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Acorn Archive
Hearts of Oak
Captain J L Vivian Millett
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I
was born with a salt drop in my blood. My father's family had lived at Penzance
for generations, and several of them had followed the sea. He himself was one
of the chief officers in the Customs at Gloucester, near which city I was born
on May 2nd, 1865. But his heart was always at sea. He had been
prevented by his parents from following his inclination, and shortly before he
died, I was only six years old at the time, he told my mother that if I wanted
to become a sailor she was to allow me to do so. Had his parents let him have
his wish, he added, he would not have been dying while still a young man.
I
inherited a taste for the sea from my mother's family also. She was one of the
Vivians of Cornwall, and her father, Joseph Vivian, was in command of one of
the East India Company's frigates. Her half-brother was Captain Alfred Maclean
Wait of the Union Line. He was a great disciplinarian, and on that account was
nicknamed "Black Jack”. He was the idol of my boyish years, and I soon
made up my mind that I wanted to go to sea in order to be like him.
My
father's death left my mother by no means well off, and with four children on
her hands. She found it, of course, pretty expensive bringing us all up, and
could afford no better school for me than an old-fashioned "dame
school" at Plymouth, where I stayed from the time I was eight until I was
twelve. It was a cruel place. The birch was used freely, although I never knew
the taste of it myself; and I can remember seeing the boys' skins broken and
bleeding after it had been applied. I myself used to have my ears boxed so
badly that I attribute to it a slight deafness from which I still suffer. I
dare say I deserved it in a way, for, looking back, I think I was a wicked
little devil. I know I was always in mischief, and the fear of being punished
didn't seem to act as a deterrent.
When
I was twelve years of age I had a good shot at ending my voyages before they
began, by means of a violent attack of
"black measle". About this time my mother went to live in London,
and, her circumstances having become more prosperous, she was able to send me
to a better school. I went to the Abbey School at Penzance, kept by a Mr.
Thorne, and there I remained for three years. I am afraid I was still the bad
boy of the school, for I was always in mischief and trouble. Mr. Thorne used to
cane me unmercifully, and at the conclusion of the ceremony he always told me
that I should live to be hanged. The poor old chap died after I was in command;
he was very proud of his old pupil having become a captain so early, and when I
used to remind him of his gloomy predictions in later years it made him blush.
At
the end of three years my mother felt that she would like me to be at school in
London so that I might be near her, and this gave me the chance of a first
experience of sea life, for I elected to go up to London by a coasting steamer
sailing from Penzance.
She
was only a small boat, but I was at sea at last, and great was my joy until,
although it was dead calm, I began to feel very sick. The cook rather cruelly
advised me to drink a big glass of sea water, which he assured me would soon
put me right. It certainly left me completely empty, and for the next few hours
I longed for death to end my sufferings. However, the next day my sickness was
quite gone and a most enormous appetite had taken its place, and I was able to
enjoy the rest of the passage thoroughly.
My
next school was the New Cross Naval College. I was only one of six day-boys,
and the two hundred odd boarders looked down upon us with scorn, and would have
little or nothing to do with us. I vigorously resented their attitude, and
this, of course, led to endless trouble either with them or with the masters.
I
was continually urging my mother to let me leave school and go to sea, and the
climax came when one of the masters, for what reason I don't remember, set me
an imposition of fifteen hundred lines of Virgil. When the school was dismissed
at four o'clock, I, of course, being supposed to stay in and write my lines, I
shut up my desk, marched up to the master, and holding out my hand, said:
"Good-bye, sir. I am leaving the school”. He stared at me in amazement.
"What do you mean?" he spluttered. "I am going to sea next week,
sir", I replied. I'm afraid this statement was not absolutely accurate,
but it was near enough. At any rate, I was determined not to write the lines,
and in this I succeeded, and left with flying colours, though I may add I had
them hauled down pretty promptly when I got home and told my mother that I had
said good-bye to the school.
It
was, however, quite clear that to sea I must go, and it was not very long
before the opportunity came along.
My
mother happened to meet Mr. Richard Ellis, a shipowner, of Gracechurch Street,
and hearing of my desire he suggested that I should make a voyage as an
apprentice in one of his ships. Very soon I was appointed to the TINTERN ABBEY,
a Quebec-built full-rigger of 1400 tons.
