In the absence of a boy, the ordinary seaman is also the lackey of the watch in an English ship. The law in this respect is unwritten, and I have seen a sturdy youngster successfully appeal against it. There is really no reason why an O.S. should be compelled to sweep up the fo'c'sle after every meal, keep the men's plates, knives, and forks clean, trim the lamp, make the cracker-hash, etc. But few indeed are the fo'c'sles where an O.S. would be able to claim exemption from such servitude. And if he did get off from dancing attendance upon the men in his watch below, he would almost certainly be made to do much of their legitimate work during the watch on deck. For that is one of the worst features of British ships—that, owing to the peculiar want of discipline which obtains, so much work that should be fairly distributed falls upon those who are either indisposed to grumble or are in a junior position.
For instance, in a sailing ship, let us say, which carries no boys or apprentices, but an O.S. in each watch, that young man during his watch on deck will certainly be expected to keep on the qui vive. If he have the good fortune to be commanded by a thoughtful officer, he will probably be allowed to take a regular trick at the wheel, in spite of the grumbling of the men, many of whom will be no better than he is, if as good. But in the great majority of cases he must mount guard near the break of the poop during his watch on deck at night, solely in order that he may pass the word along to the sleeping men, or do himself any job that he can manage without disturbing them. When any work has been done that requires them all, he will do the lion's share of it—I have often seen the whole watch standing waiting for an O.S. to do something, because every one of them was too lazy to make a start, and the young officer did not care to risk a row by sending any particular man; and when the pulling and hauling is done, the last "belay" or "well" has been cried, the men all slouch off to their corners and pipes, or sleep again, leaving the O.S. to go the round of the ship and coil up all the ropes.
Of course I am not quoting this as a great hardship. I only mention it to show how peculiar are the notions held by foremast hands of the duties of boys and ordinary seamen. It was doubtless a very good training for the latter, this being made to do everything possible while the men looked on criticizingly, but it was often carried to cruel lengths. I have myself seen as well as experienced such treatment of an O.S. in a ship's fo'c'sle at the hands of men, who certainly did not deserve to wield any authority, as was sufficient to make a lad wish himself dead. Worse, remember, for the O.S. than the boy. What do you think of a fine young man being compelled to wait for his food till every one else in the fo'c'sle is served, to find then that of his poor allowance he had been robbed nearly half; made to feel at all times that the only object of his existence during his watch below was to be the body-servant of eight or ten men, to preserve before them a silent, respectful demeanour, and to consider himself honoured if any of them addressed him in any other than terms of opprobrium? Yet all this might be changed, has often been changed, in a moment. If one of the little kings in a burst of magnificent rage at some dereliction of duty on the part of his slave—fo'c'sle not swept clean, or plate not washed quickly—struck the O.S. a shameful blow, and the latter had the grit to return it with interest, following it up with a victory over his aggressor, thenceforward that fo'c'sle would not be a bad place for the hitherto-put-upon junior. But under the altered conditions of modern sea-service this fo'c'sle etiquette is being swept away, and soon will have as completely disappeared as the reluctance to sail on Friday has before the necessities of steam.
THE BOY.
At last we have arrived at the very bottom of the social scale of board-ship life. The "boy," as distinguished from the "cabin" boy, has long posed as a hero of romance in sea fiction. We all know that boy. His marvellous deeds have inspired generations of home-bred youths with an unquenchable thirst for the sailor's life, where, to quote one of the most charming of song-writers,
"We watch the waves that glide by our vessel's stately side,
Or the wild sea-birds that follow through the air;
Or we gather in a ring, and with cheerful voices sing;
Oh, gaily goes the ship when the wind blows fair."
How many youngsters, lured by the mysterious air of adventure pervading all things connected with the sea, have run from comfortable homes, and, after hardships innumerable, have compassed the goal of their desire—have found a shipmaster willing to take them to sea with him as boy! And then—well, happily, the young seafarer soon develops a wonderful capacity for patient endurance of evils not to be avoided, and, if of the true grit, in time looks back upon his probationary period of suffering as a training which he was glad to have endured. And the older he grows the more complacently does he recall the days when he learned to expect the blow first and the explanation afterwards, learned to eat what he could get with an appetite like an ostrich, could sleep in drenched clothing with a bare plank beneath him, and find all his consolation in the fact that soon he would be able to look down upon a newcomer with the lofty superiority of the full-blown mariner.