"NOW, BOYS, POUR IT ON THEM SMARTLY!"
"NOW, BOYS, POUR IT ON THEM SMARTLY!"
"Do not talk of your conscience when you think of these devils," said he, "for, believe me, theirs are frozen, and all they want is a new crew and fresh opportunity, and they won't mince matters with us or any other ship's company. There is one thing, they won't be deceived in a hurry into the belief that they have a soft thing on because no apparent resistance is made; they will try to do some shooting first. They won't forget the effects of boiling oil and pitch. But let us cease chattering about them and get our rigging and sails repaired. We may need to have everything staunch and strong, as the sky is threatening mischief."
It took the crew four hours to repair the damage, and as they did so the wail of the suffering wretches became fainter and fainter, until it had faded away into space, or it may be that their hearts had ceased to throb. After things were settled down and the vessel was slashing through a passage which leads into the Mediterranean Sea with a fresh easterly wind, the faithful steward, who had provided a substantial meal for the captain and officers, was informed by the former that he and his crew were indebted to him for the ghastly achievements of the day. "But Jake, my boy, I almost wish we hadn't done it."
"Very well, then," said the blunt sailor with obvious indignation; "you'd better go back and apologize, but you must not expect me to join in the silly chorus. I suppose you are thinking of 'blessed are the peacemakers' again? If you are, then I want to remind you that these fellows were my compulsory pals once on a time, and I found that this was no part of their religion."
Mrs Macvie interposed that Johnny was right, and that they undoubtedly owed their lives to his genius.
"We had no intention of killing them or pillaging their ship, and they had both of these designs on us," said the logical lady, "so that we were justified in saving ourselves by the means which I fear have proved so fatal to them."
The steward was henceforth looked upon with great devotion, so much so that Mrs Macvie induced her husband to include him as one of the legatees in his will.
For many years after this episode theBoadiceacontinued her trading. Captain Macvie made a great deal of money and then retired in favour of a younger man who was destined to have a short career as commander, for, on the second voyage from the Brazils, and almost within sight of his own home, his vessel was driven ashore by a hurricane and all hands were drowned. A few days later the weather was fine enough to allow fishermen to put to sea, and on rounding a rugged point on the coast some of them heard the piteous howling of a dog. They made towards it, and found it had taken shelter on the arm of a steep cliff. It was taken from its perilous position with great difficulty. A brass collar bearing the name of the ship and the owner suggested that it was the only survivor of the shipwreck. Poor Curly's body was discovered on the same day on a patch of yellow sand inside a cave. It was taken to a fisherman's hut, and round his neck was found a gold locket with four little portraits. Mr and Mrs Macvie were the idolised of one case, and his own wife and little girl were in the other. His body was put in the ground with reverence. Soon afterwards a cheque for five hundred pounds was received by his widow.
Mr Macvie and his wife lived to a ripe age in a very unpretentious way. Years later I came across my old commander and owner seated outside a small cottage which faced the sea in a remote part of Northumberland. The common in front of him was ablaze with shining flowers, and the sweet song of the lark swelled in the air. A sad, pensive look hallowed his comely face, which made me hesitate to interrupt the reverie; but he realized my presence and asked me to share his seat. He began to tell me that his mind was reviving some of his early experiences at sea.
"Ah!" said he, "I was thinking what a terrible end Curly and the old vessel came to. Poor Jake, he was a fine, swaggering fellow; a smart sailor, and as brave as a Turkish Bashi-Bazouk. He was very wayward at times, but always faithful as a mastiff dog to me. His apparent disregard for breaking the Sabbath grieved me, and when I rebuked him for it he frequently took me in a sort of humorous way as though it were a good joke to talk to him of religion. But he had periods of despondency and remorse which brought out visions of spiritual life. He would speak of death coming to take him from his wife and little girl in the most piteous way, and then I had to say to him, 'Do not be so irreverent to your Creator. Think of His imperishable goodness in saving you and me from the abysses that have so often confronted us. Think of those piratical throat-cutters whom He assisted us in vanquishing, and remember when God wants to take you He will take you.' I often quoted to him these words: 'I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord which made heaven and earth. He will not suffer thy foot to be moved: He that keepeth thee will not slumber.' I do hope he remembered to say, when the hurricane woke out of the sky and was bearing them to destruction, 'Into Thine hand I commend my spirit: Thou hast redeemed me, O Lord God of Truth.'"
"I never realized the intensity of your attachment to him, Captain Macvie," I interjected.