At
last my heart's desire was realized. My mother took me to Silver's, whose shop
at that time was in a court leading off Cornhill, and I was measured for my
uniform, and three or four days later I experienced the unforgettable joy of
putting it on for the first time, my uniform cap with its straight peak being
the finishing touch. Of course I fancied myself a sort of budding Nelson, as
what boy under similar circumstances does not, especially when rny mother and
sisters hurried me off at once to the photographer's to have my portrait taken.
Then
came the no less delightful business of getting my sea outfit. This consisted
of a sea-chest full of flannel shirts, underclothing of all kinds, and dungaree
suits; but what pleased me most of all were my new sea-boots, which I took the
very first opportunity of wearing when I got aboard the ship. In those days, of
course, apprentices had to find their own bedding, which consisted of a hair or
flock mattress, together with a flock or feather pillow and four blankets.
Sheets were a luxury only indulged in by the captain. The rest of the officers,
like everybody else, only used blankets, and these I am afraid were scarcely
ever washed.
I
was a very proud boy when I at last joined the TINTERN ABBEY and, donning my
first suit of dungarees, turned to with the other apprentices, who were at work
getting stores aboard. It was not usual in other ships for apprentices to work
in port, but as I knew nothing about such things I took it all as part of the
day's work and thought nothing more about it. The same remark applies to our
living accommodation, which in the TINTERN ABBEY was as bad as it could well
be, being indeed of the most cramped and disgusting character. It was situated
at the break of the poop, and consisted of two bunks athwartships and four
fore-and-aft, with just room for us to squeeze past to get to our bunks. Being
a first voyage, I had to take the top athwartship bunk, which meant shifting my
pillow according to the tack the ship happened to be on. Many a time I have
gone to sleep and waked to find my feet higher than my head owing to the ship's
having changed from one tack to the other while I was asleep.
All
we had by way of light was a colza lamp, the smell from which was enough to
turn anyone sick, while the light was so poor that only those with the
strongest sight could read by it. The oil was very grudgingly given out, and
sometimes, both in the TINTERN ABBEY and in THE TWEED, we had to contrive a
substitute from the cook's slush, the oil doled out being exhausted.
I
have never forgotten my first meal on board the TINTERN ABBEY. As the junior
apprentice, it fell to my lot to go along to the galley to get the dinner, and
to my surprise and disgust I found it consisted of a great lump of meat chucked
into a tin with some dirty potatoes boiled in their jackets. I carried the nasty-looking
mess in the "kid”, as we used to call it, along to the apprentices' house,
and found that, nasty as it was, I got precious little of it. The boys all had
their whack in order of seniority, and by the time the others had all had a cut
at it there was not much left for me. However, I soon forgot about such details
as poor and scanty food in the joy of feeling like a real sailor.
In
case any of my shipmates who are still in the land of the living should chance
to read these lines, and as my memory is as fresh to-day as it was forty-four
years ago, I will give the names and my opinion of some of those who made up
our ship's company. Captain Wale was a short, stout, smiling man, and, like the
mate, whose name was Casimi, was extremely easy-going. The second mate was a
Scotsman of about forty who was making his first voyage since getting his
certificate. The boatswain was a Dane. He was one of the most powerfully built
men I ever saw who was not a professional "strong man"; his chest
must have measured forty-six inches, and he was one solid, huge mass of muscle.
The senior apprentice was named Mavor, and being very handy with his fists he
kept us in good order. The next in seniority was Staunton, a bit of a bully.
Then came Culliford, Galloway, Bennett, the captain's son Alfred, and last of
all myself. The only one that I ever saw after leaving the ship was Bennett,
whom I met shortly before his death about fifteen years ago. At that time he
was commanding one of Messrs. Forwood's steamers.
