Two Years before the Mast; or, a Voice from the forecastle: being a sailor's life at sea

Preface

TO THE PRESENT EDITION. T N presenting this " author's edition " to the public, I have been encouraged to add an account of a visit to the old scenes, made twenty-four years after, together with notices of the subse quent story and fate of the vessels, and of some of the persons with whom the reader is made acquainted. R. H. D., Jr. Montreal, May, 1869. ORIGINAL

PREFACE.

. I AM unwilling to present this narrative to the public without a few words in explanation of my reasons for publishing it. Since Mr. Cooper's " Pilot" and " Red Rover," there have been so many stories of sea life written, that I should really think it unjustifiable in me to add one to the number without being able to give reasons in some measure warranting me in so doing. With the single exception, as I am quite confident, of Mr. Ames's entertaining, but hasty and desultory work, called " Mari ner's Sketches," all the books professing to give life at sea have been written by persons who have gamed their experience a6 naval officers or passengers, and of these there are very few which are intended to be taken as narratives of facts. Now, in the first place, the whole course of life and daily duties, the discipline, habits, and customs of a man-of-war are very different from those of the merchant service ; and in the next ■place, however entertaining and well-written these books may be, 'and however accurately they may give sea life as it appears to their authors, it must still be plain to every one that a naval officer, who goes to sea as a gentleman, "with his gloves on" (as the phrase is), and who associates only with his fellow-officers, and hardly speaks to a sailor except through a boatswain's mate, must take a very different view of the whole matter from that which would be taken by a common sailor.

Besides the interest which every one must feel in exhibitions of life in those forms in which he himself has never experienced it, there has been, of late years, a great deal of attention directed toward common seamen, and a strong sympathy awakened in their behalf. Yet I believe that, with the single exception which I have mentioned, there has not been a book written, professing to give their life and experiences, by one who has been of them, and can know what their life really is. A voice from the forecastle has hardly yet been heard. VI ORIGINAL

PREFACE.

. In the following pages I design to give an accurate and authen tic narrative of a little more than two years spent as a common sailor before the mast, in the American merchant service. It is written out from a journal which I kept at the time, and from notes which I made of most of the events as they happened ; and in it I have adhered closely to fact in every particular, and en dcavouied to give each thing its true character. In so doing, I have been obliged occasionally to use strong and coarse expres sions, and in some instances to give scenes which may be painful to nice feelings ; but I have very carefully avoided doing so when ever I have not felt them essential to giving the true character of a scene. My design is, and it is this which has induced me to publish the book, to present the life of a common sailor at sea as it really is, — the light and the dark together.

There may be in some parts a good deal that is unintelligible to the general reader ; but I have found from my own experience, and from what I have heard from others, that plain matters of fact in relation to customs and habits of life new to us, and descrip tions of life under new aspects, act upon the inexperienced through the imagination, so that we are hardly aware of our want of technical knowledge. Thousands read the escape of the American frigate through the British Channel in " The Pilot," and the chase and wreck of the British trader in "The Red Rover," and follow the minute nautical manœuvres with breathless interest, who do not know the name of a rope in the ship; and perhaps with none the less admiration and enthusiasm for their want of acquaintance with the professional detail.

These reasons, and the advice of a few friends, have led me to give this narrative to the press. If it shall interest the general reader, and call more attention to the welfare of seamen, or give any information as to their real condition which may serve to raise them in the rank of beings, and to promote in any measure their religious and moral improvement, and diminish the hard ships of their daily lile, the end of its publication will be answered. R. H. D., Jr. Boston, July, 1840.

Introduction

.

THE fourteenth of August was the day fixed upon for the sailing of the brig Pilgrim, on her voyage from Boston. round Cape Horn, to the Western coast of North America. As she was to get under way early in the afternoon, I made my appearance on board at twelve o'clock, in full sea-rig, with my chest containing an outfit for a two or three years' voyage, which I had undertaken from a determination to cure, if possible, by an entire change of life, and by a long absence from books, with a plenty of hard work, plain food, and open air, a weakness of the eyes, which had obliged me to give up my studies, and which no medical aid seemed likely to remedy. The change from the tight frock-coat, silk cap, and kid gloves of an undergraduate at Harvard, to the loose duck trousers, checked shirt, and tarpaulin hat of a sailor, though somewhat of a transformation, was soon made ; and I supposed that I should pass very we'l for a Jack-tar.

