Two incidents, in connection with this period of my Father’s personal history, are fresh in my recollection,—one of them illustrative of his difficult position in refusing familiar association with his fellow mariners; the other illustrative of his success in the acquisition of nautical knowledge, by his own persevering and unaided application.
A marked degree of ill-will, on the part of several of the crew in one of his early voyages, followed his prevailing separation from familiar association with them. This was exhibited by innumerable tokens and expressions, both in word and action. Jeers, insinuations and ridicule, were indulged in with painful and increasing frequency, and these not unmixed with contemptuous or offensive actions. Naturally spirited and quick-tempered, as the subject of this ungenerous behaviour was constitutionally, it was hard to restrain the expression of indignation, or to resist the urgent impulse to a just retaliation. But, acting on the system of non-retaliation, so long as they kept “hands off,” he bore this persecution with extraordinary forbearance. For constitutionally strong and energetic, few would have been able to compete with him, as the issue proved, if the lion in him were roused. His height was now near six feet; his frame was strong-boned and muscular; his vigour and activity were unusually great. But he restrained himself to the utmost, and his great strength, as to the perceptions of his associates, continued long unknown.
At length the time of resistance, which he could not but feel must some time or other arrive, came. It happened in this way. My Father had descended the deck after his watch, and with the view, I believe, of retiring, as usual, to a quiet part of the vessel alone, when two of the crew made on him a premeditated attack—a kind of half-joking assault by no trifling hits, rudely grasping him at the same moment, one on each side. Endeavouring to shake them off without coming to extremities, he quietly requested them to desist. Their sinister defiance and rudeness in grappling him increased in offensiveness. “You had better be quiet;” “Do be quiet;” “Let me alone;” and other peace-desiring solicitations of like kind, were tried. But the attack and effort to throw him became more determined. At length, after a firm and decided utterance to the command “Hands off!” indicating that the spirit was up, the attacked party in his turn grappled the necks of his assailants, one with each hand, and, taking advantage of the muscular reaction, after they had made a simultaneous but ineffective thrust against him, he flung them, by a Samson-like impulse, right and left, and both of them fell, heavily, prostrate on the deck! So unawares was the throw, and so totally unsustained by cautionary preparation, that, as to one of them, the subject of this self-earned retribution, lay motionless, insensible, and bleeding! Others of the crew who had noticed the scuffle came up, and seeing the man lie so helpless, and apparently inanimate, exclaimed, “He is dead! Scoresby has done for him!” Happily, the catastrophe was not so serious. By and by there was a return of motion, and obvious reflux of life; but when at length the prostrate had, with much difficulty, gathered himself up, he contrived to stagger meekly enough away, without noticing the author of his humiliation, or ever after attempting either a renewal of his bravadoes, or a retaliation for his severe punishment.
It is hardly needful to say that, from that time, my Father was allowed to pursue his own way without further molestation or offensive remark; and that the respect which seamen are generally ready to yield to true bravery and superior skill was as generously bestowed by the right-minded of the crew, at least, as the fine and successful effort of the unfairly assaulted one deserved.
The other incident was of a totally different character.
My Father had early discovered, on his studying out the rules and practice of navigation, as set forth in the comparatively humble nautical works of that period, that there was much that was gratuitous, or arbitrary and uncertain, in the allowances and corrections proposed to be made on the “ship’s log.” On these things he made his own observations, and, in calculating the ship’s position, which he was now tolerably well able to accomplish, he made his own corrections, instead of those marked on the “log-board” by the officer of the watch. His position, in consequence, often differed very materially from the ordinary reckoning, as well as from that kept by one of his associates among the apprentices, who, like himself, was anxious for advancement in his profession.
At the time referred to he was in progress of his third voyage in the Jane, when, having taken in their cargo of spars for masts, at Riga, they were on their return towards Elsinore.
On the third day after their departure from Riga, a little after twelve at noon,—the wind being easterly and the weather foggy, and the ship under studding-sails, making a progress of about five knots,—the two young navigators finished the day’s reckoning, and then proceeded to compare the results. The position of the ship, as calculated simply from the register on the log-board, necessarily differed from that deduced from the same data on which the judgment had been exercised, and various allowances and alterations made. Observing the nature of the difference, which amounted to several miles, the intelligent youth exclaimed, “Why, by your account, we are just running down Bornholm; but my journal is the same as the ship’s, and we are going round to the northward of the island.” The question being discussed with considerable animation betwixt them, it excited observation among the crew, and reached the ears of the Captain. A sharp look-out for land was ordered, when, in brief space, the look-out on the forecastle shouted “Breakers a-head!” “Put down the helm—Let go the anchor!” cried the Captain. The manœuvre was just in time to save the ship from destruction. When she swung to her anchor it was in four-and-a-half fathoms water; the breakers were close by the stern, and the stern not above twenty fathoms from the shore,—and the shore, as had been predicted, was that of the island of Bornholm!
The weather soon cleared up, when they found themselves in a sandy bay on the south-east side of the island. The sea not being considerable they soon got under weigh, and sailing round the island to the southward, they reached Elsinore the next day. “It was to this private reckoning kept by Mr. Scoresby,” observes the writer of the Memoir of which I have here and elsewhere availed myself, “and the debate to which it led, that the preservation of the ship and cargo may evidently be ascribed.”
“The reward which Mr. Scoresby received for this piece of essential service was such,” adds the biographer, “as the deserving too frequently obtain from their superiors in office, who feel themselves insulted when their deficiencies are exposed by the efforts of their superiors in merit. The preservation of the ship and cargo,” by the superiority of a mere tyro in seamanship—a young apprentice, “drew upon him, especially, the envy of the mate, who, it will be remembered, had aforetime shown a painful measure of ill-will, and the disapprobation of some of the inferior officers. These ungenerous influences, in their combined effect, rendered his situation so uncomfortable that, on reaching the Thames, he left the ship, and engaged in an Ordnance-armed storeship, the Speedwell cutter, destined to carry out stores to Gibraltar.”