The Shellback's Progress / In the Nineteenth Century

by Baron Walter Runciman Runciman

Nothing whatever could be said in defence of the other cases, for the vessels were not only sent away from a home port criminally short of supplies, but they left the port at which they loaded for home with only sufficient stores to last half the time it would take to make the passage with average success; and not having any good fortune at all, our allowance was reduced before the passage was half covered. We swept past the last port of call with the wind right aft. The captain and steward knew that the provisions were getting low, but the former decided to trust to Providence giving him a fair wind all the way, so we romped along for several days, and then adverse winds came and everybody realized the seriousness of the position. Orders were given that all hands had to be put on half fare, and not many days elapsed before every article of food was exhausted and we had to broach our cargo of lentils and sustain ourselves on lentil soup. Even that had to be sparingly used on account of the scarcity of water. On some days we drifted under two close reefed topsails into the heart of the western ocean and out of the regular track of vessels bound out and home. Whenever the weather fined down, sail was set according to the force of the wind which kept in the N.E., varying perhaps a couple of points each way. A look-out man was kept on the maintopmast crosstrees from dawn until sunset each day to watch for passing vessels, and long, painful days rolled on without our sighting anything. Sometimes a sail would be seen hull down or too far off to attract attention. This naturally had a saddening effect, and we wished they had never been seen; but in spite of privations, which increased day by day, there was a gaiety kept up until the last sweeping up of the provision lockers had taken place, and we were reduced to the exclusive diet of boiled lentils, which I have heard is considered by some people to be a luxury; but whether this be so or not, I never wish to realize its taste again. May Providence protect me from ever again having to put it to my lips.

Up to a certain point our impoverished crew had borne the strain on their minds and stomachs very manfully, but the period of despair was now come. They talked indeed of which one among their comrades should draw the lot that by shortening his life would prolong theirs. Sickness had smitten some of them so that they could barely crawl on deck. Each day showed signs of a galloping atrophy. Letters were written to their relatives conveying in a matter-of-fact way all they were enduring: no flowery phrases; no attempt at effect; but merely a statement of bald fact. These communications were to be put into the orthodox bottle and dropped into the sea in the hope that the sombre tidings would be picked up and read at home. The stage of openly cursing the owner had long since passed. Now and again they wondered if their spirits would haunt him in the event of their having to succumb, but that was only a passing mood. Their thoughts were mainly centred on charitable and domestic matters, and what would be the end of all their sufferings. It is a strange destiny which causes the agony of despair to be prolonged, and then when life seems to be flickering out, suddenly the angel of death is withdrawn and light and life burst forth with a radiance that fills the sufferers with hope. The look-out man at the mast-head shouts as loud as his strength will allow: "A sail! A sail on the starboard bow, crossing our track! The vessel is hull down." Immediately the whole crew except the man at the wheel are in the rigging scanning the horizon, and a running flow of conflicting opinions are expressed as to the exact course she is steering and whether she will discern our flag. The captain gives peremptory orders to set every stitch of canvas and ease the yards, so that his vessel might go quicker and meet the other at an angle. Something like superhuman effort was made by enfeebled men to get the canvas smartly set. The sight of the vessel impressed them as a providential apparition. In less than an hour the hull came in view. It was seen that the stranger was under a cloud of sail, including royals, and topgallant studding sails on both sides. A fresh wind blew right behind her, and the sea, though not rough, was showing white feathers on the surface of the Atlantic rollers. The signal that we were without any provisions was hoisted, but no notice was taken of it. Night was drawing near, and the clipper was slipping fast away from us. Our captain ordered his vessel to be hauled close to the wind again in case the flags might be obscured by running free. It turned out that this might have been the case, as we had no sooner manœuvred in this way than they began to take the other vessel's studding sails in and haul to the wind. Our vessel's course was shaped towards her, and when we had got fairly close to her both vessels had all small sail taken in, courses hauled up, and their main yards laid aback. Our pinnace was then hoisted out, and we proceeded to row alongside a beautiful tea clipper. We were a lantern-jawed, scarecrow lot, and our general appearance emphasized the story we had to tell of the privations we had suffered. We had scarcely strength enough to lift the oars into the rollicks, much less pull the boat through a choppy sea. The captain and crew of the British clipper were very kind, supplied all our needs, including tobacco, though we did not ask for the latter; this was obviously given to express more emphatically their sympathy and kindly feelings towards us. Very little water could be spared, as sailing vessels at that time were nearly always stinted in accommodation for water supply, but we were very grateful for the sacrifice the captain made in allowing us to have even a few breakers full. The act which touched the heart-strings most was the request made to their captain by his crew to be allowed to row the supplies to our vessel. It was granted by him and thankfully accepted by us; and over all the years which have passed since that scene took place it has constantly lived in my memory as one of the many traits that endear the sailor to his fellow men. This self-sacrificing crew had been caused much additional hard work on account of our misfortunes; some of them were losing their watch below; and all of them had the arduous task of hurriedly taking in the necessary sail and manipulating the yards so that a communication could be effected, and then, after their mission was done, the vessel was put on her course, and all the work of setting sail, etc., had to be done over again. We knew all this, and therefore appreciated all the more the little touch of sympathy which prompted them to add to their labours by undertaking the work they saw we were hardly fit to perform. Before leaving the hospitable deck of the clipper our captain made a well-chosen and appropriate little speech of thanks to our benefactor, by whom it was suitably responded to; and then a cordial shaking of hands took place, and we parted with hearts full of gratitude to those who had so beneficently helped us. When we got aboard three cheers were rung out from both vessels, and then their yards were filled and sail made, and we swept away from each other into the gloom of the gathering night.

