On Board the "Rocket"

by Robert C. Adams

By law, sailors discharged from an American ship abroad are entitled to three months' extra pay, one third of which goes to the Consul. This made the crew still more anxious to leave and they impatiently awaited the decision. The Consul, with unusual liberality, told Capt. Streeter that if his crew wished to be discharged and would at once take passage in the steamer for England, he might let them go without any extra pay. The men were a little disappointed at this, but were so dissatisfied with the ship that they preferred to leave on these terms, and were accordingly paid off and took the steamer for Hull, England. As they passed the "Dublin" on their way down the river they waved their hats and one of them shouted "Bad luck to the old hooker."

One evening in New Diep, old Harry went into the between decks on some duty, and as it was rather dark there he fell through the hatchway into the hold and broke his right arm. Captain Streeter was too economical to employ a doctor, and too strict a disciplinarian to allow the sailor to go on shore to see one; he also believed that he knew more than all the medical fraternity put together. He therefore set the bone himself, but did it so badly that the arm was nearly useless after the bones had knit. Harry was very downhearted about it, for now he could no longer ship as an able seaman and, as usual, when he was discharged at Gothenburg he sought relief from his sorrows in drink. In a few days he was picked up in the gutter, one cold morning, penniless and almost naked. The United States Consul kindly gave him some clothes, and wished him to accept a very serviceable coat which had belonged to his coachman. But the sailor said: "Old Harry is an old man-o'-wars-man and he can't wear a coachman's coat. Cut those big buttons off and I'll take it." In his buttonless coat he was put on board the steamer for England and disappeared.

One Sunday I went up to Gothenburg, in one of the little steam launches that ply up and down the river. In the evening after my return I told the mate of my visit; and after hearing my description of the city, he said:

"I wish you'd been aboard this afternoon when Capt. Mann of the brig "Hong Kong" was down in the cabin, visiting the old man. They talked so loud I couldn't help hearing all they said, though I didn't listen. You know you told me Capt. Streeter never commanded a vessel before he had this one; but if you had heard his yarns, you'd have learned that he's had charge of a whole fleet of ships, and he had such a great reputation that the Emperor of Russia wanted him to command one of his "cravats," as he called it, but I suppose he meant corvettes. He told the Emperor that if he took charge of her, the first thing he'd do would be to run her into action and get the crew killed off, in order to make room for true-born Americans—the only men who could get two ideas in their heads without bursting. The Emperor didn't like this plan of disposing of his subjects very well, but he knew that Capt. Streeter was such a smart man that he still urged him to accept, until the affair ended by the captain telling him he wouldn't take one of his ships if he'd give her to him.

"That wasn't the yarn I started to tell you though. Capt. Streeter said that he commanded the ship "Seaman's Bride." (I'm pretty sure he's been second mate of her). He was loading teas at Shanghae on owners' account, and they wrote to him to make the quickest passage home he possibly could, and not to spare either spars, sails or rigging. In eighty-four days after leaving Shanghae he dropped anchor off the Battery; the quickest passage ever made. He had carried away a set of top-gallantmasts, sprung the fore topmast, mainmast-head, and fore and main topsail-yards, and blown away two suits of sails. On discharging her, they found two of her deck beams broken, five knees started in the between decks, and four hanging knees in the lower hold broken, and so on till he ran up a list longer than a bill of repairs on an underwriter's job. When he got the ship's damages told, he began on the damages to sailors, and I tell you they were still worse. He killed two men outright and in New York nineteen men went ashore with broken heads, all fixed to order by himself, for his mates didn't know anything, and feared everything in the shape of sailors, and he had to lick them too. I never heard a man tell a straighter story in my life. I believe the old man would beat Tom Pepper at a yarn, and they say he was more than a match for the Old Nick at lying. I'd like to be behind the door when the match was going on, anyway. I never thought he told the truth very hard, but I believe now he's forgotten how, if he ever knew."

"Why," I added, "you know he said himself one day, 'I never tell the truth except when a lie won't answer,' and I thought he came nearer telling the truth than usual when he said that."

"My opinion of Capt. Streeter," said the mate, "is that he would be a thundering rascal if he dared to be, but he hasn't got the pluck, and he tries to get the credit of it by making up in lies what he hasn't courage to do."

"He's a pretty hard man though," said I; "I've seen him handle some sailors very roughly."

"Hard man," said the mate; "I wish you could have seen the work in some ships I've been in. What courage does it take for a great two-fisted fellow like him to handle a single sailor. There was old "Blower Aiken," who used to keep a bucket full of coal on the poop to heave at the sailors, and when they were at the main braces, if they didn't haul hard enough to suit, and it wasn't very often they did, he'd get up on the after-house, and jump down on top of one of the men, and then turn to and lick the whole watch. When I was in the packet-ship "Mountaineer," along with 'Bully Nat Johnson,' I was with what I call a hard man. If the man at the wheel got the ship a little off her course, I've seen him pick up a boat-hook and run it through the man's cheek, and keep him standing at the wheel till his trick was done.

"We were coming home from Liverpool once, and went out of the North Channel; but then the wind came from the northward and blew a living gale. This brought the Irish coast on our lee, and the 'old man' carried sail pretty hard to claw off. Our fore-topsail blew all to ribbons, and while we were up bending another, a boy fell off the lee yard arm. Only the man next to him noticed him, and it was blowing so hard he could not make any one hear to windward. The mate, who was on deck, saw it, and beckoned to me to come down. (I was third mate of her). When I got on deck, he told me what had happened, and he had just thrown a rope which the boy had got hold of; for the ship of course was only just drifting. We tried to haul him in, but when he was nearly up, he slipped his hold and fell into the water. He floated aft, and caught hold of the main chain-plates; and just as I was going to get a rope round him the old man yelled out to me: 'Go up on that fore-topsail yard.'"