Michael Malcolm; or Annals of a seaport town

Preface

. The writing of these annals was commenced as the recreation of evenings at home without any idea of publication in book form. Several of the most interesting occurrences relating to the sea are based upon facts within the author's knowledge, the principal participators being connections of his family or of intimate acquaintances. The description of the heroic conduct of the second mate of the Phœnix is offered as a tribute, earnest, however evanescent, to the memory of a brave youth who laid down his life for others, and whose short but beautiful history is worthy of being perpetuated iin perish ably. A writer, skilful in working up facts of interest in the form of romance, could, in the mine out of which the following specimens have been taken, find a wealth of incident thrilling and tragic enough to satisfy lovers of the sen sational, and would at the same time preserve the memory of events worthy of record.

Tynemouth, October, 1887. From the flashing surf, where vision Gleams Elysian In the tropic clime of youth. ***** Ever drifting, drifting, drifting, On the shifting Currents of the restless heart ; Till at length in books recorded, They, like hoarded Household words, no more depart. Longfellow.

Chapter I

' Poor souls ! they perish'd. Had I been any God of Power, I would Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere It should the good ship so have swallow 'd, and The fraughting souls within her.'7 — The Tempest. On a dark, snowy, and windy January night, there struggled up the unlit and dreary staircase, on the worn though massive steps of a lowly tenement, a tall and muscular man, who, in spite of his apparent strength, was glad to rest on each of the numerous landings, heated and panting, until at last, at the top of the sixth flight, he pushed open with his shoulder the door of a room and staggered wearily in with his burden ; this consisted of a jagged and tarry timber-end and a rough sugar bag filled with small water-worn coals, mixed with sand, small pebbles, bits of weed, and other waifs of the ocean.

These he had gathered on the storm-lashed shore, between the sombre clayey cliffs and the dark and rugged rocks, on which many gallant ships had from time immemorial been wrecked. The piece of timber he had brought home to be chopped into fire-wood was part of the wreck of a collier brig that had been driven ashore. The flickering glare from the fire, the only light in the room, lit up his face and form and was reflected from his brow, beaded with sweat drops, which he was mopping with a coarse red and yellow pocket handkerchief. His wife, who, with several of the elder children had been crouching near to the hearth, to gain all the warmthfchey could get from a very poor fire, rose anqwent to her husband, and assisted him in drawing off a pair of old sea boots, whitened at the toes by the action of the sea water, in which he had been working for hours, until the failing light had sent him home.

The snow, which had lain thickly in the lurks of his clothing, had now melted and dripped on to the stencilled floor-cloth forming a ring of little pools around his chair. His wife addressed him with kindly welcoming words, and, after hanging up his dripping coat on a nail near to the fire, placed a strong but roughly constructed chair near to the hearth for his ac commodation. Let us look at the room. It was large as to floor space, being about twenty-one by seventeen feet, and had two low but broad windows filled with glass, varying in tint from none at all to blue, green, yellow, and puce. The room was not more than six and a half feet high, and in doffing his clothes its tall tenant often brought his knuckles into contact with the low ceiling. The house had a history. It had, a quarter of a century before, been the residence of one of the then magnates of the town, but the quarter in which it was situate had gradually, fallen to the use of less and less wealthy people, until now the houses were all occupied by tenants of the most lowly type.

It had formerlybeen occupied entirely by one family of substance and respectability, but now accommodated a family in each of its sixteen rooms, some of which families numbered as many as the whole ofthe household of its former occupier. The entrance hall or passage was broad and high. The rooms ofthe ground and first floors were all lofty and richly and deeply corniced, had massive broad architraves to the windows, and heavy shutters; the skirting board was more than a foot high, and a surbase ran round about three feet from the floor. Many of the fire places had carved wood chimney pieces of beautiful design, but were sadly defaced by the numerous generations of "urchins" who had tried their new knives upon them. More than one of the hearths were of marble, much stained, however, and irretrievably cracked.

One of the rooms had panneUed walls, and the recesses at each side of the fire place were occupied by deep cupboards with glazed doors of quaint design, from which in better times had gleamed rich Derby and other china and Debt. The staircase was broad and of easy ascent, and was enclosed on the off side by a massive oak rail, double spiral balusters, much cut and disfigured, but standing firm in spite of long years of ill-usage. The windows opening on to this staircase were nearly all without glass, and in some cases the sashes had disappeared altogether. The massive front door still held on by its heavy hinges, but it stood open night and day all the year round. It will be easily understood, therefore, that the summer breeze and winter blast had alike free course from base to attics in this ancient mansion.

