The Shellback's Progress / In the Nineteenth Century

by Baron Walter Runciman Runciman

VIII

GRUB

In the extreme end of the forecastle, above what is called the forehook, was a locker to keep the beef, duff (pudding) and sugar kids, bread barge and other small stores, such as tea, sugar, coffee, etc. If these were not carefully covered over, and there was any rain, or if sea-water came aboard, they soon were destroyed, and the apprentice whose work it was to look after them was held to blame by the men who meted out punishment to him in one way or another, but they themselves suffered the penalty of his fault, for they were reduced to short rations until the following week's allowance was distributed. It was customary for the captain to weigh or serve out the stores, and many a mean trick was adopted at the expense of the poor sailor by the use of false scales, weights, or measures. I have seen instances of this most wretched and meanest of all thieving more than once. One incompetent conniver at inexpiable wrong thought by cheating his men out of a portion of their meagre allowance he would make the insufficiency of stores put aboard by the owner spin out till the voyage ended. The water was served out just as exactingly as anything else, and as soon as the day's allowance was handed over to each man, the bung was put in the cask with canvas nailed over it, and the dipper, which is a long, narrow copper or tin pot, with a lanyard attached to it, was bent on to the signal halyards and run up to the masthead, so that no one could sneak any more water than their whack during the close time. In spite of gross imposition, which, if committed amongst any other class of workmen would have provoked the spirit of murder, these jovial, light-hearted fellows were always ready if it was fine weather to spend the dog watches in providing amusement for each other, and at the close of each entertainment they never overlooked what was inherently believed the patriotic duty of combining a display of loyalty to their sovereign with a proportionate degree of disloyalty to the captain and owner who were responsible for supplying them with food that even a Russian serf might have felt justified in complaining about. So a doggerel verse was composed and sung fervently to a modified form of the National Anthem by way of intimating their grievance forcefully to the notice of their commander. Relevancy did not come within the compass of their thoughts; what they desired was to sing something that would strike home, so the anthem was chosen as the most fitting benediction of all. Here are the words:

God save our gracious Queen!

Long may she reign over us!

Pea-soup and pork amongst all hands of us,

Not enough for one of us,

God save our Queen!

After this had been repeated several times over, it usually happened that one of the songsters who claimed to be gifted with more perspicuity than his comrades would remind them that he had seen the old squirrel wriggle under the lash of the song. And so their wretched days of starvation were often made shorter by a more or less harmless attack on the poor skipper, who might only be the instrument of a parsimonious managing owner. But that was not the only method adopted of showing their dissatisfaction. The seaman who had the most flippant tongue and legal mind was chosen (or, as frequently happened, he selected himself) to introduce a deputation of the whole forecastle. I always look back on these episodes as amongst the most comical of my sailor life. The spokesman would pick up the unpopular food, and with the air of an oriental dignitary march at the head of his shipmates right up to the captain, plant the wooden kid down on the deck at his feet, and ask if that "was the sort of grub for men to do a hard day's work on; besides, it was beef or pork, not bones or fat pork we signed for." If the captain happened to be a conceited, combative person, he would at once reply that he fed them according to what he thought they were worth. Then there were heated altercations, which sometimes ended in blood being spilt, or some of the crew being put in irons and logged for having instigated rebellion on the high seas. "I'll teach you to impeach my authority," the stupid, arbitrary tyrant would say; "you shall be fed on the smell of an oil-rag in future, and have your wages forfeited at the end of the voyage into the bargain." Alas, this wicked threat was too often carried into effect so far as the forfeiture of wages and ill-treatment were concerned. Whereas the diplomatic, sensible master would deal with a case of this kind in a way that was calculated to soften Jack into a condition that resembled penitence, and make him feel as though he were a pig for having complained in this direct way at all. I know there are cases that cannot be dealt with at sea in any other than a despotic fashion, and although there is no necessity to show weakness, there is as a rule a better chance of governing men by kindness than by adopting a harsh, unyielding attitude towards them, as though they were Mohammedan dogs.

A vessel short of provisions is seldom heard of in these days of steam and up-to-date precautions, but a generation ago it was a common occurrence. Landspeople used to speak of it as one of the ordinary risks of a sailor's profession that the general public had no particular interest in, excepting that it added somewhat to seafaring romance. I have often wished that those whom I have heard speaking in a casual, airy fashion of this phase of sea-life could have the faculty of imagination put into them so that they might realize what really happened to those who had to experience the manifold sufferings and privations of being short of water and provisions in mid-ocean where there was little chance of seeing a sail for days, and when perchance a vessel was seen, the weather might be so boisterous that communication could not be effected, or they might even be short of provisions. In order to minimize the suffering of hunger and thirst, sailors sometimes buckled their stomachs in with a belt, and those who had not a belt did so with cord. Hunger is a terrible sensation anywhere, but it is doubly intensified at sea when there is no hope of it being appeased, and the whole surroundings become impregnated with a sense of coming doom. Those who have never known the pangs of prolonged hunger may have some idea of it conveyed to them by trying to imagine that some wild animal is tearing at their internals. That is an accurate description of it, and I should like to know what other thing is calculated to create madness sooner. Sailors of that generation never made a noise about their troubles once they got ashore and left them astern, and so the possibilities of recurrence were left open. One feels inclined bitterly to assail the owners, their captains and the general public, for having allowed such things to happen, but in common fairness we must put some of the responsibility on the seamen themselves for playing into the hands of a gang of unmitigated blood-suckers who, in some cases, purchased silence by paying compensation for the time the men were short of grub; but never more than the bare cost of the food for the time they were short of it was allowed. In the majority of cases payment was evaded altogether. I have been amongst this sort of thing on several occasions, and feel some difficulty in writing with calmness when I reflect on all the unnecessary hardships and sufferings that were caused by sheer wanton greed. On four different voyages I learnt how terrible it was to be short of provisions and water, and in three out of the four this was preventable. The first case was excusable owing to the long continuance of easterly gales in the chops of the English Channel. Some vessels managed to reach Scilly or Falmouth, but many failed to do so, and we were amongst the many. On several occasions we were nearly able to fetch into port, and then the wind increased and we drifted back into the ocean. This gaining and losing process went on for three or four weeks. Each fresh sail sighted was signalled or hailed to the effect that we were short of provisions and asking if they could supply us, and invariably the reply came back, "Impossible: our supplies have run out." We in turn were frequently appealed to for succour, but had to plead the same thing. The one redeeming feature of the critical position of the large fleet that was held in the grip of the wind for so long a time was the knowledge that we were all in the same predicament, and if we could not supply each others' wants we had at least the pleasure of companionship, and this kept us from losing hope until a slant of wind came to our aid and carried us into port. In this case we had been on very short rations for many days, and yet there was never a word of recrimination, and singularly little grumbling except at the perversity of the wind.