. They come on board young, and while they have an exceedingly good time, they are rigorously trained both in seamanship and navigation. They are taught that the cardinal virtues are smartness and cleanliness. So well is this training pursued, that I verily believe no smarter young men are to be found anywhere, and while they are still mereboys they are made third mates with full authority and a handle to their name that no man dare refuse to give them. They are expected to lead the way whenever anything of importance is being done aloft, and are encouraged to lift up their voices with no uncertain sound in giving orders. What splendid men they do make, to be sure. There are, it is true, many foreigners in Yankee ships who have by sheer merit risen to be officers, having first perforce become citizens of the Great Republic; but for thebeau-idealof a smart sailing-ship officer commend me to the pure American lad caught young and trained in a big ship. One I have in my mind's eye now, who was second mate of thePharos, of Boston: tall and lithe, with a clean-shaven, boyish face (he was just twenty), close black curling hair, sparkling eyes, and a springy step. We had a hard bitten crew, shipped in London, and I heard one of the hardest of them, an Englishman who boasted that he had been in gaol over forty times, say, as he caught sight of the second mate for the first time, "What a —— baby. Boys, we're in for a soft thing here." But he was quite mistaken. Ten minutes afterwards there was a melodious thundering voice reverberating along the decks, "Lay aft, here, an' rush this hawser forrard. Lively now." And the astonished crowd skipped aft, the gaol-bird at their head, to find the clean-limbed "baby" looking quite unlikely to bear trifling with. They recognized the able man at once, and thenceforward there was never any trouble. I never saw men work harder than his watch did for him, or speak more highly of a man than they did of thisbright-faced youth, who not only knew his own work thoroughly, but knew how to get the last ounce out of the men under his command. The only thing that puzzled me about him was the almost abject reverence he had for the skipper, who was an old man, but by no means one whom I should have thought capable of commanding respect. But that grand young second mate always spoke to him with bated breath, esteeming his lightest word as a dread law, nor did he ever, even in jest, speak of him but as one should speak of their sovereign.
The third mate of an American ship is, however, often a man of mature age, who takes the place that would be taken in an English ship by the boatswain. He is no mate's loblolly-boy. So far from that being the case, he often is the "bucko" of the ship, the man who may be depended upon to leap, striking with hands and feet, like an enraged tiger into the midst of a mutinous crew. He has often a lurid history, and can show you a network of scars, each one a palpable reminder of some furious struggle in such lawless ports as Callao or San Francisco. In fact, he is the fighting man of the ship, and, as such, is treated with due respect. But he has not seldom the defects of his qualities; and though he may be depended upon to drive his men till they drop, working harder than any of them, and cursing them all at the finish for a set of weaklings, he sometimes gets out of hand himself. Had it not been for the drink, he would long ago have been master; but he cannot resist its temptations, and when in port (never at sea, for American ships are strictly teetotal)he gets a drop too much, he is far too apt to start a fight for the pure frolic of the thing, and his fighting is usually of the nature that ends in manslaughter. On the whole, I am very glad that we do not carry this kind of third mate in British ships, although there have been times when I could have wished for his aid for an hour. But his habit of kicking or striking with little or no provocation, his utter disregard for human life—either his own or anybody's else—and his incessant blasphemy, are hardly compensated for by his tremendous courage, his magnificent seamanship, or his power of command. One feels that he is out of place on board a peaceful merchantman—he should command a pirate or a privateer.
With this brief sketch of the third mate we must leave the "afterguard," as the officers who live aft are called on board ship, and come to the "idlers," or petty officers. It is hard they should be labelled "idlers," since they are usually the hardest working men on board; but Jack only means that they do not keep a watch at night.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE BO'SUN.
