Chapter 9

The desire to sail with this distinguished man seized me like a vice. I determined as soon as I was free (for I was at that time an apprentice) nothing would prevent me from asking him to allow me to serve as an able seaman in the vessel which now entirely belonged to him. In a few days after making the memorable speech at his church, the _Boadicea_ was sailing down Channel on her way to the Black Sea. Mrs Macvie was aboard. She nearly always accompanied her husband, and was a good English woman, to whom the captain owed much for her thrifty habits and sound judgement. All the officers and most of the crew had sailed continuously with him since he took command. Curly, who had served aboard a pirate schooner, became quite an institution. He was very popular, and so were his pirate stories when he could be persuaded to tell them. He had served Macvie as A. B., boatswain, and was now steward. They had been to Taganrog and loaded a cargo of tallow for London. A gentle levanter was wafting them through the Archipelago. When they got abreast of the north end of Zea Island they observed a brigantine coming romping up to them under a cloud of sail. In light winds the _Boadicea_ did not sail fast. The breakfast bell had been rung, and as the captain was passing into the companion, Curly, who was standing close to, intimated that the following vessel was a pirate ship, and that she would soon overhaul them if the wind did not strengthen. Curly was always addressed as "Johnny" by Mrs Macvie, who was very fond of him, and as "Jake" by her husband, with whom he was a great favourite. The lady observed the concerned manner of the captain, and requested him to confer with Johnny as to the method of resistance should the schooner run alongside and the pirates attempt to come aboard. "He knows all about their tricks, and what they like and what they don't; let us hear what he has to say, Archie," said Mrs Macvie. So forthwith Jake was called into their presence. This resourceful gentleman was quite elated at the prospect of having some fun, as he termed it. His recommendations were of a very painful and drastic character. He talked of putting them into practice in a cool, frosty-blooded way which caused the lady and her husband to shudder. "It is too dreadful, Johnny," remarked Mrs Macvie; "surely what you say has never been resorted to, even to defeat the objects of pirates?"

"I don't suppose it has," said the sanguinary John; "but if you wish to save your property and the lives of yourselves and your crew, you will have to stick at nothing. My advice is, do your best to show them a clean pair of heels. If you get plenty of wind in the narrows you will easily do it; but be prepared for the worst. This is my plan: have everything that will hold in, filled with boiling water, boiling oil, and boiling pitch; have the old muskets ready for firing. If they ask you to shorten sail, don't do so. They will then run alongside, and as soon as they put their hands on the rail, blind them with boiling liquid. Then shoot with the rifles, and they won't want much telling to go away."

The chase was long and exciting. Sometimes the pirate vessel was very nearly within gun range, then the breeze would strengthen and she would fall astern. This alternate gaining and losing continued all day, until the sun went down behind the mountains far away to the north of them, and seemed to carry with it the breeze on which they had to depend for their safety. The chasing vessel gathered way as soon as the wind fell light, and the people of the _Boadicea_ saw that all hope of avoiding a fight must be discounted. Curly advised having it before darkness came on, but there was no need to wish for this as the stern inevitable had come. The pirates had almost within their grasp their expected prize, but were doomed to meet with a terrible penalty. They put their craft alongside, and about a score of men made a jump for the rail, when the intrepid Jake, who had full charge of the plan of defence and attack, shouted: "Now boys, pour it on them smartly!" and in an instant the pirates were an agonized rabble. Some of them jumped into the sea; others fell back on to their own vessel; two got on to the _Boadicea's_ deck, but were promptly put over the side. Boiling oil and pitch as well as boiling water were thrown aboard the schooner, so that even those who did not attempt a boarding did not escape the awful consequences of their piratical invasion. As soon as Captain Macvie saw that the punishment had been so great that they would more than probably never fight again, he tried to steer clear, but found the braces and other ropes had become entangled with the foreyard, which broke, and then the vessels separated. The stillness of the night was made a horror by the piteous moans that floated over the level sea, and excited the sympathy of the men who were compelled to inflict the suffering in order to preserve their own safety. They felt an instinctive desire to launch a boat and go to the succour of their victims. Curly, who knew the desperate character of these fearful men, advised his shipmates to have neither remorse nor pity. He assured them that the lesson given to the miscreants would not prevent those who might recover or those who had received no injury from taking to their trade with the same thievish and murderous zeal as they had practised heretofore.

