During the first half of the nineteenth century, American ships trading upon long voyages to China and India carried crews composed chiefly of Scandinavians—splendid sailormen who could do any kind of rigging work or sail-making required on board of a ship at sea and took pride in doing it well, and who also had sufficient sense to know that discipline is necessary on shipboard. These Scandinavians, who were as a rule fine seamen, clean, willing, and obedient, were the first and best class among the men of whom the clipper ship crews were composed. A vessel with a whole crew of these strong, honest sailors was a little heaven afloat.
Then there were the packet sailors, a different class altogether, mostly “Liverpool Irishmen,� a species of wild men, strong, coarse-built, thick-set; their hairy bodies and limbs tattooed with grotesque and often obscene devices in red and blue India ink; men wallowing in the slush of depravity, who could be ruled only with a hand of iron. Among themselves they had a rough-and-ready code of ethics, which deprived them of the pleasure of stealing from each other, though it permitted them to rob and plunder shipmates of other nationalities, or the ship and passengers. So, too, they might not draw knives on each other, being obliged to settle disputes with their fists, but to cut and stab an officer or shipmate not of their own gang was regarded as an heroic exploit.
With all their moral rottenness, these rascals were splendid fellows to make or shorten sail in heavy weather on the Western Ocean, and to go aloft in a coat or monkey jacket in any kind of weather was regarded by them with derision and contempt. But making and taking in sail was about all that they could do, being useless for the hundred and one things on shipboard which a deep-water sailor was supposed to know, such as rigging work, sail-making, scraping, painting, and keeping a vessel clean and shipshape. The packets had all this work done in port, and never looked so well as when hauling out of dock outward bound; whereas, the China and California clippers looked their best after a long voyage, coming in from sea with every ratline and seizing square, the sheer poles coach-whipped, brass caps on the rigging ends and lanyard knots, and the man-ropes marvels of cross pointing, Turks’ heads, and double rose knots.
The packet sailors showed up at their best when laying out on a topsail yardarm, passing a weather reef-earing, with their Black Ball caps, red shirts, and trousers stowed in the legs of their sea boots along with their cotton hooks and sheath knives, a snow squall whistling about their ears, the rigging a mass of ice, and the old packet jumping into the big Atlantic seas up to her knightheads. These ruffians did not much care for India and China voyages, but preferred to navigate between the dance-halls of Cherry Street and the grog-shops of Waterloo Road and Ratcliffe Highway. As has often been said, they worked like horses at sea and spent their money like asses ashore.
When the California clippers came out, these packet rats, as they came to be called aboard the deep-water ships—men who had never before had the slightest idea of crossing the equator if they could help it,—were suddenly possessed with the desire to get to the California gold mines. They, with other adventurers and blacklegs of the vilest sort, who were not sailors but who shipped as able seamen for the same reason, partly composed the crews of the clipper ships. The packet rats were tough, roustabout sailormen and difficult to handle, so that it was sometimes a toss-up whether they or the captain and officers would have charge of the ship; yet to see these fellows laying out on an eighty-foot main-yard in a whistling gale off Cape Horn, fisting hold of a big No. 1 Colt’s cotton canvas main-sail, heavy and stiff with sleet and snow, bellying, slatting, and thundering in the gear, and then to hear the wild, cheery shouts of these rugged, brawny sailormen, amid the fury of the storm, as inch by inch they fought on till the last double gasket was
Clipper-Ship Captains
Josiah P. Creesy H. W. Johnson
fast, made it easy to forget their sins in admiration of their splendid courage.