From Lower Deck to Pulpit

by Henry Cowling

Full well I knew my parents would not consent my joining the navy. Still, one day I ventured to broach the subject to my mother, who replied "That she could not bear to hear of such a thing." The craving still grew, and my parents, clearly understanding the bend of my inclination, made a compromise, steeped in love. This was it: "Seeing you have such a desire for the sea, we have been praying much about the matter, and after due consideration, conclude it will be far better for you to join the service as a young man, not as a poor, helpless boy. You shall have the trade of a shipwright—(the same, trade as the one I should have been apprenticed to in the dockyard, had I desired to pas the necessary qualification, but as a matter of fact, this desire for the sea swallowed up every other)—and when out of your time you will be in a different position to enter!" All this my uncle, who himself had been in the navy, corroborated by saying: "I should not put a dog before the mast—poor boys are huffed and cuffed shamefully; but when a young man has a trade, and then joins, his treatment, by reason of his manhood and trade, is totally different."

After all this advice my enthusiasm cooled down, only to reappear in a short time with greater fervour. In the meantime, I was apprenticed to a shipbuilding trade, and although seven years was the required time to learn it, I gathered it all up in one week. Wonderful! wonderful! for in that short time I was taught how to fill up a hole with putty, and this is the extent of my practical knowledge of a shipwright's task to-day. Do you mean that you only stayed a week? you ask. That is all. And my mother had kept, until within a few months ago, the little white smock-frock, which I wore in my work, as a reminder in calico of my shipbuilding days.

During this week I met with still further enticements to become a sailor boy. The building yard being in close proximity to the 'Impregnable', I could hear the brass band every morning, and what is so enticing as music? Then, again, hundreds of boys came ashore in large pinnaces, landing within a few yards from me, each carrying a rifle. This was more than I could bear by way of temptation, and impressing my parents how very much I should abhor seven years in the shipbuilding yard, intimating that nothing would satisfy me but to be a sailor-boy, they, within the course of a few weeks, very reluctantly yielded to my burning request.

Having passed all necessary requirements, I joined the navy on my fourteenth birthday. It was Monday morning, and after eating my breakfast, I rose and wished my mother and sisters 'good-bye.' Sorrow filled their hearts and tears their eyes—not so much because I was leaving home for a long time, as I should see them again before the week expired, but even this parting was considered long, for hitherto I had not slept one night away from home. I say not so much because of this fact, as that they were doubtful as to whether I was taking the right step or not. My parents impressed upon me that even now it was not too late to change my mind, even though my papers were all signed. I can remember how eagerly my mother pleaded to burn them, coaxing me to sit down and have another cup of tea, and to forget all about the navy in the drinking of it.

Truth to tell my enthusiasm was fast dwindling away, but enough was left at that moment to wish another 'farewell,' and to pass down the street With my father who walked with me to the pier and watched the boat bear me to the ship "Would to God I had never left home on that morning," was an expression often on my lips during my career in the navy. My mother's tears had been shed on the fire of my passion—it was now becoming quenched, but not until it was too late did it become extinguished—that is, when I had boarded the ship and given up my papers to the authorities.

So my readers will understand that it was with a heavy heart, yea and with a great deal of reluctancy, that I entered the navy—that despite the great flame of enthusiasm that had been burning in my young life, it dwindled away almost to the point of being extinguished on this memorable morning; yet something within urged me quietly on and on till that which was done could not be undone.

I was now sent to H.M.S 'Circe,' the outfitting ship for young recruits, to get my uniform. On reaching the top of the companion ladder a ship's corporal (i.e. a naval policeman) approached me and asked, "Had I any money or jewellery?" If so, it must be kept in his custody until such time as I should be prepared to join the mother-ship, the 'Impregnable.' I handed him the eight pence which I carried in my pocket. After being ordered to read from a board certain rules and digest them, then came the bath, followed by the dinner, which latter consisted of a piece of fat pork (called 'dobs,' I afterward learned, in the training-ship) and a thick piece of bread, neither of which tempted my appetite.

I ate nothing that day, and when a fortnight later my civilian's suit was sent home, the sausage rolls which I carried on board with me were discovered in my pocket. I cannot hope to describe the feelings through which I passed on this first day. My poor little heart nearly broke—it was my first lesson in the school of sorrowful tears. "Oh that I had listened to my parents' advice this morning," was what I whispered to myself a hundred times before closing my eyes in sleep that night.

The day wore away slowly—oh, so slowly! I became homesick, and ran from one port-hole to the other watching the Millbrook steamers pass to and fro, endeavouring thereby to persuade myself into the belief that after all I was in touch with home. This gave me a kind of satisfaction, as it seemed to sever my thoughts, or rather to loose them, from the floating cage, and link them and my love to home, yea, and even to the passing steamers.

Just as when a traveller in a foreign land meets with a friend of his native town, and is filled with delight and fond memories of the home-land by such an event, in like manner did I regard those steamers—they were connecting links uniting my heart to my home. Nor is this comparison overdrawn, for my readers must bear in mind that I was only a little boy. And how very natural homesickness was, amidst such strange surroundings, and, with no liberty, only they who have passed through a similar experience know.