Part of the Acorn Archive

Hearts of Oak

Captain J L Vivian Millett

Part 7

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Part One       Part Two     Part Three         Part Four

Part Five       Part Six       Part Seven         Part Eight

Part Nine      Part Ten     Part Eleven     Part Twelve

We had a fair passage through the Red Sea, but as soon as we entered the Indian Ocean we met the full force of the south-west monsoon. Midway across we sighted a dismasted Indian dhow, crammed with natives, who were waving white cloths as if they wished to be taken off. Pringle ordered the lifeboat to be got away, and I proceeded to take charge. It was of course a mighty dangerous job to lower a boat in the heavy sea that was running at the time, and volunteers were called for. To my amazement I found that five out of the six volunteers were firemen, the sailors having apparently funked the job, though, as a matter of fact, in those days most ship's firemen had seen service as seamen in their time.

We pulled away towards the dhow, which was lying in the trough of the sea and rolling heavily. Seeing that it was impossible to get alongside, I signalled to the natives to jump into the water and we would pick them up. Only two of them had the nerve to do so, though we were not more than a hundred feet from the dhow. We took them safely on board, and as no more out of the hundred or so that there seemed to be in the dhow showed any sign of taking the jump, I decided to return to the ship, which by that time was a good half-mile away to leeward. The sea was running very high, and the boat was shipping considerable quantities of water, and it gave me rather a sinking feeling inside to see our floating home so far away. However, all things come to an end at last, and in due time we got alongside, only to be greeted with a volley of curses from Pringle because we had been such an adjectived long time about it! I lost my rag at this, and let him have as good as he gave, not omitting to rub it into him that while he was safe and comfortable on board we poor devils had been risking our lives at his command.

When this was going on the two natives we had brought back with us told an Arab fireman we had who was able to speak English that the reason the others would not leave the dhow was that they had sixty thousand rupees on board, and wanted to be towed into port. Of course, it was out of the question to undertake towage in such a gale of wind, and with great difficulty we hooked on the boatfalls and were hoisted on deck, when we didn't forget to tell the sailors who had skulked exactly what we thought about them. Pringle was so interested in hearing all we had to say to those sailors that by the time I joined him on the bridge he had forgotten all about his little dust-up with me.

We arrived at Bombay, where we discharged our cargo of coal and loaded rice and grain for home. Nothing of any importance occurred during the passage, and after unloading our cargo at Dunkirk we went over to Middlesbrough to take on board railway iron for Karachi.

The old man, as his custom was, discharged everybody, engineers and all, immediately we got to a home port, but he told me that he was ruddy well not going to let me go. He boasted that he never carried an officer two voyages, and this applied also to the engineers, whom Pringle, being an old sailing-ship man, liked about as well as the devil does holy water.

Pringle was paid by the owners to victual the ship, and he used to make a considerable profit on the transaction. The food, therefore, was never very good; but to me, after my hard life in sail, it seemed quite sumptuous. Not so, however, to the engineers, who had never been in anything but steamers and were used to good living. I remember the second engineer bringing along the dish of meat that they had for their dinner to the captain and asking him whether that was the kind of food the owners meant them to have. He got the usual sort of reception from the skipper. "What the hell do you mean," he bawled, "coming along with your grub like a blooming fireman? Haven't you any dignity? Haven't you any sense of your position? What's the matter with the grub, eh?" "It's darned well not fit to eat, that's the matter with it" said the engineer. "Not fit to eat!" roared the skipper. "Not fit for swine like you to eat! Good Gad, when you are out of a job and scratching a living by repairing winches what sort of grub d'ye get then? Answer me that! I'll tell you! A ruddy red herring and a bit o' mouldy bread, wrapped up in a dirty, filthy rag of a red handkerchief, that's what you get! That's the sort of thing you're used to! And then you have the darned cheek to say that grub like that, good grub, isn't fit for you to eat! Get out of this, or there'll be trouble!" The engineer went; but it was hardly surprising that if Pringle did not discharge his engine-room staff they went of their own accord.

