Chapter 14

Those who have relatives at sea can never estimate to what extent a well-written, cheery letter is appreciated, and the influence it has in keeping the recipient out of mischief and in helping him to form good habits. I cannot sufficiently urge the importance of never allowing a sailor, no matter what his rank or capacity may be, to feel that he is being neglected by those of his family whom he desires to believe have a strong affection for him. I do not urge this exclusively in the sailor's interest, but also in the interest of those whose duty it is to keep him well supplied with news of what is going on at home. I have seen most deplorable results from this thoughtless indifference. There is nothing the average sailor looks forward to so keenly during a passage as the receipt of letters from home, and the disappointment of not receiving any as soon as the vessel arrives has not infrequently been the cause of irreparable mischief. If the relatives of these men could only witness the eagerness with which the arrival of the captain or his agent is watched for each day at noon, in the hope that letters may have come for them, they would realize how necessary it is to attend regularly to this phase of domestic life, and how little the trouble is compared with the joy it gives. On the other hand, I think if those who do not carry out the behest could see the effect of their callousness, they might either be frightened or filled with remorse and pity. But they cannot see it, and the poor fellows are often too sensitive about showing what would appear to them as feminine weakness, and so the thing in some cases drifts on, each not knowing the ugly consequences that are being inflicted on the other, until the climax inevitably comes and it is found the wreck cannot be repaired. I have drawn an extreme case, but there are such cases, and it is because I know of them that I have made the picture emphatic. All manner of excuses are made, such as being a bad letter-writer, and having so much to attend to, and "he doesn't reply to my or our letters as he should." My reply to this nonsense is, never mind whether he reciprocates your extreme condescension or not. The communication with him should be kept going, and if letters are bright, chatty, and without a word of indiscreet reproach for any lack of attention on his part, depend upon it he will ultimately melt into penitence and become a self-accused rascal. Of course I have known many cases where unjustifiable cruelty has been shown by sailors in not writing and in not answering letters sent to them by their wives, mothers or sisters. They did not really mean to cause suffering. They merely drifted into a condition of recklessness which perhaps their environments predisposed them to without ever reflecting that they owed the same duty to their relatives as they invariably complained was not being done to themselves.

I am reminded of a beautiful instance of unwavering devotion to a poor, wayward fellow, who was engaged to serve in the far eastern trade for three years. At each port the vessel touched at on the way out, letters were sent home, and every mail took letters to him, so that when he arrived at the port of discharge quite a batch were received. He wrote regularly for some months, then his letters began to fall off, and at last ceased coming altogether. For two years nothing was heard of his whereabouts except that which was gathered in a mysterious reserved way at the owners' office, and during the whole of these agonizing months never a mail went without a letter for him, and never a word of reproach was uttered or written, though the heart of the little writer was throbbing with soreness. The shipping newspaper was scanned each day, and whenever she saw the vessel he had left home in reported, her hope revived almost to the point of gaiety. Could she have known that her husband had long since left the vessel whose name she watched so eagerly, and the sight of which filled her soul with strange emotion, she might have succumbed to the numbing intelligence. When the weather was fine she strolled to the white sandy beach that was only a few minutes' walk from her house, and there she would give herself up to the luxury of day-dreams. Her fancy was sometimes pleased by the thought that she could see the wake of the beautiful vessel as it ploughed through the peaceful ocean. She listened to the gurgle of the miniature waves until the sigh of the night wind came and reminded her it was time to go home. These occasions were made memorable by the use they were put to. Many a subject for a new essay that was to be sent over the seas found its text on the lonely stretch of sand. Sometimes a shrewd hint was dropped in by the way that his communications must have miscarried, and that there was a painful longing to see his handwriting once again. "I cannot imagine you wilfully or negligently ignoring me," said the writer, but she had a grave suspicion that she was being neglected, and a still graver suspicion that the cause thereof was not excessive sanctification.

