I said nothing, and only took care in future to caution my friends to mind their footing when Jean was summoned aft, which, I allow, was very often; for there was no resisting the exhibition to all strangers of such a patent pet as this. To the Chinese in particular our comical favourite became an object of the highest admiration, for the natives of the celestial empire soon recognized in this happiest of swine the celebrated breed of their own country. Many a broad hint I got as to the acceptable nature of such a present, but I was deaf to them all; for I felt that Jean now belonged more to the ship's company than to myself, and that there was a sort of obligation upon me neither to eat her nor to give her away.
Under this tacit guarantee she gained so rapidly in size, fat, and other accomplishments, that, on our return to China, after visiting Loo Choo and other islands of the Japan Sea, the gentlemen of the factory would hardly credit me that this huge monster was the same animal. In talking of Jean's accomplishments, I must not be understood to describe her as a learned pig; for she could neither play cards, solve quadratic equations, nor perform any of those feats which enchant and astonish the eyes of the citizens of London and elsewhere, where many dogs and hogs are devoutly believed to be vested with a degree of intelligence rather above than below the average range of human intellect. Far from this, honest Jean could do little or nothing more than eat, drink, sleep, and grunt; in which respects she was totally unrivalled, and the effect of her proficiency in these characteristic qualities became daily more manifest. At first, as I have mentioned, when her name was called from any part of the ship, she would caper along, and dash impetuously up to the group by whom she was summoned. But after a time she became so excessively fat and lazy that it required many a call to get her to move, and the offer of a slice of pine-apple, or a handful of lychees, or even the delicious mangosteen, was now hardly enough to make her open her eyes, though in the early stages of the voyage she had been but too thankful for a potato, or the skin of an apple. As she advanced in fatness, she lost altogether the power of walking, and expected the men to bring the good things of their table to her, instead of allowing her to come for them.
At the time of Sir Murray Maxwell's attack on the batteries of Canton, the Lyra, under my command, was lying at Macao, and during our stay the brig was visited by many of the Chinese authorities. We were also watched by a fleet of men-of-war junks, and had some reason to suppose that we might have a brush with them. In that event, I think our worst chance would have consisted in the enthusiasm with which the Chinese admiral, captains, and crews, would have fought to have put themselves in possession of such a prize as Jean.
While things were in this interesting position, I received orders to get under weigh, and run up the Canton river to Wampoa. Off we set, escorted by the Chinese fleet of a dozen sail of junks. The wind was against us, but we soon beat up to the Bogue, and passed, unharmed, the batteries, which, to use Lord Nelson's expression, Captain Maxwell had made to look very like a plum-pudding. We had scarcely anchored at Second Bar, in the midst of the grand fleet of tea ships, when we were boarded by a host of Chinese mandarins and Hong merchants, wearing all the variety of buttons by which ranks are distinguished in that well-classified land. This was not to compliment us, or to offer us assistance, or even to inquire our business. One single object seemed to engage all their thoughts and animate the curiosity of half the province of Quantung. The fame of our fat sow Jean, in short, had far outrun the speed of the Lyra, and nothing was heard on every hand but the wondering exclamations of the natives, screaming out in admiration, "High-yaw! High-yaw!"
We had enough to do to clear the ship at night of these our visitors, but we were by no means left in solitude; for the Lyra's anchorage was completely crowded with native boats. The motive of all this attention on the part of the Chinese was not merely pure admiration of Jean; the fact is, the acute Chinese, skilled especially in hog's flesh, saw very well that our pet pig was not long for this world, and knowing that if she died a natural death, we should no more think of eating her than one of our own crew; and having guessed also that we had no intention of "killing her to save her life," they very reasonably inferred that ere long this gloriousbonne bouchewould be at their disposal.
Our men, who soon got wind of this design on the part of the Chinese, became quite outrageous against Fukee, as the natives are called, and would hardly permit any visitors to come near their favourite, lest they should accelerate her inevitable fate by poison. At length poor dear Jean gave token of approaching dissolution; she could neither eat, nor drink, nor even grunt; and her breathing was like that of a broken bellows: in short, she died! Every art was taken to conceal the melancholy event from the Chinese; but somehow or other it got abroad, for the other English ships were deserted, and long before sunset a dense mass of boats, like a floating town, was formed astern and on both quarters of the Lyra.
The sailors now held a grand consultation as to what was to be done; and after much discussion, and many neat and appropriate speeches, it was unanimously resolved that the mortal remains of the great sow now no more should be deposited in the mud of the river of Canton, in such a way that the most dexterous and hungry inhabitant of the celestial empire should not be able to fish her up again.
As soon as it was quite dark, and all the Chinese boats sent, as usual, beyond the circle limited by the ship's buoys, the defunct pig's friends set to work to prepare for her obsequies. The chief object was to guard against the ravenous natives hearing the splash, as she went overboard; and next, that she should not afterwards float to the surface. The first point was easily accomplished, as will be seen presently; but there was a long debate, in whispers, amongst the men, as to the most expedient plan of keeping the body of their late pet from once more showing her snout above the stream. At length, it was suggested by the coxswain of one of the boats which had been sent during the morning to sound the passage, that as the bed of the river where the brig lay consisted of a deep layer of mud, it would be a good thing if Jean's remains could be driven so far into this soft stratum as to lie below the drags and hooks of the Chinese.
This advice was much applauded, and at once acted upon with that happy facility of resource which it is the pride of the profession to have always in store for small as well as for great occasions. The dead sow was first laid on its back, and then two masses of iron ballast, being placed one on each side of the cheek, were lashed securely to the neck and shoulders in such a manner that the ends of the kentlage met across her nose, and formed, as it was very properly called, an extra snout for piercing the mud.
When all was ready, the midship carronade was silently dismounted, the slide unbolted, and the whole removed out of the way. Jean's enormous corporation being then elevated, by means of capstan bars and handspikes, was brought on a level with the port-sill. A slip-rope was next passed between her hind legs, which had been tied together at the feet; and poor Miss Piggy, being gradually pushed over the ship's side, was lowered slowly into the water. When fairly under the surface, and there were no fears of any splash being caused by letting her go, one end of the rope was cast off, upon which the well-loaded carcass shot down perpendicularly at such a rate that there could be no question of its being immersed a fathom deep, at least, in the mud, and, of course, far beyond the reach of the disappointed Chinese!
Printer's Flower
DOUBLING THE CAPE.
As our merry little ship approached the far-famed Cape of Good Hope, I often remained on deck after the watch was out, feasting my eyes on the sight of constellations known to me before only by name, and as yet scarcely anchored in my imagination. Each succeeding night, as the various clusters rose, crossed the meridian, and sunk again into the western waves, we came more and more into the way, not only of speaking, but thinking of them, under their conventional titles of hydras, doves, toucans, phoenixes, and flying-fish, not forgetting the enormous southern whale, whose beautiful eye, called Fomalhaut, while it flames in the zenith of the Cape, is hardly known to the astronomers of this country, from its greatest altitude, as seen by them, not being ten degrees.
