On Board the "Rocket"

by Robert C. Adams

"Go aft and take the wheel again! What business have you got here?"

"Don't you fret; I'll come out when I get ready," said Brock. The mate turned away and sent another sailor to relieve the captain. After Brock had finished his smoke, he appeared again on deck, and politely asked Mr. Smith if he had a job for him. The mate gave him a few of his opinions about his behavior, and set him at work aloft.

That night, in the first watch, I was keeping the mate company on deck, and hearing Mr. Smith's complaints about Brock. "Why don't you knock him down?" said I. "That's the only kind of treatment such a man can understand."

"I'll tell you why I don't," said the mate. "About five years ago I was mate of the ship "Neptune" in the Liverpool trade. We hove up our anchor in the River Mersey and were being towed out to sea. I was anxious to get the anchor catted as soon as possible, as the pilot wanted sail made on the ship, and I had all the crew on the forecastle, heaving on the capstan. An ugly-looking Liverpool Irishman, called Jim Kelley, was holding the turn, and just as the anchor was about up to the cat-head he let go the rope; it flew around the capstan at a lively rate, and the anchor went down.

"I growled at him for it, and he said it slipped away from him. We went at it again, and had the anchor half-way up, when Kelley surged the fall and let it go again. It was raining at the time, and things were very slippery, and he pleaded that as his excuse; but I thought I saw mischief in his eye. The end of the fall had hit two of the men pretty severe blows, as it flew around the capstan. I was pretty mad by this time, and told him if he did that again I'd knock his head off. I thought he'd hold on the next time, but just as I was going to say, "Heave a pawl!" down went the anchor for the third time. I heard the pilot rattling off a string of oaths as long as the maintop-bow-line, and I stepped up to Kelley and gave him a touch of my fist that sent him head first off the top-gallant forecastle on to a pile of chain cable. He didn't feel like holding any more turns for a day or two, you may bet, and the rest of the crew said it served him right. But when we got into New York I was hauled up in court for it, and had to pay fifty dollars fine. Now I've got a wife and five children, and as good-looking ones as you'd wish to see they are, too, though I say it, and my wages are all they have to support them. That villain Brock, is a good deal of a sea-lawyer, and if I lay my hand on him, it's only taking the bread out of my little ones' mouths and giving him rum money. I made a vow after that time that I'd never strike a man again."

"But what can you do," said I; "you ought to keep good discipline. Hasn't the captain got any legal power to punish ugly sailors?"

"Yes," said Mr. Smith, "the captain has power, but he doesn't want to be troubled, and it's considered the mate's place to keep the men straight. Once I went to a captain and reported an impudent sailor, and the only satisfaction I got was, "What did you come here for if you can't take care of the crew," and I got turned out of the ship at the end of the voyage. I made a vow then that I'd never complain to the old man again; so between my two vows I don't see that I've got much chance with a sailor that's bent on making a row. If this ai'n't a dog's life, I'd like to know what it is."

All the way across the Atlantic the sailors may be said to have had charge of the ship, and did about as they pleased. Brock's insolence was beyond all bounds, and it seemed incredible that it should be submitted to by the captain and officers. He was evidently in a desperate mood to get struck, and one evening at eight o clock, when the captain kept his watch up a few minutes to take in the top-gallantsails, as a stormy night was coming on, Brock stepped up to him and said, "Cap'n, it's too late for you to try and humbug us now. It's our watch below." The captain sputtered some bad words at him, and told him he was no sailor: but the hoped-for blow was not given.

The passage ended at last, and New York was reached, none too soon for all on board. The day after arrival, the crew came to the ship to be paid off, and Brock called the mate aside and made this startling speech: "Mr. Smith, I want to beg your pardon for the way I behaved on this voyage. You're the kindest man ever I sailed with, and I know I ought to be ashamed of myself. I can show you the marks on my head where the last mate I was with split it open with a belaying pin, and I deserved it too. You'd have done right if you had served me the same way. What would my good old mother have said if she had known what a wretch I have been! She used to pray with me, and beg me to be a good man. Now that she's dead, her words sometimes haunt me, and I have made up my mind that I'll be a different man for the rest of my life." A tear stood in his eye, and good Mr. Smith took his hand and said, "I don't bear you no ill-will, Brock. I don't harbor malice towards nobody living. If a man should cut my throat, I believe I'd forgive him the next minute." As he turned away, he caught a whiff of Brock's breath, and the suspicion came sadly to his mind that this repentance was not so much the result of piety as of whiskey.

This story reminds me of a little incident that occurred in Bombay when I was mate of the "Lizzie Oakford." There were two English ships anchored, one on each side of us. It was a calm morning, and we could hear some of the words spoken on board these vessels. A little after breakfast our attention was attracted to the ship on the port side, by the sound of angry voices. The captain was having an altercation with some of his crew, and very soon passed from words to blows. He "ended" four or five of them over, and with every stroke of his fist we could hear him swear about the Act of Parliament. In the course of half an hour we heard a row on board the ship on the starboard side, and looking towards her we saw a number of her crew on the poop-deck. One of the sailors had seized hold of the mate's coat-tail, and was whirling him around in a circle, while another, with a folded strip of canvas, belabored his back every time he flew past. Our second mate was so indignant at this insult to his cloth that he wanted to board the vessel and fight the sailors on his own account, but he said he should want to "lick the mate too." "There," said he, "are the two extremes, and we are the middle. In one ship the officers abuse the sailors, and in the other the sailors abuse the officers. Here there hasn't been much of either yet awhile, though I think the old shell-backs have got a little the best of it."