Itis impossible to help regarding the boatswain as a great figure of romance. His title rings on the ear like the voice of the sea. And although not one person in ten thousand among our crowded populations could give a definition of his position that would not be a caricature, there are few, very few, who do not feel a responsive thrill when the word is mentioned. But I am compelled to take for granted that the average man or woman has formed some hazy idea of what a bo'sun is like. For one thing, it is certain that to speak of a gentlemanly bo'sun would be considered as absurd as to speak of a fair negro. He is, of course, to the general, thebeau-idealof a "Jack Tar," a magnificent monster with a bull's voice, burned almost black by the tropical sun, with eagle eyes forth-looking from a thicket of beard, and great hairy arms whose innumerable devices of Indian ink or gunpowder are almost hidden by a hirsute covering that would shame an ape. Brave as a man can be, he is terrible in his wrath, yet his heart is tender as a little child's, and any tale of pity never fails to empty his pockets. Now, it has so often been my ungrateful task to shatter oldbeliefs in the untrue and impossible, that I am quite glad that no necessity is laid upon me for doing so at this present. There are bo'suns to whom the above fancy description would apply precisely, only it would not be complete. Other qualities, not so picturesque, perhaps, but far more useful, would have to be added to finish the picture. And then you have a man whose better it would be almost impossible to find in the wide world.
In the Navy, the bo'sun, upon rising to the full height of that position, becomes for picturesque purposes spoiled. He wears a frock-coat, a "boiled" shirt, and carries a sword. He is a warrant officer at the head of his profession, as far as concerns any man who enters the service as a seaman. No amount of ability, education, or conspicuous courage can elevate him another step. But his mates, who may go barefoot, who wear the characteristic and eminently suitable rig of the blue-jacket, distinguished only by devices upon their sleeves, and a silver whistle or pipe—these are the typical bo'suns of the popular fancy, the fine flower of the naval seamen.
As with all the rest of the officers, there are differences, not exactly in status, but in duties, between bo'suns of the highest class of steamships and the sailing ships which are big enough to carry bo'suns properly so called. But these differences are not nearly so great as among the certificated officers, for the bo'sun, whatever his ship may be, is essentially a foreman, a working man who, by reason of his superior qualifications, has risen above his fellow workers, and takes the oversightof them. It is his duty, not to originate work, but to see it carried out. He is no theorist, but a practical seaman of the best kind. In steamers his seamanship is seldom called upon, but his power of carrying on work is tested to the utmost. And in case of a sudden emergency, such as the outbreak of fire, breakdown of engines, or falling in with a helpless sister that requires a tow, the boatswain is of the utmost importance. A good boatswain in a big steamship is a treasure of great price, although he does not command very high wages. He it is that makes all the difference to the mate between a happy life and one full of those minor worries that whiten the hair and wrinkle the face.
It cannot need any argument to enforce this fact. When the mate can call the boatswain to him, and give his orders, secure in the knowledge that the work will proceed without hitch or neglect, he may attend to his other duties with an easy mind. The boatswain looks to the mate, and to him alone, for his orders, and would be indignant at interference by any officer of a lower grade. That is, supposing him to be, as usual, a man fully competent. Where, by some accident, he has slipped into the position without ability to command or knowledge to carry out, he will generally be glad to curry favour with anybody, not merely junior officers, but with the men under him—which is fatal.
The boatswain's position is not affected greatly by a change from a liner into a big cargo steamer, unless it be in cases where, from mistaken notions of economy, he is called bo'sun and lamp-trimmer. This degradation of an ancient and honourable position is quiteunfair to the man who in a moment of folly or being hard up accepts such a queerly-associated employment. For how can a sailor be expected to show due deference to a man who, after all, is only "lamps"? In all the steamers of the Australasian colonies a lad is carried as lamp-trimmer, and his duties are confined to that and cleaning brass-work, both tasks that are quite unfit for a man who is a leader and commander of the crew, as a bo'sun is. Small tramps, of course, do not carry a bo'sun. The duties which he should perform fall upon the hapless officers, as aforesaid.
But if you would see the bo'sun in his glory go on board a large sailing ship. There he has room and scope for his talents, can show of what metal he is made. Even the radical changes that have taken place in the rigging of sailing ships during the last quarter of a century do not affect him much, except in so far as undermanning has reduced the number of men available to carry out his directions. I am old enough to remember the stately ships of Messrs. Green or Wigram or Devitt and Moore coming into Melbourne and Sydney with crews more than double what they would now carry if afloat. The bo'sun with his two mates were most prominent figures, while their hoarse voices and the shrill scream of their pipes resounded over the adjacent water as the vessel came up to her berth. Those grand old vessels are gone, and with them the fine complement of British seamen they used to carry, men who were so disciplined that transference to a man-o'-war would have come as the easiest and most natural thing in the world.