The chief engineer we shipped for the next voyage was a very decent chap called Garstin. He was by no means a bad-looking man, but he always had a peculiar look in one eye, which I never thought much about until one day I saw him having a row with a fireman in the alleyway. I was never far off when there was a fight in progress, so I ran along the deck to see if my services were required to see fair play. To my astonishment Garstin turned to me and said, "Here, Millett, hold my ruddy eye" at the same time whipping out a glass eye and revealing a horrid red socket! The fireman gave one look and bolted for his life to the fo'c'sle. I forget who the first and second officers were on that voyage, but whoever they were they soon found out that ours was what is popularly known as a "hell ship".

Pringle never allowed his officers to look at a chart or even to go into the chart-room, and unless we were in close proximity to land he expected the officer of the watch to be chasing the men at their work round the deck, relying on the man at the wheel calling out to him if another ship or the land was sighted. How he escaped disaster in consequence of this folly I do not know. I have often known his officers, including myself, just go on the bridge at the beginning of the watch to see that the helmsman had got the right course, and never again throughout the whole of the watch. Sometimes we would even be in the hold helping to sweep it up and put up shifting boards ready for the next cargo.

The day before we reached Karachi we sighted another dismasted dhow, but this time the sea was like a millpond. As we approached we saw a dozen natives leaving her in their canoe. We stopped and took them on board; we had no interpreter, but we could understand from their signs that they were abandoning the dhow and wanted to be taken on. Pringle ordered me and the carpenter to take the boat and see whether the dhow was worth salving. She proved to be laden with teak, and apart from being dismasted and rudderless she was in good condition. By this time the steamer had been manoeuvred within a few feet of the dhow, and Pringle told me to remain on board and he would tow her into Karachi.

We got the ropes aboard, and putting on full speed away we went. I now proceeded to inspect my first command. The sleeping quarters of the ship's company were aft, and were simply a kind of bamboo compartment. Other accommodation there was none. I turned over all the linen cloths the natives had left behind to see if there was any treasure, but all I found was two rupees which someone had forgotten.

The men and I made ourselves as comfortable as we could, and took watch and watch until we arrived at Karachi, when Pringle told me I could leave the dhow and come on board. I did so, and after an hour or two I began to scratch myself. I thought I had got prickly heat, but as the irritation continued I made some researches and discovered to my horror that I was covered with lice. I was so disgusted that I jumped straight overboard in my clothes and tore off every rag I had on in the water. I climbed on board in a state of nature, but even then I didn't feel content until I had got a bucket of water with some carbolic in it and sluiced myself down. I thought that I was going to make a few pounds out of the salvage of the dhow, but all I could ever get out of Pringle was that the ruddy thing had not brought him in a penny. I know it was a lie, but the fact remains I got nothing.

We loaded at Karachi for Hamburg, and as we went up the Elbe I said to the captain : "Are you going to sack the second mate when you get home?" "What the blazes has that got to do with you?" he retorted. "Nothing except that if you do, and don't give me his job, I'm darned well going to leave" I said. "I'm pretty near fed up with this".  He mumbled something about, as we should say nowadays, "waiting and seeing"; and I waited, with the result that when we got home I at last got my long-desired second mate's berth.

The new chief officer was called Erskine. He was the son of the carpenter, who, with the exception of myself, was the only man who had sailed two voyages with Pringle. Erskine was a terror. The first hint of a back answer was always enough to make him up fist and down a man, and, what is more, he could do it.

It was most amusing to see him and his father, the carpenter, together. One evening in port all hands, including myself, were at work on the fo'c'sle head taking aboard a new anchor. The carpenter didn't agree with something his son was doing, so he said "Jim, what the hell's the good of doing that?" "What the ruddy blazes do you mean by talking to me that way?" retorted the chief officer.

"Beg pardon, sir!" said his father. He was afraid of no man, but realized that discipline had to be maintained. When they were alone it was always "Jim" and

"Dad" between them; they were the best of chums as a rule, and, whether singly or together, they put the fear of God into the crew. Just as we were sailing for Bombay, Pringle was transferred to the BROOKFIELD, and an awfully decent looking and well-spoken man came on board to take command. He was a Captain, a man of about thirty-five; after Pringle's rough ways I welcomed the idea of having a more gentlemanly man in command of the ship, and both Erskine and I looked forward to a peaceful time.

