Chapter IX: Miscellaneous 283 (6)

As soon as his sons were old enough they left the district, and ere long some of them were heard of in the metropolis of England, and had succeeded in carving out distinguished careers for themselves. Two of them gladdened the old man's heart by choosing the sea as a profession, but no discrimination in point of affection was ever shown, though when he heard the hoarse moaning of the wind on troubled nights, he never failed to put in a supplementary prayer for his two seafarers. He had passed through the dangers himself, and had a steadfast belief that close communion with God was a strong safeguard against disaster. The homecoming of these sailor lads, who frequently brought friends with them, was a great joy to the Burnsides, and also to those of the villagers with whom they associated. Both lads were very sailorly, and it was well known that they never failed to make things hum with mirth and mischief, as soon as they had taken their bearings and found the coast clear of "squires" and "parsons." It was a pretty sight to see their two sisters rush out of the house as soon as their brothers were seen in the distance crossing the long stretch of moor and run to meet and fondly greet them. This had been one of the fundamental points in their training, that they were to be affectionate to each other, and lengthened separation did not diminish the well instilled habit. But the joy of the young people's meeting was only second to that of seeing their reunion with their parents, and great were Mrs Burnside's bewildering exploits of cookery. The first night was generally spent in telling queer stories of their skippers, mates and shipmates, whilst the father sat smiling placidly and obviously living over again his youthful days when he also was a sailor lad relating the same kind of stories in the same old way. The girls asked all sorts of questions, and the merry babble was kept up until Mrs Burnside reminded her husband that it was long past the usual time for prayers, and that they had better postpone the narrative until the morrow. A chapter suitable for the occasion was given out, and they read verse and verse about until they reached the end of the lesson. Then they knelt round the table and listened to the tremulous tones of their father's prayer. When he had finished they all repeated after him the Lord's Prayer and then rose. At one of these reunited gatherings one of the brothers had been restless, and persisted in nudging his sisters and winking at them when his parent had reached his most impressive periods and was oblivious of everything but his communion with God. The scamp was taken aside by the younger sister, who was a strong-minded little damsel with fixed ideas, and she sharply reproved him for his irreverence; and the elder sister, who had a keen sense of humour as well as fixed opinions, was so thankful that the boys had been brought safely back to them, she commenced to make the most comical excuses for their erring brother's buoyant indiscretion. The young man's contrition was signified by his taking hold of his sisters, waltzing them round the room, and then proceeding to stand on his head and dangling his legs in the air. This threw them into fits of laughter, and though it was against the rules of the home, the joyous chatter was resumed and continued until long past the regulated time for going to bed. When I hear people ridiculing religion and its forms, I think of those simple days of village methodism with a throbbing of the heart.

There were coteries in this small out-of-the-way place as there are in large towns and cities, and perhaps the exclusiveness was even more pronounced there than in the larger centres. The fisher people were a class by themselves, with whom the squire's employes thought it beneath their dignity to be on regular visiting terms. They married and intermarried amongst themselves, while Mr Humbert's servants were a mixed class. Some had intellectual ambitions and rare musical talents, and others had not; and it was amongst the former that the Burnsides found something in common. Their home gathered up all the more cultured part of the population. But apart from that, every young and old person in the village was known to the others. The well was situated a good distance from the cottages, and the girls of the village generally had to carry the water to their homes either because there were no sons or because they were employed elsewhere; but if any of them were about, the lassie with the burden was always offered help, and rarely refused it. When the two young sailors came home they made a point of insisting on carrying water for any young girl they by chance saw at the fountain, hence they increased their popularity and were sought after for that reason as well as for the fact of their being rollicking sailors. In fact, it seemed as though the little circle were of one family. The day following the home-coming from any given voyage was spent in formally calling upon their friends, and in the evening all the young people gathered up at their home to have tea, and afterwards dancing, singing, talking, and all kinds of games. Of course the sailors were called upon to do some step-dancing, and so the happy days and evenings sped on until the time came to prepare to set off on a long voyage. Then for several days previous to their departure the house was full each afternoon of voluntary helpers, washing, making shirts, knitting stockings, and making all kinds of underclothing. Things were kept moving in such a lively way when these young seafarers were about, that a feeling of desolation depressed the whole village for many days after they had left it.