"Yes, it was very great," he soliloquised, "and the memory of his long association with me and the perilous life that he led and the horror of the tragic finish has caused my mind to revert to an occasion which nearly ended in the same way. We were caught by a heavy southerly gale when off Candia. I carried sail until she nearly jumped her masts over the side and herself out of water. We were then carrying the double reefed topsails, reefed courses, inner jib, fore and main topmast staysail, but the gale had so increased I gave orders to close-reef the topsails and furl the mainsail. I thought it better to run no further risk of dismasting her, as there was always a chance so long as they were kept standing. All hands were up reefing the main topsail and I had the wheel. I saw the black shadow of the mountains in the darkness towering far above our heads, and we seemed to be amongst the broken water to leeward. Every moment I expected her to strike and send us to our doom. A simple thought of the last words of my mother about Jesus and the sea flashed into my mind. I lashed the wheel for a moment or two, went to the lee side, knelt down, and offered a fervent prayer to Almighty God. I asked Him, if it was His will to save us, to do it in His own way. I had no sooner taken hold of the wheel again than the sails were caught aback by the wind veering and coming with the force of a hurricane from the opposite direction. It rushed from the mountain tops as from a funnel. I called to the men to come down and turn the yards round smartly. I feared she would not back off quickly and that she might get stern way on and knock the stern in and founder. My voice failed to carry through the vast roar of the tempest, but the men knew as well as I did that a critical moment had come, so they made their way on deck; the yards were quickly trimmed and I ran her dead off the land. We had not run more than eight to ten miles to the south amid a mad conflict of broken sea that twisted and lashed at the vessel, when all of a sudden the old wind came back and the struggle with the opposing legions for mastery kept for a time the vessel in imminent peril. Ultimately the southerly force prevailed, but fortunately it blew itself out in a few hours, and we sailed into fine weather. Never was a vessel so near destruction without being destroyed, and never were human lives so near passing from time into eternity. Even the most wayward of my crew attributed our safety to the pity of God, and they thanked Him with the usual condescension that sailors adopt even towards the Deity; but they never knew that I had addressed the Almighty on their behalf and on my own; and that is really how it comes that I am here to tell the tale."
V
SAILORS' OPINIONS OF NOTABLE PUBLIC MEN
The old-time sailors held strong opinions on law, i.e., sea law. The merits of military and naval notables and prominent politicians came within the limit of their strange discussions. Their naval heroes were Charlie Napier, Collingwood, Nelson and Hardy. They loved Napier best of all because he dared to be kind to his men and fight their battles for them against the authorities; they were never quite sure whether to give the weight of their respect on the side of Collingwood or Nelson; but as the latter came to grief at Trafalgar, he was generally given the benefit of any doubt as to superiority, and his devoted Hardy was regarded as a strong backer of the redoubtable national hero. They never got over the idea that poor Nelson was shot from the maintop by some of his own men and not by the French sharpshooters. It was a point that could never be cleared up to their satisfaction, hence the impression that his sailors must have had some grudge against him was very prevalent. His association with the King and Queen of the two Sicilies was said to have gone a long way towards giving him a swelled head, and in truth it was no mean distinction to be on terms of friendship with a daughter of Maria Theresa and sister to Marie Antoinette. They believed that Nelson had been influenced by the king and queen when in a soft-headed mood to commit an act that can never be obliterated. It was not only cruel and heartless, but it had close resemblance to a crime. "They talk," said they, "of the murder by Napoleon of their duke (Duke d'Enghien), but was it not as bad of Nelson to have Commodore Francisco Caracciolo tried by a court martial composed of the prisoner's enemies (Neapolitan officers) which sat only two hours aboard theFaudroyantand found him guilty of rebellion against his sovereign?" He was ordered by Nelson to be hanged at the fore yardarm of theMinerva. The sight of this poor man dangling at the yardarm must have had a revolting impression on the minds of those who witnessed it, and the aversion of the public who merely heard of it must have been equally well founded. No wonder that it was handed down to subsequent generations of seamen, and caused them to say, as I have heard them that, "Nelson should have left the dirty, bloody business to his pal the King of the Sicilies and kept his own hands clean." They always spoke of his death as retribution. "If there isn't something in it," said they, superstitiously, "why was Collingwood and Hardy not hit?"
His relationship with Lady Hamilton was vigorously defended; both voluble and comic reasons were poured forth in support of his action. "Had she not on more than one occasion saved the fleet, and had she not rendered great service to the British Government by her clever tongue and alluring beauty, to say nothing of a supreme genius for intrigue?" They believed that she had sacrificed everything to serve her country, and now that Nelson had smashed the combined fleets of Spain and France, and lost his life through it, this precious government had no further need for her services, so threw her helpless on a callous, canting world. They built a monument for him, and left his poor Emma, whom he regarded in the light of a good spirit, to starve, though he had begged that she should be provided for. That was the view the sailors took of it. They believed that Nelson's infatuation for the lady was his affair and hers, and nobody else's; but be that as it may, there were very few seamen in the merchant service who did not warmly sympathize with this poor, wretched, woman's fate. Nelson was often made responsible for that which he might have nothing to do with, and sailors have not spared him for his supposed share in instituting that monstrous system of pressing honest, respectable men into a service that reeked with the odour of disgraceful bureaucratic cruelty. I know something of the legacy of prejudice which extended to bitter, vindictive recollection of these days of brainless despots. I was reared amid an eighteenth-century environment; both my grandfathers fought at the Battle of the Nile; both were taken by force from their vessels which were owned by themselves and their relatives. One of them rose to the position of sailing-master; the other was a junior officer; but such was the condition of this kidnapping service they could not hope to rise higher. Both these men's lives were broken, as hundreds of others' were. Was it any wonder that strong feelings of wrong were handed down and indiscriminately fastened on to whosoever held any prominent authority? That is why Nelson came in for his share of condemnation. Personally, I think he was credited with more than he deserved. I believe he thought so well of that branch of the service, and his patriotism was so strong, that he wondered why there was any necessity to institute press-gangs. I should imagine that he was often amazed that men did not join in droves. But had he gone to the right source for information he would soon have become disillusioned. These gangs of ruffians preferred seamen as their prey, but they did not discriminate very much. If they could not get a sailor they took whatever came to hand—the bigger the better. And so, while on one of their prowling expeditions, it came to pass that a gentleman called Willie Carr was seized, and at the point of the bayonet or musket made to embark aboard their boat. This person was a ship's blacksmith. His strength was abnormal, and his feats of swimming were a marvel. He was known to fame as the Hartley giant. Tradition has it that they put Willie in the bow of the boat, and after they had got a little way on their journey he asked them if they could all swim. This question excited great laughter; but the giant coolly placed his hands on each of the gunwales of the boat, set his knees in position, called out, "then sink or swim, you B——," and with one mighty wrench he severed both sides of planking from the stem. Willie swam ashore, and how many of the men were said to be drowned I do not remember, though I have given the main facts as I heard them scores of times in my boyhood days. This story is told by Mr Soulsby in his excellent little history of Blyth.