It might be thought that this was the great fault of the house as a residence, but it was not so. When it is considered that from eighty to one hundred human beings were occupying the overcrowded rooms and poisoning the air all night long, these open windows and unclosed door provided the best antidote possible, though bad to bear. The attics were the snuggest apartments in the house. They were shut off from the principal staircase by a door, which, being above the rougher traffic, had not gone through so much bad usage as those lower down, and, as the three or four tenants formed a sort of separate community from their lower brethren, they had by usage been accustomed to shut themselves in and enjoy their warmth and foul air undisturbed by any cooling breeze. They moreover had the advantage of a vista of red tiled roofs which stretched away in one direction like huge billows, and in another they had a view ofthe sea in reality. basement osthis building was taken up with what had been the kitchens, larders, and wine and other cellars in the days of yore.

These had padlocks on their doors, and were used as places in which were stored tubs, sticks, coals, and other property of the tenantry ; but the kitchen was common to the whole of them as a wash-house, and it was the scene of many a wrangle as to turns for the use of pot and furnace. But we must return to our tall friend's room. We have already given the dimensions of the apartment. The fireplace was composed of a shell-shaped front grate set in stone "hobs," the sides of which were hollowed below the grate, apparently to admit the free access of air to the fire ; the tops were broad and deep, and the back of the flue was lost in darkness. On one of the hobs was a brown ware teapot, and on the other a plate with about two ounces of bacon swimming in a sea of clear grease. In a stump bedstead in a corner of the room could be seen the heads of four children, who were apparently asleep.

Between the windows stood a four-post bedstead, hung with chintz of a wonderful pattern, including figures of birds of paradise, life size, sitting upon conventional boughs, with amazing foliage, all in startling colours. The stump bedstead could be pushed under the four-poster in the day time. An antique chest with grotesque corbels and other curious carved work stood against the side wall, and a few Chippendale chairs were placed about the room. These, with a double chest of drawers, an eight days' clock, a small deal table, and a few cooking utensils, composed the whole of the furniture, if we add a brown earthenware " mug" or large jar (standing upon an old chair with the back sawn off), and which contained a two daj^s' supply of drinking water drawn from a pant in the street near, and which had to be carried on the head of the housewife in a " skeel."

All in the house were at liberty to dip into the mug at any time with a tin pot or pannakin, and take what he or she required, and, after quenching thirst, put back any surplus water that remained, when the pot was hung upon a nail near. ashes from the hearth, vegetable cuttings, potatoe and other peelings, coffee grounds, and other offal were placed in a large wooden scuttle or box, and this was taken down into the street and placed just outside the front door for removal by the scavengers each morn ing. This had to be done regularly when the ashpit in the yard was overflowing, which often happened. Such a receptacle as this ashpit, built for the accommodation of one family, could not be expected to do duty for nearly twenty times as many; moreover, "The Town Commissioners" had not laid their plans to overtake the work of cleansing, and the consequence was that ashes and all kinds of garbage, of many months' gathering, were wont to cumber half of the small yard, and rot and fester under the windows.

The drain had been choked for years, and the slop water from washings and scourings was therefore thrown out into the channel in the back street, and meandered slowly to a large gully some fifty yards off. This is a short statement of our friend's home surroundings. Let us climb once more the six flights of steps to the room onthe second floor. In less time than we have taken to give this rough description of the mansion the wife, with deft fingers, had spread before her lord a sumptuous repast of tea, bread, and bacon, ending with a piece of toast with the crust cut away, the latter falling to the share of a bright curly-haired lad of about seven years, who is spinning it out by eating, as if it were sticks of barley sugar, with little rabbit-like nibbles. A girl, about two years the boy's senior, is standing with one foot on the fender finding castles in the fire.

The mother is seated at the table with the father, who has on his knees an infant about one year old, fur whom he is mopping up some of the bacon grease with small finger shaped bits of toast, and feeding him. " Well, Michael." said the wife. " I am sorry I could not scrape together a better tea for you after your long fast since your morning's porridge. You must have been very hungry." *' I have not felt very hungry Mary, hinney, but I have been very tired-like at times. When I went out this morning I didn't know which way to turn ; but at last I thought I would go up to the dock and see if there is any likeli hood of work. It is very well we had that long job, and that we had sense to be careful of the money that has carried us so far. 0, hinney, I could bear a great deal of hunger myself, but the thought of the bairns and you wanting makes me awfully miserable sometimes.