Yet amid all the simple charm of the people and the natural beauty of the place there came a period of sorrowing and grief. The motherless daughter of an official of the Lord of the Manor, a beautiful girl who was the idol of her family and loved by everybody, fell a victim to the villainy of her father's assistant to whom she was engaged to be married; he betrayed her and then left the village, and no one could trace his whereabouts. When her condition became apparent, her father alone failed to realize her true state until he received a note from his master to have her removed from his estate, and with brutal severity the squire insisted that she should never be allowed to stain the purity of his grounds by her presence again, nor could he permit any intercourse whatever between her and any of his servants either male or female, direct or indirect. The father was brokenhearted, and indeed the whole community were stricken with grief for her and for him. She was removed to a town a few miles away and then gave birth to a male child. The father in his thoughtless anger left her to the callous mercy of an inexperienced person, and through want of proper care consumption set in, and the shadow of doom swiftly encompassed her. A burning remorse was charring her to pieces. She craved the forgiveness of her parent, and longed to see the home she had been ruthlessly turned away from. This desire was intensified by a passion to feel the thrilling of the sea winds that came from the moaning ocean. What insufferable cruelty to refuse the appeal of a sweet girl who had been wronged, and who was passing from earth and would soon be put to rest in a grave within easy reach of the springy links and glossy sands where so many days of her joyous girlhood had been spent in innocent and jovial scenes! A last appeal was made to the hard old squire, who, to do him justice, believed he was an instrument in the hands of divine Providence to enforce the cultivation and carrying out of high ideals. Human fallibility was not sanctioned on his demesne outside his own personality or household. The poor, grief-stricken girl wrote to him hoping that her wishes might become known to his wife and touch her to have compassion, and her plan succeeded, for on receipt of her letter permission was given to have her brought home. Here is the simple, pleading request:

"SIR,--I ask you for pity's sake to forgive me and allow a poor
girl who is humbly and bitterly penitent, wrecked in body and soul,
to be taken from here to her father's home so that she may seek
forgiveness of him before she is called to appear before her God. I
have only a few weeks at the most left to me, and then I shall pass
from the scene of conflict and grief into that long sleep which
never endeth.

"I am, yours obediently,

"MARY ROUTLEDGE."

The day following the receipt of this letter Mary was brought home, and the good Mrs Humbert engaged a nurse to look after her. Mr Logan, the parson, was sent for, and he administered what he regarded as a passport into heaven. He pronounced a stern reproof, and then impressed on her the idea of the great sin she had committed, and in the good old ecclesiastical style admonished her to say her prayers and read her Bible night and morning, and if she did that there might yet be hope for pardon. The girl did not think the prescription comforting enough, so after a few days' misery she asked for Mr Burnside. She had heard him both pray and preach in days gone by, and the impressions made then came back to her vividly. On entering the little home he chatted with her in his accustomed cheery way, never even hinting at her great sorrow, and then he asked if she would like him to pray with her before he went. She said: "Oh, yes, that is one of the reasons I sent for you; and if you could make it convenient I would like you to come often." Mr Burnside acquiesced, and before leaving his little friend he joked with her judiciously until she laughed so heartily that a casual looker-on would have thought she had neither mental nor physical trouble, but as she said to him: "You make me forget all my affliction." "That is exactly what I should like to do," said her bright companion, "and I think we are making some progress."

His visits were always a joy to both of them, and after paying several she called out to him one day when he entered her room, "I have found God. I know now the plan of salvation that you have been so anxious for me to see, and though I deeply regret to leave you and all those who have been so considerately kind to me, I am anxious that my Master should claim me soon and take me to dwell amid the silent glory of a last long dream. I am now prepared to meet Him. My last dying request is very sacred. It touches me so keenly I feel some doubt as to whether I can approach it without giving you a mistaken thought of what I really do mean. It is this: may I ask you to give an eye to my child when I am gone, and should you detect that he is not being cared for, or trained properly, will you use your influence in having this done? Perhaps one of the lads (meaning his sons) when they get on will take an interest in him for the sake of his mother to whom they were so kind and gentle in other days. Ah, what memories of sweetness I have gathered up since I was laid aside; and these lines, which I committed to memory long ago, have sometimes come to me:

But 'tis done--all words are idle;
Words from me are vainer still;
But the thoughts we cannot bridle
Force their way without the will."

She then assured Mr Burnside that she was quite resigned. He listened to her gentle musings, only interjecting a word now and then in order that the current of thought should not be stranded. But his heart was full of grief, and when he stooped to kiss her brow and say "good-night" the tears were dropping from his eyes.

"Ah," said she, "I know the sorrow you have for me, and your distress pains me, but after all I am only passing to the shadows a few years before you, and when you come I shall see you." And then she whispered softly, "I should like, if it be possible and my boy lives, that his mother's shame be kept from him. You, I'm sure, will try to prevent this."