Their military champions were: the great Emperor of the French ("Bonny" as they familiarly called him). Next came "the martyr" Ney, and then Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington, and the Prussian General, Blücher. The relative merits of these great men were discussed sometimes with foaming partiality. Napoleon and Ney were their favourites. Their wrath against the allied Powers was unappeasable. How often have I heard them thunder out that Bonny would have wiped Wellington and his myrmidons off the field but for the treachery of Fouché, Talleyrand, and his own generals (Fouché in particular). Wellington's prayer for "night or Blücher" was always used in mitigation of what might be called an unpatriotic opinion. I have listened to the diatribes of these rugged critics who claimed for their hero that he imbued his soldiers with a high sense of honour in contrast to our barbarous disciplinary methods of flogging. The image of the great man, and the part Wellington played in having him banished to St Helena, never faded from their memories. They believed the Iron Duke to be the instigator and encourager of a shabby trick. It was a wonderful phenomenon that made these men talk so systematically of their magical enemy, and yet they never lost an opportunity of showing their national dislike for and superiority over the French people as a whole. So strong was this instinct that it permeated British crews from the captain to the cabin-boy. Of course there were at times violent differences of opinion, but as a rule the Emperor was singularly popular, and the aversion to his former subjects, especially civilians, was never disguised. They showed frequent hostility towards coal-heavers, dockers, sailors, fishermen, and sundry other grades of workmen with whom they came in contact, but that is not to say they were always successful in their attacks, though they invariably took the initiative. In the old days the average British tar could not solve the mystery as to what foreigners, and especially Frenchmen, were made for; even at the present time they put on a lordly air when they come in contact with people whom they regard as aliens. This attitude is adopted independent of all reason, and becomes quite infectious. I must have caught it early in life. I went to a French port on my first voyage to sea, and although I was a mere child of twelve and a half years, I became smitten with the forecastle belief that my country and countrymen had suffered irreparable mischief at the hands of the French nation. I therefore deemed it my duty to be avenged, so picked out a French youth apparently my senior by some years, reminded him of Trafalgar and Waterloo, and called him by the opprobrious name of Johnny Crapo, the meaning of which I did not understand. I was promptly made to run for my life before a sudden Napoleonic onslaught of about half-a-dozen small boys, who had congregated to see their friend demolish the avowed foe of their country.
In discussing the many phases of Napoleon, the sailor was never perplexed in coming to conclusions as to the right and wrong of his (Napoleon's) actions. Their quotations and manner of using them were at times amazingly tempestuous and erratic. Captain Maitland, of theBellerophon, was generally believed to have behaved with becoming generosity towards the dethroned monarch, but the question as to whether he gave himself up voluntarily and without reservation, or, as Napoleon maintained, that he was prevailed upon to become the guest of England, and put himself under the protection of her laws, was a point that occasioned great diversity of opinion, and I think it may be said that Maitland's version in the majority of cases was thought to be correct. Admiral Sir George Cockburn came in for a good deal of harsh criticism for complaining about the Emperor rising from the table as soon as coffee had been served, and the well-known reminder of Madame Bertrand was quoted in a form that almost put the original beyond recognition, and had it been correct would have justified the admiral in putting the lady into solitary confinement for the remainder of the passage, for using language to him that was not only coarse and impolite, but unwarrantably seditious. Instead of this, Madame Bertrand merely remarked with all the charm of a cultured courtier: "Do not forget, admiral, that your guest is a man who has governed a large portion of the world, and that kings once contended for the honour of being admitted to his table." They had some misty notion that that admiral was not always considerate to his guest, and disliked his attentions to the officers and crew of theNorthumberland, not one of which it is said could resist the magical influence of his actions and words. It was natural that the salient incidents of a voyage with such a man should be passed on and handed down to later generations of seamen.