We
towed down as far as Dungeness. I remember strutting around with my hands in my
pockets, immensely pleased to see the sails set, when all of a sudden I heard a
torrent of most awful swear words just behind me. It was the boatswain, who was
threatening me with all manner of things, and inquiring if I thought I had only
come to sea to watch the ships go by. If I had had any such idea he took steps
to disabuse me of it, for, giving me a three-cornered scraper, he made me get
into the pigsty, in company with the four pigs it contained, and scrape the
floor. I did not like the job, but my fear of the boatswain was greater than
my distaste, and I managed to do it to
his satisfaction.
After
the pilot left us the ship began to get lively, as we had to beat against a
westerly wind. I soon became seasick, but the mate would not allow me to give
up, and kept me constantly on the move, with the result that although I was
sick many times, I soon began to get my sea-legs. And on the second evening I
remember the captain's son and myself mixing up a tin of strawberry jam and a
tin of condensed milk out of the supply of luxuries we had brought with us, and
eating it in spoonfuls, without the slightest effect on our digestive organs.
Such is boyhood!
The
crowd forward were of all sorts of nationalities, and the most remarkable
thing I remember about them is that so many were expert model-makers. In the
twelve months I was on board the ship I think that almost every member of the
crew must have made a model, and two or three of them were of wonderful
workmanship, especially in view of the fact that nearly everything was done
with an ordinary pocket-knife. Anyone trying to make a model block of about
one-eighth of an inch with a pocket-knife will get some idea of the patience
such a task requires. Some of these models were fitted with tin sails painted
white, and I have always regretted that I did not get one of them when I had
the chance. Unfortunately, when the men got on shore they invariably either
gave them away or sold them for a drink.
A
week after leaving the Channel, either owing to-the owners' meanness or a
desire on the captain's part to save paraffin, side-lights, although kept
trimmed, were not lit. This was a common practice in those days, and one which,
in my opinion, resulted in many ships going missing, for very often there was
not time to light the lamps and get them into their places before the oncoming
ship (also often without lights) was too close to avoid collision.
Both
the captain and the mate, as I have said, were very easy-going men, and I
suppose the discipline in the TINTERN ABBEY was as slack as in any ship afloat.
In fact, it was non-existent, and we never got "hazed" unless the
boatswain happened to be in a bad temper. Being the youngest apprentice, and
discipline being slack, I was looked upon more or less as the baby of the ship,
and made something of a pet of by both officers and men. The mate promptly
nicknamed me "Jacka", because I was Cornish, and as long as I stayed
in the ship I was never known by any other name.
I
soon learned the lesson that it was well not to take everything that I was told
as gospel. It was not long before the mate took me in with the old-time
practical joke of sending me to the carpenter to ask for the key of the
keelson. I took the message without suspecting anything; but the language Chips
used and the threats he uttered as to what he would do to me if I didn't get to
blazes out of that soon, made me realize that the mate had been having a joke
at my expense.
Another
lesson I learnt was from an old sailor I saw one day washing clothes. I watched
him for a few minutes, and then said: "I have some clothes I want
washed". "That's all right, sonny", he said; "you bring 'em
along an' put 'em down there", pointing to a spot on the deck. I did so,
and turned in. But when I came on deck again I found my clothes still reposing
where I had left them, and I required no further hint on the point! This same
old sailor took a great fancy to me, and used to give me plenty of advice,
which he no doubt thought excellent. I remember when I was talking to him one
day he said: "Here, my boy, do you ever tell lies?" "Well, yes,
I'm afraid I do sometimes", I replied. The old fellow shook his head.
"Don't you never tell a lie, sonny", he said; adding after a brief
pause, "not unless there's somethink to be got by it!" And, cynical though it may sound, there is a
good deal to be said for the old man's advice.
Despite
being somewhat indulged in certain ways, I was not spared any duty I was
considered able to undertake. I was encouraged by both officers and men to go
aloft in all weathers, but nothing was said to me if I felt a bit scared about
tackling some dangerous job in dirty weather. I had not been at sea two weeks
before I was set to work learning to "box the compass", and as soon
as I showed that I could take the wheel by myself I was given a regular trick
as long as the weather was fine. When we got into the Tropics I had my first
experience of what is called a "rough house". It was just as well
that apprentices did not indulge in this kind of game very often, for it
generally ended in somebody getting hurt. In this particular instance there
were six of us sitting down after our evening meal, which consisted of the pork
remaining from our dinner, mainly greasy and loathsome fat. Suddenly a
"rough house" started. We all went for each other with pillows, and
in the confined space there was no chance of dodging the blows. From pillows we
soon got on to oilskins, old clothes, and anything else that came to hand, and
some bright combatant, spotting a great slab of the greasy fat pork lying in
the kid, promptly hove that! I happened to be in the way and got the disgusting
mess full in my face, with the result that I immediately flew to the ship's
side and the fishes got my supper.