An unthought-of protracted passage was in front of us, and long before it was completed the fresh water ran short again; but we were more in the track of vessels then, and succeeded in getting a further supply which lasted until our arrival at Falmouth, where all our ills were soon forgotten amid the charm of its scenery and the atmosphere of congenial excitement which the tavern of that day afforded. Songs were sung and step-dancing, such as none other but a sailor could do, as usual aroused and kept local interest on the stretch. The audiences were composed mainly of sailors, their sweethearts for the time being, or those directly interested in him. Indeed these were occasions when the place was kept humming with a salty brightness. Jack had the singular gift of making his own amusement, and so long as he kept from taking too much drink he was not only a source of pleasure to himself, but in his way entertained other people. Of course the sailors here, as always, told their experiences to each other when they met, and incidentally their owners came in for a share of contumely such as "God-forsaken robber," or "scrape-backed thief who was not fit to carry guts to a bear," and other more or less harmless invectives.

The men were rarely vindictive or bitter even, after the thing had passed on, and an example of this was shown in the story I have been relating where there was just cause for resentment and claim for compensation, and yet none was made, nor was compensation asked for or offered in the other two cases which I have mentioned, although they were on almost identical lines with the first. On these last occasions the crew lived on Indian corn for two weeks. The corn was put into canvas, battered as small as possible, then put through the coffee mill, and after the last process it was made into bread or puddings; but the mill did not last long, so we were driven to eat it in a very rough state, and soon experienced the penalty of doing so. We could not have kept on eating it. The captain reported that he had been obliged to broach the cargo for food, and the receivers charged him with the estimated amount used. He and his crew thought this very mean, and I think I remember them expressing strong regret that they hadn't scuttled the —— ship and thereby have inflicted great personal loss on the owner of the cargo who, they apprehended, would have rather seen them starve than that a bag or two of his cargo should be used for the purpose of saving their lives. That was the impression they had formed. Of course it was a harum-scarum impression, but it gratified them to hold it. The real culprit was the owner of the ship, who had not provided sufficient stores. He had not escaped notice, but the meaner sinner had obscured him for the moment.