He promised that her dying injunction, so far as he could arrange it, would be strictly observed, and then he went out into the mystic night.

They did not commune together again, for the Omnipotent had willed that she should pass through the valley before the long beams of light had been drawn from the dawn. The little colony was cast into gloom, and neither the chilly, puritanic doctrine of the Lord of the Manor, nor the mechanical piety of his adjutant, the rector, could stay the anger that permeated even the dullest of the inhabitants, who believed that a crime had been committed in the name of righteousness. The indignation of the female portion of the Burnside family was well subdued, not because of any cantish false delicacy, but in order that their own lads might not be encouraged to say or do anything rash. They left the father to communicate the news of Mary Routledge's illness to them. He had prayed for her on the first night they were at home; this gave them the first intimation of the tragedy, but the ghastly character of it was learnt from outside, and they never either forgave or forgot the wicked perpetrators.

The hearts of the two sailors were sorely touched by the tale of suffering and treatment of the poor girl whom they were accustomed to regard in the light of a sister when they were boys at school, and though a few years of rough sea life had rubbed the finer edges off their early training, they still retained a strong affection for the girls who were their favourites, and as she was one of them, their affection and their grief for her was never concealed. The fulness of their pleasures had been marred by this great affliction, but as they would have made any sacrifice in order that their sympathy might be known to her, they steadfastly observed an attitude of conduct that well-nigh approached piety; and after she had been "put away" and their father told them of her last dying message, they resolved that if spared to reach a position, and her boy was alive, and those who had charge of him were agreeable that he should become a sailor, either one or the other would undertake his training. Meanwhile the child was left as a legacy to the grandfather, but incredible though it may appear, he was not allowed to bring it to the estate during the sanctified lifetime of Mr Humbert.

The young men had reached the limit of their period ashore; it was only fourteen days, but that was all that could be spared, as the vessels they were to sail in were nearly at the fitting-out stage. The night before they had to depart a tea-party was given by a distinguished old lady, who was known for her great kindness to needy people in the district, and to wayfarers who passed by her house. She owned a large adjoining estate, and managed it herself with consummate skill. She was very fond of the two lads, so that they were invited to the party, and, truth to say, it was really in their honour it was given. Nearly the whole of the young people round about were there, but the tragic death of their young friend prevented a full outburst of joyous revelry, though they arranged their mode of amusement to suit the occasion. The hostess was charming to everybody, but especially to the sailors. Her exhortations that they should be careful not to slip when they were climbing all over the rigging and yards, and to be sure not to get washed off the jib-boom, as she had heard of so many others being, and to keep ropes tied round them when the sea was coming aboard, so that they might not be washed overboard, were absurd and laughable, but tender. Of course the young men, in the true orthodox fashion of sailors, on being pressed by her and the young guests, male and female, told a few stories of their adventures that created both admiration and sensation; then by request they sang a few sea songs that were much appreciated. And when the regulation hour came for closing the proceedings the time had slipped away too quickly. A request was made to their hostess for an extension of time, and with a goodness that always characterized her it was granted for one hour longer, part of which was used by an appeal made by the sailor lads to be allowed to correspond with her two granddaughters, who were young ladies of prepossessing appearance. After some delicate negotiations and many assurances of honourable intentions, they were told that, provided their letters were confined to a history of their movements and their doings, and without any foolishness, they might write twice a voyage to the girls and to herself. "But," said she, "there must be no proposals of marriage until you have both reached the head of your profession." This condition was gratefully agreed to, and when the young men joined the party again there were many inquiries and many hints as to the nature of the conference with their hostess, but the secret was only divulged to the two who were directly interested, and then the jovial gathering formed themselves into a ring, sang "Auld lang syne," and added "Will they no come back again?" which was specially intended to apply to the sailors. These formalities having been completed, the young mariners proceeded to say their farewells, and kissed and cuddled with astonishing rapidity first one girl and then the others until all had shared the ebullition of their rugged endearment. The male portion of the assembly viewed this form of emphasizing good-bye with sheepish amazement. They would have been stupefied with shame if any one had seen them walking even with a girl, although the enterprising seafarers had done their best to assure them that it was the only true style of showing genuine goodwill.