We
were bound for Algoa Bay, and, being a slow ship, the TINTERN ABBEY took
ninety-seven days to get there. I don't know that anything of much interest
took place on the passage. When we got into the north-east trades, we bent
foretopsail and lower stunsails, the use of which was fast dying out. In fact,
I only saw on that voyage two other ships using them, and I never saw them
again afterwards. In the days of the tea clippers these and other flying kites
were greatly used; but in those days large crews were carried, nor did
shipowners trouble much about the cost of broken bones and lost and torn
stunsails. But when the decline in sailing-ship freights set in, and crews were
reduced in number, stunsails were discontinued, and they will now never be seen
again.
Sighting
a passing steamer was one of the chief excitements of the voyage, for in those
days steamers were still few and far between, and all hands used to crowd to the
rail to gaze at the unusual sight, just as now steamer crews look with wonder
on a passing sailing ship. All steamers then carried yards, many being brig,
barque, or full rigged, and their captains used to "crack on" sail
just as if they were in sailing ships. Every ship's officer, of course, had a
certificate in sail, for the modern "steam only" certificate was
still undreamt of.
One
Sunday morning we were becalmed off the Cape, and we apprentices were amusing
ourselves by catching Cape pigeons with a line and a bent pin when an old
sailor came along and begged us to stop catching them. "I've never seed
them birds ketched of a Sunday without a gale coming up d'reckly
arterwards", he said; "an' you b'ys may larf as much as you like, but,
mark my words, them larfs longest as larfs last!" But we only laughed the more, for it was a
glorious calm day and the ship was bowling along with every stitch set.
However, we remembered his words when at eleven o'clock it came on to blow, and
before midnight we were staggering under lower topsails against a hard gale.
Of course the whole thing was a mere coincidence, but it can well be imagined
that it was looked on by everybody on board as another proof of the truth of
the superstition.
Algoa
Bay, where we arrived ninety-seven days out, was at that time a very small
place, with lots of Kafirs wandering around, quite uncivilized and wearing only
blankets. Most of the trade was done by sailing ships, and the only steamers
that visited the port were the mail-boats, which I should say were not more
than two thousand tons register, although to us in sailing ships they seemed
wonders of engineering.
There
was a whole fleet of sailing ships in the roads, and in my mind's eye I can
still see such long-vanished vessels as the CARNARVON CASTLE the ADIRONDACK and
the FLEUR-DE-LYS which I remember were anchored there at the same time as the
TINTERN ABBEY. We discharged the whole of our cargo (about two thousand tons)
without any assistance from shore ; and as we had no donkey engine or anything
of that kind, all the winching had to be done by hand.
Algoa Bay
will always be
associated in my memory with chanteys. Sailing ships were
constantly coming to an anchor there, or else heaving up their mudhooks in
readiness for departing. Every ship could muster a chantey crowd of a kind, and
once in a way a really good one; and one of my most pleasant recollections is
hearing at six o'clock on a dead calm morning the full crew of a ship half a
mile away singing "Good-bye, fare you well" as they raised the
anchor. The deep voices of the men blended with the plaintive tune of the song
is a memory I shall always cherish, and never again will it be heard under such
circumstances.
From
Algoa Bay we sailed for Madras, for orders. On arrival there we received a
visit from a coolie, who came out to the ship in a catamaran, a very
odd-looking figure in an admiral's full-dress uniform and cocked hat. He termed
himself Admiral of the Port by right of ancestry, and of course demanded the
usual "baksheesh". It appeared that at some bygone time an ancestor
of his had been of great service to an admiral, and as a reward had received an
old uniform, which must have brought in a considerable income to the
recipient's family for generations, since captains of ships visiting the port
made it their custom to give a few annas to the wearer of the uniform for the
time being.