An extraordinary characteristic of this age was the sailor's jealousy lest improper innovations should be introduced into the mode of taking their food. Knives and forks, cups, saucers, soup and plain plates were a violation of sound forecastle principles, which in their eyes threatened a coming degeneracy of the profession. Their use was viewed as an attempt to become aristocratic, and those who dared adopt it were looked upon as fops and mongrel seamen. The average man believed in his tin pot, plate and pannikin, galvanized soup spoon and clasp knife; there were no second course articles recognized. The tin pot had a hook in front so that it could be hooked on to the galley grate to boil, though it was not uncommon in long voyage ships to dispense with the hook pot and have instead a large kettle for the whole of the forecastle hands. The tidy man kept his utensils spotlessly clean. At seven bells in the morning the watch below were knocked out to have breakfast; this generally consisted of cracker hash, i.e., bread hash; or cold salt beef or pork, whichever joint they had had on the day previous hot for dinner; if she was a well-found ship butter was supplied; they always had tea or coffee for the morning meal. If the breakfast was of beef or pork, the platter or kid was put on the floor, and each seaman took the piece of meat he intended to cut in one hand, cut it off the junk with his clasp knife in the other, and if by any means he happened to touch that which he did not cut he was submitted to severe chastisement by being forcibly put over a chest lid and given a dozen hard slaps with a boot jack. The piece of meat intended to be eaten was put on a hard ship biscuit which served the purpose of a plate, and was cut as required with the clasp knife and put into the mouth with the right hand. Dinner was served at noon. On Sundays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, it was beef and duff, according to scale; Saturdays, beef and "strike-me-blind," i.e., boiled rice; Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, pea-soup and pork. The mid-day meals were partaken of in a similar way to the breakfast, except that the tin plate was used for either duff and molasses, or pea-soup, or rice; it might not be used for the beef or pork—this greatly depended on the natural delicacy of the seamen, many of whom proclaimed that fingers were made before knives or forks, therefore it was proper that they should be used in preference. If he possessed a chest he sat on that, and his knees served him as a table; if he had no chest, then he sat on the floor or on the forehook, i.e., a beam which stretches across the bows. This class of food and the method of eating it went on uninterruptedly during the whole voyage. The duff, which was made of flour, water and fat, was boiled in a canvas bag made in the shape of a nightcap; it was very leathery, and was responsible for much dyspepsia. It was cut into equal parts according to the number of men who were to share it. On Sundays a few currants or raisins were scattered amongst the flour and water; this was considered a luxury which was often taken off at the caprice of the captain. Sailors have the character of being born grumblers, and their knowledge of maritime law is much exhibited by them at meal times. Poor creatures, what trouble they get themselves into at times through this belief of theirs in their legal acquirements! There is a story of a sailor who, insisting on breaking the law because he was positive he was not breaking it, got himself put into prison in consequence, whereupon a forecastle friend called to see him. He immediately exclaimed on seeing and shaking hands with his friend, "I know d—n well, Jim, they cannot put me in here, and they'll have to pay for it."

"What's the use of talking such d—— rot, you fool? Why, you are here!"

On another occasion a large, square-rigged vessel belonging to London arrived in the West India Docks, and the captain, on being asked by his owner what sort of a crew he had, replied that they were sailors all over, always grumbling about their work or their grub, and it did not matter what they got to eat they would always find something else they wanted. The owner declared that he would provide a meal for them that would satisfy, and there wouldn't be a single request for anything else. The captain said he did not know what he was undertaking. The owner said: "Well, captain, if I do not succeed in satisfying them I will pay you one hundred pounds."

"Done," said the skipper.

The crew's accommodation was in a house on deck; it was arranged to have the skylight up and the side windows open, so that everything that was said could be heard outside. The meal was cooked and served by first-class men, and it was given on the occasion of the owner's birthday. A large party assembled aboard, and the host addressed the men appropriately, asking them to accept his hospitality. The sailors' spokesman replied that they never wished to serve a better governor than he, and the banquet commenced. The owner, his wife, and his daughter—a beautiful girl of twenty—together with the captain, went quietly up the ladder at the fore-end of the house and listened to what was said. The owner was grateful at hearing such good things said about himself, though the eulogy was flavoured with a pungency of language that was not intended for delicate ears. At last one of the crew finished, tossed his tin plate on the floor, and said:

"That's a damned good dinner, boys."