Captain John Crane, 1800-1815

by Thomas Wallace Knox

Our conversation was overheard by Bill Haines, who laughed heartily at the proposal to see the captain and be let off from going to sea. When his laugh was ended, a serious look came over his face, and he said,—

"Now, my lads, you'll be making fools of yourselves. You've signed articles for the voyage, and the captain wouldn't dream of letting you off. Besides, those drunken fellows that you've just seen hauled on board will be all right by to-morrow. They've been having a bit of a spree, and that's all there is about it. When the rum gets out of them they'll be good enough sailors, you may be sure."

"But I don't want to go to sea with them," I said. "They'll be getting this way every day; and I don't care to live among such men."

"You're a green 'un, and no mistake," said Haines. "They won't be getting this way at all while they're at sea; the captain wouldn't let 'em. They can't get a drop of grog except when it's served out, and there isn't enough of it served at one time for a man to get drunk on. You're all right, lads; wait and see how it comes out."

Just then we were joined by another sailor, Joe Herne, with whom we had already made some acquaintance. Joe and Bill were great friends, and both David and I took a liking to the two men. They were bluff, hearty, good-natured fellows, who had fought on a ship-of-war during the Revolution, and since the declaration of peace had sailed in the merchant marine. They could read and write, but their education did not go much farther than that. Of the two I fancied Haines rather than Herne; David took to Herne more than to Haines, and in this way each of us found a friend from the very first day of our voyage.

With so many of the crew intoxicated to a degree of helplessness, the ship was decidedly short-handed; and when the pilot came on board he brought with him six or eight men, who were to help work the ship into the lower bay. Several boxes and barrels were brought down to the dock at the last moment and rolled on board; and the last thing that was brought was a bag of letters, which I carried to the captain's room. Then the lines were cast off, and the ship was slowly hauled into the water, beyond the wharf where we had been tied up. It was just the top of the tide when we left the wharf, and as we reached the middle of the stream the ebb set in. I didn't know then what was meant by ebb and flood; I had read about them in some of the books, but the definitions were not clear to me. I spoke to Haines on the subject, and he explained the terms to me; you may be sure that I thanked him very earnestly for the information.

With the falling tide we drifted down the harbor and into the lower bay, a slight wind from the north-west favoring our movements. We went slowly, and it was pretty late in the afternoon before we reached the point where the pilot had decided upon anchoring for the night. We dropped anchor; and then a boat came alongside to take away the men who had come on board with the pilot to assist in working the Washington to where she lay.

It was much quieter that night on board the ship than on the previous one; the intoxicated men were proving the truth of Haine's prediction, as the next morning saw them all sobered up, though some were in a condition which Herne described as "very shaky." All were able to work, however, and were set about their duties, supervised by the first and second mates, so that there was no danger of the rust accumulating in their joints.

Some of the sailors had brought their chests with them; others had come with bundles of varied size; and others had nothing except the clothing in which they stood. To these last, the mate served out shirts, trousers, and jackets, from the slop-chest, and the garments thus obtained were charged to the account of the man who received them. You may be sure that the prices were high enough, as it was not the intention of the owners of the ship to lose money in any transactions with the crew. I suspected as much at the time; since I became mate and captain I have learned all about it.

It was a dead calm all through the forenoon, and the pilot went anxiously about the ship, hoping, whistling, praying, and swearing, for a wind. He obtained what he wanted after a time, but whether his prayers or his oaths brought it, "deponent sayeth not."