When I got up to the gate I could tell at once there was no prospect, because old John the gatekeeper wasn't at his cabin door. He generally, somehow, gets to know as soon as the master if there is a job expected, and he's always ready looking out to tell us men what we may expect, if its anything good, but if there is nought moving he just sits over his bogey fire smoking his pipe, and you have to draw him like a badger to get ought out of him. You'd a-most think he was a partner, he's so dour when there's nought to do. I just took his attitude for an answer, and went away down to the town end. When I got to the lifeboat house I saw Gil Steerman in the middle of a lot of men, growling and grumbling like mad. I really believe he was ' crying' at one time, any how he looked very watery about the eyes.

They had got to know somehow that something was ashore just round the spit, and they had only got back after seeing that some craft had gone on to the rocks, and that there was nothing left but a bit of her bow. How Gil did go on. He said ' it was a sin and a shame that there was no means of signalling when anything went ashore. What was the use of men working themselves to dead after the mischief was done. Surely somebody should see that alarm was raised, so long as men were always ready to go out and face any storm when called. There'll be seven or eight poor souls gone to 'Kingdom come' in the dark, just for want of a shilling rocket or sixpenn'orth of powder. I tell 3rou, men, it's a shame and disgrace, and I'll kick up a bonny row at the next meeting ofthe lifeboat committee. I'll go in, whether they like it or not, and I will have my say, come what may.

Them poor souls to be lost, you may say, at their mother's doorstep, when they might as well have been drying their claes and getting their coffee ; but it's no use talking now. I'll away home and get my breakfast, and be back in a minute.' " "0, Michael, were none saved?" said the anxious wife. " Stop till I tell you hinney. When Gil went to get his coffee I went right off along the rocks, and there, sure enough, just past the point, was the bow of a small brig. She had gone ashore on the flood, because she was well up. All her afterpart had broken up to just abaft the foremast, and the bow had fallen backwards as the tide had left her. She was for all the world like a live thing. Her hawse pipes looked like two great eyes staring up at the ' scud,' and her bowsprit, which was broken off just inside the cap, was like a great singer pointing in the same direction.

I got to within thirty yards of her, and knew her directly. She is Mr. Brown's Betsy." " How could you tell that, Michael, when there was so little of her left ; but what about the poor men." " I could swear on the Gospels, if I did swear, but you know I don't, Mary, hinney. 1 knew it was her by a 'bible' in her bow, for I put it there myself the last time she was in our dock." " A bible, Michael ! What did you put it there for ? Wouldn't it have been better in the cabin ? " " 0, my darling, I forgot you are not a carpenter. The sailors call a ' bible' a little piece of plank we put in when there is only a little piece of bad, instead of cutting out a whole plank, and so we save the owners' pockets." "What about the sailors, poor fellows; were none saved ? " " Why, hinney, it appears nothing from the shore saved them, and its certain nothing from the sea could."

" Oh, dear! I wonder if we knew any of the poor things. They very likely all belong the town as she belongs to Mr Brown" " They are sure to belong the town, for he never ships any strangers in his crews. The lads that serve their time in his ships can ' crawl in at the hawse pipes and come out at the cabin windows' if they are steady and capable men, and if they are not capable, but are steady, they'll may-be stick in the galley and get the slush-kit for a perquisite; but anyhow B they'll stop in the ship, man and boy, as long as they are any way to the wayward. Poor souls ! This would have been the last voyage till spring again if they had only got in. Mr.- Brown always lays up for the winter." " But, Mary, my darling, what's the matter with you ? You look very white. You'd better have some .

I'll get you a sup water. There, now, hinney, lie down a bit. I doubt you're not well." " I'll soon be all right, Michael. I got to thinking about those poor men struggling in the death agony in the raging sea, dashed about God only knows how, and we here comfortable at home all the time. It is fearful." " We will not talk any more about it," said Michael. " But I do want to hear, Michael. I know the worst you can tell me, and if you do not talk I cannot help thinking how the poor things looked in their last struggle with the cruel crushing waves." " Well, when I found that it was the Betsy I was just on my heel to go and tell the owner, but I don't like spreading bad news, and I knew it would travel fast enough without me, and as I knew our sticks and coals were about out I thought I would gather what was at my feet.

