Sailors, in spite of their outbursts of recklessness, have frequently, from the very nature of their perilous calling, an amount of seriousness underlying their character, which makes them particularly amenable to religious influences. The chaplain on a large modern ironclad or frigate has as many men in his charge, as regards spiritual matters, as the vicar of a country town or large village, whilst he has many more opportunities of reaching them directly. Many of our naval chaplains are noble fellows; and to them come the sailors in any distress of mind, for the soothing advice so readily given. He may not dare to interfere with the powers that be when they are in danger of punishment, except in very rare cases; but he can point them out their path of duty, and how to walk in it, making them better sailors and happier men. He can lend them an occasional book, or write for them an occasional letter home; induce them to refrain from dissipation when on liberty; cheer them in the hour of greatest peril, while on the watery deep, and give them an occasional reproof, but in kindness, not in anger. To his brother officers he has even better opportunities of doing good than to the men. On the smaller classes of vessels—gun-boats and the like—the captain has to perform chaplain’s duties, by reading prayers on the Sabbath. This is the case also on well-regulated steamships or passenger sailing-vessels of the merchant service. The fine steamers of such lines as the Cunard, or White Star, of the Royal Mail Company, or of the P. and O., have, of course, frequently, some clergyman, minister, or missionary on board, who is willing to celebrate divine service.
A Committee of the Lower House of Convocation has recently collected an immense amount of statistics regarding the provision made by private ship-owners for the spiritual welfare of their men, and the result as regards England is not at all satisfactory. In point of fact, it is rarely made at all. The committee seeks to encourage the growth of religion among sailors by providing suitable and comfortable church accommodation at all ports, and urges owners to instruct their captains as to conducting divine service on Sundays, and to furnish Bibles, prayer-books, and instructive works of secular literature. Too much must not, however, be expected from Jack. The hardships and perils through which he passes excuse much of his exuberance ashore. It is his holiday-time; and, so long as he is only gay, and not abandoned, the most rigid must admit that he has earned the right to recreation. A distinguished French naval officer used to say that the sailor fortunately had no memory. “Happy for him,” said he, “that he is thus oblivious. Did he remember all the gales and tempests, the cold, the drenching rain, the misery, the privations, the peril to life and limb which he has endured, he would never, when he sets foot on shore, go to sea again. But he has no memory. The clouds roll away, the sea is calm, the sun shines, the boat bears him to land; the wine flows; the music strikes up; pretty girls smile: he forgets all the past, and lives only in the present.”
While the chaplain may, and no doubt generally does, earn the respect and esteem of the men, woe to any example of the “Chadband” order who shall be found on board. This is, in the Royal Navy, almost impossible; but it sometimes happens that, on passenger ships, some sanctimonious and fanatical individual or other has had a very rough time of it. He is regarded as a kind of Jonah. In a recent number of that best of American magazines, the Atlantic Monthly, the woes and trials of one poor Joseph Primrose, a well-meaning minister who went out to America in 1742, are amusingly recounted. There were, aboard the Polly, the vessel in which he took passage, several of the crew who viewed their religious exercises askance. “These men,” says he, “had been foremost in a general indignation uprising that had ensued upon the stoppage of their daily allowance of rum; which step had been taken on my earnest recommendation. For this injurious drink we had substituted a harmless and refreshing beverage concocted of molasses, vinegar, and water, from a choice receipt I had come upon in a medical book aboard the vessel. The sailors, to a man, refused to touch it, egged on by these contumacious fellows, and more especially by one Springer, a daring villain, who reviled me with bitter execrations. In fine, the captain was obliged, for our own safety, to restore the cherished dram; and I had the mortification to find myself, from that time forth, an object of dislike and suspicion to these men, who were kept within decent bounds only by respect for their master. I became convinced, on reflection, that I had gone the wrong way about this unfortunate piece of business; having, in fact, made a very serious error in the beginning, gentle argument and good example being more apt to bring about the desired end than compulsory measures, these dulling the understanding by rousing the temper, especially among persons of the meaner sort. All my efforts—and they were not few—to place myself on a friendly footing with these men were of no avail: they had conceived the notion that I was their enemy, and met all my advances with obstinate coldness. As Captain Hewlett exacted the daily attendance at prayers of every soul on board, these [pg 224]knaves were compelled to be on hand with their fellows; but they rarely failed to conduct themselves with such indecent levity as made me rue their presence, playing covertly at cat’s-cradle, jack-straws, and what not; besides grinning familiarly in my face, whenever they could contrive to catch my eye.” This unseemly behaviour was as nothing to what followed ashore. While addressing a large assemblage, he noted the advent of a number of unmannerly fellows, who, with a great deal of clatter, elbowed