After twenty-four months of roving and of silence, a letter came from him announcing that he was tired of staying away, and by the time the letter was received he would be on his way home. He acknowledged having received a number of letters, and then proceeded in a clumsy way to make it appear that he _had_ written, and many sanguinary descriptions as to how some people who were supposed to be concerned in the plot of withholding his letters had to meet their death at his hands. In due course he arrived home, but nothing could induce him to be drawn into a conversation about the missing correspondence. Time had made him more charitably disposed towards the mythical burglars of his precious documents, and no more threats were indulged in. The lady did not deem it wise to raise the question again, and seeing that nothing but harm could have arisen by doing it, I commend her for the wisdom of resisting the temptation of an inquiring mind. This woman's long-suffering, tactful endurance is an example of splendid magnanimity that might be emulated with advantage by those who may come under the devilish lash of similar treatment, and who may be prompted by the spirit of rebellion to make matters worse by indiscreet retaliation. The good woman won back the loyalty of her poor erring partner by her persistent gentleness and toleration.

The following is a portion of a letter I have come across, written many years ago, in which the writer's concern for the spiritual well-being of her sailor brother is very apparent. She knew that it was letters such as this that appealed to the susceptible seafarers. I have said it was their habit to read and re-read their letters every Sunday, especially if they were of a sentimental or religious character. Much of this letter is obliterated, as the person to whom it was addressed tumbled overboard with it in his pocket, and it has crumbled away:

"MY OWN DARLING BROTHER,--I cannot tell you all the joy I feel at being able to write to you in England again. It has seemed a long time while you have been away, and yet now, when you are nearly beside us again, it seems but as yesterday. This may arrive before you, but still it is happiness to think that your vessel's prow is turned homeward. Our love and prayers have travelled with you all the way, and I thank God that you are preserved thus far, and trust He will bring you safe to us all. I know you will be as glad as we are, and I know, too, that though it has pleased God to give you the blessing of that best love of all earthly love, yet you prize the old ties of home.

* * * * * *

"I think to cherish those who have loved him all his life is not the least of a man's duties, but I think where the love is, people don't think about the duty of it at all; it is given and received as a mutual blessing, for which the heart often rises up in silent thanksgiving. I trust, my dear, that you are keeping to your determination to live to God's glory. Don't be discouraged because of the difficulties of the way; the Bible, which I hope you study, says, 'Mighty is He that hath promised,' and the whole Book is full of promises of help to those who are in earnest, and you know if one is not in earnest even God cannot save us. We must do our part, and we must work out our own salvation. It is just and right that it should be so. The glories of heaven, the reward of dwelling for everlasting in an atmosphere of unspeakable purity, will be no reward to those who do not value purity and holiness. Those who do will strive for the reward with all their might, and when our weak and sinful nature overcomes the powers of evil within and without, He comes with His promised almighty help if we ask Him for it. How very tender the words of scripture are when speaking of God's children! He is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. God help you, my darling, to take this word to yourself.

"With devoted love from us all,

"Your loving

"SISTER."

