Windjammers and Sea Tramps

by Baron Walter Runciman Runciman

CHAPTER III

A CABIN-BOY'S START AT SEA

During recent years I have had the opportunity of listening to many speeches on nautical subjects. Some of them have not only been instructive but interesting, inasmuch as they have often enabled me to get a glimpse into the layman's manner of thinking on these questions. It invariably happens, however, that gentlemen, in their zeal to display maritime knowledge, commit the error of dealing with a phase of it that carries them into deep water; their vocabulary becomes exhausted, and they speedily breathe their last in the oft-repeated tale that the "old-fashioned sailor is an extinct creature," and, judging from the earnest vehemence that is thrown into it, they convey the impression that their dictum is to be understood as emphatically original. Well, I will let that go, and will merely observe how distressingly superficial the knowledge is as to the rearing, training, and treatment which enabled those veterans to become envied heroes to us of the present day. Much entered into their lives that might be usefully emulated by the seamen of our own time. Their unquestionable skill and hardihood were acquired by a system of training that would have out-matched the severity of the Spartan, and they endured it with Spartan equanimity. A spasmodic growl was the only symptom of a rebellious spirit. The maritime historian who undertakes to write accurately the history of this strange society of men will find it a strain on the imagination to do them all the justice they deserve. Their lives were illuminated with all that is manly and heroic and skilful. They had no thought of cruelty, and yet they were very cruel—that is, if they are to be judged by the standard of the present age; but in this let us pass sentence on them with moderation, and even with indulgence. The magnitude of the deeds they were accustomed to perform can never be fully estimated now, and these should excuse to some extent many of their clumsy and misguided modes of operation. It must not be supposed that all these men were afflicted by a demoniac spirit. It was their training that blanketed the sympathetic side of them, until they unconsciously acquired all the peremptory disposition of Oriental tyrants. But the stories I am about to relate of childlife aboard ship will show how difficult it is entirely to pardon or excuse them. The blood runs chilly at the thought of it, and you feel your mind becoming impregnated with the spirit of murder.

No personage ever attracted so much attention and sympathy outside the precincts of his contracted though varied sphere of labour as the cabin-boy who served aboard the old sailing brigs, schooners, and barques, and I must plead guilty to having a sentimental regret that the romance was destroyed through this attractive personality being superseded by another, with the somewhat unattractive title of "cook and steward." The story of how poor boys of the beginning and middle of the century and right up to the latter part of the 'sixties started sea-life is always romantic, often sensational, and ever pathetic. They were usually the sons of poor parents living for the most part in obscure villages or small towns bordering on the sea, which sea blazed into their minds aspirations to get aboard some one of the numerous vessels that passed their homes one way or the other all day long. The notion of becoming anything but sailors never entered their heads, and the parents were usually proud of this ambition, and quite ready to allow their offspring to launch out into the world while they were yet little more than children. It very frequently happened, however, that boys left their homes unknown to their families, and tramped to the nearest seaport with the object of engaging themselves aboard ship, and they nearly always found some skipper or owner to take them. Swarms of Scotch and Norfolk boys were attracted to the Northumberland ports by the higher rate of wages. Many of them had to tramp it all the long way from home, and quite a large number of them became important factors in the shipping trade of the district. It was a frequent occurrence to see a poor child-boy passing through the village where I was brought up, on his way from Scotland to Blyth, or the Tyne, his feet covered with sores, and carrying a small bundle containing a shirt, a pair of stockings, and flannel pants. This was his entire outfit. My mother never knowingly allowed any of these poor little wanderers to pass without bringing them to our home. They were promptly supplied with bread and milk while the big tub was got ready so that they might be bathed. They were then provided with night clothing and put to bed while she had their own clothes washed, and mended if need be (they always required washing); they were then sent on their journey with many petitions to God for their safety and welfare. Some of the villagers were curious to know why this gratuitous hospitality was given to unknown passers-by, and my mother satisfied their curiosity by pointing to her own children, and remarking, "Don't we live within the sound of the sea? and I wish to do by these poor children that which I should like some one to do by mine if it ever should come to pass that they need it." Little did she suspect when these words were uttered that one of her own sons was so soon to be travelling in an opposite direction in quest of a cabin-boy's berth.

One of the most touching memories of sweetness comes to me now. It was a chill winter afternoon; a little boy stood out on the common fronting our house; the customary bundle was under his arm, and he was singing in a sweet treble these words, with a strong Scotch accent:—

"A beggar man came over the lea
Wi' many a story to tell unto me.
'I'm asking for some charitie,
Can ye lodge a beggar man?'"

The charm of his silken, childish voice quickly attracted attention. He was put through the usual catechism by my parents, and this being satisfactory, he fell into my mother's hands to undergo the customary feeding and bathing operations. One of the questions my father put to him was why he sang "The beggar man." He said they told him at home that he could sing well, and as he had learnt this song he thought it might serve the purpose of bringing him succour, as he was very tired and very hungry. He was the son of a peasant farmer on the outskirts of Kirkaldy in the Firth of Forth, and had walked the whole distance, his object being to apprentice himself to some shipowner. This he succeeded in doing; and many years after, when he had worked his way into a position, he made himself known to me by recalling the occasion when he sang his way into our home.

By the seaside on the coast of Northumberland, there stands one of the prettiest little villages in all England. Tacked on to the north and south end of it there are two stretches of sand unequalled in their clear glossy beauty. It was from this spot that a boy of twelve summers, smitten with a craze for the sea, secretly left his home one December morning at three o'clock with the object of becoming a sailor. He made his way to the beach, walked to a seaport, and after much persuasive eloquence in which he recklessly pledged himself to impossible undertakings, the negotiations were ratified by his being told by a burly skipper of the old school that though he was very small, yet seeing he exhibited such eagerness for the fray, he would look over that, to which the seaman in embryo promptly replied, "But, sir, I will grow bigger." And the weather-beaten old mariner responded, "I hope you will; but mind, you'll have to work."

The poor child, fearful lest any hitch should come in the way, assured him that he could work very hard, and that he could run up aloft, as he had tried it aboard a schooner which came once a year to his home with coals for the squire. He was anxious that his accomplishments should be tested without delay. His future commander interjected that he would sign his indentures the following week, which was done, after communication with the boy's family; and he proceeded aboard with his kit made up of the following articles. I give this, as it may be useful to parents who have boys going to sea:—

1 Box.
1 Go-ashore suit.
2 Suits of working clothes.
1 Suit of oilskins.
1 Pair of sea-boots.
1 Pair of shoes.
3 Changes of flannels.
6 Pairs of stockings.
2 Mufflers.
4 Towels.
3 Coloured flannel shirts.
1 Bar of soap.
6 Collars, 2 neckties.
2 Pillow-slips.
1 Bed and full set of bedding.
2 Caps.
1 Canvas bag.
1 Ditty bag well stored with needles, thread,
buttons, thimble, worsted to darn stockings, and
cloth to patch worn or torn clothes.