The story of the passage of the line was an everlasting theme retailed in order to justify the goodness of Napoleon. The boatswain represents Neptune and becomes sovereign for a time. Neither rank nor position is exempt from the customary shaving and baptism, but on this occasion Neptune graciously respected the distinction of the exiles, and reminded them that they had too often received the baptism of fire and of glory to require additional attention from him. The Emperor consented to have Neptune presented to him, and gave him through the grand marshal five hundred napoleons in order that he and his court might drink his health. Well might this generous gift bring forth wild hurrahs and loud cries of "Long live the Emperor Napoleon." The amount by common consent was handed over to the captain to be distributed when the crew were discharged, but this did not prevent Neptune and a number of his subjects intoxicating themselves, and it was only through the interposition of the Emperor and his suite with the admiral that they were saved from being cruelly flogged. "They may talk about this man as they like," said one of the crew, "but I won't believe the bad they say of him." His popularity with the sailors of theNorthumberlandwas not created by merely seeing him sitting for hours day by day on the gun which was named "The Emperor's." He became their hero now as passionately as he had previously appeared to them as being the foe of all that was humane. His little attentions and kindnesses, accompanied by an irresistible smile, and the act of putting them through some form of drill, endeared him to them long before they reached his lonely rock. Then the story of Sir Hudson Lowe's treatment of him in so many petty ways, such for instance as seizing a small bust of his son, the King of Rome, which had been sent to the exiled monarch, made friends for the Emperor in thousands; and not the least of them were the brave fellows who had traversed the ocean with him, and whose souls were filled with sympathy and horror at the crime that was being committed. Their testimony was that no one could live in close contact with him without instinctively realizing that he was a much maligned person. No wonder that this impression was spread widely not only through the whole navy but also throughout the whole mercantile marine. What a blunder the whole savage, senseless business was!
But while the British sailors claimed the little corporal as their idol, they did not think that even for political reasons the Emperor had any right to divorce Josephine, though they thought he might have reasons other than those commonly understood to have been engineered by the arch-traitor Fouché, and ultimately agreed to by the Emperor. The Empress, when she was plain Josephine, had the reputation of carrying on violent flirtations with other gentlemen while her husband was in Italy, and subsequently, when he was in Egypt swiftly forging his way to fame and to his destiny. So that when Napoleon was accused of cruelty in putting her from him, there were ever some champions ready to palliate the act by putting her unfaithful conduct before their opponents. But the Emperor's divorce of the little Creole was never quite approved by his sailor admirers, more especially as they had a strong dislike to Marie Louise, the Austrian arch-duchess who took the place of the poor, wayward Josephine, and who forsook her imperial husband in the first hour of his adversity to become the mistress of an ugly Austrian count, named Neipperg, who was minus an eye. Subsequently this man entered into a morganatic marriage with the gentle Marie, and she bore to him several children who were declared to be legitimate, and this happened notwithstanding the fact that the Emperor her husband was still living in anguish under a tyranny and cruel despotism instituted by the British oligarchy. This was the kind of anecdote that filled the sailors with sympathy for the great man who in the decline of his days was at the mercy of a lot of little men. Then they had stories of how he could throw off the thought of his wretched position, and enter into a frolic with Betsy Balcombe and her sister at the Briars. He would play for hours with the two little girls, and also with the other children that became attached to him. The smattering knowledge and comic rawness of the discourses on this great personality were always intensely attractive. Faith in the accuracy of their own views was strong. Long before I was old enough to be allowed to take part in the forecastle Napoleonic discussions I used to listen to them with eager interest, and well remember the attention given to even a wrongly-informed orator. The subject was always made fascinating by serving up the tales in their own forecastle fashion. None of the other military notables of Napoleon's time claimed their admiration or devotion as he did; not even Wellington.
Their views on politics and politicians, and their mode of expressing them, were extremely queer. The prominent statesmen they talked of most were Fox, Pitt, Lord John Russell, Palmerston, Peel, Gladstone and Disraeli; and apart from the fault they had to find with the latter as a statesman, they believed him to be unwilling to legislate in their interests, though even they didn't appear to have the ghost of an idea as to how those interests were to be legislatively served. They knew there was something the matter, that was all. They also had a strong antipathy to Disraeli owing to his Hebrew origin. In fact, they regarded the great Jew in the light of a foreigner, whose intrusion into English politics was a humiliation to all British-born subjects. The confusion of opinions as to the character and duties devolving on members of Parliament was very embarrassing even to themselves, and the vivacity with which they delivered orations to each other on the merits or demerits of members was exquisitely droll. The rivalry between Fox and Pitt was a subject that involved them in vehement chaos, just as the rivalry between Disraeli and Gladstone did in later years. They had some mystified idea that those political gentlemen were ever thirsting for each others' blood. They had gathered from some gossipy source that Mr Fox was a hopeless gambler, and that Pitt was exclusively responsible for the Napoleonic wars, and that Palmerston was a mischief-maker who set his impudence up to everybody, and his rashness either ended in war or coming near to do so. It was the latter that was accused in forecastle circles of bringing on that Crimean War which caused so much suffering and loss of life both to sailors and soldiers. I have heard Sir Robert Peel spoken of in words of vituperation for having introduced "peelers," now known as "bobbies," to interfere, as they said, with poor people's rights. Many of them were full of wrath at his having repealed the Corn Laws. They had got some garbled notion, which was passed down to later generations, that it would tend to spoil their chances of getting employment and otherwise lower their wages. This doctrine had been well thumped into them by some agency or other, and it led to many a quarrel with the minority who held free trade views. They were opposed to the introduction of Board of Trade examinations for the purpose of obtaining certificates of competency, which is another evidence of their undeveloped sense. And I have actually known instances where exception was taken by common sailors to the close scrutiny of Board of Trade surveyors into the defects of a vessel they had long sailed in and had formed a strong regard for. The Reform Bill did not appeal to them in the same way as it did to other workmen. They had occasional opportunities of hearing that a great noise was going on about household suffrage and the extension of the franchise, but they had a very hazy conception of the meaning of the terms. It is no exaggeration to say that the former was often spoken of as having reference to the sufferings of somebody in the houses of the people, and the latter was talked of as having some French connection!