But it is impossible to deceive the practised eye in these matters; and while I thought myself to be looking as salt as Neptune himself, I was, no doubt, known for a landsman by every one on board as soon as I hove in sight. A sa'lor has a peculiar cut to his clothes, and a way of wearing them which a green hand can never get. The trousers, tight round the hips, and thence hanging long and loose round the feet, *< a superabundance of checked shirt, a low-crowned, well-varnished black hat, worn on the back of the head, with half a fathom of black ribbon hanging over the left eye, and a slip-tie to the black silk neckerchief, with sundry other minutiæ, are signs, the want of which betrays the beginner at once. Besides the points in my dress which were out of the way, doubtless my complexion and « hands were quite enough to distinguish me from the regular salt who, with a sunburnt cheek, wide step, and rolling gait, swings his bronzed and toughened hands athwart-ships, half opened, as though just ready to grasp a rope.

" With all my imperfections on my head," I joined the crew, and we hauled out into the stream, and came to anchor for the night. The next day we were employed in preparation for sea, reeving studding-sail gear, crossing royal yards, putting on chafing gear, and taking on board our powder. On the following night, I stood my first watch. I remained awake nearly all the first part of the night from fear that I might not hear when I was called ; and when I went on deck, so great were my ideas of the importance of my trust, that I walked regularly fore and aft the whole length of the vessel, looking out over the bows and taffrail at each turn, and was not a little surprised at the coolness of the old seaman whom I called to take my place, in stowing himself snugly away under the long-boat for a nap.

That was a sufficient lookout, he thought, for a fine ni^ht, at anchor in a safe harbour. The next morning was Saturday, and a breeze having sprung up from the southward, we took a pilot on board, hove up our anchor, and began beating down the bay. I took leave of those of my friends who came to see me off, and had barely opportunity for a last look at the city and well-known objects, as no time is allowed on board ship for sentiment. As we drew down into the lower harbour, we found the wind ahead in the bay, and were obliged to come to anchor in the roads. We remained there through the day and a part of the night. My watch began at eleven o'clock at night, and 1 received orders to call the captain if the wind came out from the westward. About midnight the wind became fair, and, having

INTRODUCTION.

. 3 summoned the captain, I was ordered to call all hands. How I accomplished this, I do not know, but I am quite sure that I did not give the true hoarse boatswain call of " A-ail ha-aa-nds ! up anchor, a-ho-oy ! " In a short time every one was in motion, the sails loosed, the yards braced, and we began to heave up the anchor, which was our last hold upon Yankee land. I could take but small part in these preparations. My little knowledge of a vessel was all at fault. Unintelligible orders were so rapidly given, and so immediately executed ; there was such a hurrying about, and such an intermingling of strange cries and stranger actions, that I was completely bewildered. There is not so hopeless and pitiable an object in the world as a landsman beginning a sailor's life. At length those peculiar long-drawn sounds which denote that the crew are heaving at the windlass began, and in a few minutes we were under way.

The noise of the water thrown from the bows was heard, the vessel leaned over from the damp night breeze, and rolled with the heavy ground-swell, and we had actually begun our long, long journey. This was literally bidding good night to my native land.

Chapter II. First Impressions

THE first day we passed at sea was Sunday. As we were just from port, and there was a great deal to be done on board, we were kept at work all day, and at night the watches were set and everything was put into sea order. When we were called aft to be divided into watches, I had a good specimen ofthe man ner osa sea-captain. After the division had been made, he gave a short characteristic speech, walking the quarter-deck with a cigar in his mouth, and dropping the words out between the puffs. " Now, mv men, we have begun a long voyage. If we get along well together, we shall have a comfortable time; if we don't, we shall have hell afloat. All you have got to do is to obey your orders, and do your duty like men, — then you will fare well enough; ifyou don't, you will fare hard enough, I can tell you.

