But perhaps we are getting along too fast. To return, then, for a moment to a consideration of how the mate attains his position, that last rung but one on the ladder of promotion, which, alas! is separated by so wide a gulf from the next one above. It is hardly necessary to go over again the various steps which have been already mentioned in the case of the master, except in the most cursory manner: First, usually, but not compulsorily, the serving of a term of apprenticeship fixed at four years by law, the last year of which is counted as the service of able seaman. Or, as the rules merely specify that the candidate for a second mate's certificate shall have been four years at sea, one year of which he was an able seaman, he may have simply entered as boy and gone on to ordinary seaman, and then to A.B. This course is the one adopted in American and Canadian ships, where apprenticeships are unknown; but there the candidate is usually in far better case than any apprentice in a British ship, because he is sure to be put on board by some one whom the master is anxious to please, or, more probably, he is a friend or relative of one of the officers themselves; in which case, although his designation may be humble enough, he will live in the cabin, and have his profession thoroughly burnt into him—a process which he will in nowise be able to escape.
Our mate, however, having served his allotted time, and received the essential recommendation from his last commander, makes his way to a navigation school, not that he, unless he be a hopeless idiot, has waited until now to be taught navigation, but in order that his knowledge may be suitably arranged for production at the right time and in the accepted fashion. Some young would-be officers are foolish enough to imagine that the master of a navigation school can also help them in their seamanship, but with lamentable results. For the navigation is in cut-and-dried exercises which any ordinarily capable scholar may learn with little difficulty, since all of them may be satisfactorily done without the slightest knowledge of the higher mathematics. There are thousands of Mercantile Marine officers holding certificates, good men too, who could not work a problem in trigonometry without the tables to save their lives, and to whom Euclid is a sealed book; for clever men have long been at work simplifying navigation problems, until their execution is just a matter of simple arithmetic and acquaintance with a set of nautical tables. This state of things gives rise to much controversy among those who are interested in Mercantile Marine officers. Some say that every officer should make a point of knowing not merely how to work his problems, but why certain tables are used; in other words, that he should not merely work by rule of thumb, but be a competent mathematician. Then, these gentlemen add, he would be able to command not only higher wages, but more consideration from his employers, besides being better able to compete with the carefully-educated foreigner. Others contend that the business already laid upon Merchant officers is fully as great as they ought to bear, and that, supposing they had learned the mathematical theory of navigation, they would still in practice use the rule of thumb method. Not feeling at all capable of deciding between these two contestants, I merely present their views, contenting myself with the passing remark that, supposing a man to be a good seaman, it cannot be to his detriment to make himself as proficient in the mathematical theory of navigation as his capacity will enable him. But with regard to seamanship, matters are totally different. Here there can be no difference of opinion. Seamanship, that is the handling of a ship under all circumstances of weather, the fitting and keeping in repair of her masts, rigging, sails, etc., and the stowage of her cargo, cannot be learned from books. The unhappy neophyte who has scrambled through his apprenticeship without attempting to learn the business, and comes at the last moment to his crammer for assistance, is in evil case when standing before the keen-eyed old shipmaster who is to examine him. He tries to recall book answers to questions that are not in the books.
Even the "rule of the road," that most essential part of all a seaman's education, though it be found in a set of iron-bound articles, is apt to vanish entirely away from a man who has only studied it in book form. When the examiner hands him a model, and telling him to imagine himself in command of her, places other models at various angles to her course, asks him what he would do, he will, if his knowledge be theoretical, surely find it depart from him in his sore need, and leave him dumb and witless. And so it will be with all the various branches of seamanship. The ordeal of a vivâ voce examination is too great for any mere theorist to come through successfully—and failure means not only a forfeiture of fees, but a compulsory going to sea again for six months before the next presentation for questioning. The navigation, on the other hand, is considered so much less important that failure to pass that part of the examination carries with it only forfeiture of fees, and a space of three months before appearing again, during which time the candidate may remain on shore at school.