They adhered to the idea of the nation being governed by the upper classes, and yet they used to curse them with unrestrained fury for their indifference to the needs of the common people. Gladstone was very frequently in disfavour with them: for instance, they did not altogether approve of the abolition of purchase in the army. It was considered a gratuitous interference with a person's freewill. "Why," said they, "shouldn't a commission be purchased if a man wants to spend his money in that way? It was no business of his!" Besides, their fears were excited lest the army should become composed of low-bred wasters. Their views on these particular questions were always very paradoxical and very breezily expressed. How I used to listen and gape at the flow of what I deemed gifted intelligence when there was a heated discussion on. I did not understand it; indeed they did not understand it; but they talked with a volubility and assurance that made deep impressions on me and on them. The advent of Thomas Burt from the mine into the political arena was not welcomed with a gush of enthusiasm by seamen. They doubted the wisdom of a republican miner being allowed to enter a legislature composed of aristocracy and landed gentry! The idea seemed to have gripped their minds that this refined and gentle little man was destined to inflict severe punishment on dukes, marquises and earls, and in other ways disturb the British nation! Mr Burt was not long in Parliament before he showed marked indications of wise statesmanship. Men on both sides of the House soon learnt to respect and admire him. He made it clear that he was not a mere class representative, and during the whole time he has been in Parliament the sailors have had no truer friend than he. I think they have long been satisfied of this themselves.
These sturdy, commonplace fellows, taking them as a whole, knew no more about politics than Tom Brown's horse; but, like many other simple, ill-informed people, they had a calm belief in their unmeasured knowledge which was void of all reason, and when they were thrown into contact with shore people it was one of the funniest things in the world to witness the lordly air they assumed in the initial stages of acquaintanceship, and the humour of it was exhilarating when the period for evaporation came, and they shone forth in all their artless simplicity. I cannot pretend to portray or exactly reproduce the scene of a sailor's political or any other controversy for that matter; I can only hope to convey some idea of it; and the rest must be left to the imagination of the reader.
Some twenty years ago a group of sailing-ship masters was seated at a table under a verandah outside a Russian snap-shop. There were two of the old school amongst them, and these were being egged on to a debate by the younger men on a question that was creating a vast amount of interest at that time. The heir to the Tichborne estates had left home to travel abroad, and as nothing was heard of him for several years, his mother became anxious and began advertising very widely in the Colonial, English, and Continental press. The result of this was that a person calling himself Sir Roger Tichborne turned up. He paid a visit to Wapping, and then presented himself to Lady Tichborne, who was in bed. She flung her arms around his neck in an ecstasy of joy and claimed him as her long-lost son. The real Roger Tichborne was supposed to have been lost in a vessel called theBella, which had sailed from Rio in South America for Australia. A claim was made on the Tichborne baronetcy. The claimant's counsel, Dr Keneally, who did not get on very well with the judges, commenced a paper called theEnglishman, which gave full accounts of the trial. It was widely read by enthusiasts who believed that Dr Keneally's client was the real Sir Roger. It was this trial that the coterie of commanders had gathered together to discuss. One of them, Captain Rush, was a staunch believer in the claimant. He had just received the paper, and was brim-full of the convincing proofs that it contained. Another fine old salt, who had neither education nor manners, endeavoured to take an intelligent interest in the discussion. His name was Mark Grips. Both he and Captain Rush belonged to the old school, and both were Northumbrians who spoke the dialect without any attempt at moderation.
"Ah," grunted Captain Rush, almost jumping off his seat with delight; "Keneally has Hawkins there!"
"Where?" said Mark.
"Why, here," replied Rush.
"Nothing but damned nonsense," said Mark.
"Nothing but nonsense? What? What? What d'ye say?" screamed Rush. "D'ye mean to tell me that Keneally doesn't know what he's talkin' about?"
"No; you divent knaw what yo're talkin' about."
"What? I divent knaw what I'm talkin' about? I tell ye' what it is, sor, Roger's the man!"
"Beggared a one," said Mark. (It wasn't exactly "beggared" a one that he said, but that is near enough.)
