A bunch of rope yarns

by Stanton H. King

I told one of the men about the Sailor’s Haven and gave him an invitation to visit us. He looked at me and said, “To h—l with you and your mission!” Just then one of the mates rebuked him, saying, “Don’t talk that way to the gentleman; you know he’s not to blame for our treatment.” Before I left the ship I had a long talk with him. He apologized for his unkind language, and said he felt we worried ourselves too much about getting them into heaven and not enough about bettering their surroundings on earth.

That evening I was conversing with a chief engineer of another steamer. I told him of my experience on that ship. I remarked that it must be very hard for those men who had worked on deck in the cold to have to spend their evenings in such a miserable den. My heart even went out more in sympathy for the firemen than for the sailors, for they had been doing their work down in the bowels of the ship, with greasy hands and arms, half choked and black as negroes with cold dust. They must bathe on deck in a wash deck bucket, and make the best of what was given them.

“True enough, Mr. King,” he replied, “I admit that things could be better, but if you knew it all you would agree with me when I say they don’t deserve anything better. These men don’t and won’t appreciate anything else. Some steamship companies have tried their best to improve the surroundings of the crew, but they have so abused what has been done for them that they are given up by most companies as a hopeless lot.”

I know that many of the men going to sea have to learn the meaning of new conditions before they can value them; the failure of some to appreciate an improvement only shows more clearly the need of the improvement. Their very faculties for appreciating better conditions are nearly dead, and must be quickened and developed. We have to face the ignorance of those who need our help, and gradually carry on our reforming movements. The clean, respectable seamen will help the untidy, careless fellows to appreciate what is being done for them, and will join hands with the ship owners in making the sailor’s calling desirable. A ship’s forecastle is not a temporary place for some college student who is working his passage across the Atlantic during his summer vacation. It is the permanent home of the sailor. Therefore, if we are to have good men on our vessels, we must offer them comfortable quarters. The mechanic or laborer on land leaves his work at the close of the day, and goes to his home. There is a change, a new atmosphere greets him; not so with the sailor. The forecastle is his home. Debarred as he is from the society and companionship of his own people, he above all men should have the greatest comfort and the best of treatment when off duty.

I could endure the forecastle for a trip across, I could do the work on deck, or shovel coal in the fireroom, but I could not follow the sea for a living to-day and think that until my hair turns gray, and my hands tremble through age, I must eke out such an existence. Yes, a thousand times let me break the stones on the streets for a mere pittance, so that when my day’s work was over, I could find a shelter of warmth and cleanliness, even though it were poor and humble.

Now and again we find a steamer whose owners have given considerable thought to the crew. I call to mind a certain steamer which was in Boston not very long ago. In this vessel the twelve sailors had four large rooms. There was a good-sized mess-room near these quarters. Everything was neat and clean and manifested a spirit of cleanliness. Pictures of loved ones were hung up, there was a spirit of content prevailing on that vessel. Men lose all interest in keeping a place clean when they are huddled together like sheep in a pen.

The strongest and best of men are influenced by their surroundings. We shamefully admit this weakness, for we know as men we should be strong enough to master all our circumstances, and not they us. How then can we expect men who are ignorant of the laws governing their health to rise up and not be influenced by their circumstances? How do we expect our men in the engine room and on deck to be otherwise than they are? The hopeful sign is to find so many dissatisfied with their surroundings.

Not long ago I visited the firemen on a steamer. It was supper time. The room was dark, even though the sun was shining on deck. I thought one of my feet was in something slippery, and, going to the door of the forecastle, I discovered I had stepped into the “black pan.” This was a pan of food which consisted of the leavings of the cabin and engineers’ mess-room. The men, seeing I was embarrassed, said: “That’s all right, Mr. King; we have had all we want of it.” I have lived in forecastles where the conditions were almost as bad as this, but that was twenty years ago, but even then there were not so many of us huddled in one room. Suppose we go on board some of the finest and best steamers; go forward and visit the forecastles. You will find a large, undivided space, a place where a dozen men may be able to move around in comfort, containing from twenty to forty men. Their clothes are hung on lines around their bunks. At its best you will say: “What a gloomy den!”

I have never witnessed such a miserable condition on board ship as I encountered in the forecastle of an ocean steamer one Sunday morning. I went on board to invite the men to the services at the Mission. About thirty-five men were in a room filled with bunks, with a narrow passage between them. The men were asleep. Just then a fireman entered with a large black pan and a kettle, and calling at the top of his voice “Hash!” he placed the pan and kettle on the dirty floor. The call of “hash” made the men roll over and think of getting up. The odor of that room was villainous. The night through, these men had smoked and slept, and in that same atmosphere they were called to eat their breakfast. One man tried to light his pipe as he was turning out, and shouting to me said, “Mr. King, can’t you do something for us? Look, sir, the match won’t burn, the air is so thick in here.” I did indeed feel sorry for him. Were I in his place, I would climb on deck, be it hot or cold, and in God’s pure air eat my meals. It is fortunate they have an abundance of fresh air on deck to help counteract the impure atmosphere of the forecastles.

On some of the ships the petty officers are put four and six men in a room; they keep their quarters clean and enjoy the comfort of being somewhat private in their lives on shipboard. The interest they take in keeping neat and clean where four are placed in a room is very noticeable. All of these petty officers were once in the forecastle, and, having left it, and appreciating something better, show that those in the forecastle to-day are capable of properly receiving improvements.