their way to the front. “The moment I clapped eyes upon them,” says poor Primrose, “I knew them for the sailors who had so persecuted me aboard the Polly, and my heart sank at the bare sight of them.” They sung, or rather bawled, ribald words to the music of the hymns; and one of them, when rebuked by some gentleman present, whipped out his cutlass, and a general row ensued, which broke up the assembly. A little later, Primrose induced a tavern-keeper to allow him to preach on his premises. “A West Indian vessel coming into port about the middle of April, and a horde of roystering sailors gathering in the common room of the ‘Sailor’s Rest’ to drink, I announced a discourse on the subject of ‘gin-guzzling,’ choosing one that I had delivered aboard the Polly, and which seemed to fit the occasion to a nicety. No sooner had the landlord seen the notice to this effect that I had attached to his door-cheek, than he sends for me to repair to the tavern without loss of time; and on my appearance, in great haste, comes blustering up to me in a most offensive manner, demanding whether I purposed the ruin of his trade, by putting forth of such a mischievous paper; adding, with astounding audacity, that he should certainly lose all the custom I had been the means of fetching to his house, did I persist in my intent. Mark the cunning of the knave! He had encouraged my labours for none other purpose than the bringing of fresh grist to his mill; and here was I, blindly leading precious souls to destruction, the poor dupe of a specious villain—a wretch without bowels! My agony of mind on being thus suddenly enlightened was of such a desperate sort, that, gnashing my teeth, I leapt upon the miscreant, and, bearing him to the ground with an awful crash, beat him about the head and shoulders with the stout cane I carried; and with such good will, that I presently found myself lying in the town gaol, covered with the blood of my enemy, and every bone in my body aching from the unaccustomed exercise.... Truly was I as forlorn and friendless a creature as the world ever saw. My clothing had been rent beyond repair in the shameful struggle, and, yet worse, one of my shoes was gone—how and where I knew not; and although I promised the gaoler’s little lad a penny in the event of his finding it, nothing was ever heard of it from that day to this. One thought alone cheered me in the dark abyss into which I was fallen. I had administered wholesome and righteous correction in proper season: hip and thigh had I hewed my enemy; and, to reflect upon that, was as a healing balm to my sore bones.” Mr. Primrose was at length released, and returned to England.
Another officer of the Royal Navy—the engineer—deserves particular notice, for his position is becoming daily of more and more importance. It is not merely the care and working of the engines which propel the vessel in which he is concerned; the chief and his subordinates have charge of various hydraulic arrangements often used now-a-days on large vessels, in connection with the steering apparatus; of electrical and gas-producing apparatus; the mechanical arrangements of turrets and gun-carriages; pumping machinery; [pg 225]the management of steam-launches and torpedoes. Take the great ironclad Thunderer (that on which the terrible boiler explosion occurred) as an example: she has twenty-six engines for various purposes, apart from the engines used to propel the vessel, which have an actual power of 6,000 horses. The Téméraire has thirty-four engines distinct from those required for propulsion. A competent authority says that, “with the exception of the paymaster’s and surgeon’s stores, he is responsible for everything in and outside the ship (meaning the hull, apart from the navigator’s duties), to say nothing of his duties while under weigh.” And yet engineers of the navy do not yet either derive the status or emoluments fairly due to them, considering the great and increasing responsibilities thrown upon them of late years. Sir Walter Scott makes Rob Roy express “his contempt of weavers and spinners, and sic-like mechanical persons, and their pursuits;” and in the naval service some such feeling still lingers.
ENGINE-ROOM OF H.M.S. “WARRIOR.”
The first serious introduction of steam-vessels into the Royal Navy occurred about the year 1829, the Navy List of that year showing seven, of which three only were commissioned, and these for home ports. No mention is made of engineers; they were simply taken over from the contractor with the vessel, and held no rank whatever. In 1837 an Admiralty Circular conferred warrants on engineers, who were to rank immediately below [pg 226]carpenters; they were to be assisted by boys, trained by themselves. Three years later, the standard was raised, and they were divided into three classes; in 1842 a slight increase of pay was given, and they were advanced to the magnificent rank of “after captains’ clerks,” and were given a uniform, with buttons having a steam-engine embossed upon them. In 1847 the Government found that the increasing demands of the merchant and passenger service took all the best men (the engineers’ pay, to-day, is better on first-class steamship lines than in the Navy), and they were forced to do something. The higher grades were formed into chief engineers, and they were raised to the rank of commissioned officers, taking their place after masters. The first great revolution in regard to the use of steam in the Royal Navy took place in 1849, by means of the screw-propeller. In that year Dupuy Delorme constructed the Napoleon, a screw-vessel carrying 100 guns, and with engines of 600 horse-power, and England had to follow. Then came the Russian War, the construction of ironclad batteries, and finally, the ironclad movement, which commenced in England in 1858, by the construction of the Warrior and similar vessels.