However, as it turned out, the voyage was barely begun before our troubles started. We were in the middle of the Bay of Biscay when a crash was heard in the engine-room and the ship stopped. The chief engineer reported that the high-pressure piston cover had carried away, and that he was not quite sure whether he could disconnect the cylinder and be able to work back to port on the low pressure. While he was endeavouring to effect repairs I saw one of the prettiest sights I have ever seen, and one, no doubt, which will never be seen again. We were lying in the trough of the sea, and it was blowing half a gale, when, coming in our direction, we sighted what looked like a sailing ship, but which proved as she came closer to be a Russian man-of-war with every stitch set. Immediately she saw our signals that we were not under control her yards were crowded with men, and in less than a minute her sail absolutely disappeared. It was a marvellous sight, and one of the most interesting imaginable : one minute there she was under full press of sail, and the next every stitch was stowed. She slowed down her engines and asked us whether we required any assistance, but at that moment the chief engineer came up and said he thought we could steam as far as the nearest home port to effect permanent repairs; so we hoisted the signal that assistance was not required, and within a couple of minutes the man-of-war had crowded on sail again and left us.

We got back to Falmouth safely under reduced speed, and when the owners got our report they arranged with Palmer's to supply us with a new piston cover, which was sent down and fitted within three days after our arrival at Falmouth.

We were ready to leave at eleven o'clock at night, and proceeded out of the inner harbour under the charge of the pilot. To our surprise Erskine and I noticed that the new skipper was half-seas over. However, we did not think anything of it, thinking that he had perhaps been saying good-bye rather too often to people he had met on shore that evening.

When we were clear of the inner harbour I was aft superintending the coiling and stowing away of the mooring-ropes, when Erskine came along the deck and said:

"See what that blank swine has done to me!"  I turned my signal lamp on to him, and saw that his nose was bleeding and his lip cut. "Who did that?" I asked.

"The skipper" he replied. "He called me up on to the bridge, and while I was on the ladder he went for me and knocked me flying with a smack on the nose."

"What did you do? " I said. "What did I do?" he repeated. "I was up that ladder like a flash of lightning, and I lambasted him all over the bridge and knocked seven bells out of him. And now he wants you!"  Off I went, and on my way met the pilot, shaking with fear, disappearing over the side. He said he wouldn't stay on such a ship a minute longer, and as we were just at the outer entrance of the harbour his services were really not needed.

I went up on to the bridge and found the skipper very full of the way his chief officer had assaulted him. He said he had sent him to his room until the ship reached Port Said, when he intended to have him court-martialled for striking his superior officer! I was able to indulge in a grin under cover of the darkness, and before I was called upon to reply, as luck would have it, the chief engineer came up on to the bridge and said that something was wrong and we should have to anchor. I went forward to attend to the anchor, and when I returned I looked into the chart-room and saw the captain lying in the full glare of the lamp in a drunken sleep. There was blood all over his face and his overcoat from the hammering the chief officer had given him, and he looked such a disgusting sight that I went inside and turned out the light rather than let the men see him in such a state.

Meanwhile the chief officer had turned in and gone to sleep, and I was left in charge. In a couple of hours' time the chief engineer reported that everything was all right, so I went into the chart-room and tried to rouse the skipper out. Shake him as I would he would not budge, and at last I gave it up in despair. The chief engineer, who had been watching all this, said "Go up and take her out yourself, old man; don't let us be seen here in daylight!" I sent the bos'n forward to heave up the anchor, and then, ringing the telegraph for full speed, headed her out to sea. As I had never set a course before except at a navigation school, I was a little bit nervous about the course we should steer for Cape Finisterre; however, I did my best, and felt happy in the thought that we could not go wrong for a couple of days.