Long before dawn the following morning the lads were tramping over a wild expanse of common towards a seaport, and they carried on their shoulders as fine a kit as ever went into a vessel's forecastle. All the things that had happened during their stay, especially the incidents of the last night, were talked of amongst the villagers for many a long day after the sailors had left the district and travelled to the southern hemisphere. Yes, and many an eloquent petition was sent up from the familiar cottage homes that knew them so well for their safe-keeping and speedy return. This phase of sailor life existed in the country places, and to some extent in the smaller seaport towns bordering on the country, in the middle of the last century. It is always pleasant to think of the innocent, robust enjoyment these better class seamen planned out for themselves, aided of course by their rural friends. They were sought after and loved by everybody. What balderdash has been spoken and written about poor Jack everlastingly misconducting himself! Assuredly the Christian virtues did not take complete hold of all of them, and no one will deny that a large percentage were wayward and took a lot of steering. But compare them with other classes of men, and I do not think they would take a second place.

Norman and Kenneth Burnside worked, saved, and studied very hard, and rapidly rose in their profession. They had no sooner got their extra master's certificates than they were offered and accepted the command of handsome square-rigged vessels employed in the Eastern trade, and both of them became famous for making quick passages. The old lady who had been their friend so long became impressed with the idea of their reaching great heights, and was quite frank in stating that she was proud to see the speedy advancement of two boys that had been reared within sight of her home. She indicated to some of her closest friends that she had no misgiving now about giving her granddaughters in marriage to the young sailors, and this interesting confession was made known to them by some unknown agent. They arrived in England within a month of each other, and were quietly married. The venerable lady settled a considerable sum on her granddaughters, and no lack of instructions were omitted as to its purpose. The sailors said it was very good of the old girl to do this for her young relatives, but they each reminded their wives that they did not marry them for money. After a brief holiday the brothers rejoined their respective ships, and sailed, one from Liverpool to Australia, and the other from London to Calcutta, and little did they expect when they parted that it would be nearly two decades before they were to meet again.

Many years after, two vessels were racing down the China seas, one of them a new barque heavily sparred and very crank, and the other a large, full-rigged ship. Both were rushed through the sea at great speed. The full-rigger, with Norman Burnside in command, drew ahead of the barque and lost sight of her in the darkness. Between ten and eleven at night the second officer was on the poop chatting with the captain; the sky was cloudless, not a speck to be seen, and the wind strong and steady; every stitch of canvas was set, when all of a sudden the captain ceased conversing with the officer, told him that a white squall was close upon them, and to call all hands to shorten sail. They had only got a portion of it in when the squall struck her, and everything had to be let fly. During the few minutes it lasted it was terrific; many of the sails were torn to shreds, the masts were heavily strained, and the vessel herself was well-nigh doomed. Nothing was seen or heard of the barque after that night, but the fears of those aboard the full-rigger were great lest trouble should have come to her. When they arrived in London an account was sent to them of the loss of their companion in the China Seas. The paragraph stated that the vessel was struck by a white squall, thrown on her beam ends and literally capsized; the captain was Norman's brother. He was on deck at the time and tried to get down into the cabin to rescue his wife, but the rush of water prevented him. She was drowned almost before his eyes, and her body went down with the vessel. Some of the crew who were aft managed with the assistance of the captain to get the gig disentangled from the wreck, but he refused to save himself and had to be dragged into the boat by force. Others of the crew clung to floating spars, and were either killed or drowned, and only one survived until succour came. The day following the casualty, those that took to the boat were picked up. A day later a passing vessel saw some wreckage ahead, and as they drew towards it they discovered a boy clinging to a spar which was being tossed about by the motion of the sea. The vessel was at once hove to and a boat went to his rescue. The only clothing he had on was a light flannel shirt and a pair of drawers. The poor little fellow had tried to lash himself to the spar with a piece of rope. When they got close to where he was his feeble voice whispered from it a few words of touching thanks; and then, as though a supernatural force had been given him, he said in a tone that seemed to have been flashed from another world: "It is too late. I am about to pass on to where my mother is. I feel my stomach is chafed through." His face, it was said, wore a spiritual air, and his eyes had an expression of quiet, resigned sadness. They cast off the rope that bound him to the spar, took him gently from it and placed his disembowelled body in the boat. His remains were sewn up in a hammock, heavy weights were put at his feet, and at the dead hour of the night the mourners, with uncovered heads bowed in hallowed manifestation of pity, listened to the harrowing words that came throbbing from the captain's lips as substituted for the written funeral service. When he had finished, orders were whispered to lower the body in silence down the side of the vessel, and then the waters covered him over. Many weeks elapsed before it was known that it was Mary Routledge's boy.

Nothing could exceed the genuine sympathy that was shown to the poor distracted Kenneth Burnside, but all attempts at consolation were received by him with a sad smile that conveyed the idea of an unhealing wound. He lived the life of a recluse and never went to sea again.