It becomes a particularly serious question, at the present time, whether the system, as regards the rank and pay of engineers, does not deter the most competent men from entering the Royal Navy. Many very serious explosions and accidents have occurred on board ironclads, which would seem to indicate that our great commercial steamship lines are far better engineered. The Admiralty has organised a system for training students at the dockyard factories, followed up by a course of study at the Naval College, Greenwich; and it is to be hoped that these efforts will lead to greater efficiency in the service. A naval engineer of the present day needs to be a man of liberal education, and of considerable scientific knowledge, both theoretical and practical, and he should then receive on board that recognition which his talents would command ashore. At present, a chief engineer, R.N., ranks with a commander, and other engineers with lieutenants. It is probable that, at some date in the not very distant future, higher ranks will be thrown open to the engineer, as his importance on board is steadily increasing.
The seamen of all nations, it has, in effect, been said, resemble each the other more than do the nations to which they belong. “As,” says a well-known writer, “the sea receives and amalgamates the waters of all the rivers which pour into it, so it tends to amalgamate the men who make its waves their home.... The seaman from the United States is said to carry to the forecastle a large stock of ‘equality and the rights of man,’ and to be unpleasantly distinguished by the inbred disrespect for authority which cleaves, perhaps inseparably, to a democrat who believes that he has whipped mankind, and that it is his mission, at due intervals, to whip them again. But, on board, he, too, tones down to the colour of blue water, and is more a seaman than anything else.” The French sailor is painted, by Landelle, as the embodiment of the same frolicsome lightheartedness, carelessness of the future, abandonment to impulse, and devotion to his captain, comrades, and ship, with which we are familiar in the English sailor, on the stage. But although depicted as much more polished than, it is to be feared, the average sailor could be in truth, he finishes by saying: “Il est toujours prêt à céder le haut du pavé à tout autre qu’à un soldat.” It would seem, then, that the French sailor revenges the treatment of society on the soldiers of his country. Is there not a similar [pg 227]feeling existing, perhaps to a more limited extent, between the sailors and soldiers of our own country? It hardly, however, extends to the officers of the “United Service.”
Another trait of the British sailor’s character: Jack will forgive much to the officer who is ever ready, brave, and daring, who is a true seaman in times of peace, and a sailor militant in times of war. Lord Nelson, the most heroic seaman the world ever saw, it is pleasant to remember, was equally the idol of his colleagues, of his subordinate officers, and of his men for these very reasons. After he had explained to his captains his proposed plan of attack, just prior to the commencement of the battle of Trafalgar, he took the men of the Victory into his confidence. He walked over all the decks, speaking kindly to the different classes of seamen, and encouraging them, with his usual affability, praising the manner in which they had barricaded certain parts of the ship. “All was perfect, death-like silence, till just before the action began. Three cheers were given his lordship as he ascended the quarter-deck ladder. He had been particular in recommending cool, steady firing, in preference to a hurrying fire, without aim or precision; and the event justified his lordship’s advice, as the masts of his opponents came tumbling down on their decks and over their sides.”[123] After the fatal bullet had done its work, and Nelson was conveyed below, the surgeon came and probed the wound. The ball was extracted; but the dying hero told the medical man how sure he was that his wound was fatal, and begged, when he had dressed it, that he would attend to the other poor fellows, equal sufferers with himself. A boatswain’s mate on board the Brilliant frigate, shortly afterwards, when first acquainted of the death of Nelson, paid a tribute of affection and honest feeling, which shows how clearly he had gained the hearts of all. The boatswain’s mate, then doing duty as boatswain, was ordered to pipe all hands to quarters; he did not respond, and the lieutenant on duty went to inquire the cause. The man had been celebrated for his promptness, as well as bravery, but he was found utterly unnerved, and sobbing like a child. “I can’t do it,” said he—“poor dear fellow, that I have been in many a hard day with!—and to lose him now! I wouldn’t have cared so much for my old father, mother, brothers, or sisters; but to think of parting with poor Nelson!” and he broke down utterly. The officer, honouring his feelings, let him go below. Who does not remember how, when the body of Nelson lay in state at Greenwich, a deputation of the Victory’s crew paid their last loving respects, tearful and silent, and could scarcely be removed from the scene? or how, when the two Union-Jacks and St. George’s ensign were being lowered into the grave at St. Paul’s—the colours shattered as was the body of the dead hero—the brave fellows who had borne them each tore off a part of the largest flag, to remind them ever after of England’s greatest victory and England’s greatest loss? Many an otherwise noble and brave officer has utterly failed in endearing himself to his men; and there can be no doubt of the value of being thoroughly en rapport with them—the more as it in no way need relax discipline. It is an implied compliment to a crew from their commander, to be taken, at the proper time, into his confidence. The following anecdote will show how much an action was decided by this, and with how little loss of life.