Yet it must not be supposed that the type of bo'sun they carried is yet extinct. Fortunately, no; for he would be a heavy loss indeed. He has grafted the old on to the new, and may be found to-day aboard the great sailing ships, that still do a fair share of ocean traffic, carrying on the work under the changed conditions, even as his forerunners did. One of the greatest changes made in modern sailing ships has been the substitution of wire rope for hemp. First of all wire was used for the standing rigging, that is, for the great stays which support the masts. Then came the invention of mild steel, and the discovery that ropes made of mild steel wire were sufficiently pliable to be used for a great deal of the running gear, that is, ropes that had to run through blocks or pulleys. Then it was found that, instead of having a cumbrous arrangement of stout ropes called lanyards to "set up" (tighten) the standing rigging, stout screws would answer the purpose equally well; and instead of needing a large number of men, much complication of tackles, and many hours to "set up" the rigging, one man with a short iron bar to turn the screws could do all that was required in about a couple of hours. But this innovation, although it lessened labour in one direction, did not make any difference to the work of the ship aloft, where, on account of increased sail area and the practice of carrying an additional mast, the work was more onerous than ever.
So the bo'sun of to-day must, in addition to the knowledge possessed by those of bygone days, be an expert at handling wire rope, that is, splicing therefractory stuff. He cannot be content with simply knowing how it should be done, but he must be prepared to educate a crew such as he may very easily find under him—a crew whose only previous experience has been in steamers, and who hardly know one end of a marline-spike from the other. He must be able to keep a ship in thorough repair, going over the mastheads himself, and prying into every detail for little defects, which may bring disaster if not attended to in time. And his mastery of ships' work should be such that it will be sufficient for the mate to say to him, "Bo'sun, I want so-and-so done to-day," and then turn away completely easy in his mind, because he knows that the work will be done, and done well.
I have had the misfortune to be once shipmates with, I was going to say, a bad bo'sun; but perhaps the better description of him would be that he was not a seaman at all, much less a bo'sun. We used to call him "the Curiosity," abbreviated to "Curio." He said that he had been bo'sun of the ill-fatedLa Plata. That may have been so, because the vessel was lost only two days after leaving port, although none of us could in the least understand how he had been able to obtain such a berth. At any rate, he managed to get shipped with us in theHeratas bo'sun, and as she was a 1300-ton sailing ship, there was a fair scope for his abilities. We found him out on the first day, although, as nearly all hands were suffering from the last drunk, little notice was taken. But before we cleared the Channel he was made of less account than one of the boys. He was actually ignorant of how to dothe most trivial job. Even as a foremast hand he would have had a bad time; as a bo'sun, his sublime audacity took our breath away. The officers were all good men, and were able to carry on the work easily enough, leaving nothing to him but such matters as washing decks or repeating their orders. Then he took to coming into the fo'c'sle, and trying to curry favour with the men by telling them of his varied experiences ashore. By his own confession, he had been a salesman at Mortlock's in Oxford Street, a door-keeper at a West End restaurant, something in the ring at a circus, and other equally curious, out-of-the-way employments. His impudence as well as a certainbonhomie, which, however out of place in a bo'sun, would have been admirable in any of the positions he had occupied ashore, softened the crew towards him, and really he did not have such a bad time.
Of course he was discharged as soon as we reached Calcutta, the master informing him that he would not carry him but for ballast, giving him a "declines-to-report" discharge, which is equivalent to useless, but paying him on the seamen's wages scale. Three days afterwards he visited us, an overpowering swell ofdistinguéappearance, and grandly informed us that he was ring-master in a great travelling circus. After distributing orders lavishly, and inviting all hands to come ashore and drink at his expense, he left, and I saw him no more—the most amazing bo'sun I have ever even heard of.
At the other end of the scale I place the bos'un of theHarbinger, a man of rot more than thirty, a giant instature and strength, and completely master of his profession. Of all the seamen I have ever known, he was the most perfect specimen as far as rigging work was concerned, and the handling of a ship's company. So splendid was his work that, in conversation with him one day, after watching him splice a two-inch wire grummet round the goose-neck of the spanker-boom with far greater ease than most men would have done the same thing in rope, I asked him whether he had not received some special instruction in handling wire. He then told me that he was a Blackwall rigger,i.e.a man whose trade is rigging ships in harbour, and that he only went to sea when he could find a ship that suited him. That explained a great deal; but I must admit that he was just as smart at handling sails aloft in bad weather as he was at rigging work proper, so that I should say he never allowed himself to get in the least rusty.