We
received orders to proceed to Calcutta, where we loaded jute for New York. I
remember very little about my stay there, except that it gave me the
opportunity of seeing the old King of Oudh, who was responsible for many of the
massacres of the Mutiny year. He was allowed to keep State ceremonial, and when
driving he was attended by a troop of native lancers, who, with their fluttering
pennons and smart uniforms, made a great impression on me.
From Calcutta we had
an uneventful passage to the American coast. The day we sighted land was a Sunday, and
after dinner the bos'n and the second mate, whom we had seen a short time before
going into the cabin, emerged wiping their lips and came along to the
forecastle.
The
second mate, standing at the starboard side, and the bos'n at the port side,
ordered all hands out. One of the men wanted to know why, and promptly received
a blow from the bos'n which nearly knocked him through the bulkhead. After that
all the men filed out without another word, and they, and we apprentices with
them, were kept busy getting the anchor over the side and fleeting the cables
along the deck. This, as I afterwards learned, was only done to make the men
dissatisfied and ready to desert as soon as the ship reached port.
On
Tuesday, when we arrived in New York River, about twenty boats came alongside,
and some very rough-looking customers climbed aboard and started to help the
crew to moor the ship. I saw that bottles were making their appearance, and
that some of the men were getting drunk ; and by the time the mooring was
finished they and the strangers were fast friends and disappeared into the
forecastle together. It was then about six o'clock, and at seven o'clock, when
it was dark, I saw the sailors, by this time hardly able to stand, being helped
over the side with their dunnage by the men who had come aboard. Next morning
there was not one of the forecastle crowd left in the ship.
This
was the only case of crimping I ever saw, and probably it was one of the last.
The captain treated the men as deserters, and therefore collared all the pay
that was due to them. They no doubt thought they were going to have a rattling
good tim« ashore, but they would be promptly drugged, and would probably come
to themselves in a strange ship, outward bound, the crimps having been paid
"blood money" by the skipper for providing him with a crew. All this
infamous traffic, thank God was stopped shortly afterwards by the Board of
Trade Regulations, but it shows how friendless sailors were in the days of
which I write, and how little consideration anyone seemed to have for their
lives, morals, or well-being. Their lives were accounted worthless, and there
was no trade union to look after their material interests.
While
the ship was at New York I developed an abscess in my shin, which had been
hacked when I was playing football at school. The captain sent me to the
sailors' hospital at Staten Island, and of all the badly conducted hospitals
that ever were I should think that was the worst. It was a big place, with
several wards ; all the nurses were men, and I do not think any of them were
properly trained. The hospital was run on the lines of a ship as regards time.
The bells were struck every half hour, just as on board ship, and the working
hours were much the same. The call to "show a leg" came at half-past
five, and at six o'clock those of the patients who were able to do light work
had to turn to, although it was January and bitterly cold, and swab the floors.
All except the worst cases had to make their own beds. At ten o'clock the naval
doctor made his rounds, and if he thought a man was malingering his language
was more pointed than polite.
There
were no separate wards except for infectious cases; all the rest, broken legs
and all diseases other than infectious, were herded indiscriminately in the
same ward.
I
was in the hospital for a fortnight, and at the end of that time I was sent
home as a passenger in the four-masted square-rigged steamship ASSYRIAN
MONARCH. She was commanded by a Captain Harrison. He was an extremely
good-looking young man, but the strictest of disciplinarians. In fact, he was a
holy terror, having been trained in "blue-nose" ships ; he would not
take a "back answer" from any man alive, and the result was that
after every voyage he used to appear at the Tower Hill Police Court for
striking some member of the crew. As it cost him five pounds for each offence
it made it a somewhat expensive form of amusement!
When
I got home, my uncle, Captain McLean Wait, of the Union Line, strongly advised
me that if I was going to continue at sea I ought to go into a better class of ship
than the old TINTERN ABBEY. The result was that I applied to old Captain
Willis, and, having been accepted by him as an apprentice, I was appointed to
his favourite, and his largest, ship, THE TWEED.
Raymond
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