If we pull together, you will find me a clever f jllow ; if we don't, you will find me a bloody rascal. That's all I've got to say. Go below, the larboard* watch ! " I, being in the starboard or second mate's watch, had the opportunity of keeping the first watch at sea. Stimson, a young man, making, like myself, his first voyage, was in the same watch, and as he was the son of a professional man, and had been in a merchant's counting-room in Boston, we found that we had some acquaintances and topics in common. We talked these matters over — Boston, what our friends were probably doing, our voyage, * Of late years, the British and American marine, naval and mercantile, have adopted the word " port" instead of larboard, in all cases on board ship, to avoid mistake from similarity of sound. At this time " port " was only used at the elm.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 5 etc. — until he went to take his turn at the lookout, and left me to myself. I had now a good opportunity for reflection. I felt for the first time the perfect silence of the sea. The officer was walking the quarter-deck, where I had no right to go, one or two men were talking on the forecastle, whom I had little inclination to join, so that I was left open to the full impression of everything about me. However much I was affected by the beauty of the sea, the bright stars, and the clouds driven swiftly over them, I could not but remember that I was separating myself from all the social and intellectual enjoyments of l.fe. Yet, strange as it may seem, I did then and afterwards take pleasure in these reflections, hoping by them to prevent my becoming insensible to the value of what I was losing.

But all my dreams were soon put to flight by an order from the officer to trim the yards, as the wind was getting ahead ; and I could plainly see by the looks the sailors occasionally, cast to windward, and by the dark clouds that were fast coming up, that we had bad weather to prepare for, and I had heard the captain say that he expected to be in the Gulf Stream by twelve o'clock. In a few minutes eight bells were struck, the watch called, and we went below. I now began to feel the first discomforts of a sailor's life. The steeiage, in which I lived, was filled with coils of rigging, spare sails, old junk, and ship stores, which had not been stowed away. Moreover, there had been no berths put up for us to sleep in, and we were not allowed to drive nails to hang our clothes upon. Tne sea, too, had risen, the vessel was rolling heavily, and everything was pitched about in grand confusion.

There was a complete "hurrah's nest," as the sailors say — "everything on top, and nothing at hand." A large hawser had been coiled away on my chest ; my hats, boots, mattress, and blankets had all fetched away and gone over to leeward, and were jammed and broken under the boxes and coils of rigging. To crown all, we were allowed no light to find anything with, and I was just beginning to feel strong symptoms of sea-sickness, and that list lessness and inactivity which accompany it. Giving up all at tempts to collect my things together, I lay down on the sails, expecting every moment to hear the cry, "All hands ahoy!" which the approaching storm would make necessary. I shortly heard the raindrops falling on deck thick and fast, and the watch evidently had their hands full of work, for I could hear the loud and repeated orders of the mate, trampling of feet, creaking of the blocks, and all the accompaniments of a coming storm.

In a few minutes the slide of the hatch was thrown back, which let down the noise and tumult of the deck still louder ; the cry of "All hands ahoy! tumble up here and take in sail," saluted our ears, and the hatch was quickly shut again. When I got upon deck, a new scene and a new experience was before me. The little brig was close-hauled upon the wind, and lying over, as it then seemed to me, nearly upon her beam ends. The heavy head sea was beating against her bows with the noise and force almost of a sledge-hammer, and flying over the deck, drenching us completely through. The topsail halyards had been let go, and the great sails were filling out and backing against the masts with a noise like thunder; the wind was whistling through the rigging; loose ropes were flying about; loud and, to me, unintelligible orders constantly given, and rapidly executed ; and the sailors "singing out " at the ropes in their hoarse and peculiar strains.

Ib addition to this, I had not got my " sea legs on," was dreadfully sea-sick, with hardly strength enough to hold on to anything, and it was " pitch dark." This was my condition when I was ordered aloft, for the first time, to reef topsails. How I got along, I cannot now remember. I "laid out" on the yards, and held on with all my strength. I could not have been of much service, for I remember having been sick several times before I left the topsail yard, making wild vomits into the black night, to leeward. Soon all was snug aloft, and we were again allowed to go below. This I did not consider much of a favour, for the confusion of everything below, and that inexpress ibly sickening smell, caused by the shaking up of bilge water in the hold, made the steerage but an indifferent refuge from the cold wet decks.

I had often read of the nautical experiences FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 7 of others, but I felt as though there could be none worse than mine ; for, in addition to every other evil, I could not but re member that this was only the first night of a two years' voyage. When we were on deck, we were not much batter off, for we were continually ordered about by the officer, who said that it was good for us to be in motion. Yet anything was better than the horrible state of things below. I remember very well going to the hatchway and putting my head down, when I was op pressed by nausea, and ahvays being relieved immediately. It was an eff-Ctual emetic. This state of things continued for two days. Wednesday, August 20th. We had the watch on deck from four till eight, this morning. When we came on deck at four o'clo.k, we found things much changed for the better.

