We were now ordered on another cruise. Being in want of men, we resorted to the press-gang which was made up of our most loyal men, armed to the teeth; by their aid we obtained our full numbers. Among them were a few Americans; they were taken without respect to their protections, which were often taken from them and destroyed. Some were released through the influence of the American consul; others, less fortunate, were carried to sea, to their no small chagrin.[4]
The duties of the press-gang completed, we once more weighed anchor, and were soon careering before the gales of the bay of Biscay. Our reception in this proverbially stormy bay was by no means a civil one. We met with an extraordinarily severe gale, in which we came very near foundering. We had just finished dinner, when a tremendous sea broke over us, pouring down the hatchway, sweeping the galley of all its half-cooked contents, then being prepared for the officers’ dinner, and covering the berth deck with a perfect flood. It seemed as if old Neptune really intended that wave to sink us to Davy Jones’ locker. As the water rolled from side to side within, and the rude waves without beat against her, our good ship trembled from stem to stern, and seemed like a human being gasping for breath in a struggle with death. The women (there were several on board) set up a shriek, a thing they had never done before; some of the men turned pale; others cursed and tried to say witty things; the officers started; orders ran along the ship to man the chain-pumps, and to cut holes through the berth deck to let the water into the hold. These orders being rapidly obeyed, the ship was freed from her danger. The confusion of the moment was followed by laughing and pleasantries. That gale was long spoken of as one of great danger.
It is strange that sailors, who see so much peril, should treat religion with such neglect as it is usual for them to do. When danger is imminent, they send up a cry for help; when it is past, they rarely return a grateful thank-offering. Yet how truly and eloquently has the Psalmist shown, in the 107th Psalm, what should be the moral effect of the wonders of the deep. What but a deep-rooted spiritual perversity prevents such an effect?
The next incident that disturbed the monotony of our sea-life, was of a melancholy character. We had been giving chase to two West Indiamen the whole of one Sabbath afternoon; at night it blew so hard we had to reef top-sails; when a poor fellow, named John Thomson, was knocked from the yard. In falling, he struck some part of the ship, and the wave which opened to receive him, never disclosed his form again. He was a pressed man, an American by birth, greatly beloved by his messmates, by whom his death was as severely felt as when a member of a family dies on shore. His loss created a dull and gloomy atmosphere throughout the ship: it was several days before the hands regained their wonted elasticity of mind and appearance.
My recollections of this cruise are very feeble and indistinct, owing to a severe injury which confined me to my hammock nearly the whole period. The accident which ended in a severe illness had its origin in the following manner. The duty of cleaning knives, plates, dish-covers, &c., for the ward-room, devolved alternately on the boys employed in the ward-room. Having finished this task, one day, in my regular turn, the ward-room steward, a little hot-headed Malay, came to me at dinner-time to inquire for the knives. Not recollecting for the moment, I made no reply; when he angrily pushed me over a sack of bread. In falling my head came in contact with the corner of a locker. Feeling much pain, and the blood flowing freely, I went to Mr. Marsh, the surgeon’s mate, who dressed it, and bade me take care of it. Probably it would have healed speedily but for the freak of a sailor a few days after, while holy-stoning the decks. By holy-stoning, I mean cleaning them with stones, which are used for this purpose in men of war. These stones are, some of them, large, with a ring at each end with a rope attached, by which it is pulled backwards and forwards on the wet decks. These large stones are called holy bibles; the smaller hand ones are also called holy-stones, or prayer-books, their shape being something like a book. After the decks are well rubbed with these stones, they are wiped dry with swabs made of rope-yarns. By this means the utmost cleanliness is preserved in the ship. It was customary in our ship, during this scrubbing process, for the boys to wash themselves in a large tub provided for the purpose on the main deck. The men delighted in sousing us with water during this operation. After being wounded, as just mentioned, I endeavored to avoid their briny libations; but one morning, one of the sailors, seeing my anxiety, crept slily up behind me, and emptied a pail of water directly over my head. That night I began both to look and to feel sick. My messmates said I was sea-sick, and laughed at me. Feeling violent pains in my head, ears and neck, I felt relieved when it was time to turn in. The next morning, being rather behind my usual time in waiting upon the surgeon, he began to scold me. I told him I was unwell. He felt my pulse, examined my tongue, and excused me. Growing worse, my messmates got down my hammock. I entered it very sick; my head and face swelling very large, and my eyes so sunken I could scarcely see.