There were coals lying amongst the gravel and chalk, and I just began right off to scrape some together, and I put them in that old bag I found on the shingle." '' But it would not take you all day to scrape them up, Michael." " No, I found some other work to do ; but we'll not say ought about that just now." " Well, but Michael, I am well now. You know I can brace myself up to hear painful tales." " Well, I hadn't worked long at the coals before I found in one of the rocky pools the body of a poor lad. I don't happen to know him, but I have no doubt he is one of the Betsy's boys ; poor fellow, he had been badly cut with the rocks. I hope he was ' davered' before he was long out of the ship. It would save him a lot of pain. I hailed a man, and we got him carried to the point lifeboat house. ' He's somebody's bairn,' as thou would say.

God send her comfort when she gets to know." " Did you find any more, Michael ?" " No, the tide was ebbing, and, like as not, they would drift to sea, and may never be seen more. We searched for hours though till the tide was full ebb." " Well, I am glad you are safe at home, Michael. It is a wonder you could stand up to it through the fatigue and excitement, and you must have been very hungry." " Oh ! the excitement kept off both hunger and fatigue, and it would be a bad job if it didn't, or else I don't know what our lifeboat men would do when the ships are coming in on the rocks as if they were racing which to be first, as I have seen them."

Chapter II

Crowns their simple board, The healsome parritch, chief o' Scotia's food. — Bui-ns." Michael rose early next morning as was his wont. He generally woke at half-past five when he had work to engage him ; but even when he had no work in hand he made a practise of rising at six o'clock in winter, and often as early as four o'clock in summer. In the depth of winter he would rise, as we have said, when he had work to do, at half-past five o'clock. He would then light the fire, put on the kettle, and slip quietly off to the dock, or in the other case he would light the fire at six o'clock, and then go out until his wife had time to dress the bairns and get the breakfast ready for his return. His usual walk on such occasions was up to the cabin at the dock to have a chat with John the gatekeeper, who took his place whether the men were coming to work or not, or else to a broad qu?y which overlooked the river, and there he watched the lights of the vessels that might be on the move, and listened to the clanking of the windlasses and the songs of the sailors as they were getting the anchors on board of departing vessels.

From spring to autumn his unengaged morn ings were spent in a pretty sylvan dene, within an easy walk of his home, and he there expanded his lungs with the fresh morning air, whilst his ears drank in the notes of the numerous feathered songsters who thronged the little copse. Many happy hours he spent in this quiet aud leafy retreat, which he generally had all to himself during these early visits. On holidays also he often, with his wife and children, spent the long afternoons here, and lived his childhood's hours again as he watched the gambols of the youngsters. He had, as a child, lived in the north of Northumberland, and had there acquired a love for rural beauty, and he found rest to his spirit in similar scenery on however miniature a scale. On this particular morning Michael made his way to tlie gate cabin, as the weather was very cold and boisterous.

The dampness and comparative warmth and stillness of the pre ceeding night had been succeeded by a north east gale, the wind having backed round to that quarter against the sun. The warmth of the little cabin was pleasant to him after being in the cold outer air. Old John was at his post, and his little bogey stove was roaring with a good blazing fire. John was very glad to see his friend, because he often beguiled the hours with interesting talk about what he had seen and read. Michael had been a bit of a voyager in his day, and he read a great deal. John had, in Mr. Brown's employ, spent his whole life at sea, up to within a few years of the time of which we are writing, when his owner's recom mendation secured him the gatekeeper's berth. The thought uppermost in Michael's mind was ofthe events of the preceding day, which he related.

John felt great interest in the story of the last scene with the Betsy, as he knew her well, having sailed in her many years as a man before the mast. He looked upon it as the snapping of another link between himself and the past, and felt as if one more of his very small remaining circle of friends had departed into the unknown land. Those who know the sympathy the old type of seamen had with the ships that had been their homes from boyhood will not consider the latter idea far fetched. The sailor acquires something like the affection that a horseman feels towards a favourite steed that has borne him safely for years over the country either on business or in sport. He has seen his gallant bark weather many a storm and struggle with many an angry sea, and rise superior to it, carrying him in safety to his port.