But of all the Antarctic constellations, the celebrated Southern Cross is by far the most remarkable, and must, in every age, continue to arrest the attention of all voyagers and travellers who are fortunate enough to see it. I think it would strike the imagination even of a person who had never heard of the Christian religion; but of this it is difficult to judge, seeing how inextricably our own ideas are mingled up with associations linking this sacred symbol with almost every thought, word, and deed of our lives. The three great stars which form the Cross, one at the top, one at the left arm, and one, which is the chief star, called Alpha, at the foot, are so placed as to suggest the idea of a crucifix, even without the help of a small star, which completes the horizontal beam. When on the meridian, it stands nearly upright; and as it sets, we observe it lean over to the westward. I am not sure whether, upon the whole, this is not more striking than its gradually becoming more and more erect as it rises from the east. In every position, however, it is beautiful to look at, and well calculated, with a little prompting from the fancy, to stir up our thoughts to solemn purpose. I know not how others are affected by such things; but, for myself, I can say with truth, that, during the many nights I have watched the Southern Cross, I remember no two occasions when the spectacle interested me exactly in the same way, nor any one upon which I did not discover the result to be somewhat different, and always more impressive, than what I had looked for.
This constellation being about thirty degrees from the south pole, is seen in its whole revolution, and, accordingly, when off the Cape, I have observed it in every stage, from its triumphant erect position, between sixty and seventy degrees above the horizon, to that of complete inversion, with the top beneath, and almost touching the water. This position, by the way, always reminded me of the death of St. Peter, who is said to have deemed it too great an honour to be crucified with his head upwards. In short, I defy the stupidest mortal that ever lived to watch these changes in the aspect of this splendid constellation, and not to be in some degree struck by them.
These airy visions are sometimes curiously broken in upon by the most common-place incidents, which force us back upon ordinary life. On the 28th of May we overtook a packet on her way to the Brazils from England, which had sailed more than a month after us, but she had not a single newspaper, army list, navy list, or review on board. The mate was totally ignorant of all the interesting topics of that most interesting moment of the war (1812); and in reply to all our questions, merely observed that everything was just the same as when we left England. The captain was ill in bed, and could not be spoken to, so that this intelligent gentleman, his chief officer, had been lugged on deck to tell the news. He honestly confessed, after being sufficiently baited and badgered by our interrogatories, that even when in England he had no time to look at the newspapers, but that he left public affairs to the management of those whose business it was to look after them, while he found enough to do in looking after the packet.
"I dare say," added the fellow, with rather more dryness of humour than we had imagined was in his doughy composition, "I dare say the whole story you are asking about, of Buonaparte and the Russians, is told very exactly in these bags (pointing to the mail), and if I deliver them safe at Rio, it will be wrong to say I bring no news."
On the 4th of June we had a jollification in honour of good old King George the Third's birthday. In how many different parts of the world, and with what deep and affectionate sincerity, were cups quaffed and cheers rung out in the same loyal cause! If sailors would tell the truth, we should find that when abroad and far away, they generally use their distant friends as the captain, mentioned some time ago, did his ship's company's European clothing—stow them away for a future occasion. I do not say that they forget or neglect their friends; they merely put them by in safety for a time. In fact, as the song says, a sailor's heart and soul have plenty to do "in every port," to keep fully up to the companionships which are present, without moping and moaning over the remembrance of friends at a distance, who, in like manner no doubt, unship us also, more or less, from their thoughts, if not from their memory, for the time being; and it is all right and proper that it should be so.
On the 5th of June we parted from our convoy, the China ships; and, alas! many a good dinner we lost by that separation. Our course lay more to the left, or eastward, as we wished to look in at the Cape of Good Hope, while those great towering castles, the tea ships, could not afford time for play, but struck right down to the southward, in search of the westerly winds which were to sweep them half round the globe, and enable them to fetch the entrance of the China seas in time to save the monsoon to Canton. Each ship sent a boat to us with letters for England, to be forwarded from the Cape. This was probably their last chance for writing home; so that, after the accounts contained in these dispatches reached England, their friends would hear nothing of them till they presented themselves eighteen months afterwards. Neither did they expect to know what was passing at home till they should touch at St. Helena, on the return voyage, in the latter end of the following year.
I remember looking over the lee-gangway next day, at the first blush of the dawn, during the morning watch, and I could barely distinguish the fleet far to leeward, with their royals just showing above the horizon. On taking leave of our convoy, we were reminded that there is always something about the last, the very last look of any object, which brings with it a feeling of melancholy. On this occasion, however, we had nothing more serious to reproach ourselves with than sundry impatient execrations with which we had honoured some of our slow-moving, heavy-sterned friends, when we were compelled to shorten sail in a fair wind, in order to keep them company. A smart frigate making a voyage with a dull-sailing convoy reminds one of the child's story of the provoking journey made by the hare with a drove of oxen.
Our merry attendants, the flying-fish, and others which swarmed about us in the torrid zone, refused to see us across the tropic, and the only aquatics we fell in with afterwards were clumsy whales and grampuses, and occasionally a shoal of white porpoises. Of birds there were plenty, especially albatrosses. The captain, being a good shot with a ball, brought down one of these, which measured seven feet between the tips of the wings. I have several times seen them twelve feet; and I heard a well-authenticated account of one measuring sixteen feet from tip to tip. On the 22nd of June we came in sight of the high land on the northern part of the peninsula of the Cape of Good Hope, the far-famed Table Mountain, which looked its character very well, and really did not disappoint us, though, in general, its height, like that of most high lands, is most outrageously exaggerated in pictures. The wind failed us during the day, and left us rolling about till the evening, when the breeze came too late to be of much use. Next day we rounded the pitch of the Cape, but it blew so strong from the northward, right out of False Bay, accompanied by rain and a high sea, that we found it no easy job to hold our own, much less to gain the anchorage. But on the 24th of June, the day after, the wind moderated and became fair, the weather cleared up, and we sailed almost into Simon's Bay, a snug little nook at the north-western angle of False Bay. It then fell calm, but the boats of the men-of-war at anchor, his Majesty's ships Lion, Nisus, and Galatea, soon towed us into our berth. During the winter of that hemisphere, which corresponds to our northern summer, the only safe quarters for ships is in Simon's Bay, on the south side of the Cape peninsula.
I have a perfect recollection of the feelings with which I leaped out of the boat, and first set foot on the continent of Africa, but am prevented from describing these poetical emotions by the remembrance, equally distinct, of the more engrossing anxiety which both my companion and myself experienced about our linen, then on its way to the laundress in two goodly bundles. For the life of me, I cannot separate the grand ideas suitable to the occasion, from the base interests connected with cotton shirts and duck trousers. And such is the tormenting effect of association, that when I wish to dwell upon the strange feelings, partly professional and partly historical, caused by actually gazing on the identical Cape of Good Hope, a spot completely hammered into the memory of all sailors, straightway I remember the bitter battling with the washer-folks of Simon's Town touching the rate of bleaching shirts: and both the sublime and the beautiful are lost in the useful and ridiculous.