"Do not talk of your conscience when you think of these devils," said he, "for, believe me, theirs are frozen, and all they want is a new crew and fresh opportunity, and they won't mince matters with us or any other ship's company. There is one thing, they won't be deceived in a hurry into the belief that they have a soft thing on because no apparent resistance is made; they will try to do some shooting first. They won't forget the effects of boiling oil and pitch. But let us cease chattering about them and get our rigging and sails repaired. We may need to have everything staunch and strong, as the sky is threatening mischief."

It took the crew four hours to repair the damage, and as they did so the wail of the suffering wretches became fainter and fainter, until it had faded away into space, or it may be that their hearts had ceased to throb. After things were settled down and the vessel was slashing through a passage which leads into the Mediterranean Sea with a fresh easterly wind, the faithful steward, who had provided a substantial meal for the captain and officers, was informed by the former that he and his crew were indebted to him for the ghastly achievements of the day. "But Jake, my boy, I almost wish we hadn't done it."

"Very well, then," said the blunt sailor with obvious indignation; "you'd better go back and apologize, but you must not expect me to join in the silly chorus. I suppose you are thinking of 'blessed are the peacemakers' again? If you are, then I want to remind you that these fellows were my compulsory pals once on a time, and I found that this was no part of their religion."

Mrs Macvie interposed that Johnny was right, and that they undoubtedly owed their lives to his genius.

"We had no intention of killing them or pillaging their ship, and they had both of these designs on us," said the logical lady, "so that we were justified in saving ourselves by the means which I fear have proved so fatal to them."

The steward was henceforth looked upon with great devotion, so much so that Mrs Macvie induced her husband to include him as one of the legatees in his will.

For many years after this episode the _Boadicea_ continued her trading. Captain Macvie made a great deal of money and then retired in favour of a younger man who was destined to have a short career as commander, for, on the second voyage from the Brazils, and almost within sight of his own home, his vessel was driven ashore by a hurricane and all hands were drowned. A few days later the weather was fine enough to allow fishermen to put to sea, and on rounding a rugged point on the coast some of them heard the piteous howling of a dog. They made towards it, and found it had taken shelter on the arm of a steep cliff. It was taken from its perilous position with great difficulty. A brass collar bearing the name of the ship and the owner suggested that it was the only survivor of the shipwreck. Poor Curly's body was discovered on the same day on a patch of yellow sand inside a cave. It was taken to a fisherman's hut, and round his neck was found a gold locket with four little portraits. Mr and Mrs Macvie were the idolised of one case, and his own wife and little girl were in the other. His body was put in the ground with reverence. Soon afterwards a cheque for five hundred pounds was received by his widow.

Mr Macvie and his wife lived to a ripe age in a very unpretentious way. Years later I came across my old commander and owner seated outside a small cottage which faced the sea in a remote part of Northumberland. The common in front of him was ablaze with shining flowers, and the sweet song of the lark swelled in the air. A sad, pensive look hallowed his comely face, which made me hesitate to interrupt the reverie; but he realized my presence and asked me to share his seat. He began to tell me that his mind was reviving some of his early experiences at sea.

"Ah!" said he, "I was thinking what a terrible end Curly and the old vessel came to. Poor Jake, he was a fine, swaggering fellow; a smart sailor, and as brave as a Turkish Bashi-Bazouk. He was very wayward at times, but always faithful as a mastiff dog to me. His apparent disregard for breaking the Sabbath grieved me, and when I rebuked him for it he frequently took me in a sort of humorous way as though it were a good joke to talk to him of religion. But he had periods of despondency and remorse which brought out visions of spiritual life. He would speak of death coming to take him from his wife and little girl in the most piteous way, and then I had to say to him, 'Do not be so irreverent to your Creator. Think of His imperishable goodness in saving you and me from the abysses that have so often confronted us. Think of those piratical throat-cutters whom He assisted us in vanquishing, and remember when God wants to take you He will take you.' I often quoted to him these words: 'I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord which made heaven and earth. He will not suffer thy foot to be moved: He that keepeth thee will not slumber.' I do hope he remembered to say, when the hurricane woke out of the sky and was bearing them to destruction, 'Into Thine hand I commend my spirit: Thou hast redeemed me, O Lord God of Truth.'"

"I never realized the intensity of your attachment to him, Captain Macvie," I interjected.

