The Dutchman
There is a great temptation to enlarge upon this theme, but it must be sternly suppressed, my object being solely to show how a scanty crew list adds to the miseries of the sailor. Not only so, but the food is so uniformly, unpardonably bad that British seamen will not put up with it a day longer than they can help. They get out of it the first opportunity that presents itself, and the Dutchman, as Jack impartially designates Germans and Scandinavians alike, comes in. In such vessels as I have been describing he is found in a proportion of at least 85 per cent. And not only as common seamen, but as officers, masters, mates, and tradesmen. In these ships are to be found the 180 captains, 512 mates, 637 boatswains, 1304 carpenters, 277 sailmakers, and 2321 cooks and stewards of foreign birth admittedly sailing in British vessels, according to the Registrar-General. A very potent reason for this is to be found in the peculiar conditions of discipline, or rather want of discipline, obtaining on board these ships. Bad food, short-handedness, and miserable quarters make British Jack, never too amenable to discipline, kick over the traces. When he does, which is not infrequently, what remedy has his superior officer? Practically none. Handcuffs are carried, but with an all too scanty crew already that coercive measure is barred. American methods of “booting” and “belaying-pin soup” are also out of the question, for Jack knows enough of the Merchant Shipping Act to make him a dangerous customer to assault. Personal violence towards a seaman on the high seas renders an officer liable to lose his certificate, even if he gets a present advantage in the sudden civility of the person assaulted. Again, the scanty number of officers carried in proportion to the crew is a powerful argument against the use of physical force. So dangerous a weapon ought never to be used at sea unless it is sure to be effectual. And yet, failing personal violence, there are no means by which an officer can enforce obedience to his orders. Refusal to obey orders, often accompanied by the foulest abuse, is one of the commonest of experiences at sea in British sailing ships, for which gross outrage the master’s only legal remedy is to note the offence in the official log, and on the ship’s arrival in port get a magistrate to sanction fining the offender a portion of his pay varying from two days’ to a month’s wages.
Between British seamen anxious to leave the sea and captains eager to ship Dutchmen, the miserable remnant of our countrymen manning “deep-water” ships steadily dwindles. Those that remain are mostly like Sterne’s starling, or else they are hopeful youngsters who, having served their time in some singly-owned hooker, and passed for second mate, sail before the mast in hope of picking up a berth abroad. They cannot live at home in idleness wearing away the dock roads looking for berths which are all filled up by those possessing influence of some kind with the owners, so they put in their time as A.B.s and live in hope. This, however, is not all. Not content with supplying our forecastles, the Dutchmen kindly furnish us with officers as well. I have been before the mast in a ship, the Orpheus of Greenock, where the chief mate was a Liverpool man, who, with a Welsh A.B. and myself, represented the entire British element on board. Her crew numbered twenty-four all told. Doubtless I shall hear that this was a marvellously exceptional case, but I beg to differ—it is all too common.