The 3rd of July was named for sailing; but the wind, which first came foul, soon lulled into a calm, then breezed up again; and so on alternately, baffling us in all our attempts to get to sea. Nor was it till the 5th that we succeeded in forcing our way out against a smart south-easter, with a couple of reefs in the topsails, and as much as we could do to carry the mainsail. A westerly current sweeps at all seasons of the year round the Cape of Good Hope, and sometimes proves troublesome enough to outward-bound ships. This stream is evidently caused by the trade-wind in the southern parts of the Indian ocean. For three days we were bamboozled with light south-easterly airs and calms, but on the 8th of July, which is the depth of winter in that hemisphere, there came on a spanking snuffler from the north-west, before which we spun two hundred and forty miles, clean off the reel, in twenty-four hours.
Nothing is more delightful than the commencement of such a fair wind. The sea is then smooth, and the ship seems literally to fly along; the masts and yards bend forwards, as if they would drop over the bows, while the studding-sail booms crack and twist, and, unless great care be taken, sometimes break across; but still, so long as the surface of the sea is plane it is astonishing what a vast expanse of canvas may be spread to the rising gale. By-and-bye, however, it becomes prudent to take in the royals, flying-jib, and top-gallant studding-sails. The boatswain takes a look at the gripes and other fastenings of the boats and booms; the carpenter instinctively examines the port-lashings, and draws up the pump-boxes to look at the leathers; while the gunner sees that all the breechings and tackles of the guns are well secured before the ship begins to roll. The different minor heads of departments, also, to use their own phrase, smell the gale coming on, and each in his respective walk gets things ready to meet it. The captain's and gun-room steward beg the carpenter's mate to drive down a few more cleats and staples, and, having got a cod-line or two from the boatswain's yeoman, or a hank of marline stuff, they commence double lashing all the tables and chairs. The marines' muskets are more securely packed in the arm-chest. The rolling tackles are got ready for the lower yards, and the master, accompanied by the gunner's mate, inspects the lanyards of the lower rigging. All these, and twenty other precautions are taken in a manner so slow and deliberate that they would hardly catch the observation of a passenger. It might also seem as if the different parties were afraid to let out the secret of their own lurking apprehension, but yet were resolved not to be caught unprepared.
Of these forerunners of a gale none is more striking than the repeated looks of anxiety which the captain casts to windward, as if his glance could penetrate the black sky lowering in the north-west, in order to discover what was behind, and how long with safety he might carry sail. Ever and anon he shifts his look from the wind's eye, and rests it on the writhing spars aloft, viewing with much uneasiness the stretching canvas all but torn from the yards. He then steps below, and for the fortieth time reads off the barometer. On returning to the deck he finds that, during the few minutes he has been below, the breeze has freshened considerably, or, it may be, that, coming suddenly upon it again, he views it differently. At all events, he feels the necessity of getting the sails in while he yet can, or before "God Almighty takes them in for him," as the sailors say when matters have been so long deferred, that not only canvas and yards, but even masts, are at times suddenly wrenched out of the ship, and sent in one confused mass far off to leeward, whirling in the gale!
The men, who are generally well aware of the necessity of shortening sail long before the captain has made up his mind to call the hands for that purpose, have probably been collected in groups for some time in different parts of the upper deck, talking low to one another, and looking aloft with a start, every now and then, as the masts or yards give an extra crack.
"Well! this is packing on her," says one, laying an emphasis on the word "is."
"Yes!" replies another; "and if our skipper don't mind, it will be packing off her presently," with an emphasis on the word "off." "Right well do I know these Cape gales," adds an ancient mariner of the South Seas; "they snuffle up in a minute; and, I'll answer for it, the captain will not carry sail so long off Cape Aguilhas, when he has gone round that breezy point as often as old Bill has."
At this moment the tardy voice of the commander, long unwilling to lose any part of the fair wind, is at length heard, giving the reluctant order, "Turn the hands up, shorten sail!" The ready clatter of feet, and the show of many heads at all the hatchways, and perhaps the sound of a suppressed laugh amongst the men who have been gossiping and wagering about the gale, give sufficient indication that this evolution has been expected for some time.
"All hands shorten sail!" calls out the boatswain, after a louder and sharper note than usual from his pipe, winded not half the ordinary length of time, though twice as shrilly; for his object is to mark on the ears of the people the necessity of unusual expedition and exertion. A clever and experienced person filling this important situation will soon teach the men to distinguish between the various notes of his call, though to unpractised ears the sounds might appear unvaried.
"Shorten sail! that's easier said than done," growls forth some hard-up old cock.
"No! not a bit easier said than done," unexpectedly observes the captain, but quite good-humouredly, having accidentally heard the seaman's remark. "Not a bit, old fellow, if you and the young hands only work as smartly and cheerfully as I know you can do when you have a mind. Come, my lads, are you all ready forward?"
It is a trying moment both for the sails and yards, when the order is actually given to commence shortening sail; if the pressure from the wind be considerable, it is necessary to have men stationed to lower away the haulyards and ease off the tacks at the proper moment, while others gather in the sails as they come down, fluttering a little perhaps, if not carefully managed, but still quietly and easily, as well as quickly. When, however, the wind has risen to a pitch beyond its due proportion to the canvas spread, and the captain's anxiety to make the most of a fair wind has tempted him to carry on too long, the case becomes very difficult, the ropes which keep the sails in their places contributing also an important share to the support of those spars to which the sails are bent, or to which they may be hauled out. Consequently, the moment the ropes alluded to, which are technically named the haulyards and tacks, are slackened, the yards and booms, being suddenly deprived of these material supports, are very apt to be sprung, that is, cracked across, or even carried away, which means being snapped right in two as short as a carrot, to use Jack's very appropriate simile.
It is quite true, that lowering away the sail and easing off the tack of a studding-sail does diminish the pressure of the sail on the spar, and, of course, both the yard and the boom have less duty to perform. Still, the moment which succeeds the order to "Lower away!" is especially trying to the nerves of the officer who is carrying on the duty. I have not unfrequently seen comparatively young officers handle the sails and yards of a ship with perfect ease, from their superior mechanical knowledge, at times when the oldest sailors on board were puzzled how to get things right. One officer, for instance, may direct the preparations for shortening sail to be made according to the most orthodox rules laid down in Hamilton Moor's "Examination of a Young Sea Officer," and yet when he comes to give the fatal word, "Lower away! haul down!" everything shall go wrong. The tack being eased off too soon, the spar breaks in the middle, and the poor topmast studding-sail is spitted like a lark on the broken stump of the boom, while the lower studding-sail, driven furiously forward by the squall, is pierced by the spritsail yard-arm, the cat-head, and the bumpkin; or it may be wrapped round the bowsprit, like so much wet drapery in the inimitable Chantrey's studio over the clay figure of an Indian bishop.
