A bunch of rope yarns

by Stanton H. King

When a youngster I took my blankets out over the bow and bending on a line, allowed them to drag close to the stem of the ship. The wavelets from her bow tumbled them over and over as they trailed in front of the old girl’s nose. In an hour when I hauled them aboard they were as clean as when I brought them from the store. This was such an easy method of cleaning blankets that in about two month’s time I thought I would give them another drag over the bow. But alas! I forgot to take them in on going below. Next morning when I remembered them I hurriedly reached the bowsprit and found instead of the white folds of my blankets rolling themselves among the foam at the bow, a dirty woolen mass wrapped around the rusty chain bobstays. I tried to release it but could not, as the vessel was then ducking into the waves of a strong trade wind.

It fell a dead calm one forenoon, so I got overboard to unwrap my blankets from the bobstay. I was not molested even though my shipmates tried to frighten me by shouting “a shark” while I was overboard, but my labor was in vain, for my blankets were now a heap of shreds covered with iron rust. Fortunately the slop chest was supplied with a few blankets made of “dogs wool and oakum,” or I should have shivered in my bunk when we sailed into cold weather. On another occasion I was on a ship where the captain did not allow any towing of clothes over the side, as he claimed it decreased the speed of his vessel. At night he prowled around the decks and if there was a line made fast on deck on which some sailor was towing his clothes, he would set the whole adrift, a serious loss to the owner.

A sailor’s great delight is to overhaul his belongings. His vessel is at anchor in the bay or perhaps moored alongside some wharf. He has been hard at work from daylight till dark every day of the week. Sunday morning has dawned, and as soon as the decks have been cleaned, he has the remaining portion of the Sabbath to himself. Up comes his bag or chest on deck and the contents are aired and dried. Then it is he can sit on the coamings of the hatch, or on a spare spar or bucket, and gathering his dirty duds around him, with soap and plenty of fresh water, he can wash to his heart’s delight. The method on a man-of-war is different. Keeping one’s clothes clean is an important matter on such a vessel. On some war ships there are three days in which the man can wash clothes while in port, while on others only two wash days a week are allowed. The evening before the wash clothes day, just before sunset, the different parts of the ship are ordered by the officer of the deck through the boatswain’s mates to get up their clothes line. These lines are two single ropes reaching the full length of the ship. At certain distances apart there are stirrups about four feet deep holding them together. After the whips are hooked on to the lines, a man stands by at each whip waiting for the quartermaster to report sundown. Then as the colors are being lowered the lines are triced aloft in their places. At such a time there may be other evolutions in progress; the light yards are coming down, the awnings triced up; everything accomplished as though it were the movements of one great machine.

The question of fresh water arises at this time. The paymaster has served us with salt water soap, a mixture of potash and grease which does not give the cleansing lather in salt water that ordinary soap will give in fresh. It is a poor substitute at its best. Fresh water on a war vessel is a scarce luxury. The condenser is at work most of the time for there are many men to use the supply. Therefore a marine is stationed at the scuttle butt to see that no water is taken from it except for drinking. There is a dipper fastened to the butt and each man must drink what he needs in the presence of the sentry. I have seen men resort to every device to secure a bucket of water to wash their clothes. I, myself, have worked the drip bucket scheme. As there is a bucket placed by the scuttle butt to receive the drippings and leavings of the dipper, we have planned to make frequent visits to the scuttle butt, fill the dipper, then take a mouthful and empty the remainder into the save-all pail. In a little while the bucket needs to be emptied. We are ready to do this, and so secure a couple of gallons of water.

Again, when on friendly terms with the firemen on watch, they would allow us to sneak down to the fireroom and draw a bucket full from the condenser. In port when alongside a navy yard dock, it was different. Then our supply was plentiful, but at sea, or at anchor in a foreign harbor, we had to watch our chances to steal a bucketful to wash our clothes.

On a certain war vessel the “first luff” gave a standing order, that every part of the ship was to have a bucket of fresh water to swab off the white paint on the bulwarks. Sometimes this water was used for this purpose, but more frequently it was kept hidden back of a gun carriage till the decks were cleaned. Then we would divide the water between us. We had fully fourteen men in our part of the ship which was a large number to bathe in this one pail. Still it was better than salt water. I have washed in less than half a gallon of water which several men had already used. Although only muddy soapsuds, thick enough to be cut with a knife, it removed the dirt from my face and I could then give myself the final polish by dousing my face with clean salt water.

If in port and the awnings were housed so as to shelter the crew from the falling rain, every wash deck bucket was put into use. When the awnings are housed only a few stops are in use and the remaining ones make excellent places to fasten an empty bucket. The weight of it forms a ridge on the awning. In this way we could secure water at times for washing purposes.

We had a sailing launch which was seldom used. Only when all boats armed and equipped for distance service, were called away, or to abandon ship, did her keel touch the sea. This Noah’s Ark was a secluded place for the maintop men. Resting in her crutches in their part of the ship, they could hide a bucket of water from the eyes of the “first luff,” or the officer of the deck.

It is the duty of the coxswain of each boat to see that his boat’s water breaker is filled, especially when at sea. On this same ship the coxswain of the first cutter was lowered on the conduct class as a punishment for not having his boat’s breaker filled. It was not his fault. Before the ship had left the harbor he had filled his breaker, but some thoughtless fellow had lifted the corner of the boat’s cover and getting into the boat, had stolen the water. It was useless for the coxswain to make this statement for he had no proof, and even if he had, he would have settled it on the forecastle head and not at the mast. It was well for the thief he was not caught. He would have been court-martialed and well he deserved it. If we had met with an accident and had to abandon our vessel, some twenty or more men would have been at sea in an open boat without water.

When in port we were called at five o’clock each morning. One half hour was allowed for coffee; then if it was a morning to wash clothes the officer of the deck would order the boatswain’s mates to pipe, “scrub and wash clothes.” In both the starboard and port gangways, on top and under the forecastle head the crew would do their washing. Sometimes a blue flannel shirt which did not need much cleansing, or a white duck suit too stiff to rub between the hands, were placed on deck, and the dirt removed by rubbing the scrub brush over them, after first applying a liberal coating of soapsuds.