The sea and wind had gone down, and the stars were out bright. I ex perienced a corresponding change in my feelings, yet continued extremely weak from my sickness. I stood in the waist on the weather side, watching the gradual breaking of the day, and the first streaks of the early light. Much has been said of the sun rise at sea, but it will not compare with the sunrise on shore. It wants the accompaniments of the songs of birds, the awaken ing hum of humanity, and the glancing of the first beams upon trees, hills, spires, and house-tops to give it life and spirit. There is no scenery. But, although the actual rise of the sun at sea is not so beautiful, yet nothing will compare for melancholy and dreariness with the early breaking of day upon " Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste." There is something in the first gray streaks stretching along the eastern horizon, and throwing an indistinct light upon the face of the deep, which combines with the boundlessness and unknown depth of the sea around, and gives one a feeling of loneliness, of dread, and of melancholy foreboding, which nothing else in nature can.

This gradually passes away as the light grows brighter, and when the sun comes up, the ordinary monotonous sea day begins. From such reflections as these I was aroused by the order from the officer, " Forward there! rig the head pump !" I sound that no time was allowed for day-dreaming, but that we must "turn to" at the first light. Having called up the "idlers," namely, carpenter, cook, and steward, and rigged the pump, we be gan washing down the decks. This operation, which is performed every morning at sea, takes nearly two hours ; and I had hardly m strength enough to get through it. After we had finished, swabbed down decks, and coiled up the rigging, I sat on the spars, waiting for seven bells, which was the signal for breakfast. The officer, seeing my lazy posture, ordered me to slush the mainmast fiom the royal-masthead down.

The vessel was then rolling a little, and I had taken no food for three days, so that I felt tempted to tell him that I had rather wait till alter breakfast ; but I knew that I must " take the bull by the horns," and that if I showed any sign of want of spirit or backwardness, I should be ruined at once. So I took my bucket of grease, and climbed up to the royal-masthead. Here the rocking of the vessel, which increases the higher you go from the fojt of the mast, which is the fulcrum of the lever, and the 'smell of the grease, which offended my fastidious senses, upset my stomach again, and I was not a little rejoiced when I had finished my job and got upon the comparative terra firma of the deck. In a few minutes seven bells were struck, the log hove, the watch called, and we went to breakfast.

Here I cannot but remember the advice of the cook, a simple-hearted African. " Now," says he, " my lad, you are well cleaned out ; you haven't got a drop of your 'long-shore swash aboard of you. You must begin on a new tack, — pitch all your sweetmeats overboard, and turn to upon good hearty salt beef and ship bread, and I'll promise you, you'll have your ribs well sheathed, and be as hearty as any ot 'em, afore you are up to the Horn." This would be good advice to give to passengers, when they set their hearts on the little nicsrrties which they have laid in, in case of sea sickness. I cannot describe the change which half a pound of cold salt beef and a biscuit or two produced in me. I was a new being. Having a watch below until noon, so that I had some time to my- FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 9 self, I got a huge piece of strong cold salt beef from the cook, and kept gnawing upon it until twelve o'clock.

When we went on deck, I felt somewhat like a man, and could begin to learn my sea duty with considerable spirit. At about two o'clock, we heard the loud cry of " Sail ho! " from aloft, and soon saw two sails to windward, going directly athwart our hawse. This was the first time that I had seen a sail at sea. I thought then, and have al ways since, that no sight exceeds it in interest, and few in beauty. They passed to leeward of us, and out of hailing distance ; but the captain could read the names on their sterns with the glass. They were the ship Helen Mar, of New York, and the brig Mer maid, of Boston. They were both steering westward, and were bound in for our " dear native land." Thursday, August 21st. This day the sun rose clear; we had a fine wind, and everything was bright and cheerful.

I had now got my sea legs on, and was beginning to enter upon the regular duties of a sea life. About six bells, that is, three o'clock p.m., we saw a sail on our larboard bow. I was very desirous, like every new sailor, to speak her. She came down to us, backed her main-topsail, and the two vessels stood " head on," bowing and curveting at each other like a couple of war-horses reined in by their riders. It was the first vessel that I had seen near, and I was surprised to find how much she rolled and pitched in so quiet a sea. She plunged her head into the sea, and then, her stern settling gradually down, her huge bows rose up, showing the bright copper, and her stem and breasthooks dripping, like old Neptune's locks, with the brine. Her decks were filled with passengers, who had come up at the cry of " Sail ho !