"What the blue blazes shall I do next?" moans the poor puzzled officer of the watch, who sees this confusion caused entirely by his own bad management. On such an occasion, a kind and considerate captain will perhaps fairly walk below, and so leave the mortified youth to get himself out of the scrape as he best can, and rather lose a small spar, or a bolt of canvas, than expose his officer to the humiliation of having the task transferred to another; or he will edge himself near the embarrassed officer, and, without the action being detected by any one else, whisper a few magical words of instruction in the young man's ear, by which the proper train of directions are set agoing, and the whole confusion of ropes, sails, and yards, speedily brought into order. If this fails, the hands are called, upon which the captain himself, or more generally the first lieutenant, takes the trumpet; and the men, hearing the well-known, confident voice of skill, fly to the proper points, "monkey paw" the split sails, clear the ropes, which an instant before seemed inextricably foul, and in a very few minutes reduce the whole disaster to the dimensions of a common occurrence. "Now, you may call the watch," says the captain; and the reproved officer again takes charge of the deck. I need hardly say, that any young man of spirit ought rather to wear his hands to the bone in learning his duty, than to expose himself to such mortification as this.
Let us, however, suppose all the extra sails taken in without accident, and rolled up with as much haste as may be consistent with that good order which ought never to be relaxed under any degree of urgency. In fine weather, it is usual to place the studding-sails in the rigging, with all their gear bent, in readiness to be whipped up to the yard-arm at a moment's warning; but when a breeze such as we are now considering is on the rise, it is thought best to unbend the tacks and haulyards, and to stow the sails in some convenient place, either on the booms, between the boats, or in the hammock-nettings. For the same reason, the small sails are sent on deck, together with as much top hamper as can readily be moved. These things are scarcely bundled up and lifted out of the way before the long-expected order to reef topsails is smartly given out, and crowds of men are seen skipping up the tight weather-rigging, with a merry kind of alacrity, which always makes a captain feel grateful to the fellows—I do not well know why; for, as there is then no real danger, there seems nothing particularly praiseworthy in this common-place exertion. Perhaps the consciousness that a storm is coming on, during which every nerve on board may be strained, makes the captain see with pleasure a show of activity which, under other circumstances, may be turned to trials of the utmost hardihood and daring.
Be this as it may, the yards come sliding down the well-greased masts; the men lie out to the right and left, grasp the tumultuous canvas, drag out the earings, and tie the points, with as perfect deliberation as if it were a calm, only taking double pains to see that all is right and tight, and the reef-band straight along the yard. The order has been given to take in the second and third reefs only; but the men linger at their posts, expecting the further work which they know is necessary. The captain of the top, instead of moving in, continues to sit astride the spar, dangling his legs under the weather yard-arm with the end of the close reef-earing in his hand, quite as much at his ease as any well-washed sea-bird that ever screamed defiance to a pitiless south-wester.
Johnny's anticipations prove right, for the anxious commander, after gazing twice or thrice to windward, again consulting his barometer, looking six or eight times at his watch in as many minutes, to learn how many hours of daylight are yet above the horizon, and perhaps also stealing a professional opinion from his first lieutenant, an officer probably of much more technical experience than himself, decides upon close-reefing. If he be a man of sense, and wishes the work to be done quickly and well, he must not now hesitate about starting the topsail sheets, and it will certainly be all the better if one or both the clew-lines be likewise hauled close up.
The mainsail is now to be taken in; and as the method of performing this evolution has long been a subject of hot controversy at sea, I take the opportunity of saying, that Falconer's couplet,—
"For he who strives the tempest to disarmWill never first embrail the lee yard-arm,"
"For he who strives the tempest to disarmWill never first embrail the lee yard-arm,"
has, in my opinion, done a world of mischief, and split many thousands of sails.
I, at least, plead guilty to having been sadly misled by this authority for many years, since it was only in the last ship I commanded that I learned the true way to take in the mainsail when it blows hard. The best practice certainly is, to man both buntlines and the lee leechline well, and then to haul the LEE clew-garnet close up, before starting the tack or slacking the bowline. By attending to these directions, the spar is not only instantaneously relieved, but the leeward half of the sail walks sweetly and quietly up to the yard, without giving a single flap. After which the weather-clew comes up almost of itself, and without risk or trouble.
Meanwhile the ship is spinning along very nearly at the same rate as at first, though two-thirds of the canvas have been taken off her. These variations in speed are odd enough, and, at times, not easily accounted for. When the breeze first comes on, all sail set, and the water quite smooth, the ship can be steered on a straight course without any difficulty, and she really seems to fly. When the log is hove, it is discovered, we shall suppose, that she is going eleven knots. Well, the wind increases, and in come the studding-sails; but as the water is still smooth, the single-reefed topsails and top-gallant-sails may be carried, though it is evident the ship is rather over-pressed, or, at all events, not another stitch of sail could be set.
"Heave the log again, and see what she goes now!" says the officer. "How much?"
"Eleven knots and a-half, sir," replies the middy of the watch.
Presently the sea rises, the masts bend, the ship begins to stagger along, groaning and creaking in every joint, under the severe pressure. The topsails are close-reefed to meet the increased wind; but still, as before, she is under quite as much canvas as she can possibly bear.
"Heave the log now!" again says the officer. "Ten knots!" reports the middy.
By-and-bye the courses are reefed, and before dark the mainsail is rolled up, the fore and mizen topsails handed, and the top-gallant yards sent on deck. The sea has now risen to a disagreeable height, and the steering, in spite of every care, becomes wilder and much more difficult; and as the ship forges into the breast of the waves, or rises with a surge not much less startling, her way seems deadened for the moment, till she bounds up again on the top of the sea, to woo, as it were, the embraces of the rattling gale. The storm is not slow to meet this rude invitation; while, if the ropes, sails, and masts, be all wet, as they generally are in such a breeze, it is difficult to conceive any tones more gruff and unsentimental than the sounds of this boisterous courtship.
In line-of-battle ships, and even in frigates, the close-reefed main-topsail and foresail may be carried, for a very long time, when going nearly before the wind; and indeed it is the best seamanship to crack on her; for when the gale rises to its highest pitch, and the seas follow in great height, they are apt to curl fairly on board, and play fine pranks along the decks, even if the violence of the blow on the quarter do not broach the ship to, that is, twist her head round towards the wind in such a way that the next sea shall break over her gangway, and in all probability sweep away the masts. In small vessels it becomes a most anxious period of the gale when the sea has got up so much that it is difficult to steer steadily, and when the wind blows so strong that enough sail cannot be carried to keep the ship sufficiently ahead of the waves, except at the risk of tearing the masts away. When the requisite degree of speed cannot be secured, the inevitable consequence, sooner or later, is, that a monstrous pea-green solid sea walks most unceremoniously on board, over the taffrail, and dashes along the decks like those huge debacles, of which some geologists so confidently point out the traces on the earth's surface.
