Chapter XIII: Alfred a Sailor

"The expectation of the wicked shall perish."

IT is painful to turn from so pleasing a picture to one widely different. We must now go back, in imagination, two years, to the time when Alfred Haven turned from his mother's door and fled to a vessel which was lying in the harbor, where he shipped for a long voyage, under the name of Amos Harding. He found it necessary to adopt one with the same initials as his own, because so many of his clothes were marked A. H. These he had packed in a large carpet-bag and bundle, which, as he always disliked work, he easily persuaded a boy whom he found in the streets to carry to the wharf for a few pence. Though in his thirteenth year, he was so large and of so stout a frame that he might easily be mistaken for a boy much older. He determined to take advantage of this circumstance, and demand higher wages. For one of his age, he was already hardened in sin. Idleness and sloth had done their work; and all that had been lovely about the boy had long ago disappeared. With an unblushing countenance, and without the least scruple of conscience, he told his false tale,—that he was from the country, that he had always wanted to go to sea, but that the old folks objected. At last, when they found he was set upon going, they gave their consent to his making a trial of it for one voyage, hoping he would then settle down contentedly upon a farm.

"Have you been used to hard work?" asked the captain, looking with some suspicion at his soft, white hands.

Alfred laughed heartily, as he replied, "Haven't I though! What with being up in the morning foddering cattle, milking cows, then out in the field ploughing and harrowing, I've had a terrible hard time of it!"

The captain took one of Alfred's hand in his own. It was as white and soft as an infant's, and gave the lie direct to all he had been saying.

"Those hands have always been my misfortune," cried the boy, the slightest tinge of color being perceptible, as he saw the gentleman mistrusted him. "You see they're naturally small, and the old woman was kind of proud of 'em, and do what I would, she'd always make me wear gloves or mittens. The old man scolded and stormed about it, and said my hands were no better than his; and so that's why—"

"Well, you wont be compelled to wear gloves, now," said the captain, interrupting him; "the boatswain will soon cure you, my lad;" and there was a sly twinkle in his eye, which showed he was willing the youth should be thus cured.

Before he had been one day on the water, poor Amos, as he was called, became dreadfully sea-sick, and began to regret most heartily the hasty step he had taken. He lay down on the deck, feeling too utterly helpless to get into his berth. He thought he was going to die; and his disobedience to his parents, his unkindness to his only sister, his unruly conduct at school, his bad example to his schoolmates, came up in dreadful array before him, like so many witnesses, to send him to everlasting ruin. In his distress he cried aloud; but there was no one to soothe his pain, or even to sympathize with his grief;—no kind mother to hold his aching head, or administer medicine to relieve the deadly sickness which so awfully oppressed him;—no one to bind up his swollen, bleeding hands. The rough tars who saw him lying, pale and weeping, upon the deck, only laughed at his misery, or gave him a kick to arouse him, while they offered to give him a junk of salt pork.

The only one who showed him any kindness was the black cook, who brought him warm water in a small tin pot, and told him if he would drink it he would soon be relieved.

In three days he was as well as ever, in bodily health; but in morals he had sadly deteriorated, bad as he was before. He was now forced to work, and work hard. He was obliged to stand his watch like the older sailors; to go aloft, to reef and furl the sails, to slush or grease the masts, sweep and clear up decks, coil up rigging, pass the balls of spun-yarn, or otherwise assist the older sea-men.

Then when it was fair weather, and no particular work going forward, he was required to learn to draw and make knots in the spunyarn or ropes, to set the top-gallant sail, to reef or reduce a sail, to reeve the gear, or pass the end of a rope through a block or hole in the vessel, and to learn the names and uses of the ropes.

In addition to all this, if any man wanted help in his job, or there was any duty to be done aloft or about decks which did not require the strength or skill of a seaman, he was expected to start promptly, and do it without waiting to be called upon.

Poor Alfred! He looked back upon his school-life, which, except as an opportunity for some wicked sport, he had heretofore considered as in the highest degree irksome, as a life of bliss compared with what he now endured. "What a fool I was!" he repeated to himself many times in a day. But now there was no escape for him.