Other bo'suns I have known intimately by being shipmates with them, good men as one would wish to sail with, but never one that came quite up to this paragon among sailor-men. For some were perfect in all their ways as far as "sailorizing" was concerned, yet could not get the work out of their men; others were good drivers, but were weak in their technical knowledge—at least, not quite so good at certain work as some of the seamen under them; others were lazy, and one especially do I remember, although a splendid seaman, was so great a coward, that he was a by-word fore and aft. He was an Alsatian from Metz, who had somehow got to sea, and after serving several years in British ships, had become a bo'sun, a post for whichhis one defect eminently disqualified him. And he never learned to talk intelligible English. Sailors can understand almost any jargon that is spoken at sea under the guise of English, but this man's talk was too funny for anything. He would come to the fo'c'sle door as the watch was turning out, and say, "Now, poys, gum lonk. Ve shrub und shrabe mit sant unt racks alla now;" which, being interpreted, was, "Now, boys, come along. We'll scrub and scrape with sand and canvas to-day." Poor fellow, his abilities and long service deserved a better fate than he met with at last. A couple of years after I left the ship I met him in Old Gravel Lane, hopelessly crippled by a fall from aloft on his last passage home. He was hobbling off to the workhouse to try and get in, to be saved from starvation, for there is no redress for the sailor who is maimed in the execution of his duty.
As I have said in the previous chapter, bo'suns are seldom carried in American ships, where the third mate or second mate, as the case may be, will efficiently perform a bo'sun's usual duties. But where they are carried, they will be found, like all the other American officers of whom I have spoken, the best seamen that can be found anywhere, but in general conduct undoubtedly brutal to those under them. One case of a "brevet" bo'sun is, I believe, sufficiently quaint to be noticed here. A friend of mine, a man of rather small build, was second mate of a Nova Scotian barque bound from New York to Hong Kong. When the crew came on board—eight of them—he saw with some trepidation that they were all huge negroes, and he did notfeel any too comfortable at the prospect of keeping them in order if they should turn out to be a rowdy lot. But, putting a bold face on the matter, he mustered them. As they trooped aft he noticed that, big as they all were, one towered above all the rest, a black giant. A bright idea struck him, and as soon as they had answered to their names he turned to the monster and said, "Now look here, bo'sun, I want you t' hurry up 'n git these spars lashed." "Ay, ay, sah," bellowed the delighted black man, "I put de b'ys froo, sah." And put them through he did. There was never any trouble from that day, the black bo'sun doing his work well, just for the sake of the title with which he had been so suddenly honoured.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE CARPENTER.
Howshall I do fitting justice to the dignified, invaluable petty officer (warrant officer in the Navy) whose title stands at the head of this chapter? The honest journeyman ashore hearing the same title has always had a peculiar fascination for me, whether joiner or cabinetmaker. But he is no more to be compared with the carpenter of a ship than a hod-carrier is with an architect. It is not every port that can produce ships'-carpenters. Any shipyard where work is specialized, as it is in many that I could name, is fatal to the breeding of such men as ships'-carpenters must be. Like all the rest of the officers I have written of, there is, of course, considerable difference in the duties of a carpenter in steam and sail, the former being much the easier billet for him. In a fine passenger steamship his duties are mainly confined to seeing that certain gear is in working order, attending to the shipping and unshipping of gangways, etc., but of actual constructive work he seldom does any at all. That, owing to the shortness of the voyages, is done when the vessel reaches home; but it is essential that any neededrepairs or alterations should be noted during the voyage; and for this particular oversight a carpenter is invaluable. And any remarks such as have been made hitherto about incompetent men may be safely left out when considering the carpenter. I do not go so far as to say that there is no such thing as an incompetent ship's-carpenter. But I do declare that I never yet met or heard of one. He is the man who may be relied upon to give less trouble than any other man on board a ship.