VII

FORECASTLE LIFE

The modern sailor can have no idea of the hardships and discomforts of his predecessors even up to thirty or forty years ago. Unless a person has lived with sailors in the forecastle as one of themselves and taken part in their daily life, no accurate conception can be formed of what their peculiarities and conditions of life were. It may be that they fluently cursed about the latter, and had some idea that they were being imposed upon; but posterity must ever remember that they bore their wrongs with heroism and with a steadfast belief in the superiority over those of other nationalities of their owners, their ships and themselves. Comparisons were never indulged in: they insisted that all things British took in the nature of things first place, and this child-like faith was never broken in spite of glaring, wicked callousness to their men's sufferings on the part of some employers and captains.

Their accommodation was in the extreme fore-end of the vessel, and the space allowed was low-roofed and cramped, frequently leaky and invariably dismal. Immediately abaft the forecastle ladder was the cable stage where hawsers, cable-chains, tar-barrels, tar-pots, tar-brushes, marline spikes, serving-mallets, cork-fenders, water-casks and other spare gear were stowed. The first impressions of smell to a person who had been reared in a pure atmosphere were deadly. I think I can feel all my first sensations even now. On each side of the space, hammocks were slung to hooks, or to eyebolts fastened into the beams, and on account of leaky decks the men were obliged to have oil-covers hung the full length of the hammock like a tent to keep the water from pouring on to them! There was great pride taken in the spotless cleanliness of these canvas sleeping cots. The rings that the lanyards and clews were attached to were neatly grafted, and the art of hanging with accuracy so that the occupant lay in perfect comfort without fear of being lurched out was often the cause of mutual criticism and heated controversy. It looks a very simple matter, but there is an art that has to be learned in slinging a hammock correctly. Alongside of them were the seamen's chests, with skilfully carved oak or mahogany cleats, grafted rope horseshoe handles, and turk's head at each side of the cleats. These were painted white to give variety and effect. The lid inside displayed a full-rigged clipper, barque, or brig, either under full sail with a peaceful blaze of blue sea, or under close-reefed topsails labouring in the wrath of a cyclone with a terrific turmoil. Underneath this work of art was the name of the person to whom the chest belonged, painted in block shaded letters, and the fate of many a crew has been traced by the washing ashore of a relic of this sort. All this was done by the sailor himself, and during the process of elaboration many a castle was built in the air and many a vow made that his conduct for evermore should be regulated by a strict adherence to righteous principles. There was great competition in this as in other things. The forecastle sides and the deck were whitewashed with lime, and the floor in fine weather, at sea as well as in port, was kept clean. The apprentices were made to take week and week about in scrubbing the floor every morning, and sweeping it after every meal. In well regulated vessels that sailed on long voyages, as soon as they got into the N.E. trade winds the crew settled down to a daily routine during the first hour or two of their watch below in the daytime, of making, mending and washing their clothes. Some never got beyond this, or making mats, but there were men who varied their pastime by carving models of vessels, making wood sails or rigging, and fitting them out in every detail. This work was done with great skill and neatness. Those that could read and were fond of it gave a share of their time to that. There were others who worked hard at learning navigation, their chest lids serving as a desk. It occasionally happened that some of the forecastle hands could neither read nor write, but if they were willing to learn there was always someone ready to teach them, who in the process of teaching learnt much that was useful to himself. A few months ago there died an old man whom I taught to read and write when he must have been over forty years of age. He was one of many skilled seamen of that day who were much sought after to command collier brigs during the winter months, notwithstanding they could not read, or write their own names even. This man never failed to make the quickest passages and voyages on record, and in the summer, without presuming on having been master, he would ship on a deep sea vessel as able seaman or cook. It was in the latter capacity that I first met him when I was an apprentice of fourteen. I was seated reading Sir Walter Scott's "Old Mortality," and laughing as heartily as a boy will at some of the sayings and doings of the Covenanters, when he asked what amused me. I told him, and he expressed a desire for me to read to him. I did so as well as I could, and when the time came for me to resume my duties and close the book, he said in a very sheepish way, "I wish I could read and write; I would make a fortune if I could." I immediately offered my services, and with a slight indication of sensitiveness he accepted them. It was a long, dreary process, but my pupil was so eager, especially after he got to know three letter words, I soon led him into figuring--addition and multiplication sums--and two years after starting him, he was learning from me what little navigation I was able to impart. He seemed to pick this up instinctively, which gave him a passionate desire to go to a navigation school, and in a short time he had made such rapid progress that the teacher thought he could pass the examination; and his opinion was confirmed by Ned going to Dundee and passing at the first attempt. He got a mate's berth in the summer, and went master in the winter, continuing to save money until he had accumulated sufficient to purchase a small ketch which he owned entirely himself. For some years he did well, then sold the little vessel and commenced business ashore. I had not heard of or seen him for many years, when one afternoon a friend of mine called at my office and intimated that my old friend was in the workhouse, and had desired him to call and inform me of it, feeling sure that I would not allow him to remain there. I asked my friend to have him taken out and put into respectable lodgings until I could get him some relief from a philanthropic institution, and the odd easy jobs I saw put in his way kept him comfortably. He often came to see me, and when I could spare the time I gratified the fine old fellow's wish by encouraging him to talk to me of those days that were such a joy to him. I believe he regarded himself, when aboard one of my vessels, in the light of a special guardian of my interests, and I think he must have assumed an air of superiority over others which was occasionally resented. At any rate, one morning on reaching the office I found him ready to receive me; he was well dressed, clean-shaven and looked all over like a captain of the old school. I saw he had a grievance, and he at once plunged into the object of his visit; complaining that one of the captains had treated him as none of the others would think of doing, and when I asked what he had said to the captain to cause his displeasure, he replied with energy and warmth that he had told him he would "go and see his betters who had known him before he (the captain) was born. And what do you think the impudent fellow said? He told me I might go to h--ll if I liked, and so I'm here to see whether _he's_ to boss me, or if I'm to take orders from you. He actually had the impudence to give me an order for my money on the office instead of paying me as the others did in cash!"