I remained in this sad situation several weeks, carefully attended by the surgeon, and watched by the men as tenderly as their rough hands could perform the office of nurse. My destiny was considered as being sealed, both by the crew and by myself. I was much troubled at the thought of dying: it seemed dark and dreary to enter the valley of the shadow of death without the presence of a Saviour. To relieve my feelings, I frequently repeated the Lord’s prayer, taught me by my indulgent mother in my earlier and brighter years. But my mind was dark and disconsolate; there were none among that kind-hearted but profligate crew to point my soul to its proper rest.
While lying in this state, my life hanging in a doubtful balance, one of the crew, named Black Tom, an African, was taken sick. His hammock was hung up in the sick bay, a part of the main deck appropriated to hospital purposes. Poor Tom, having a constitution already undermined by former excesses, soon fell under the attack of disease. He was then sewed up in his hammock, with some shot at his feet: at sundown the ship’s bell pealed a melancholy note, the ship was “hove to,” all hands mustered on deck, but myself; and, amid the most profound silence, the body of the departed sailor was laid upon the grating and launched into the great deep, the resting-place of many a bold head. A plunge, a sudden opening in the water, followed by an equally sudden return of the disparted waves, and Black Tom was gone forever from his shipmates! In a few moments the yards were braced round, and our frigate was cutting her way again through the wide ocean waste. It seemed to me that she was soon destined to heave to again, that I might also be consigned to an ocean grave. But in this I was happily disappointed. By the blessing of a watchful Providence, the aid of a sound constitution, assisted by the skill of our surgeon and the kindness of my shipmates, I was at last able to leave my hammock. Shortly after our return to Lisbon, I was pronounced fit for duty, and the surgeon having obtained another boy, I was placed on the quarter deck, in the capacity of messenger, or errand boy for the captain and his officers.
With my return to active life, came my exposure to hardships, and, what I dreaded still more, to punishment. Some of the boys were to be punished on the main deck; the rest were ordered forward to witness it, as usual. Being so far aft that I could not hear the summons, as a matter of course, I remained at my post. The hawk-eye of the lieutenant missed me, and in a rage he ordered me to be sent for to receive a flogging for my absence. Excuse was vain; for, such was the fiendish temper of this brutal officer, he only wanted the shadow of a reason for dragging the poor helpless boys of his charge to the grating. While I stood in trembling expectation of being degraded by the hated cat, a summons from the captain providentially called off our brave boy-flogger, and I escaped. The offence was never mentioned afterwards. The reader can easily perceive how such a constant exposure to the lash must embitter a seaman’s life.
Already, since the Macedonian had been in commission, had she changed captains twice. Why it so happened, it is not in my power to explain; but while at Lisbon, after the cruise last mentioned, our present captain was superseded by Captain John S. Carden. His arrival excited a transitory hope of a brighter lot, as he was an older man than the others, and, as we vainly trusted, a kinder one. Here, however, we were mistaken; he was like all the rest, the same heartless, unfeeling lover of whip discipline. At first the men under sentence tried their powers at flattery with the grave old man; but he was too experienced a sea-dog to be cajoled by a long-faced sailor under sentence: when, therefore, they told him he was a kind-hearted fatherly gentleman, he only replied by a most provoking laugh, and by saying they were a set of very undutiful sons.
Captain Carden was mercilessly severe in punishing theft. He would on no account forgive any man for this crime, but would flog the thief almost to death. Of this, we soon had a cruel instance. A midshipman named Gale, a most rascally, unprincipled fellow, found his pocket handkerchief in possession of one of the crew. He charged the man with stealing it. It was in vain that the poor wretch asserted that he found it under his hammock. He was reported as a thief; a court-martial sat upon him, and returned the shamefully disproportionate sentence of three hundred lashes through the fleet, and one year’s imprisonment! Any of my shipmates who are living, will certify to the truth of this statement, brutal and improbable as it may appear.