As to his position, it is unique. He is a tradesman, of the mysteries of whose craft the sailor does not pretend to knowledge. But he is usually an old salt of keen observation, able to criticize sailor work in all its branches, and with the proud conviction that he is indispensable to the safety of the ship, a conviction that is based upon expert knowledge of the constructional needs of the ship. The real glory of a ship's-carpenter, however, does not shine out in any steamer. It is in the sailing ship that he finds his opportunity for the display of those abilities in which he is not to be approached by any other man on board. I have often spoken in the highest terms of admiration of the wonderful versatility of Canadians, Down Easters, and Finns, who seem to be born with the power to use either marline-spike, adze, plough, or sextant with equal facility. But their carpentry, though sufficient for sea needs, is rough. It is, as they would be the first to admit, only to be used where poverty or pressure of circumstances forbids the employment of a man who has been through the curriculum of the "yards" andhas emerged ready to do all that a ship in her utmost need can require at the hands of a man.
Perhaps the best ships'-carpenters known come from Scotland. In all my experience I have only met with one who did not, and he was one of the fine old school that used to be bred forty years ago in Thames shipbuilding yards. But on the Clyde and in Aberdeen they breed a race of men as ship-carpenters who are silent, thoughtful, and strong, men who study the requirements of their ship as a great surgeon studies his patients, and who never need telling what should be done. And this is so recognized by masters that it is popularly supposed on board ship that if the chronometer went wrong the carpenter would be called upon to put it right. For he is no mere specialist. A ship's-carpenter who wasonlya carpenter would be of very little use on board a modern sailing ship. He must be also a blacksmith, a block and spar maker, a joiner, a sartor, and a boat-builder. Of course he must be a caulker. I should not mention the latter were it not that in the minute subdivision of labour, that for economical purposes obtains almost everywhere to-day, caulking, roughly the stuffing of seams between planking with oakum to keep out the water, has become a trade by itself.
The pumps are under the carpenter's charge. He knows not only how to fit their boxes and renew the packing—many sailors have that knowledge—but he can invent in time of need substitutes for leather, and by all sorts of devices make it possible to keep the hold clear of water. Also he is responsible for the dueworking and up-keep of the iron-work aloft. The great trusses and goose-necks upon which the massive yards are balanced, so that they swing from one side to the other, are his care; he visits them at regular weekly intervals with oil feeder and scraper, and with minute scrutiny assures himself that there are no flaws in them which may in a moment of stress extend into breaks, and let half the ship's company go howling to leeward, and be swallowed up in the hissing vortex of white foam that surges hungrily upward. He attends to the due working of iron block and sheaves, and examines with a critical eye both masts and yards for flaws. To do this, it is necessary that he be able to climb in any weather, since the gear is permanently fixed aloft, and thither he must go to examine it. But it is seldom that he is called upon to work aloft unless he be an ardent seaman as well as a carpenter. Some members of the honoured family of "Chips" I have known who scorned to be left on deck when a rising gale demanded the services of all hands to shorten sail. They were as keen and eager to wrestle with the mighty wings thundering at their confining gear as any purely seafaring man that ever hung on to a jackstay by his eyebrows, or scorned to secure himself on a yard by thrusting his arm through a becket. There was never any need to call them specially when it was all hands; they were always on deck with a leap, as if they had been waiting ready rigged for the word, although had one gone into their berths for anything an instant before the cry was given he would have found them sleeping with the care-free soundness of the sailor.
The bo'sun, carpenter, sailmaker, and cook generally live together in a compartment of the forward house on deck. Formerly their berth was known as the "half-deck," a survival of ancient days, when they were really berthed in a horrible dungeon that rightfully bore the name. But now the title is often carried by the berth set apart for the apprentices, and the petty officers' quarters are as often divided in two, one for the bo'sun and carpenter, and the other for the sailmaker and cook. They are attended in simplest fashion by a boy, not at all as a servant, but just to carry in their simple fare, wash their mess-traps, and scrub out the berth. They may feed a little better than the men, but not much, and the manner of their table is practically the same, the "table," indeed, being often non-existent, as they eat their meals in the good (?) old way, that is, with their plates upon their knees or on a chest at their sides. But the carpenter has, in addition to this home, which he shares with one or two others, a place of retreat, sacred to him alone, wherein no man has any right to enter, save the master and mate, and I am doubtful about the mate. It is his "shop." Here is his bench; here he does such small work as comes under the head of carpentering proper, or, on a long passage, makes cabinets, writing-desks, or bookshelves for the skipper. It is a temple of peace, fragrant with the scent of new wood, with a sub-tone of pungent tobacco smoke, for here the presiding genius may, and does, smoke, with no one to say him nay.
