Part of the
Acorn Archive
Hearts of Oak
Captain J L Vivian Millett
Part 4
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We lay
in Calcutta for six months. Our owner, Captain Willis, would not accept the low
freights ruling in the port, and we saw every ship that was in the river when
we arrived sail for home; others arrived in their places, loaded, and sailed
again, and still we lay on. We experienced a rainy season and a hot season,
and, rainy or hot, no consideration was shown to us apprentices either by
Captain White or Mr. Norie. In the hottest part of the day in the middle of the
hot season we were kept aloft serving the new backstays down, or blacking the
yards and painting the masts white. For the latter job we were given paint
brushes, but for the yards we only had a swab and a tin of black varnish, and
Heaven help us if one drop was detected on the deck by the lynx eye of Mr.
Norie. In blacking the yards, the arm you were working with was soon black up
to the elbow, while the other also got just as black with holding on to the
yard. Our faces quickly got black too, as we had to use our black hands to
brush off the flies which buzzed round us, and with the heat of the sun acting
on the black varnish the skin was burnt clean off.
In other
ships with full crews these jobs used to be done in the early morning or late
afternoon, and many of them allowed their crews a couple of hours' rest during the
hottest part of the day. Not so with us: we were at it from six in the morning
until six at night, and the captain of a ship lying alongside was so indignant
that he called over one day that our captain ought to be darned well shot for
working us so hard. Very kind of him; but we only got a worse time than before
in consequence!
Luckily
for us, however, all this work and the lack of consideration we got did not
affect our spirits in the least. We were always ready for mischief, and as soon
as the mate's back was turned we were up to some prank or other. We were only
allowed on shore as a very special favour, and it shows what fine condition we
were in physically that we were able after a hard day's work to go ashore, have
a good time at the Bethel or somewhere else, come on board at two o'clock in
the morning, and be ready at six o'clock to start on the daily round as usual.
One of
our favourite diversions was to climb over the fence into Fort William any time
after 11 p.m., when every one except the sentries had gone to bed, and make our
way to the covered swimming-pool, just off the parade ground, for a cool frolic
in the water. I have often been in the pool with only one chum at one o'clock
in the morning, but we used to get a bit scared by the hyenas coming down and
howling.
Even
over our work we managed to knock up a bit of fun now and again. When we were
washing the 'tween decks and the third mate had gone up on deck, we used to
have gay old times heaving our wet rags at each other until the mate, hearing
the row we were making, would suddenly appear and start cursing us and saying
what he would do if he caught us at it again. We also used to have rat hunts;
in moving the dunnage wood a rat would be seen, and we would all drop everything
and start chasing him round with sticks.
The
apprentice Hickey during one of these hunts was fool enough to clutch his
trousers' pocket suddenly and yell that a rat had gone up his leg and that he
had got hold of it. We naturally thought that it had done so, for Hickey was
dancing about as if he had got a bad scare, and holding on to his pocket; so
thinking that he was really alarmed and that the rat might bite him, I took out
my knife and cut a bunch out of his trousers where he said the rat was. And there
was his hand holding his tobacco pouch. To this day I don't know whether he was
really fooling or whether he thought there was a rat there; anyway I spoiled
his trousers for him.
We had
awnings fore-and-aft the ship, and as there were only six apprentices we had a
job to furl them in squalls, although, of course, we had the help of the third
mate, the bos'n and Robson the Chinese sailor. It was particularly hard on us
when we were called in the night-time, for the squall was generally accompanied
by torrential rain, and it took very nearly two hours to furl the awnings. But
no matter what length of time it took us, we were still roused out at five
o'clock in the morning, no allowance being made for the sleep we had lost,
although an hour's extra sleep was always given in other ships, even with full
crews, for having had to do similar work.
The cook
having been paid off, we had a temporary native substitute, who cooked the meat
so badly that no one could have eaten it who was not positively starving. Consequently
we not only spent all our money in the bumboat buying eggs, bread, butter, and
fruit, but when the money was done we got rid of our clothes so that we could
get something to eat. The result was that none of us had many clothes in our
chests by the time we left Calcutta.
Friday
was the day we hated more than any in the seven. At six in the morning on that
day the six of us, our numbers had dwindled to six by then, started to
holystone the decks, and kept at it the whole of the day and the following
morning until they were as white as snow ; then the brass-work was cleaned and
the ropes flumished down. At four o'clock a crowd of the captain's Baptist
friends used to come on board to tea, and when we heard them saying that the
vessel was as clean as a man-of-war and what a splendid man the captain must be
to keep his ship so smart, we apprentices used to look round for some quiet
spot where we could retire to blow off our feelings. Oh, how we used to loathe
those visitors of his with their superior airs!
Day in
and day out, it was the same hard, weary round. As I think of those times I
hear again the native soldiers practising the bugle-calls in Fort William, just
opposite to where we lay. I smell again the close, smoky, and by no means
fragrant air of Calcutta, and in my ears are once again the never-ceasing cries
of the Brahmin kites as they circled round the ship on the look-out for galley
refuse. I see again, and even smell, the dead bodies of native men and women
floating down the river and getting entangled in the ships' moorings, for in
those days the sacred Hugli River was used as a burial-place for those who
could not afford cremation, and indeed it may be still for all I know.