"D'ye mean to tell me," said Captain Rush (as he frothed with wrath), "that a man doesn't know the Ass's Bridge when he's asked about it?"
"Beggared a one," said Mark.
"Then you're a leir."
"A leir, d'ye say? Then I say beggared a one!"
"Another thing: d'ye mean to tell me, Mark, that a mother doesn't know her own son?"
"Beggared a one," replied Mark.
"D'ye say that again?" said Rush; "I tell you, when a woman puts her arms around her son's neck, d'ye think she doesn't know it's her son?"
Mark by this time is also frothing at the mouth; and, standing in a bellicose attitude, hisses:
"I says 'beggared a one.' Roger's not the man!"
Rush becomes speechless, and his eyes flash with anger, and he flings theEnglishmanat Mark, who in turn calls his friend, "Coward; that's the only argument you have. I tell you again, Roger'snotthe man!"
"Who are you?" retorted Rush; "do you think yourself the Lord High Admiral Dundas, then?"
"No," said the excited Mark; "I'm Mark Grips, one of Jimmy Young's skippers, and I tell ye Roger never was the man!"
This finished the controversy for a time, as the two combatants were prevailed upon to shake hands, and in spite of this spirited combat they were soon enjoying their long pipes and their grog together.
Just about the time the Radicals in the House of Commons, aided by the Irish Nationalists, were making a good stand-up fight for the abolition of flogging in the army and navy, Mr Charles Bradlaugh was elected as one of the members for Northampton, with Mr Henry Labouchere as his colleague. The sanctity of the nation was violently shocked at the effrontery of Northampton in electing so dangerous a Radical infidel to represent them in Parliament as the notorious "Iconoclast." A wave of screaming passed over the fair Christian land; the notorious advocate of atheistic principles was proclaimed a menacing danger to the Christian edifice. Injustice and untruth joined against him; shocking stories of blasphemy were circulated with mad recklessness against him. There was not a single word of truth in them. This was proved over and over again in courts of law, and yet the charges were encouraged and persisted in. Poor Bradlaugh; what a time he had of it until the tempest of folly subsided, and both the people and some of their representatives in Parliament came back to their senses, and not only allowed the member for Northampton to take his seat, but passed an act giving members the option of affirming instead of taking the oath, and also ordered the erasing from the journals of the House those records which were said to justify Mr Bradlaugh's exclusion. It was not to be wondered at that this rapturous concert of passion and prejudice should reach the impressionable sailors from one border of the ocean to the other, and formed part of their occasional riotous debates. Any one who has had the privilege of listening to the fiery arguments set forth by sailors on the Bradlaugh or any other topic of absorbing interest must ever cherish it as a memorable experience. There is seldom any regard for moderation in such conflicts, and the extraordinary confusion of ideas makes them fascinating. I have a vivid recollection of my attention being attracted to the clamour of about half a dozen weather-beaten nautical stagers that were seated outside a dram-shop which was known to fame as "Jack the Blaster's." It will be readily recognized that the name was given to it by a north-countryman. I stopped, asked for a chair, and saw the whole thing through. Occasionally, while the controversy was travelling along its more turbulent stages, I was asked to intervene in some way or other, but I had to act with studied impartiality, so adopted a neutral course.
"They tell me," said burly Captain Harvey, "that he's the best speaker in England."
"Who's the best speaker in England?" asked Skipper Cowan; "do you mean that fellow that's givin' members of Parliament so much trouble just now?"
"I mean Bradlaugh," said Mr Harvey.
"Well then," said Mr Cowan, "you're decidedly in the wrong. I heard a Methodist parson beat him to fits at Blyth. Bradlaugh lost his temper, and after that the parson wiped the boards with him. They called the parson Harrison,[2]and the atheists were all frightened of him after that."
"I never heard that before," said Harvey.
"Very well," retorted his friend, "you hear it now. I'm telling you; and another thing, instead of making him a member of Parliament I'd put the fellow in gaol and stop him going about the country destroying religion and making people infidels. Lord Randolph is a grand chap; he won't have any of his affirmin'. No, no, Sir Randolph doesn't believe in that sort of cattle, and he means what he says. Randy's all their daddies [Randy is cleverer than they]. Look what he did when Bradlaugh kept running up to the bar of the House of Commons to kiss the book. What did Randolph do, you say? Why he jumped after him every time, seized him by the coat tails, and said, 'Bradlaugh, stand back!' That's pluck, if you like. Of course he had what they call the sargent with a sword by his side ready to stick him had Randolph not been too many for him. And what do you think old Gladstone did? He's always up to some mischief. He wrote that pamphlet on the Bulgarian atrocities that brought about the war with Russia and Turkey. What did he do, sir? I'll tell you what he did. He said, 'Gentlemen, Bradlaugh's been elected; he must be allowed to come among us.' There's a fine Englishman for you! But never mind,hisday will come!"
A bulbous, beery-looking skipper tapped a companion on the shoulder, and said in startled undertone, "Cowan said something about Bradlaugh running up to the bar of the House. Is there a bar there?" And Harvey overhearing, said:
"Yes, Mister, there's a bar in that house, but not the kind of bar you mean. It is a bar sir, not a drinking-bar, mind you."