Unlike any other officer in the ship below the rank of mate, Chips finds his own work; unless, indeed, themaster may have some special piece of work that he wishes done. And even then it would probably not be undertaken if Chips did not think it was feasible. Under ordinary circumstances the carpenter goes on his own even way, no man interfering with him, and few knowing what he is employed upon. Once, when on the homeward-bound passage of a long voyage, I asked our carpenter whether he was not sometimes puzzled to know what to find to do. It was a piece of daring on my part, for he was a dour Aberdonian of middle age, so taciturn that his voice was seldom heard, and with a grim expression on his face that discouraged familiarity. But he had thawed out a bit on this occasion, and told me several yarns, so I ventured to put the question, which had often occurred to me. "Mahn," he growled, with lowering brow, "Ah cud fin' wurrk fur seven year, 'f we wur oot sae lang. Fat du Ah fine tae dae? ye say. Did ye ever see ma idle in wurrkin' oors?" I shook my head vigorously, feeling that I was on exceedingly delicate ground. "Nah," he muttered, "there's nae lack o' wurrk, but ther's plenty wantin' wull tae dae it. But Ah niver hahd ta worry aboot siccan a thing in a' ma life." And I said no more, being no wiser than I was before, but feeling that what he said was true.
On the other hand, it may very well be that a ship's-carpenter sometimes comes in for an overwhelming pressure of work which taxes all his energies to cope with. On one occasion, in my own experience, the skipper of a big ship, as we then considered her, bound from Liverpool to Bombay brought with him to seaa number of huge rough spars, bought cheaply, I suppose. These he purposed to replace the yards that were already doing duty aloft, and as soon as opportunity offered the work was begun. It was a tremendous task for one man to undertake; but our Chips, although it was only his second voyage to sea, was fully equal to the demand made upon his skill and strength. More than that, he was able to train sundry members of the crew in the handling of broad axe and rip-saw, so that they could take off him the most laborious part of the work. During a calm that persisted for eight weeks, we practically shifted every yard in the ship, working all day long, and—shall I say it?—sleeping all night. I will not go so far as to say that the man at the wheel went to sleep, but I dare not say that he did not, for no demand was made upon his steering skill by the ship—she lay as nearly motionless as a ship can lie upon the ocean. It was then that I learned how wonderful a tool in the hand of an expert is the adze. Our Chips seemed to prefer it to all his other tools, and the way he made it serve him was marvellous. I heard him tell a story of how some braggart was boasting in the yard of his skill with the adze, when an old carpenter challenged him to take off a shaving under his foot, staking his week's wages that he, the challenger, would take off the thinnest. The boaster tried, and succeeded in slitting the sole of his new boot, at which there was much laughter. Then the veteran, taking off his shoe and stocking, placed his naked foot upon the plank, and swinging his adze over his head, brought it down with a whir. On removing his foot, a shavingno thicker than note-paper lay upon the broad blade of the adze. And the old man slyly said, "Ah dinna keer fur reskin' a guid peyr o' butes in a ploy laik this yin. But it'll mebbe teach ye no' to give way tae ungodly boastin' agin." I have no difficulty in believing the story, having seen the truly marvellous way in which this awkward-looking (to a novice) but ancient tool is handled by an expert shipwright.
That same carpenter mended the skipper's wife's sewing-machine, "sorrted," as he would say, the same lady's bracelet. In fact, he was always being called upon to do some job as far removed from carpenters' work as one could well imagine, and always-succeeded.
Carpenters in American ships are, of course, super-excellent, but they are not so good at iron-work as a Scotchman. For a Scotch carpenter seems equally at home in handling wood or iron, as a result, I suppose, of the thorough training he receives while an apprentice. But in woodwork, in extensive repairs to a ship, the Yankee cannot be beaten. Indeed, he must needs be good, for otherwise he "would almost certainly find some of the officers who "would offer to teach him his trade. And in British North American ships a carpenter is not often carried, since nearly every Blue-nose sailor is a born worker in wood, and would consider the carrying of a carpenter a superfluous expense, quite unwarranted by any ship needs whatever.