Is it wonderful if he feels a pride in dilating upon the symmetry and strength of her build, the smartness of her rig, and her many good properties ? Michael returned to his home, where he found his breakfast of porridge ready, and the room tidy, and sweetened by the air from the open windows. His children were all washed and trim like their mother, who was ladling out ofa large pan the nourishing "hasty pudding" into plates. They all sat down to their simple meal, which they ate by the open ing light of the dawn, helped by a blazing and crackling fire. " We folk who have large families and small means are greatly indebted to the inventor of oatmeal," said Michael, "for the same amount of outlay in coffee and bread would send us away from breakfast with our appetites not much worse, I'm thinking."

" It makes a very pleasant meal I am sure," said Mary," and it is satisfying and nourishing. Our children will compare favourably with many who are much more expensively fed." " The three Hebrew children were fed upon some sort of pulse, and they were fatter and fairer than others who were fed upon the dainties sent from the king's table," said Michael, then added, " I have just been up to the cabin ; there is no news of any work yet. I think I will walk along the shore after breakfast." The frugal meal endedj the children, excepting the eldest and youngest, went off to school, which opened at eight o'clock. MICAHEL MALCOLM.

Chapter III

" I knew by the smoke that so gracefully curl'd Above the green elms that a cottage was near, And I said if there's peace to be found in the world A heart that was humble might hope for it here." Moore. In the two preceeding chapters has been given a slight outline of the daily routine and mode of living ofthe subjects of this history, so far as they have appeared. To fill up the sketch more fully, and to prepare the mind of the reader for the events that will follow, it may be useful to look a little into the previous life of Michael and his family. The teaching he had undergone in his northern home had been of the simplest. His father, who acted as a woodman on an estate remote from even any country town, had only been able to send his children to school at a hamlet near, and there, under the ægis of a tall old teacher with one eye and one arm, the latter terminated by an iron hook which was always bright with usage, Michael grew in wisdom.

The one eye of his teacher was very keen from long practice, and very piercing when fixed upon any scholar who came under the displeasure of its owner. He may be said to have had a single eye to the educational advantage of his pupils. He was really earnest in his endeavours to inculcate a knowledge of the three R's. He held his scholars in awe with his eye and hook, and if by means of the former he detected them in any flagrant fault he speedily hooked them with the latter, and whacked them with his right hand. He was not a tyrant, however, and never flogged in mere anger, and if he saw a dull boy doing his best he had a kindly way of encouraging him, which did more good than any amount of cow hide would have done. Michael was not bright, but he was plodding, and old dominie Langley had by his method of teaching turned him out, at the age of eleven years, with a fair knowledge of those branches of learning which were supposed to be all that is requisite for a boy in humble life, In addition to the modest secular learning imparted, there was an unpretentious attempt at religious teaching, the old man opening the school each day with the morning hymn and a simple prayer of his own, closing the day with the evening hymn and prayer.

Far into life these hymns called up in Michael's bosom very mixed but, on the whole, not unpleasant sensa tions. The reading lessons daily were in the old testament in the morning, and in the new testament in the afternoon, and, to the old man's credit be it said, he never punished for the densest stupidity in any of his pupils, but in a kind and fatherly way corrected any lapses in pronunciation or punctuation during the scrip ture readings. As an Irishman might say, " boys of both sexes" attended this school. It was in their rambles to and fro through the woods and green lanes that Michael and Mary formed the attachment which culminated in their marriage. After Michael left school he often had long and exhausting spells of field work, for which he received very scant wages, and he would probably have lived and died a country labourer or farm servant but for a providential opening that presented itself to his father.

It happened that a shipbuilder visited the estate to look at some timber that had been marked for felling. Michael's father had to show the gentleman the timber, and in course of conversation he displayed such intelligence and good sense that, with the consent ofthe owner ofthe estate, he invited him to take a position in his dock at a much better wage than was usually given to men in his station in the country. He shortly after removed to Bleaktown with his family, and Michael, at the same time his father entered as warehouseman and timber selecter, was apprenticed as a carpenter. Michael never liked the change. He had lived an open-air life at his country home. His father's cottage of two large rooms with a capacious porch was situate in one of those charming patches of open ground, a sort of oasis in a wilderness of trees, which formed to his childish mind a little world of beauty with all the wonders bej-ond.