I never happened actually to witness a catastrophe of this kind on the great scale, though I have seen one or two smartish gales in my time. Indeed the most serious evils I recollect to have been present at occurred on board the Volage, on the very passage to India which I am now describing. The following are the words in which these incidents are noticed in my journal:—
"On the 13th of July, off the Cape of Good Hope, in the midst of a heavy winter's gale, our worthy passenger, Sir Evan Nepean, governor of Bombay, was thrown down the ladder, by the violent rolling of the ship; and another gentleman, the Baron Tuyll, the best-natured and deservedly popular passenger I ever saw afloat, was very nearly washed out of his cot by a sea which broke into the stern windows of the captain's cabin."
I have often enough been close to wars and rumours of wars, but was never in a regular sea-fight; and though I have also witnessed a few shipwrecks and disasters, I never was myself in much danger of what might be honestly called a lee shore; neither is it my good fortune to be able to recount, from personal knowledge, any scenes of hardship or suffering from hunger, cold, or any other misery. My whole professional life, in short, has been one of such comparative ease and security, that I cannot now remember ever going far beyond twenty-four hours without a good bellyful. Still I have often been forced to take a high degree of interest in formidable adventures of this kind, from their happening in fleets of which my own ship formed a part, or from these incidents including among the sufferers persons to whom I was attached.
In the year 1815, I accompanied a convoy of homeward-bound Indiamen from Ceylon, and a right merry part of the voyage it was while we ran down a couple of thousand miles of the south-east trade-wind; for these hospitable floating nabobs, the East India captains, seldom let a day pass without feasting one another; and we, their naval protectors, came in for no small share of the good things, for which we could make but a poor return. Along with our fleet, there sailed from Ceylon a large ship, hired as a transport by Government to bring home invalid soldiers. There were about 500 souls in her; of these a hundred were women, and more than a hundred children. I was accidentally led to take a particular interest in this ill-fated vessel, from the circumstance of there being four fine boys on board, sons of a military friend of mine at Point de Galle. I had become so well acquainted with the parents of these poor little fellows during my frequent visits to Ceylon, that one day, before sailing, I playfully offered to take a couple of the boys in my brig, the Victor, an eighteen-gun sloop of war; but as I could not accommodate the whole family, the parents, who were obliged to remain abroad, felt unwilling to separate the children, alas! and my offer was declined.
Off we all sailed, and reached the neighbourhood of the Cape without encountering anything in the way of an adventure; there, however, commenced the disasters of the unfortunate Arniston, as this transport was called. She had no chronometer on board; a most culpable and preposterous omission in the outfit of a ship destined for such a voyage. The master told me that he himself was not in circumstances to purchase so expensive an instrument, the cost of a good chronometer being at least fifty or sixty guineas, and that the owners considered the expense needless. He also stated that on his remonstrating still more, and urging upon these gentlemen that their property would be ten times more secure if he were furnished with the most approved means of taking good care of it, he was given to understand, that, if he did not choose to take the ship to sea without a chronometer, another captain could easily be found who would make no such new-fangled scruples. The poor master shrugged his shoulders, and said he would do his best; but having often rounded the Cape, he knew the difficulties of the navigation, when there was nothing but the dead reckoning to trust to.
During our passage from Ceylon, it was the practice every day, at one o'clock, for the Indiamen, as well as the men-of-war, to make signals showing the longitude of each ship by chronometer. Thus we had all an opportunity of comparing the going of our respective time-keepers, and thus, too, the master of the Arniston was enabled to learn his place so accurately, that if he had only kept company with his friends the Indiamen, each of whom was provided with at least four or five chronometers, the deficiency in his equipment might never have led to the dreadful catastrophe which speedily followed the loss of this assistance.
It was late in the month of May when we reached the tempestuous regions of the Cape; and we were not long there before a furious gale of wind from the westward dispersed the fleet, and set every one adrift upon his own resources. The poor Arniston was seen at sunset, on the day the gale commenced, with most of her sails split, but not otherwise in danger, for she had a good offing, and the wind was not blowing on shore. Three heavy gales followed in such quick succession during the next week, that not only the ordinary course, but the velocity of the current was changed, and instead of running, as it almost always does, to the westward, it set, on the days in question, to the south-eastward. According to the most moderate allowance for the current, all circumstances being taken into consideration, any navigator might fairly have supposed that, in the five days which elapsed from the 24th of May to the 28th inclusive, his ship would have been drifted to the westward by the current at least a hundred miles. Our chronometers, however, distinctly showed us that we had been carried, not, as usual, to the westward, but actually to the eastward, a distance of more than a hundred miles; so that, in less than a week, there occurred upwards of two hundred miles of error in the dead reckoning.
The master of the Arniston, doubtless, after making every allowance, according to the best authorities, and working by the most exact rules of navigation of which he could avail himself, naturally inferred that his ship was more than a hundred miles to the westward of the Cape, and he probably considered himself justified in bearing up before a south-easterly gale, and steering, as he had so much reason to suppose he was doing, straight for St. Helena.
It is very important to remark, in passing, to professional men, that no ship off the Cape, and under any circumstances, ought ever to bear up, without first heaving the deep sea-lead. If soundings are obtained on the Bank, it is a sure symptom that the ship is not sufficiently advanced to the westward to enable her to steer with safety to the north-north-westward for St. Helena. It is clear the ship in question must have omitted this precaution.
All that is known of this fatal shipwreck is simply that the Arniston, with a flowing sheet, and going nine knots, ran among the breakers in Struy's Bay, nearly a hundred miles to the eastward of the Cape. The masts went instantly by the board, and the sea, which broke completely over all, tore the ship to pieces in a few minutes; and out of her whole crew, passengers, women, and children, only half-a-dozen seamen reached the coast alive. All these could tell was, that they bore up and made all sail for St. Helena, judging themselves well round the Cape. This scanty information, however, was quite enough to establish the important fact that this valuable ship, and all the lives on board of her, were actually sacrificed to a piece of short-sighted economy. That they might have been saved, had she been supplied with the worst chronometer that was ever sent to sea, is also quite obvious. I am sure practical men will agree with me, that, in assuming sixty seconds a-day as the limit of the uncertainty of a watch's rate, I have taken a quantity four or five times greater than there was need for. Surely no time-keeper that was ever sold as such by any respectable watchmaker for more than thirty or forty guineas, has been found to go so outrageously ill as not to be depended upon for one week, within less than ten or fifteen seconds a-day. And as I have shown that a chronometer whose rate was uncertain, even to an extent five or six times as great as this, would have saved the Arniston, any further comment on such precious economy is needless.