This was the only time he ever complained to me about the treatment he received from anyone. I was much amused, and humoured the old man into a good temper. He never quite forgave the insult that had been offered him, but went away satisfied that he had scored. Twelve months after this there were signs that the hard usage of his earlydays was breaking him up. He struggled on in the hope that his iron constitution would throw off the malady that held him in its grip, but ere long the suffering old hero passed away.

My brother once volunteered to teach another old illiterate, who shared his watch, to read and write. It was one of the most comical proceedings I ever witnessed, and when I reflect on it now I see a touch of pathos that fills me with remorse for the part I took in making fun of that fine seaman, who had been brought up in an atmosphere of heathenism, and was, in many ways, little better than a heathen himself. He stood six feet four inches, and had the frame of a giant; a large, well-formed head poised above a pair of broad shoulders; his face was strong and highly intellectual; his nose, mouth and full blue eyes indicated that he had sprung from a race of well-bred people who may have declined on their luck. Had his intellectual faculties been given a chance when young, he might have been great in any profession. As it was, he was merely a rough, uncouth man, but a well-trained and accomplished sailor. He had been trained in the hardest of all schools, that of the coasting trade, and he knew every swirl of the tide and every sandbank between St Abb's and Dungeness. He did not rise to be captain, though he frequently went as mate during the winter months. It was not until his ambition led him to a knowledge of the bigger world far beyond the continents of Europe that he determined to learn how to read and write. I am not sure whether he ever felt humiliated at having to seek the aid of a young man so much his junior and occupying a subordinate position to himself; if he did, I cannot recall having observed it. The owners' confidence in him must have been great. He was signed on the ship's articles as boatswain, but really he was intended to act as second mate, keeping the captain's watch and doing the ordinary duties of a second officer. The first intimation the captain had that his owner had sent such a strange personality was on the evening that the vessel was towed out to sea. The decks were in a condition of confusion, and this ardent officer was busying himself in getting them cleared up before dark. The master intimated to him that he was feeling very tired, and would like to lie down.

"You may go to bed, sir," said the officer, "and when you get there remember you have a better man on deck than yourself."

The captain stared at this extraordinary creature, and when he had recovered from his amazement at the unblushing audacity, he said:

"Sir, I wish to intimate to you that you are not aboard a collier brig, but a deep-water ship, and you are addressing a deep-water captain who has never been spoken to in such a strange way before."

"Good God, man!" said the irate second mate, "get away to your bunk, and don't stand there talking damned nonsense about what you call etiquette. I know nothing about that, but I'll take your ship along the coast for you, and I want you to know as well that I can handle a marline spike or a palm and needle with any of your South Spain dandies. You may go below, sir; I have not time to talk to you just now."

"Well, Joss," said the subdued captain, "I will admit I believe you are a better coasting navigator than myself"; and in the assurance that he was, the captain went below, and was not seen again until we got clear of the English Channel. The navigation was left in the hands of the mate and second mate. It was after reaching the north-east trade winds that the latter's elementary education began. The tutor could be seen any morning or afternoon watch below sitting on the forecastle floor working at the construction of a miniature full-rigged ship. His pupil sat beside him with the alphabet written on a slate, and as he advanced in knowledge, three letter, four letter and five letter words were given him, and it was when he arrived at this stage that the process became feverishly attractive and amusing. The following is something like how it appeared to those who were looking on:

"AND--and; FOUR--four," said the tutor, without lifting his eyes from his work.