"What do they call it a bar for, then?" asked the beery person; "a bar's a bar, isn't it?"
"Yes, a bar's a bar, and you've got a lot to learn yet. What do they call the speaker 'the speaker' for?"
"Because he can speak, of course," said the beery gentleman.
"Shut up, man," said Cowan; "don't show your ignorance, and let me go on with the argument. It's not that at all."
"What is it, then?" said the inconvenient heckler.
"Never mind what it is. It's not what you say it is," remarked Cowan. "By George, he was well served when they locked him up in the Clock Tower for his impudence. Why, at one time it took ten bobbies to keep him from mauling a lot of Christian gentleman that had taken the oath and kissed the Bible over and over again. They tore his clothes, and the pity is they were not torn off him altogether. Where was his cheek to talk about his conscience? And as to Gladstone, well, he's a fine Englishman to back a man up in his infidel works. He deserves as much as Bradlaugh; and as to Northampton, they should take away the vote from it."
The orator had completely exhausted and entwined a rich fund of adjectives into his harangue as he went along; and, when he ceased speaking, a warm supporter of his gave some applause, and nudging the bulbous person, he remarked:
"He's a long-headed fellow, isn't he? Eh, what a wonderful man for politics, and what a speaker! Why, Bradlaugh wouldn't have much chance with him. He should be in Parliament hissel'. By gum, he'd make them sit up. What do you say?"
His companion looked wise, and seemed smitten with awe. He could not trust himself to speak of the brilliant oration they had just listened to. Harvey followed up the debate by defending the right of freedom of action and freedom of speech all round.
"What business is it of these members of Parliament to interfere with what people think or say? I say 'no business at all.' Why, they tell me that when Bradlaugh beat them and took his seat and defied them, the Tories flocked round him and said: 'Bradlaugh, we're glad to see you in this honourable House, and congratulate you as one of ourselves.' Now there was brazen hypocrisy for you; and what do you think he said in reply? He stood up and said: 'Gentlemen, I know you of old, but I'm not going to be sucked in by any of your snakish ways.' Wasn't that fine?"
"Where did you hear that?" said Cowan.
"I saw'd in the papers; it's all right," said Harvey.
"Yes, and what's more," said Cowan, "I saw that Bradlaugh had become very popular with everybody, and the Tories said he was a rare good sort."
"Then I don't believe it," said Harvey.
"But I tell you I saw'd in the papers."
"Well," said Cowan, "if you hadn't telled me that, I wouldn't have believed it."
"But I'm telling ye," said Harvey; "and what is more, there's Labouchere: he's a queer 'un. He has a paper they callTruth, and he writes all about the Queen and the aristocracy. He knows everything about them, and doesn't care a damn for anybody. He's been had up for libel many a time, but that never makes any difference. He goes on worse. They call him a Radical. He belongs to that lot that wants everything for themselves."
"But what about them Prussians wantin' to steal Denmark? What do you call that but cowardly work; and had it not been that Austria, the other bully, came to their assistance, the little Danes had the Prussians by the throat, and then, like all bullies, they fell out about the spoil and began to fight among themselves. No wonder that the Germans are hated; everybody liked the Danes. And where was your England then? Was she frightened of Von Bismarck? Yes, I says; yes! Was Palmerston frightened of him or of all the Prussians in the world? No, certainly not! He said: 'Gentlemen, let us draw the sword for the father of the Princess of Wales'; but these great Christian members of Parliament that you've been talking about so much said: 'No, we'll fight for nobody but ourselves.' Where is your Waterloo, your Corunna and Balaclava now? What about that foggy mornin' in the Baltic Sea when the fog cleared away and we were right in the centre of the Danish line-of-battleships, and the whole crew wanted to join the Danish navy, and the skipper said: 'No, men, you must stick to your own ship.' But we saluted them with the old flag, and gave them three good English cheers, and they cheered us, and the skipper said: 'Ah, they're fine fellows. What is England doin' of not to help them? There's no ill-feelin' left about Nelson puttin' the spy-glass to his blind eye and blowing Copenhagen down about their ears.'"
"Talk about makin' the Queen Empress of India? By George! Gladstone did walk into Disraeli about that, and it was said the Queen got her hump up about it."
"Well she might," said Cowan; "what business had Gladstone to interfere? He's always interfering."
"Yes," said Harvey; "and a good job for England he is."
"What d'ye say? Good job for England? What about the Fenians? What about Parnell and them Irishmen? What about the rascals who were nabbed settin' fire to infernal machinery for blowing up the House of Parliament? And then he talks of givin' them Home Rule! What about Piggott, Parnell and company?"
"Yes, and what about the forgeries, Mr Sniggins," said Harvey.
"Don't call me Sniggins!" said Captain Cowan, "I'm a respectable man."
"Don't you say this and that about Gladstone, then," said Harvey.
"We will if we like," said the bulbous friend, who showed in his phlegmatic way signs of taking sides against the great Liberal leader.
"What do you know about it?" contemptuously interposed Harvey. "My advice is to you, 'keep yourself sober and your mouth shut, and don't show your empty-headedness to people who have forgotten more than ever you knew!'Youtalk about Gladstone! Why, you would never have known there was such a man if I hadn't told you. Of all the brazen cheek, well! You take the cake to talk to me about a man that made England and stopped the gentry from pilfering the whole thing."