Printer's Flower
SUGGESTIONS TOWARDS DIMINISHING THE NUMBER AND SEVERITY OF NAVAL PUNISHMENTS.
I trust that most of my brother-officers who have commanded ships can lay their hands upon their hearts and conscientiously declare they have never inflicted an unjust punishment. I can only confess with much sorrow, that I, unfortunately, am not of that number. But as mere regret on such occasions contributes nothing towards remedying the evils committed, I have long employed my thoughts in devising some plan which might lessen the number of punishments at sea, and thus, perhaps, save others from the remorse I have felt, while it might tend to relieve the service from the discredit of an improper degree of severity in its penal administration.
Before proceeding to the main point under consideration, the diminution of the number and the degree of punishments on board ship, I must entreat officers not to allow themselves to be misled by the very mischievous fallacy of supposing that any of the various substitutes which have yet been proposed for corporal punishment are one whit less severe than those so long established. It is well known to officers of experience that this powerful engine of discipline may be rendered not only the most effective, but essentially the most lenient, and when duly reported and checked, far more likely to contribute to the peace and comfort of the men themselves, than any of the specious but flimsy substitutes alluded to. Solitary confinement, for example, I take to be one of the most cruel, and, generally speaking, one of the most unjust of all punishments; for it is incapable of being correctly measured, and it almost always renders the offender worse. It prompts him, and gives him time to brood over revengeful purposes; it irritates him against his officers, and if long continued almost inevitably leads to insanity and suicide. All the beneficial effects of example, likewise, are necessarily lost; because the solitary culprit's sufferings, horrible though they no doubt are, never meet the eye of the rest of the crew, nor, indeed, can they ever be truly made known to them, while he himself, when he quits his cell, makes light of his punishment. But not one man in a thousand, even of our hardiest spirits, can maintain this air of indifference at the gangway. And although it must be admitted that a man, at such moments, can feel no great kindness to his officer, the transient nature of the punishment, compared to the prolonged misery of solitary confinement, leaves no time for discontent to rankle. I never once knew, nor ever heard of an instance in which a corporal punishment, administered calmly and with strict regard to justice and established usage, was followed by any permanent ill-will resting on the mind of a sailor, either towards his captain or towards the service.
It happened to me once, when in command of a ship in the Pacific Ocean, to have occasion to punish a very good seaman. The offence was in some degree a doubtful one, but, upon the whole, I felt it my duty to correct it rather sharply. On mature reflection, however, I began to suspect I had done wrong; and on joining the commander-in-chief, some weeks afterwards, I laid all the circumstances of the case before him, and begged him to tell me fairly what he thought. He examined the details minutely, cross-questioned me about them, and, after some deliberation, said, that although I had the letter of the law with me, I had acted hastily, which in this instance was acting unjustly; for had I waited a little, the true bearings of the case must, he thought, have made themselves apparent. This judgment of Sir Thomas Hardy squared but too well with my own feelings upon the matter, and doubled the shame I was already suffering under. From that hour to this, I have never ceased to catch with eagerness at any suggestion which I thought might contribute to save deserving men from a similar misfortune, and well-disposed officers from the fatal errors of precipitancy. A little incident has perhaps had its effect in quickening these speculative ideas into a practical shape.
Several years after the period alluded to, I happened to be sailing about Spithead in a gentleman's yacht, when a man-of-war's cutter came alongside. As no officer had been sent in the boat, the message was delivered by the coxswain, whom I did not recognize as an old shipmate till he came to me aft, took off his hat, and held out his hand. I then recollected the face of the seaman I had unjustly punished! To all appearance he had entirely forgotten the circumstance: but the commodore's words, "You ought to have let that man off," rang in my ears, and my heart smote me as I felt the honest fellow's grasp. "I shall never rest," I afterwards vowed to myself, "till I have succeeded in suggesting some regulations which, as far as possible, shall prevent other officers from falling into the same error."
It seems to be now generally admitted, by all who have attended to the subject, that ever since the period when it became the duty of captains to make periodical reports to the Admiralty of the corporal punishments inflicted, those punishments have gradually decreased. Meanwhile the discipline has gone on improving; and therefore it becomes a matter of much practical importance to investigate the true bearings of a measure by which such invaluable results have been brought about. It should never be forgotten, that there is an absolute necessity for maintaining the present strictness of our discipline, which is one of the most essential sources of naval success; and, next to the spirit of honour and patriotism which pervades the profession, it may be considered the very life-blood of that branch of our national strength. But there are two very different methods by which this vital object of exact discipline may be accomplished: one is the prevention, the other the punishment, of offences. Some officers have endeavoured to do away with corporal punishment altogether; and some, on the other hand, have had recourse to hardly anything else. The just union of the two systems will, I believe, in the end, perform the greatest public service, at the least cost of human suffering.[7]
Antecedent to June 1811, the date of the order by which officers in command of ships were required to send quarterly returns of punishments to the Admiralty, there was little or no restraint upon the despotic authority of the captain, as far as corporal punishments were concerned. And it must be in the recollection of every one who served in those days, that captains, not really cruel by nature, nor more intemperate than the ordinary run of men, were sometimes led, by the mere indulgence of unlimited and unscrutinised authority, to use a degree of severity not only out of proper measure with the crime, but, by reason of its questionable justice, hurtful to the discipline of the ships, and to the general character of the service. Such things may also possibly have happened even of late years; but certainly, they have been much less frequent; for although no Admiralty regulations can convert a hot-headed captain into a cool, experienced, or reflecting person, nevertheless, it does seem to be quite within the legitimate range of official power, to compel all intemperate officers, whether young or old, to behave, as far as their nature will allow, in the same manner as men of sense, feeling, and thorough knowledge of the service would act in like circumstances.
It is a rule, now very generally observed by the best authorities in the Navy, never to punish a man on the day the offence has been committed. And experience having shown the wisdom of this delay, there seems no reason why so simple a rule should not be established imperatively upon every captain without exception.
It is important, in discussing the subject of naval discipline, to recollect under what peculiar and trying circumstances the captain of a man-of-war is placed, and how much he stands in need not only of every assistance that can possibly be afforded to guide his judgment, but of every artificial check that can be devised to control his temper. As he is charged with the sole executive government of the community over which he presides, he is called upon to exercise many of the legislative, as well as the judicial functions of his little kingdom. Having made laws in the first instance, he has to act the part of a judge in the interpretation of those laws; while, in the very next instant, he may stand in the place of a jury to determine the facts of the case, and of a counsel to cross-question the witnesses. To this strange jumble of offices is finally added the fearful task of allotting the punishment, and seeing it carried into effect! If ever there was a situation in the world, therefore, requiring all the aids of deliberation, and especially of that sobriety of thought which a night's rest can alone bestow, it is surely in the case of a captain of a man-of-war. And if this rule has been found a good one, even by prudent and experienced officers, who, it appears, never trust themselves to punish a man without twenty-four hours' delay at least, how much more important might not such a regulation prove, if less discreet persons were compelled to adopt invariably a similar course of deliberation? Nor does it appear probable that, in the whole complicated range of the service, cases will often occur when its true interests may not be better answered by punishments inflicted after such delay, than if the reality or the semblance of passion, or even the slightest suspicion of anger, were allowed to interfere with the purity of naval justice. It is so difficult, indeed, to detach the appearance of vindictive warmth from punishments which are made to follow quickly after the offence, that in all such cases there is great danger incurred of inflicting much pain to little or no purpose.