"Yes, it was very great," he soliloquised, "and the memory of his long association with me and the perilous life that he led and the horror of the tragic finish has caused my mind to revert to an occasion which nearly ended in the same way. We were caught by a heavy southerly gale when off Candia. I carried sail until she nearly jumped her masts over the side and herself out of water. We were then carrying the double reefed topsails, reefed courses, inner jib, fore and main topmast staysail, but the gale had so increased I gave orders to close-reef the topsails and furl the mainsail. I thought it better to run no further risk of dismasting her, as there was always a chance so long as they were kept standing. All hands were up reefing the main topsail and I had the wheel. I saw the black shadow of the mountains in the darkness towering far above our heads, and we seemed to be amongst the broken water to leeward. Every moment I expected her to strike and send us to our doom. A simple thought of the last words of my mother about Jesus and the sea flashed into my mind. I lashed the wheel for a moment or two, went to the lee side, knelt down, and offered a fervent prayer to Almighty God. I asked Him, if it was His will to save us, to do it in His own way. I had no sooner taken hold of the wheel again than the sails were caught aback by the wind veering and coming with the force of a hurricane from the opposite direction. It rushed from the mountain tops as from a funnel. I called to the men to come down and turn the yards round smartly. I feared she would not back off quickly and that she might get stern way on and knock the stern in and founder. My voice failed to carry through the vast roar of the tempest, but the men knew as well as I did that a critical moment had come, so they made their way on deck; the yards were quickly trimmed and I ran her dead off the land. We had not run more than eight to ten miles to the south amid a mad conflict of broken sea that twisted and lashed at the vessel, when all of a sudden the old wind came back and the struggle with the opposing legions for mastery kept for a time the vessel in imminent peril. Ultimately the southerly force prevailed, but fortunately it blew itself out in a few hours, and we sailed into fine weather. Never was a vessel so near destruction without being destroyed, and never were human lives so near passing from time into eternity. Even the most wayward of my crew attributed our safety to the pity of God, and they thanked Him with the usual condescension that sailors adopt even towards the Deity; but they never knew that I had addressed the Almighty on their behalf and on my own; and that is really how it comes that I am here to tell the tale."

V

SAILORS' OPINIONS OF NOTABLE PUBLIC MEN

The old-time sailors held strong opinions on law, i.e., sea law. The merits of military and naval notables and prominent politicians came within the limit of their strange discussions. Their naval heroes were Charlie Napier, Collingwood, Nelson and Hardy. They loved Napier best of all because he dared to be kind to his men and fight their battles for them against the authorities; they were never quite sure whether to give the weight of their respect on the side of Collingwood or Nelson; but as the latter came to grief at Trafalgar, he was generally given the benefit of any doubt as to superiority, and his devoted Hardy was regarded as a strong backer of the redoubtable national hero. They never got over the idea that poor Nelson was shot from the maintop by some of his own men and not by the French sharpshooters. It was a point that could never be cleared up to their satisfaction, hence the impression that his sailors must have had some grudge against him was very prevalent. His association with the King and Queen of the two Sicilies was said to have gone a long way towards giving him a swelled head, and in truth it was no mean distinction to be on terms of friendship with a daughter of Maria Theresa and sister to Marie Antoinette. They believed that Nelson had been influenced by the king and queen when in a soft-headed mood to commit an act that can never be obliterated. It was not only cruel and heartless, but it had close resemblance to a crime. "They talk," said they, "of the murder by Napoleon of their duke (Duke d'Enghien), but was it not as bad of Nelson to have Commodore Francisco Caracciolo tried by a court martial composed of the prisoner's enemies (Neapolitan officers) which sat only two hours aboard the _Faudroyant_ and found him guilty of rebellion against his sovereign?" He was ordered by Nelson to be hanged at the fore yardarm of the _Minerva_. The sight of this poor man dangling at the yardarm must have had a revolting impression on the minds of those who witnessed it, and the aversion of the public who merely heard of it must have been equally well founded. No wonder that it was handed down to subsequent generations of seamen, and caused them to say, as I have heard them that, "Nelson should have left the dirty, bloody business to his pal the King of the Sicilies and kept his own hands clean." They always spoke of his death as retribution. "If there isn't something in it," said they, superstitiously, "why was Collingwood and Hardy not hit?"