It must not be taken for granted that the reasons I have enumerated were the only ones that influenced the sailor not to write. There were motives that may tax the credulity of the reader, but they existed, nevertheless. I have served in vessels myself where a large proportion of the crew would not trust the captain to post any letters for them owing to the habit of mean peculation that was commonly practised by some captains in those days of grossly overcharging postage and putting the proceeds into their own pockets. But that was not the only method of pilfering from the poor creatures whose wages ranged from £2 15s. to £3 10s. per month, according to the trade they were engaged in, and might have a wife and group of children depending on them. The captains were purveyors of tobacco, and sold it to the crew at profits that far exceeded the limits of decency. Many of them carried what were known as slop chests, which comprised every article of apparel the sailors were accustomed to wear and use: oilskins, sea-boots, suits of dongarees, jumpers, ducks, dark flannel drawers, stockings, mufflers, mittens, blue flannel shirts, fustian and pilot cloth trousers, soap, soda, needles and thread, worsted, knives, and any other thing that was worn or used and likely to be marketable. It will be readily understood that men who traded in this way were not particularly anxious to have a well-fit-out crew at the beginning of a voyage, nor did they repine if bad weather prevailed at the outset. The worse the weather, the barer the sailor's kit, the better the market for the captain's commodities. These slop-chest skippers were perfect terrors to the needy mariner, and many a physical punishment would be endured so that he might be saved the ruinous cost of having to buy from his covetous commander, who was not satisfied with a mere hundred per cent., but regulated his prices according to the severity of the weather and the demand that might be made for his goods. These human vultures carried on a nefarious trade on lines that would have put a Maltese Hebrew to shame. When the days were radiant with sunshine, and the sea made glassy with continuous calms, the shrewd sailors who wanted supplies would apply for them, expecting that they could be had at reduced prices under such circumstances, but the predatory vendor did not do business on these occasions; he waited until the poor devils were overcome and punished by the treacherous icy winds and the mad rush of the waves that tumbled over them and made their sufferings so acute that they were driven to ask their captains to supply them with clothing, and the prices charged were such as to justify the sailors regarding the said captains as the worst types of usurers. A common phrase of the sailors in referring to this class of man was that he would not hesitate to rob "Jesus Christ of his shoe-strings." I have heard these nautical clothiers boast of how they had worked the oracle so that the wretched men who served under them would be obliged to come and on their knees beg that they might be forgiven for not taking the articles when offered, and that they might have them now when they had seen their error. Of course only the wasters would put themselves in any such position. A captain who traded in this way had a right to cover himself for the risk he ran, but it was a wicked imposition to charge more than a reasonable profit for clothing, tobacco, or postages. In settling up at the end of a voyage, the overcharges were frequently contested, and I have known cases where a substantial reduction was enforced. The rate of exchange at which the advances to the crew abroad were worked was invariably one that realized a profit to the captain and caused grave suspicion that a petty theft was being committed. Captains used to brag that they made as much as their wages came to by the sales from their slop-chests and tobacco. Judging from the amount of trade done and prices charged, I can quite believe this.

One of the most mischievous customs of that period was that of giving grog to sailors on Saturday nights, and whenever sail had to be shortened or any extra work done, and many a drunkard was made thereby. What suffering, what untold misery has been wrought by this damnable custom! The lives that have been sacrificed, the property damaged, and vessels lost by having grog aboard, and by captain and officers imbibing it and serving it out to the others with too generous a hand, can never be estimated. Much of the calamity that has occurred, and does yet occur, at sea could and can be traced to its direct use, and the unutterable grief and ruin it has brought into many a fine sailor's home is an odious testimony to those who put temptation in their way and perhaps encourage the use of it for their own benefit. A poor lad whom I knew many years ago acquired the taste for drink aboard the vessel he served in. She was what is called by sailors a grand grog-ship. He was assisting to discharge cargo, and in the middle of the forenoon the bottle was passed round. Being a general favourite with everybody, especially with the steward, whom he was always ready to give assistance to in many little ways, he jokingly asked him for "a good second mate's nip," a phrase which means that the rum or other spirits had to be three fingers up from the bottom of the tumbler glass. It was never doubted that the steward gave him a good deal more than the regulation quantity, for he became very lively soon after. Just at the time grog was served, empty waggons ran short, and the crew were ordered to do odd jobs. The poor lad was sent to the fore topmast head to splice a new lanyard into the main royal stay. He had done this, and was setting the stay up when the marline spike must have slipped out of the hitch in the lanyard. Suddenly the song he was singing ceased; a jerky, nervous shout attracted attention to what had happened; then the hush of anguish seized the horror-stricken spectators who watched the tragedy, and soon all was over. He tumbled backwards, and the sails all being loosened to air them and the topsail yard at the mast head, he fell over it, broke his fall on the foreyard, clutched at the reef points of the foresail, and then tumbled headfirst into the jolly-boat which lay at the bow, and was smashed to pieces. When the body was taken out of the boat it was seen that the flesh of his hands had been torn off by the clutch he made at the reef points.

The crew of this vessel was supplied with alcohol with the specific object of getting them to work hard at the discharging of the cargo. In plain language the owners or masters gave no thought to the personal effect of the custom so long as it did not interfere with their material interests, but should their policy cause the man to imbibe on his own account and commit a breach of discipline, or to be temporarily absent from work, he was punished with shameful severity, and in this the master or owner was encouraged both by written and unwritten laws. No account was taken of how far the employer was responsible in having helped his employee to form habits by which the law was broken. The poor lad who lost his life might have done so anyhow; but the impression that has been fixed on my mind is that the cause of his tragic death lay at the door of those who gave him the second mate's nip.