In the first place, therefore, I consider it might be very advantageously established, by a positive order from the Admiralty, that one whole day, or twenty-four hours complete, should, in every instance, be allowed to elapse between the investigation of an offence, and the infliction of the punishment which it may be thought to deserve. The interval in question, to be of use, should take its date from the time the circumstances of the case have been inquired into by the captain himself. The reason of this limitation will be apparent, if it be recollected that the moment at which the officer's anger is likely to be the greatest, is when he first becomes acquainted with the details of the offender's misconduct.
In order still further to circumscribe the chances of passion interfering with the judgment, not only of the captain, but of the officer who makes the complaint, as well as the witnesses and other parties concerned, I think it should be directed, that all offences whatsoever are to be inquired into between nine o'clock in the morning and noon. This is perhaps the only period in the whole day perfectly free from suspicion as to the influence of those exciting causes which tend materially to warp the judgment, even of the wisest and best men. The ship's company take their dinner and grog at mid-day, and the officers dine soon after. To those who have witnessed in old times the investigation and punishment of offences immediately after the cabin dinner, the importance of this regulation will require no further argument. At any other period of the day, except that above specified, the irritation caused by fatigue, hunger, or repletion, is so apt to interfere with the temper, and consequently with the judgment, that it should never be chosen for so delicate an affair as an inquiry into details which may be followed by so dreadful a consequence as corporal punishment.
It is undoubtedly true, that the essential characteristics of naval discipline are, and ought to be, promptitude of action, and that vigorous kind of decision which leads to certainty of purpose at all times, and under all circumstances. But these very qualities are valueless, unless they are regulated by justice. Without this, a man-of-war would very soon become worse than useless to the country, besides being what a "slack ship" has been emphatically termed, "a perfect hell afloat!"
Independently of every other consideration, it is assuredly most desirable to establish throughout the fleet the conviction, that, although the punishment of flogging, which has prevailed for so long a time, cannot possibly be discontinued, it shall be exercised with a due regard to the offence, and without any added severity on personal grounds. It is difficult to estimate how essentially this conviction, if once fixed in the minds of the seamen, and guaranteed, as I think it might be, in a great measure, by a very simple Admiralty regulation, would contribute to extend the popularity of the naval service throughout the country.
There are some minor details, in addition to the above suggestions, which it may be useful to consider in connection with them. All punishments should take place between the hours of nine in the morning and noon, for the reasons hinted at above. If possible, also, not more than one day should be allowed to elapse after the inquiry; for, although there is always something like passion in a punishment which is too prompt, there may, on the other hand, frequently appear something akin to vindictiveness in one which has been delayed until the details of the offence are well-nigh forgotten. The captain should avoid pronouncing, either during or immediately after the investigation of an offence, any opinion on the case; much of its influence would be destroyed if the captain were to commit himself by threats made in the moment of greatest irritation; he might be apt to follow up, when cool, a threat made in anger, to show his consistency.
I could relate many instances of injustice arising from precipitancy in awarding punishment; but the following anecdotes, for the accuracy of which I can vouch, seem sufficient to arrest the attention to good purpose.
Two men-of-war happened to be cruising in company: one of them a line-of-battle ship, bearing an admiral's flag; the other a small frigate. One day, when they were sailing quite close to each other, the signal was made from the large to the small ship to chase in a particular direction, implying that a strange sail was seen in that quarter. The look-out man at the maintop mast-head of the frigate was instantly called down by the captain, and severely punished on the spot, for not having discovered and reported the stranger before the flag ship had made the signal to chase.
The unhappy sufferer, who was a very young hand, unaccustomed to be aloft, had merely taken his turn at the mast head with the rest of the ship's company, and could give no explanation of his apparent neglect. Before it was too late, however, the officer of the watch ventured to suggest to the captain, that possibly the difference of height between the masts of the two ships might have enabled the look-out man on board the admiral to discover the stranger, when it was physically impossible, owing to the curvature of the earth, that she could have been seen on board the frigate. No attention, however, was paid to this remark, and a punishment due only to crime, or to a manifest breach of discipline, was inflicted.
The very next day, the same officer, whose remonstrance had proved so ineffectual, saw the look-out man at the flag ship's mast-head again pointing out at a strange sail. The frigate chanced to be placed nearly in the direction indicated; consequently she must have been somewhat nearer to the stranger than the line-of-battle ship was. But the man stationed at the frigate's mast-head declared he could distinguish nothing of any stranger. Upon this the officer of the watch sent up the captain of the maintop, an experienced and quick-sighted seaman, who, having for some minutes looked in vain in every direction, asserted positively that there was nothing in sight from that elevation. It was thus rendered certain, or at all events highly probable, that the precipitate sentence of the day before had been unjust; for, under circumstances even less favourable, it appeared that the poor fellow could not by possibility have seen the stranger, for not first detecting which he was punished!
I must give the conclusion of this painful story in the words of my informant, the officer of the deck:—"I reported all this to the captain of the ship, and watched the effect. He seemed on the point of acknowledging that his heart smote him; but pride prevailed, and it was barely an ejaculation that escaped. So much for angry feelings getting the better of judgment!"
The following anecdote will help to relieve the disagreeable impression caused by the incident just related, without obliterating the salutary reflections which it seems calculated to trace on the mind of every well-disposed officer.
Three sailors, belonging to the watering-party of a man-of-war on a foreign station, were discovered by their officer to have strayed from the well at which the casks had been filled. These men, it appears, instead of assisting in rolling the heavy butts and puncheons across the sand, preferred indulging themselves in a glass of a most insidious tipple, called Mistela in Spanish, but very naturally "transmogrified" by the Jacks into Miss Taylor. The offenders being dragged out of the pulperia, were consigned, without inquiry, to the launch, though they had been absent only a few minutes, and were still fit enough for work. The officer of the boat, however, happening to be an iron-hearted disciplinarian, who overlooked nothing, and forgave no one, would not permit the men to rejoin the working party, or to touch a single cask; but when the boat returned to the ship, had the three offenders put in irons.