"Get away, man!" replied our portly friend; "you would swear you were the Duke of Argyle. I tell you he would have given the country away to the foreigners if we hadn't stepped in."
"Doyoucall yourself 'we'!" interjected Harvey, his utterance almost incoherent with anger; "you want to go to school again and get some learnin'."
"Get some learnin', d'ye say, Mr Know-all? What has Gladstone done for the sailors, you an' me? That's a poser for you; and look at the money he gave away about theAlabamato the Yankees, instead of fightin' them for it like an Englishman. That's another poser for you!" retorted the big, burly antagonist who had wakened up and entered into the discussion with elephantine zeal. "Some of you would let foreigners jump on your stomachs, but Captain Cowan and me says, 'England for ever!' Why, if it hadn't been for Palmerston and the old Jew, we would all have been Russians or blooming Germans before now."
"Bravo, John Bird, well said! That's a clinker for you, Harvey," chimed in the devoted supporter of the previous speaker. "Fine Britishers they are, givin' away the country of their birth in lumps at a time!"
Harvey was purple; his blood was at boiling pitch, and his poignant attack on Captain John Bird gave that gentleman some concern lest it should reach to something more than mere words. His peroration consisted of a luxuriant use of imprecating adjectives which stamped him as a person of original thought. He apologized to his Creator as he passed from point to point of these profane heights, and was obviously sure that this chaste mode of seeking forgiveness commended his observations to the Deity. The attack on Gladstone's and his own patriotism roused him to produce prodigies of declamatory illustrations.
"Givin' the country away," he said. "Gladstone's trying to stop them dukes and earls and such like from stealing it. What does he say that the House of Lords should be shut up for, and these gentry made to work like other folk? I'll tell you what he says that for: because he wants it fairly shared, and the men that go down to the sea in ships to have a bit of it."
"Now you needn't repeat Scripture after you've been swearin' see hard," interposed Captain Cowan.
"No, sir, I'm not using Scripture. I'm saying that Gladstone wants to turn them fellows in the House of Lords out to work for their living, instead of cribbing all the land and gettin' such as you to back them up and crawl on your bended knees and kiss their hands for them; but I'm not one of them sort. I says what Joe Cowan says: 'The land for the people if they pay for it.' Wasn't it Gladstone and Bright that said no good would ever be done until the House of Lords was pulled down, and wasn't it Joe Cowan that stood up for them when they wanted to make the Queen the Empress of India? Didn't he say: 'No, gentlemen, the Queen of England's good enough for me; I wants no Empress'? And didn't that favourite Jew of yours say to him it was a grand speech? But I'm not goin' to open my mouth to fill your empty heads. You don't know your A B C's yet; and you talk to me about givin' away England, and about Dizzy, and you haven't a good word to say about your own countrymen who want to get you a bit of the land to grow something on. I tell you, you're nothing better than nincompoops, hobbledehoys that knows no more about politics than the old hookers you're skippers of do." He emphasized these last remarks by bringing his fist heavily down on the table, knocking the glasses off, and then in a patronizing way he walked from them a short distance, turned round quickly as though a sudden impulse had seized him, and shouted at the top of his voice:
"You want to go to school again, if you've ever been there, but I don't think you have!"
A reticent man sat close by during the singular debate. An observer could see that Captain Harvey's last oration was having a convincing effect on him, and immediately Harvey had fired his last shot Captain George Halligay rose, and with unaffected solemnity remarked:
"That man knows too much to be a shipmaster. He should be in the House of Commons. The language he uses, and his knowledge of men and what they say, is very clever. It would take a funny 'un to tackle him. They tell me he's written to the papers sometimes."
"All wind and blather," said Captain John Bird, which remark was endorsed by Captain Cowan and received with some applause.
"Not so," said Halligay. "He has great gifts." And then they made their way to the landing where their boats waited to convey them to their respective ships.
These were some of the last specimens of our old-time sailor manhood. Rough, uncultured, careless of danger, their fighting instincts sometimes leading them to ferocity; but withal they were strong in many ways, and had intervals of docility which ofttimes made them lovable. I dare say many, if not all, of their generation (for they were aged men when I knew them) have passed beyond the reach of the political or social student, and we shall nevermore hear the same kind of confusion of thought that made the discussions of these aged mariners so delightful to listen to. Of course many of the captains of that time had real accomplishments far beyond the stolid men of whom I have been speaking. But even the most cultured of that generation did not reach the zenith of fame to which the modern commander has risen. The average present-day captain has little in common with his predecessors. His political creed goes beyond the mere assertion of the superiority of Britishers over foreigners. He claims association with a party, and knows a good deal about prominent statesmen and politicians. He is up to date in the causes which led to the Boer War, the Coal Tax, the Corn Duty, Irish Land Purchase, the Education Act, and Chamberlain's agitation to force a change in our fiscal policy from Free Trade to Protection. He has a peculiar form of self-confidence which may be considered phenomenal though it is rarely offensive.