"THEIR, what the h--ll's that, Jack?"

"Their," said John.

"THERE, that's a b---- jawbreaker, Jack?"

"There," said the tutor, and off he would go in his own peculiar way. Almost every word was introduced by a harmless swear, the droll thing being that my brother simply took it as a matter of course, and never laughed unless some unusually inventive oath combination was interjected; if the pupil confined himself to ordinary swearing, there was no interruption; he was allowed to rattle along in his own voluble way, letting fly vigorously at the inventor of "larnin'." The result was that Joss learned to read and write before the voyage was over. It is true there were few people outside the forecastle that could tell what it was all about, unless they studied very closely his eccentric pronunciation and the wild scrawl of his writing. He never went far enough to get even a second mate's certificate. He thought it an unnecessary waste of time, seeing that he intended to leave the sea as soon as he could attain a pilot's branch. This he succeeded in doing, and had a long and successful career; his fame as a pilot only equalled that which he bore when employed as a sailor. He lived to a good ripe age, and died in harness still adhering to the up-to-date belief that England was being imposed upon by "a set of b---- neckends (foreigners), who took the bread from the mouths of Englishmen." He is said to have saved and left a good deal of money, and this I can well believe, as even when a common sailor he lived far below his income. Joss, unlike most sailors, had not a note of music in his composition, but there were few professionals on the halls who could surpass him at step-dancing. I saw him dance the double-shuffle with a professional on one occasion in the Ratcliffe Highway. I think the place was called the "Gunboat," and he was there declared to be the champion. Joss considered it a part of a sailor-boy's training that he should learn to dance a hornpipe and other steps with facility, and he devoted a good share of his spare time to teaching recruits how to do it. Undoubtedly a good step-dance was a great acquisition on a long, dreary, ocean pilgrimage, and his performance always added to the amusement of a Saturday evening when a concert was organized. The songs were mostly comic, and were sung with an imitative touch of the professional dandy. Occasional lapses into sentimentality never failed to strike a penitent chord for some real or supposed sins that had been thoughtlessly committed. But the mood was merely of brief duration, and only required a comic interjection by someone to send the little community into prolonged gaiety. It was quite usual when they were in the mood to carry their revelry far into their watch below.

When the time came for the hand-spike to be thudded on the deck over their heads, and eight bells called them from slumber to duty, there were found some of whom it was said they would sleep with their heads in a bucket of water, and these were speedily brought to consciousness by the head of their hammocks being let fly by their less somnolent comrades. This was one of the jokes which often led to days of estrangement between the sleeper and the supposed culprit. It was always a mystery who committed the offence, as great caution was used to preserve secrecy. It was a wonder no necks were broken, notwithstanding the care taken to avoid injury in carrying out this mode of arousing the heavy sleeper. Many were undoubtedly hurt, but as there was a good deal of disgrace attached to sleeping on after being called, there was rarely open revolt or complaint made. Another method of dealing with hands who could not keep their eyes open when on watch was to reeve a rope through the scupper-hole, attach one end to the person, and the other to a coal basket, which was thrown overboard. If the vessel was travelling fast, the poor culprit was rudely awakened, and before he could extricate himself he was dragged into the lee scuppers. As that portion of the deck was usually flooded when the vessel had any speed on her, there were soon loud cries for mercy. When it was not prudent to adopt this plan, a bucket of water was thrown at the sleeper's head; this produced the idea of having to swim for it. I have often seen the culprit after an ablution of this character strike out on the deck until his hands or his head came in contact with something harder than either, and made consciousness revive.

But there were methods for dealing with the habit of sleeping on deck other than those, which were fraught with greater danger. I was serving on a vessel whose mate was in the habit of napping when on duty. It was arranged to stretch ropes across the deck about one or two feet from it, and about six feet apart. It was a dark, dirty night; the top of the sea was all alive with phosphorus, which made it difficult to make out lights. The mate slumbered peacefully, leaning against the weather topgallant bulwarks. The man on the look-out shouted: "A red light on the starboard bow!" The man at the wheel repeated it. The mate was awakened, and went straight into a panic.

"Where is the light?"

"On the lee bow," said the helmsman.

"I think it is green," he said.

"Yes," said the helmsman; "so do I."

"No, it is not green; it is bright," said the mate.