When these circumstances were reported to the captain in the course of the day, so much acrimony was imparted to his account by the officer, that the captain merely said, "I shall be glad if you will defer stating this matter more fully till to-morrow morning, after breakfast; take the night to think of it." Tomorrow came, and the particulars being again detailed, even more strongly and pointedly, by the officer, the captain likewise became irritated, and under the influence of feelings highly excited had almost ordered the men up for immediate punishment. Acting, however, upon a rule which he had for sometime laid down, never to chastise any one against whom he felt particularly displeased without at least twenty-four hours' delay, he desired the matter to stand over till the following morning.
In the meantime, the men in confinement, knowing that their offence was a very slight one, laid their heads together, and contrived, by the aid of the purser's steward, to pen a supplicatory epistle to the captain. This document was conveyed to its destination by his servant, a judicious fellow. Though it proved no easy matter to decipher the hieroglyphics, it appeared evident that there were extenuating circumstances which had not been brought forward. The only remark, however, which the captain made was, that the letter ought not to have been brought to him; and that his servant was quite out of order, in being accessory to any proceeding so irregular.
The steward took the hint, and recommended the prisoners to appeal to the complaining officer. Accordingly, next day, when the captain went on deck, that person came up and said,—
"I have received a strange letter, sir, from these three fellows whom I complained of yesterday; but what they say does not alter my opinion in the least."
"It does mine, however," observed the captain, after he had spelled through it, as if for the first time.
"Indeed, sir!" exclaimed the other; adding, "I hope you won't let them off."
"I tell you what it is," quietly remarked the captain, "I would much rather you let them off than that I should; for it strikes me, that all the useful ends of discipline will be much better served, and your hands, as well as mine, essentially strengthened, by your taking the initiative in this business instead of me. My advice to you, therefore, is, that when I go below you send for the men, and say to them you have read their statement, and that, although it does by no means excuse, it certainly explains, and so far extenuates, their offence, that you feel disposed to try what your influence with the captain can do to get them off altogether."
"I do not see the force of your reasoning," answered the offended officer; "nor can I conscientiously trifle with the service in the manner proposed. I thought at first, and I still think, that these men ought to be punished; and, as far as I am concerned, they certainly shall not escape."
"Well, well," cried the captain, "you will not, I hope, deny that I am the best judge of what is right and fitting to be done on board this ship; and I tell you again, that I consider the discipline will be better served by your being the mover in this case, than by my taking the affair, as you wish me to do, entirely out of your hands. Will you do as I suggest?"
"I beg your pardon, sir, but really I cannot, consistently with my sense of duty, adopt the course you propose. I think it right to insist, as far as I can with propriety, on these men being punished."
"Turn the hands up for punishment, then!" said the captain to the first lieutenant, who had been walking on the other side of the deck during this colloquy; "and let the three prisoners be brought on deck."
The gratings were soon rigged under the mizen-stay—the quarter-masters placed with their seizings on either side—the boatswain and his mates (with the terrible weapons of naval law barely concealed under their jackets) arranged themselves in a group round the mast—while the marines, with fixed bayonets and shoulder arms, formed across the quarter-deck; and the ship's company, standing in two double rows, lined the sides of the deck. Not the slightest sound could be heard; and a person coming on deck blindfolded might have thought the ship lay in dock, without a soul on board.
In the middle of the open space before the hatchway stood the three culprits, with their hats off, and their eyes cast down in hopeless despair; but, to all outward appearance, firm and unmoved.
When all was declared ready, the first lieutenant descended to the cabin, but returned again almost immediately, followed closely by the captain, in his cocked hat and sword, grasping in one hand the well-known roll of paper containing the articles of war, and in the other the master-at-arms' report of prisoners. Every head was uncovered at his appearance; and as he lifted his hat in answer to this salute, he laid it on the capstan, against which he leaned while reading the article under which the delinquents had fallen.
"Now," said he, addressing the three prisoners, "you have been found guilty of an offence against the good order and discipline of this ship, which cannot be permitted, and which must positively be put a stop to. Heretofore it has not occurred, and I trust this will be the last case. Do you admit that you deserve punishment?"
No answer.
"Have you anything to advance why you should not be punished?"
The fellows nodged one another, scraped the deck with their feet, fumbled with their hats and waist-bands, and muttered something about "a letter they had written to the officer what reported them."
"Letter!" exclaimed the captain; "let me see it."
The epistle being handed to the captain, he read it aloud to the assembled ship's company, who listened with all their ears. At the conclusion, he folded it up, and, turning to the officer, asked,—
"What have you to say to this?"
"Nothing, sir—nothing," was the obdurate reply.
"Well now, my lads," observed the captain to the crew, after a pause of several minutes, "I shall give you a chance. These fellows appear, by their own confession, to have done what they knew to be wrong; and accordingly, as you perceive, they have brought themselves close aboard of the gangway. It would serve them all perfectly right to give each of them a good sound punishment. But I am willing to hope, that if I forgive them on your account—that is to say, if I let them off in consideration of the good conduct of the ship's company, and in confidence of your all behaving well in future—they will be quite as much disposed to exert themselves to recover their characters, as if they had tasted the bitterness of the gangway: at all events, I'll try them and you for once. Pipe down!"
It is only necessary to state further, that for nearly a year afterwards there occurred no instance of drunkenness or neglect at the watering parties.
There is one other point of importance in this discussion, and as it seems to possess a considerable analogy in its bearing to the suggestions already thrown out, it may possibly have greater weight in conjunction with them than if it were brought forward alone. In every system of penal jurisprudence it seems to be of the first importance to let it be felt that the true degradation lies more in the crime itself, than in the expiatory punishment by which it is followed. Whenever this principle is not duly understood, punishments lose half their value, while they are often virtually augmented in severity. The object of all punishments is evidently to prevent the recurrence of offences, either by others or by the offender himself. But it is not, by any means, intended that he should not have a full and fair chance allowed him for a return to virtue. The very instant punishment is over, he should be allowed to start afresh for his character. If a man is never to have his offence or his chastisement forgotten, he can hardly be expected to set seriously about the re-establishment of his damaged reputation.
Neither ought it to be forgotten, that a man so circumstanced has really stronger claims on our sympathy, and is more entitled to our protection, than if he had never fallen under censure. He has, in some sort, if not entirely, expiated his offence by the severity of its consequences; and every generous-minded officer must feel that a poor seaman whom he has been compelled, by a sense of duty, to punish at the gangway, instead of being kept down, has need of some extra assistance to place him even on the footing he occupied before he committed any offence. If this be not granted him, it is a mere mockery to say that he has any fair chance for virtue.
It might, therefore, I think, be very usefully made imperative upon the captain, at some short period after a punishment has taken place (say on the next muster-day), and when the immediate irritation shall have gone off, to call the offender publicly forward, and in the presence of the whole ship's company give him to understand that, as he had now received the punishment which, according to the rules of the service, his offence merited, both the one and the other were, from that time forward, to be entirely forgotten; and that he was now fully at liberty to begin his course anew. I can assert, from ample experience, that the beneficial effects of this practice are very great.