At the back of the world

by George Pugh; Jennie Pugh

“Oh is that so!”

Turning to me he said:

“When you come to call me in future, knock at the door loudly, you need not come in. Now go to your berth.”

I did so at once, for I was rather upset, it being my first experience of anything in the shape of a blow since coming to sea.

After I left the poop, the mate explained to the captain and second mate that he often slept with his eyes wide open he had been told, and no doubt it had given the lad a start. For my part, I took care that I never went into his room again to call him.

The second mate, Mr. Ross, was a young officer of athletic build, inexperienced, hot-headed, and stubborn as a mule. Overwhelmed with a sense of the dignity of his position, he thought the only way to impress a sailor was by knocking him down—a bad principle at any time, (perhaps some of his ancestors had been slave-drivers, and the taint clung.) He considered it quite beneath him to let a sailor explain anything to him. The man might have far greater experience, and might possibly be able to teach him far more than he knew, but he would never admit he was wrong, and was continually calling the men duffers and loafers. For instance, one of his Frenchmen had been twelve years boatswain in the French navy, and no duffer could hold that post, neither was he a loafer, for a harder working man I never sailed with. George, the Greek, had for years been acting second mate and boatswain in American ships, and it is well known that a man may be a duffer when he joins an American ship, but they will make a sailor of him before he leaves her. And so it was with most of our crew, they were fairly willing workers, but their knowledge of the Queen’s English was very limited and the second mate had not patience to try and explain to them, although the mate had no trouble with them at all. The second mate’s arbitrary and tyrannical ways were causing a bitter feeling to spread amongst the men, and I heard many a smothered threat from them, growing louder after each outburst on his part, vowing to be even with him some day when he least expected it.

Another thing I found out before we had been long at sea, and that was that the crew were a lot of confirmed gamblers, and every minute they could spare was spent in playing cards for stakes. I have since watched an English crew gamble day by day and night by night for weeks together, and never an angry word from the loser, but not so with these men, they were like perfect demons while playing, their eyes gleamed with the gambling fever, fairly starting out of their heads, one hand meanwhile played with the sheath knife in their belt, and the moment a man began to lose he at once accused the others of cheating, and the end was a fight. They cannot stand a losing game. When they come to blows they generally grip the blade of their knife, leaving about half an inch of the blade protruding, and always cut downwards, or across the face, and arms, making superficial wounds that are rarely mortal or even dangerous, but are horribly disfiguring. When things got to this stage, Old George the Greek and the big Frenchman would step in and quieten them. The officers very seldom had to interfere, which was, perhaps, just as well.

One night, while running through the south-east trade winds, the weather was very unsettled and squally, and a hard-looking squall rose up to windward. Mr. Menzies saw it, and called out to stand by the royal and top-gallant halliards. The watch were in the forecastle playing cards, and did not hear him. The man on the look-out heard the mate, and stamped his feet on the deck, but the watch were too intent on their game, and either did not, or would not hear him. Seeing no one stirring about the deck, and the squall rising fast, the mate sang out to the man at the wheel, “Keep her off, hard up!” and then, rushing along the deck into the forecastle he seized the Spaniards by their throats, and fairly flung them out on the deck. Just at that moment the squall struck the ship with all sail set, and she heeled over until the lee rail was under water. I thought the masts would have gone over the side, but the helm being up the vessel rushed through the water like a frightened deer. But thank God there was no sea running, or it would have been disastrous. All hands now rushed on deck as fast as they could at the angle the ship was lying over. The captain sprang to the wheel, but the helmsman had already got it hard over, and the ship was paying off before the wind. The royal and small stay sails had all blown to ribbons. As the ship swung off before the wind, she came upright again—by this time the squall had passed over. The mate and second mate then set to with their fists and belaying pins, and laid about the four men who should have been on deck, and in a few minutes the deck was like the floor of a slaughter house with blood.

The captain came along the deck afterwards and ordered all hands to stop on deck until the torn sails were replaced. This was done in sullen silence, and the watch on deck, all cut and bruised with the blood running from their heads and faces, were sent aloft to send down the old sails and bend the new ones. By the time this was done it was four a.m.

But our troubles were not yet over—one of the Turks standing by me as the new sails were set, swore he would knife the mate for striking him. I told him to be careful of what he said, or he would get himself into trouble, if he had been on deck, as he should have been when the mate called, the sails would not have been lost, and there would have been no cause for the mate to strike him. No sooner had I said this than he struck me in the mouth and knocked me down, as I sprang up again I seized him by the ankles and jerked his feet from under him. Down he fell, striking his head violently against the hatchcombing. He lay where he fell, senseless.