"What do you think?"

"I think the same as you, George," said the helmsman.

The mate proceeded to rush along the deck towards the bow; each rope tripped him up, and each fall caused him to see different-coloured lights. After a succession of somersaults, he arrived at the fore end of the vessel wide awake, but in a state of distraction. He called to the look-out man to point out the light he had reported, and a deep, sepulchral voice came from a tall figure robed in white, warning the officer of approaching disaster because of his neglect of duty. Suddenly a trumpet sounded, and in an instant the vision had disappeared, and in another two men stood at the bow. They each spoke to their officer, but he was speechless. At last he managed to jerk out:

"Did you see that figure?"

"No," said the men.

"Then," said he in great tribulation, "it is an apparition."

The ropes were removed, and when he made his way aft nothing interrupted his progress. What could it have been? His fear was terrific; he must have known that something like a joke had been practised upon him, but his superstition, together with the consciousness of having committed a criminal breach of duty, seized the imagination and made him desire to believe that a supernatural visitation had taken place. He was never known to sleep on deck again, and such was the shock to his nerves I am persuaded he did not do a great deal of sleeping below. Whether it was owing to this or not, the poor fellow never properly regained his equilibrium; and his judgement, never reliable before, became after this event a negative quantity. Long years afterwards he used to be chaffed about it, and stood it very badly. A few months since I chatted with one of the men who with myself took part in this plot. He still treasured it as a great diplomatic feat, and laughed immoderately at the recollection of the poor mate's troubles, and warmly complimented himself on the success of the enterprise, but added very seriously: "There is no knowing what might have happened had we all taken to napping. At the same time I am sure," said he, "this sharp lesson put _him_ off doing it again, and it may have saved our lives, though, poor man, he wasn't very much use when left to himself."

Many more experiences not identical but similar to those I have been relating were crammed into a long passage, which relieved the monotony of the stereotyped character of everyday life. Day after day, when the weather was fine, the same kind of work was carried on with unbroken regularity. In the morning at five-thirty the cook made coffee for the watch on deck, and at six they commenced to wash bulwarks, decks, etc. By eight o'clock this was finished. The watch who had to relieve them were knocked out at seven-thirty, had breakfast and came on deck at eight o'clock. The duties of these watches varied: If the rigging was being rattled down, the mate's watch did the fore, while the second mate's did the main and mizen; or if it were only the fore, main, or mizen that was being "rattled," the port side was done by the chief officer's men, and the starboard by the second officer's. There was great rivalry among the seamen who were selected to do this or any other skilled work, but only in regard to the quantity done and its neatness. At times, of course, there was a common understanding that a certain number of ratlines should be put on. This greatly depended on the treatment they were receiving. If it was good, no restriction was arranged, for each tried to excel the other, and this applied to every department of work. Some of the dodges to evade work may not be written here; but if it could be done it would reveal a phase of sea life that has never been put into print. If it were not that our conventions forbid offending the finer senses it might be written, and thereby show something more of the really comic side of Jack when he is on the rampage against constitutional government. There were occasions when the pride of the British tar was not abashed at being called a dockyard loafer, but these were rare.

In making a sea passage there was great care taken that no chafing was going on to the foots of the square sails, nor to the rigging, when the yards were braced up against it. Hence thrum and sword mats were constantly being made and laced on in order to obviate the possibility of a chafe wherever there was a nip. Then the sails had to be kept in repair. Some sailors were clever with the marline spike: could do all manner of neat things about the rigging, but they were of no use with the palm and needle; while there were others who could do anything with both. Some captains through vanity and ignorance believed it to be "classy" to keep the men of the afternoon watch below on deck with the rest, and the sailor who had to take the helm at 6 p.m. was sent to have tea at five-thirty; the others were kept at it until six. Then the apprentices had to clear up the decks and sweep them down with a hair brush. The accumulation of dirt when far away from the centre of mucky industries has always been a great mystery to seamen. Interminable allusions were made to the late Mr Edward Cocker, writer, arithmetician and engraver, as being the only person who could have solved the problem. The phrase "according" or "not according to Cocker" was constantly used in connection with matters that the scientist does not appear to have included in his works, or in any way concerned himself about. The custom of keeping men up doing their afternoon watch-below was common though not universal; in fact the shrewd, sensible captain never did it unless it was a necessity, and it was a rule in all well-regulated vessels to give Saturday afternoons when at sea (and even in port when it could be arranged) to the men, in order that they might do their washing and thereby prevent them doing it on Sundays, which day was reverently spent by those who could do so in reading and re-reading letters that had been sent to them from their friends at home.