Let us suppose, however, that our young aspirant has so well prepared himself that he has gone flying through his first examination, emerging a full-fledged second mate. In that case, as already remarked, much will depend upon his position with regard to influential friends among ship-owners or vacancies in the firm with which he has served his apprenticeship. So many are the difficulties, so varied are the conditions under which the young officer works his way upward, that it is impossible to speak definitely as to the length of time that will elapse before he again approaches the dread tribunal for another inquisition as to his qualifications for the post of "first mate." Since I left the sea there have been several modifications in this matter. One of the most important—made certainly as a concession to the needs of officers in steamships—is that a man with two years' service as second mate, having in the meantime passed his first mate's examination, may pass his examination for master, although he has never served as first mate. This, in view of the almost invariable rule in steamships that a man must have a certificate of higher grade than the one he intends to serve in, is no more than bare justice. And much as we who have been through the grinding of the sailing-ship mill may gird at it, there can be little doubt that before very long it will be found impossible to insist upon the candidate having served his time in sailing ships. The sailing ship has not gone yet, by a very long way, as one visit to the docks will show any one who cares to inquire; but the day of her extinction is within measurable distance. If once the Panama or other interoceanic canal connecting the Atlantic with the Pacific becomes an accomplished fact, sailing ships will be worth old iron price, and no more.
To return to our candidate. Let it be granted that he has been so well supported in his application for employment as second mate that, while yet the ink is tacky upon his certificate, he has got a berth for a round voyage lasting a year. Upon his return he again looks up his old schoolmaster, and gets coached for another visit to the examiners. This second ordeal should be comparatively easy. For while there is very little navigation added to what he has already done in the examination for second mate, he ought by this time to have perfect confidence in his ability to answer any question put to him about seamanship, since he has had practice in ship-handling. In my own case, I can only say that "passing" for mate was a mere bagatelle as compared with passing for second mate. And as soon as he hears the blessed words, "Where will you have your certificate sent?" which is the formula used by the examiner to intimate that he has passed, he feels now that his course is clear; he has entered the charmed circle, and become that much envied individual, a full-blown "first mate."
THE MATE'S WORK.
Happy indeed is the master who finds a good mate, but happier still is the mate who has the joy of serving under a master who, while never neglecting his own duties, is not for ever fussing about finding fault with the way in which work is being carried on—a master who will treat his mate as his right-hand man, not only trusting him but confiding in him. And even while finding out whether he be worthy of trust, such a master will make his observations in an unostentatious manner, most careful that no one may suspect that the mate is being weighed in the balance of his mind. Whether a man make a success or a failure as mate, and, consequently, as master—supposing that he ever reach that coveted position—is more largely due to the treatment he receives at the hands of his first master than is generally admitted. Everywhere, unfortunately, are to be found men who, while indignantly repudiating any description of themselves as persecutors, are yet saturated with the idea that it is necessary to treat the beginner who comes under their control with studied harshness; to comment upon his slightest mistakes—not due to ignorance, but to a nervous anxiety to do his best—as if they were indisputable proofs of his being a fool; to find out his tender spots and probe them, so that the hot flush of shame rises, and the tongue is almost bitten through in the endeavour to restrain the furious reply that would be fatal;—more than all, and worse than all, to comment upon a beginner's shortcomings openly before the men and boys over whom that beginner is placed in authority, thereby laying him open to the covert sneer, the insolent retort, and the slackly-performed obedience. Such treatment is diabolical cruelty to a highly-strung, sensitive man, no matter how expert, how clever he may be. That upon first entering a new position he will make mistakes is an axiom, for, as has often been said most truly, the man who makes no mistakes makes nothing—especially when one realizes that he then for the first time feels the burden of responsibility, feels it with a keenness that use will presently dull the edge of, knows that swiftness and decision, readiness in action, must be joined to accuracy of knowledge and fertility of resource. To the man who is not sensitive, yet not dull, these early experiences are not nearly so full of painful experiences, but the majority of modern officers bear about with them still the scars of their early memories, when their ears caught the faintest whisper of disparagement, their eyes saw every shade of expression that flitted across the skipper's face, and they were continually torturing themselves with questions as to whether or how they had failed to come up to the mark.