By this time it was daylight, so I went down to the chart-room again, and (as gentle means would not wake the captain up) I literally shook him into sensibility. He was a filthy object, and I advised him to go aft to his quarters and clean himself up, before anyone saw him. He went, and in an hour as he had not returned I went in search of him and found him washed, undressed, and fast asleep in his cabin. Having been brought up to regard captains almost in the light of deities, I did not like to rouse him out again ; but, as I had now been on duty for twenty-four hours without a break, I went along to see the chief officer and asked him to take charge. "See you damned first!" he replied cheerfully. "I'm quite happy, thanks!" I went back on to the bridge again, and as we were now in the open sea with nothing in the way, I put the bos'n in charge and lay down in the chart-room for a much-needed sleep.

I was called two hours later, and at last succeeded in rousing the captain. I told him, much to his surprise, that we were well out to sea. He told me to go below and have a sleep, and at the end of four hours he called me and told me that he and I would keep watch and watch until we got to Port Said. We did so for two days, during which the chief officer was having a high old time lazing in his cabin, and jeering at me when I cursed the whole business. The captain himself was so sick of it that he told me to tell the chief officer he would be forgiven if he apologized. On my informing Erskine of this, all he said was "See him damned first I He started the row." I argued the point with him, but it was no good. However, at last I persuaded him that he would do no harm to his principles by saying that he was sorry it had happened, since he had every reason to be sorry on his own account, as it would do no good to his prospects. "All right" he said unwillingly "you can tell the old swine I am sorry, then." I took this message to the captain, and he looked tremendously relieved. "Very well" he said "tell him to start work again and I will try to forget all about it." Erskine turned to, and all was peace.

Nothing else happened during the voyage, except the usual occasional hammering of the firemen and others by the chief officer, and threats on my part to do the same. When we got to Bombay we didn't see the skipper for a whole week : he was having a great time with his feminine acquaintances ashore. Just before we finished loading he came aboard looking a perfect wreck, and from that time on he was never quite sober.

The captain never interfered with the work of the ship, and during the passage out and in Bombay, Erskine and I had put in a lot of hard work, so that before we left we had the ship looking as clean as a yacht. We continued to work on Bully Pringle'a plan that the chief officer should look after the fore part of the ship from funnel forward and the second officer from the funnel aft, and I remember an old-style skipper coming aboard and admiring the after deck. As we had finished loading and had all the awnings spread fore-and-aft, pipeclayed hatch covers on and pipeclayed covers over the winches, and the decks well holystoned, the after-deck certainly looked a picture. The old-style skipper took a look round, and, turning to me, said "Here, mister, I want to see how you keep your berth." I wondered why ; however I took him along. Here again there was no fault to find, for the hard training I had received in sailing ships had taught me to be extremely neat as regarded my berth. "Well, young man” he said, "I am old enough to be your grandfather, and let me tell you that whenever I go aboard a ship and find an officer's berth kept as yours is kept, I know that he is looking after his work and will keep his ship in good order too." I have often thought about his words since, and I realize the older I grow how true his observation is, whether applied to house, ship, or office.

From Bombay we sailed for Dunkirk. All the way across the Indian Ocean we scarcely saw the captain, and it was more by good luck than good management that we arrived safely at Perim, where we were to coal. The day after we left that place the skipper was lying half-screwed as usual, and I was asleep in my watch below, when Erskine came and roused me with a white face. "Good God, Millett" he said, "I have done it now!" "Done what?" I asked. "Let the blessed chronometers run down!"  It appears he had forgotten to wind them when we were coaling at Perim, and as they were only forty-eight hour chronometers they had run down in consequence. I thought for a bit, and remembering that the captain had a chronometer of his own in his cabin, I went down and found him in a drunken stupor. I then arranged that the steward should wave a handkerchief out of the deck porthole at a certain time by the captain's chronometer. I set the two on the bridge to that time, and when Erskine received the signal from the steward and passed it on to me I gave both chronometers a sharp circular motion and set them going. It could not have done them any good, and of course the rate was altered, but they were so close that I told Erskine to say to the captain that they ran down just when he was going to wind them, and on his hurriedly winding them up there was, of course, a difference in the rate that we had been accustomed to allow. Whether the skipper believed the yarn or not I can't say. At any rate the explanation was accepted, and in future sights were taken by means of the captain's own chronometer.

Part Eight

Raymond Forward