Then the contrast between the luxurious fare of his home and the vile rations, as he called them, of his mariner's life was, so disgusting to him that for a long time he could scarcely bring himself to eat at all. There his richly-cooked food was served in elegant china, cut glass, and splendid service of plate, while here his ration of salt beef, bean porridge and ship-bread, cooked for him at the galley, must be eaten from a small wooden tub called a kid, his tea or coffee from a tin pot. There were no tables, knives or forks in the forecastle, unless the latter were furnished by the sailor himself; and, as Alfred knew nothing of this necessity, he was obliged to get along as best he could.

The strict discipline on board ship he found almost intolerable. At sea, the time is marked by bells. At noon, eight strokes are made upon the bell, and from that time it is struck every half-hour, beginning at half-past twelve, which is one bell. One o'clock is two bells, half-past one three bells, and so on until four o'clock, which will be eight bells, when what is called the watch is out, a term used for dividing the time, and also for a division of a crew.

As soon as eight bells are struck, the officer of the watch on duty gives orders to call the watch below, who, if it is the night, are probably asleep. There is no opportunity for the boy to turn himself in bed and get a comfortable nap. As soon as he hears the sound, "Eight bells!" or the hour, "Do you hear, sleepers?" or something of that kind, he must turn out at once, in order that the other watch may go below.

While at school, Alfred had always been notorious for disorderly conduct during study hours. With entire disregard of the rules, he would whisper, whistle, pinch his companions, or do anything to draw their attention from their books.

On board ship no conversation was allowed while the men were performing their work,—certainly not in the presence of an officer. Occasionally, when two men were by themselves on deck, he had observed that a little low talk had not been noticed, unless it took their attention from their business.

On one occasion, when he and one of his messmates, that is, one who ate with him, were aloft, he began, to joke and laugh, for which he was immediately reprimanded; and, as he had never learned to be silent when reproved, he replied, in an insolent tone, "The other men talk, and why can't I?" For this disrespect of authority, he was condemned to forfeit half his next ration.

In working ship, when the men were at their stations, the same silence and decorum were enforced. But when the sailors were together on the forecastle, at night, and no work was going forward, considerable noise was allowed.

Smoking, singing, laughing, telling yarns, which means repeating long stories, made that part of the vessel quite lively. It was during these hours that Alfred had rapidly advanced in sin. He always put himself in the way of those who were noted for their profane and lewd conversation. Here he became skilled in every kind of impurity; so that his obscene talk was a wonder even to his wicked companions. But every week he grew more unhappy. There was not an hour in the day that he did not curse the captain, the crew, his own hard lot, and sometimes even his Maker. His hands were frightfully torn and blistered by the rigging; but whenever he complained, he only brought upon himself a hearty laugh, and the ever-recurring joke of the gloves. This had no other effect upon him than to curse himself for a fool, in not being able to invent a more plausible story. No thought of the sin of lying entered his mind. No sorrow at having violated the commands of God; nothing but regret that he had not told a more cunningly-devised tale.

The Dolphin, in which he sailed, was bound for Calcutta, and was to touch at some small islands for fresh provisions and water. Long before they reached this port, he had resolved to run away. He learned from the sailors that banannas and bread-fruit grew wild upon the islands, and that the natives passed their lives in idleness and ease. He pleased himself with the fancy that this was exactly the place for him.

Though the youngest on board ship, Alfred prided himself in being able to swear as roundly, or talk in as vulgar a strain, as the most degraded of his companions. They delighted to lead him on in sin, but secretly despised him for his easy adaptation to their vile habits. Whether he expressed too much interest in the fact that the vessel was to touch at the island, or whether the captain had seen enough of the lad to convince him that no confidence could be placed in his fidelity, certain it is, that both the first and second mates had orders to watch him closely while in port; and if he showed a design to leave the ship, to lock him up in the hold of the vessel.

Totally unsuspicious of this, Alfred asked leave to accompany some of the men along the shore in search of eggs. He was refused. His eyes flashed fire; and he muttered a dreadful oath, as he turned away.