Although not strictly within the purview of the present work, I may be pardoned for paying a belated tribute to the excellence of the American carpenterscarried in the whaleships. Their strong point was in boat-building; and to see what they could and did do with a batch of broken boats, some of them indeed with hardly any vestige of a boat remaining! Without any help, without rest for a couple of days and nights, except for necessary food, they would toil until they had again made it possible for the pursuit of the whale to be undertaken; and they had to work in such cramped quarters, not free from the all-pervading greasiness of trying out, that how they managed to do anything at all in workmanlike fashion was a mystery. One of them that I knew was also an artist in ivory and bone. He had a lathe of his own construction, and by its aid he turned out such exquisite pieces of ornamental work that they would not have been put to shame in any exhibition in the world.
These ships also carried another artisan—the cooper—whose province it was to make casks, barrels, tubs, buckets, piggins; anything that could be made with hoops and staves. Consequently utensils that in other ships would have been of iron were in the whalers of wood, and I once heard our old cooper declare that he'd undertake to make a lady a pair of stays if he was favoured with the order. And I have no doubt that he would have done so, a pair that would have lasted a lifetime. No one on board would have had the slightest difficulty in believing that, given a sufficient number of trees and a little iron, these two worthies would have speedily constructed a ship, in case of our vessel's loss, in which we might have sailed round the world.
One more old carpenter I must mention who, with abroken leg and covered from head to foot with suppurating mosquito bites, crawled from his bunk when our vessel was found to be on shore in the middle of the night. In this pitiable condition of body he immediately began to caulk the only serviceable boat we had, which, lying bottom upward upon the skids, had got so impoverished by the sun that her seams were gaping wide, rendering her absolutely useless. And from thenceforward, without one word of complaint, for over twenty hours that heroic man laboured on until all that he could do was done. He did not seem to think that his doing so was in any way extraordinary.
Perhaps the carpenters who read this may smile at the presumption of a mere sailor in praising their work, but I hope they will believe that I do but express toward them the ordinary sentiments of their shipmates of allgrades.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE SAILMAKER.
Thismost useful man's position on board ship will give me less trouble to deal with than any other that I have either handled or shall handle; for the sufficient reason that steam knows him not—has no need of him. It is quite true that on board ships of war the sailmaker is still in evidence, is still most busily employed, but not in making sails. His work is much simpler now. It consists of making deckcloths, awnings, mast and yard covers, and all the varied canvas screens whereby alone it is possible for so complicated a machine as the modern ship of war to be kept in anything like cleanliness. People are apt to inquire what can be found for so large a crew to do as a man-of-war carries. They either forget or do not know how defiling, how all-pervading is the grime from the funnels and the dust of the coal used. As far as making work goes, it far more than compensates for the disappearance of sail power. Even with all the canvas protectors that are made and kept in repair by the sailmaker and his crew, the dirt is so persistent that one is tempted sometimes to cry despairingly, "All the protection we get from these covers is so inadequate that it is more than counterbalanced bythe necessity for keepingthemclean; we should be better off without them."
On board the sailing ship, however, going as she does for long voyages, sometimes extending to two or even three years before returning home again, the sailmaker is indispensable. Not that even in ships like these a sailmaker as such is always shipped. Sailmaking has always exercised a certain fascination upon seamen, and it will sometimes happen that a master or mate will be so excellent at the business that they will dispense with a sailmaker altogether, relying upon finding among the crew some men sufficiently expert to do the stitching as it should be done, while they design, cut out, and fit. But where it is any one else than the master who thus adds the sailmaker's duties to his own, the practice is rather dangerous. For there may be many things happen which will cause the amateur sailmaker to declare rather suddenly that he will have no more to do with it, that he has quite enough of his own work to do; and then the consequences may be awkward. Owing to the tremendous stress of competition, and the resultant cutting down of crews, a far less number of sailmakers are carried than used to be, ships of 1000 tons now being turned into barques, and all their complement reduced, until it seems marvellous how she is handled at all. In vessels of this size the sailmaking must be done by the seamen, and with the decrease in number of thorough seamen who along with their other accomplishments are capable sail-sewers (it would hardly be fair to call them sailmakers), the problem of how to keep the vessel clothed aloft is not an easy one to solve.