" and who, by their dress and features, appeared to be Swiss and French emigrants. She hailed us at first in French, but receiving no answer, she tried us in English. She was the ship La Carolina, from Havre, for New York. We desired her to report the brig Pilgrim, from Boston, for the northwest coast of America, five days out. She then filled away, and left us to plough on through our waste of waters. There is a settled routine for hailing ships at sea : " Ship ahoy!" Answer, "Hulloa!" "What ship is that, pray?" " The ship Carolina, from Havre, bound to New York. Where are you from ? " " The brig Pilgrim, from Boston, bound to the coast of California, five days out." Unless there is leisure, or something special to say, this form is not much varied from. This day ended pleasantly ; we had got into regular and com fortable weather, and into that routine of sea life which is only broken by a storm, a sail, or the sight of land.

Chapter III

ship's duties. AS we have now had a long " spell" of fine weather, without any incident to break the monotony of our lives, I may have no better place for a description of the duties, regulations, and customs of an American merchantman, of which ours was a fair specimen. The captain, in the first place, is lord paramount. He stands no watch, comes and goes when he pleases, is accountable to no one, and must be obeyed in everything, without a question even from his chief offic-r. He has the power to -turn his officers off duty, and even to break them and make them do duty as sailors in the forecastle. * Where there are no passengers and no supercargo, as in our vessel, he has no companion but his own dignity, and few pleasures, unless he differs from most of his kind, beyond the consciousness of possessing supreme power, and, occasionally, the exercise of it.

The prime minister, the official organ, and the active and superintending officer is the chief mate. He is first lieutenant, boatswain, sailing-master, and quarter-master. The captain tells him what he wishes to have done, and leaves to him the care of overseeing, of allotting the work, and also the responsibility of its being well done. The mate (as he is always called, par excellence) also keeps the log-book, for which he is responsible to the owners and insurers, and has the charge of the stowage, safe-keeping, and delivery of the cargo. He is also, ex officio, * There is a doubt of his power to do the latter. the wit of the crew; for the captain does not condescend to j ke with the men, and the second mate no one cares for; so that when " the mate" th nk . fit to entertain " the people" with a coarse joke or a little practical wit, every one feels bound to laugh.

The second mate's is proverbially a dog's berth. He is neither officer nor man. He is obliged to go aloft to reef and furl the topsails, and to put his hands into the tar and slush with the rest, and the men do not much respect him as an officer. The crew call him the " sailor's waiter," as he has to furnish them with spun-yarn, marline and all other stuffs that they need in their work, and has charge of ti.e boatswain's locker, which includes serving-boards, marline-spikes, etc., etc. He is expected by the captain to maintain his dignity and to enforce obedience, and still is kept at a great distance from the mate, and obliged to work with the crew. He is one to whom little is given and of whom much is required. His wages .are usually double those of a common sailor, and he eats and sleeps in the cabin ; but he is obliged to be on deck nearly all his time, and eats at the second table, that is, makes a meal out of what the captain and chief mate leave.

The steward is the captain's servant, and has charge of the pantry, from which every one, even the mate himself, is excluded. These distinctions usually find him an enemy in the mate, who does not like to have any one on board who is not entirely under his control ; the crew do not consider him as one of their number, so he is left to the mercy of the captain. The cook, whose title is " Doctor," is the patron of the crew, and those who are in his favour can get their wet mittens and stockings dried, or light their pipes at the galley in the night watch. These two worthies, together with the carpenter and sailmaker, if there be one, stand no watch, but, being employed all day, are allowed to " sleep in " at night, unless all hands are called. The crew are divided into two divisions, as equally as may be, called the watches.

Of these, the chief mate commands the lar- SHIP'S DUTIES. 13 board, and the second mate the starboard. They divide the time between them, being on and off duty, or, as it is called, on deck and b?Iow, every other four hours. The three night watches are called the first, the middle, and the morning watch. If, for in stance, the chief mate with the larboard watch have the first night watch from eight to twelve, at that hour the starboard watch and the second mate take the deck, while the larboard watch and the first mate go below until four in the morning, when they come on deck again and remain until eight. As the larboard watch will have been on deck eight hours out of the twelve, while the starboard watch will have been up only four hours, the former have what is called a " forenoon watch below," that is, from eight a.m. till twelve a.m. In a man-of-war, and in some merchantmen, this alternation of watches is kept up throughout the twenty-four hours, which is called having " watch and watch ;" but our ship, like most merchantmen, had " all hands" from twelve o'clock till dark, except in very bad weather, when we were allowed " watch and watch."