"Give me leave to take him in hand!" exclaimed Mr. Bond, the second mate; "I'll soon break him of swearing at his officers."

"You're welcome to the dirty job," replied the first mate; "I don't relish such business."

So Alfred was delivered over to the tender mercies of a man whose dignity as an inferior in command had often been offended by the lad's insolence and disrespect, though, warned by his messmates, the boy had been careful to keep within certain limits, to escape his well-merited punishment.

The captain was on board another vessel, which was being loaded with palm oil and provisions, where he was to dine; and the first mate, with some of the crew, were just starting for an expedition to the island. The coast was, therefore, clear; and Mr. Bond ordered Harding, as he called him, to appear on deck.

The lad at first refused to obey. He was burning with rage and indignation that he was not allowed the same liberty as his messmates. He also began to fear that the vessel would sail again before he should have an opportunity to escape. While cherishing such feelings, he could not brook the idea of appearing on deck to answer to any charge which might be made against him.

"You'll not find me carrying such a message as that for you," said the sailor; "and, though I owe you no favors, yet I advise you to start at once, if you don't want to be shut up in the hold."

Alfred started at this; for his present life of labor and restraint had become intolerable to him; and, if confined while in port, there was an end of his chance to escape from it.

"How dare you have the impudence to swear at your officers?" began the mate, in an angry tone.

Alfred glanced at him from under his half-closed eyelids, and sullenly remained silent.

"Dogged, are you!" shouted the other, springing forward, and giving the sailor a cuff across his face.

At this insult, Alfred bounded forward like a tiger, and endeavored to catch Mr. Bond by the throat; but the other was more than a match for him; and, before the wicked fellow had come to his senses, his arms were confined, he was dragged along to the hatch-way, and pushed down into the hold of the vessel. Here he was left to reflect upon the consequences of his conduct, the mate meanwhile nursing his wrath to keep it warm until the arrival of the captain.

The whole affair was then related to him in an exaggerated form, the personal attack upon his life having aggravated the rage of his officer to the last degree.

The captain, who had from the first taken a dislike to the boy, gave orders to have him remain in confinement until the ship sailed, and to be kept on water-gruel.

Through the remainder of the voyage, Alfred showed that he considered himself a much abused and injured lad. He was so surly and ill-natured that he was disliked by the crew; and, though his tedious confinement had led him to beware of offending the officers, yet his manners showed that it was only fear which restrained him from offering them every species of insult.

He went regularly to work, and formed a plan by which he might deceive the captain and mates with regard to his intention of returning with them. He took advantage of various opportunities to ask the mate how long the Dolphin would remain in Calcutta before she would return to America,—whether she would sail directly for home, or go by the way of England. And one day, after having tried, by strict attention to his duties, to propitiate favor, he inquired of the captain whether he might not ship on the return voyage as a sailor, confessing that he was heartily sick of a seafaring life, and wanted to earn enough to buy decent clothes and return home.

The captain encouraged him to learn all that he could from the helmsman, and notice particularly the seamen in their work of mending the rigging, with the hope of promotion if he did well.

But all this time the wicked boy did not for a moment intend to return with the Dolphin, or even to go another voyage in any vessel. He fancied if he could but once be on shore, he should be able to find some employment far more congenial to his tastes; or rather that, in some unexplained way, he should be able to live without working at all. These questions were only to serve as a blind, to ward off any suspicion that he wished to desert, which he resolved to do the first opportunity.

Ascertaining from some of the crew the length of time which the ship usually remained in port, he calculated his chances of success to be greater if he remained in her until near her time of sailing. He listened with apparent indifference, but with real interest, to the sailors as they recounted their various plans for the disposal of their time, plans, many of them too revolting to mention.

At length the cheerful sound, "Land ahead! land, ho!" was heard; and both officers and crew began to prepare for the end of their voyage. Though there was often a tedious delay, on account of the dangerous sand-banks, in proceeding up the river to Calcutta, in the present case they were so fortunate as to make a quick passage.