Times
have changed since I was there in 1882. The character of the natives has
altered, sailing ships are no longer to be seen, but I guess there is still the
same old blazing sun, the same old muddy river, the same old close smell, and
the same old cries from the Brahmin (or as sailors used to call them
"Bromley”) kites. For me Calcutta has no pleasant associations, and I
thank Heaven I shall never see the place again, except in the eye of memory.
Towards
the end of our six months' weary stay at our moorings Mr. Norie found it a
difficult matter to know what work to give us to do, so he hit on the idea of
our restoring the 'tween decks to the immaculate condition they used to be in
when the ship was a frigate. The 'tween decks were all teak like the rest of
the vessel, but of course they were badly marked by the many cargoes she had
carried. We had to plane off the rough surface, then holystone it, and with
the top deck painted white and the sides of the ship a light green, the 'tween
decks looked beautiful when the job was done. We loved this work because it was
pretty cool compared with the blazing sun on deck.
At last
one joyful day native stevedores came on board and began to load a cargo of
jute. We shipped a new crew and a new second mate. The latter had been for
about twenty years in coasting steamers and had forgotten all about the
handling of a sailing ship. I rather fancy he was unpaid, for although he was
quite a decent old chap he was not a sailing-ship man ; and yet he was never
found fault with either by the skipper or Norie. The new crew were a poor lot, all
wasters, with the exception of one very stout fellow of the sea-lawyer type,
who turned out to be the only real sailor among them.
We towed
down the Hugli, and then found that all the running rigging had rotted through
six months' exposure to the weather in Calcutta, and it took us hours to make
sail. All went well after that until we reached the Cape, when we ran into a
north-westerly gale and had a hot time of it beating against the wind and
against the Agulhas current. During this time I remember seeing the famous
WHITEADDER, and a beautiful barque with painted parts called the DEVORAN,
which, sailing before the wind, presented a lovely picture of a ship. We got
the south-east trades in Mr. Norie's watch. He immediately set every stitch,
and I remember hearing the men say that he would carry the ruddy spars out of
her, for she was absolutely staggering with everything, even to skysails, set.
Captain
White was asleep at the time or else there would have been trouble, but by the
time he came on deck the wind was moderating to the usual strength of the
south-east trade. We passed every ship that we saw, and as we neared the Azores
we sighted a derelict ahead of us. Of all the sad sights to be seen at sea, I
think a derelict ship is the saddest. On approaching her we found her to be a
three-masted barquentine. She had evidently been in collision, for her stem was
damaged and all three masts were lying fore-and-aft the deck. We were running
before a fresh gale, so Captain White considered it too risky to send a boat
off to examine her. As she was flying light she had evidently suffered no
damage to her hull, so we left her.
North of
the Azores we encountered a westerly gale, which, gradually increasing to
hurricane force, necessitated our reducing sail until we were running before it
under goosewinged lower topsails. I heard Captain White describing this gale
afterwards as the worst he had ever experienced during his forty-five years at
sea. The mountainous seas carried away the port side of the break of the poop,
a teakwood bulkhead, and knocked six cabins into one, washing away every mortal
thing Mr. Norie possessed except his monkey, which clung on for dear life. The
ship was running so heavily that Captain White decided to risk the hazardous
operation of heaving her to, which, as every sailor knows, is only done in a
hurricane as a sort of last hope. Captain White and Mr. Norie, standing by the
wheel, watched for the right moment to put the helm down; and as the ship came
up into the wind the cry went up "Stand by for your lives!" However,
luckily the manoeuvre was successfully performed, and every credit is due to
the skipper for the seamanlike way in which he handled his ship.
By this time
all the new lanyards had stretched to such an extent that the resulting
slackness of the rigging endangered the spars; owing to the seas constantly
breaking aboard all we could do was to trap the backstays and rigging together,
and Captain White decided to have the royal and sky-sail yards sent down. We
managed to get them down, but anyone who has ever sent yards down in a
hurricane will realize the kind of job it was. We had been hove-to twenty-four
hours when the wind moderated, and although it was still blowing hard we set
all sail and made for the mouth of the Channel.
When I
came on deck at four o'clock next morning in the mate's watch he, either out
of bad temper or for sheer devilment, sent me up to the mizen topgallant yard
to keep a look out for the Lizard light. It was early February and bitterly
cold, and as I had either worn out most of my clothes or else sold them in
Calcutta to buy food, I had very little on. There I had to sit or stand on the
yard for an hour before I saw the loom of the Lizard light, and I shall never
forget the relief and joy I felt when I sung out that the lights were showing
and heard Mr. Norie respond with, "Come down out of that!" - I could
scarcely move one foot below the other coming down the rigging, I was so perished
with the cold; still it didn't seem to do me any harm.
We
romped along up Channel, and a glorious moment it was when we gave our ropes to
the tugboat which was to tow us up the London River. It was rainy and blowing
hard, but Norie kept up his reputation to the last moment by making us go aloft
and stow the sodden sails harbour fashion. Then we had to square the yards by
lifts and braces, and the last job of all was the cleaning of the brasswork in
the pouring rain! But we got into dock at last; and, oh, how welcome was the
sound of Mr. Norie's shout of "That will do, lads" which signified
that we were free men at last!
Raymond
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