Possibly landsmen think very little about the matter, but they may be assured that the making of a sail is by no means what they might suppose—say, as easy as preparing a pair of sheets for a bed. There is considerably more art required in cutting out a jib, for instance, than there is in cutting out a suit of clothes. In a properly equipped sail-loft ashore the various measurements may be laid off upon the floor in chalk, and then it is comparatively easy to cut the numerous cloths of canvas out by simply laying them down. There need be no calculation of angles, only allowances made for "roach,"i.e.curves at the edges, so that the sail shall set properly, not hang like a wrinkled rag when it is hoisted. But to do this on board ship in the same way is impossible, so the sailmaker must make a tiny draft of the sail to scale. From this he must calculate the length of each cloth required, and, what is more important still, if possible, the number of cloths which the width of the sail will take. For a cloth of canvas is only two feet wide, and from this must be deducted the width of the seam, which is usually about an inch and a half, but varies a little according to individual fancy. Then there are the angles to be calculated, and certain allowances made, which only practice can estimate so correctly as to insure a well-fitting sail when finished.
Even with all the care imaginable in cutting, a bad workman will spoil the set of a sail by not keeping the right amount of stress upon each cloth as he stitches. It would not be an easy task to cut out a sail if the material were all in one piece; when it is made up ofa number of pieces as it is, the work needs a master of the trade in order to produce a well-finished article. And when it is remembered that some sails will contain forty-five cloths of canvas, each ten yards long, canvas, too, that is stout enough for the heaviest work that ship-sails are called upon to do, it ought to be seen that sailmaking has nothing in it of the nature of unskilled labour at all. In fact, so much skill is required for sailmaking, so much innate ability, that it may be truly said of the perfect sailmaker that, like the perfect tailor's cutter, he is born, not made. Even then the dead hand of tradition weighs heavily upon the sailmaker. Certain fashions in sail-cutting exist in this country which are scouted in America as being in the last degree clumsy. And the Yankee sailmaker goes so far as to say that a British sailmaker cannot cut a sail! This taunt does really seem justified to an impartial observer when looking at the difference between a British and American ship's sails set side by side. I have often seen a new set of sails hoisted on board a British ship that looked more like a miscellaneous collection of rags hung out to dry than the "white wings" famous in song. And it was not till long after, when a great deal of stretching and humouring had taken place, that the sails came to look at all neat and unwrinkled.
I don't know whether it is justifiable in a work of this kind to say so much about sails; but I feel that since the popular imagination is so stimulated by a sight of that most beautiful picture, a ship under full sail, that it would hardly be fair to pass the subjectover perfunctorily, especially when it is so deeply studied and argued upon board ship. There is nothing in a ship's equipment that excites so much interest among her crew as the sails. Every one on board who has any claim to be called a sailor poses as a critic when a new sail is set, or when another ship heaves in sight, and as many intelligent opinions may then be heard as might be expected from a party of trained workmen going through an exhibition of work with which they were well acquainted.
It must not be supposed that sailmaking is merely a matter of stitching together a certain number of pieces of canvas of a certain shape. Far from that being the case, the strength of the sail lies in its borders. These are first "tabled,"i.e.a broad piece is turned over and stitched down all round the sail. Then a tarred rope, technically "bolt rope," of the very best make, is carefully stretched, having a number of turns taken out of it to prevent its cockling up the sail when it is wet. It varies in thickness, not only on each sail, but on different parts of the same sail, according to the strain that it may be expected to bear. When duly prepared it is stitched on to the tabling with several parts of stout twine (roping twine) well tarred. This work demands considerable skill, for the canvas must be gathered up in the process, so that the strain shall come on the rope, yet not so much as to leave wrinkles in the sail. And at intervals small loops of rope (technically "cringles") must be worked on the rope, from which they stand out at right angles. They have grooved iron rings fitted into them, so they be not chafedthrough by wear, and they serve to secure the sail by "sheet," "tack," or "earing" (although the earing cringles are seldom iron-lined). Of late years the fine hemp bolt-rope has been much discarded in favour of flexible wire rope, neatly covered with canvas and spun-yarn to prevent rust. This is stronger and more durable in itself, but it makes the sail far more refractory to handle, and cannot be stitched on to the canvas as of old by pushing the big needle in between the strands of the rope. It has to be "marled" on, a method of securing it that always looks clumsy and insecure.