The unrestrained appetite of the old sailing ship seamen for doing something ridiculous was a problem that even those closely associated with them could never solve. When their minds were bent towards a freak they plunged into it regardless of consequences. The more daring the adventure the more enjoyment they got out of it. On a memorable occasion long ago, several ships' crews went ashore in a foreign port on leave, and at a late hour they were returning aboard their respective ships. Some were half seas over, and others badly sprung, but all seem to have been smitten with the idea of reckless mischief. Sentries were stationed along the banks of a river that Byron has sung of. They were not supposed to allow any one to pass without a permit, and as the seamen were not in the temper to brook coercion of this kind, they came into conflict with each other. One of the sentries struck a sailor, who attempted to pass the line, with his bayonet. This was the beginning of a carnival of lawlessness. The tars were maddened by the attempt to slay their comrade, and a wild rush was made upon several of the soldiers. They were promptly overpowered, disarmed, and their muskets used in disarming their friends who were panic stricken by the vigorous onslaught, and soon succumbed to Jack's bellicose persuasiveness. It then became an easy task to carry out the impromptu plan of campaign of putting each soldier into his sentry-box and casting both him and the box into the running stream. The call for help was unavailing; none came, and soon no voices were heard, but the following day the funeral knell was sounded by the roar of the cannon from the gunboats, splashing shot into the river with the hope that the vibration would resurrect the bodies of the victims from their muddy tomb. Many of them were brought to the surface by this means.

Jack is said to have thought it a great joke, and it must be admitted there is a grim humour in the cool audacious method of disposing of the human obstacles which stood in his way. No argument, however eloquent, could convince them that a murderous act had been committed. Their idea was that no b----y foreigner had any right to question the good intentions of a British sailor or to intercept his perambulations either drunk or sober. Pageantry and armed force did not appeal to them, but a kind word and an expressed desire to escort them aboard their ship would have caused them to fall on the neck of even a foreign soldier in adoration. The thirst for joviality often led wayward sailors to crave for drink, and under its baneful influence they were easily wafted into a delirium of foolhardy devices that would never have entered the mind of the ordinary mortal.

A large barque was once in mid-ocean homeward bound, and was beating against strong head-winds under whole topsails, courses, lower staysails, and jib. It was the starboard watch on deck from eight p.m. until midnight. The captain had retired for the night and left the second mate in charge. His watch, with the exception of one man, was composed of as fine a brood of young athletes as ever ran aloft. They were on the most friendly terms with their officer, whose genial disposition led him to converse with them. I daresay he was attracted by their boisterous cordiality. Be that as it may, he either winked at or encouraged the successful negotiations that were devised to induce the steward to invade the grog locker, which was situated beneath the captain's bed, and bring from it the jar which contained whiskey. At first Jimmy the steward was obdurate.

"It cannot be done," said he, "without wakin' the aud man."

"What the devil's the good of you talking that nonsense, Jimmy?" said the persuasive orators; "why, you know he'd sleep with his head in a bucket of slush."

"Yes, but I'm feared he'll waken, and then there'll be an almighty row."

"Well," replied the tempters, "we always thought you a real shipmate, and as full of pluck as a pitman's badger. What's come over you, man; surely its not the same old Jimmy Dinsdale that had the courage to stand before Hennan and Tom Sayers? It's not as though you were not going to have a nip with us."

"Look here," said one of the enterprising coterie; "if you are feared to go, show me, and you bet I'll have the stuff on deck in a jiffy. If I can do it, surely _you_ can."

The form of dashing flattery, the appeals to his bravery and comradeship, and the prospect of himself partaking of the convivial cup, punctured Jimmy's will, and he fell. The coveted jar was brought on deck without arousing the captain, and the seamen insisted that they could not touch or taste till James himself had partaken; they would then have pleasure in drinking his health. This order of things was carried out, the second officer joining in by assuring his men that he "endorsed their complimentary remarks about the steward"; he was an ardent sportsman, said the condescending officer, "whose popularity was unequalled."

"Hear, hear," responded the breezy tars.