His relationship with Lady Hamilton was vigorously defended; both voluble and comic reasons were poured forth in support of his action. "Had she not on more than one occasion saved the fleet, and had she not rendered great service to the British Government by her clever tongue and alluring beauty, to say nothing of a supreme genius for intrigue?" They believed that she had sacrificed everything to serve her country, and now that Nelson had smashed the combined fleets of Spain and France, and lost his life through it, this precious government had no further need for her services, so threw her helpless on a callous, canting world. They built a monument for him, and left his poor Emma, whom he regarded in the light of a good spirit, to starve, though he had begged that she should be provided for. That was the view the sailors took of it. They believed that Nelson's infatuation for the lady was his affair and hers, and nobody else's; but be that as it may, there were very few seamen in the merchant service who did not warmly sympathize with this poor, wretched, woman's fate. Nelson was often made responsible for that which he might have nothing to do with, and sailors have not spared him for his supposed share in instituting that monstrous system of pressing honest, respectable men into a service that reeked with the odour of disgraceful bureaucratic cruelty. I know something of the legacy of prejudice which extended to bitter, vindictive recollection of these days of brainless despots. I was reared amid an eighteenth-century environment; both my grandfathers fought at the Battle of the Nile; both were taken by force from their vessels which were owned by themselves and their relatives. One of them rose to the position of sailing-master; the other was a junior officer; but such was the condition of this kidnapping service they could not hope to rise higher. Both these men's lives were broken, as hundreds of others' were. Was it any wonder that strong feelings of wrong were handed down and indiscriminately fastened on to whosoever held any prominent authority? That is why Nelson came in for his share of condemnation. Personally, I think he was credited with more than he deserved. I believe he thought so well of that branch of the service, and his patriotism was so strong, that he wondered why there was any necessity to institute press-gangs. I should imagine that he was often amazed that men did not join in droves. But had he gone to the right source for information he would soon have become disillusioned. These gangs of ruffians preferred seamen as their prey, but they did not discriminate very much. If they could not get a sailor they took whatever came to hand--the bigger the better. And so, while on one of their prowling expeditions, it came to pass that a gentleman called Willie Carr was seized, and at the point of the bayonet or musket made to embark aboard their boat. This person was a ship's blacksmith. His strength was abnormal, and his feats of swimming were a marvel. He was known to fame as the Hartley giant. Tradition has it that they put Willie in the bow of the boat, and after they had got a little way on their journey he asked them if they could all swim. This question excited great laughter; but the giant coolly placed his hands on each of the gunwales of the boat, set his knees in position, called out, "then sink or swim, you B----," and with one mighty wrench he severed both sides of planking from the stem. Willie swam ashore, and how many of the men were said to be drowned I do not remember, though I have given the main facts as I heard them scores of times in my boyhood days. This story is told by Mr Soulsby in his excellent little history of Blyth.

Their military champions were: the great Emperor of the French ("Bonny" as they familiarly called him). Next came "the martyr" Ney, and then Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington, and the Prussian General, Blücher. The relative merits of these great men were discussed sometimes with foaming partiality. Napoleon and Ney were their favourites. Their wrath against the allied Powers was unappeasable. How often have I heard them thunder out that Bonny would have wiped Wellington and his myrmidons off the field but for the treachery of Fouché, Talleyrand, and his own generals (Fouché in particular). Wellington's prayer for "night or Blücher" was always used in mitigation of what might be called an unpatriotic opinion. I have listened to the diatribes of these rugged critics who claimed for their hero that he imbued his soldiers with a high sense of honour in contrast to our barbarous disciplinary methods of flogging. The image of the great man, and the part Wellington played in having him banished to St Helena, never faded from their memories. They believed the Iron Duke to be the instigator and encourager of a shabby trick. It was a wonderful phenomenon that made these men talk so systematically of their magical enemy, and yet they never lost an opportunity of showing their national dislike for and superiority over the French people as a whole. So strong was this instinct that it permeated British crews from the captain to the cabin-boy. Of course there were at times violent differences of opinion, but as a rule the Emperor was singularly popular, and the aversion to his former subjects, especially civilians, was never disguised. They showed frequent hostility towards coal-heavers, dockers, sailors, fishermen, and sundry other grades of workmen with whom they came in contact, but that is not to say they were always successful in their attacks, though they invariably took the initiative. In the old days the average British tar could not solve the mystery as to what foreigners, and especially Frenchmen, were made for; even at the present time they put on a lordly air when they come in contact with people whom they regard as aliens. This attitude is adopted independent of all reason, and becomes quite infectious. I must have caught it early in life. I went to a French port on my first voyage to sea, and although I was a mere child of twelve and a half years, I became smitten with the forecastle belief that my country and countrymen had suffered irreparable mischief at the hands of the French nation. I therefore deemed it my duty to be avenged, so picked out a French youth apparently my senior by some years, reminded him of Trafalgar and Waterloo, and called him by the opprobrious name of Johnny Crapo, the meaning of which I did not understand. I was promptly made to run for my life before a sudden Napoleonic onslaught of about half-a-dozen small boys, who had congregated to see their friend demolish the avowed foe of their country.