CHAPTER XC.

  THE MANNING OF NAVIES.

  "The gallows and the sea refuse nothing," is a very old sea saying;and, among all the wondrous prints of Hogarth, there is none remainingmore true at the present day than that dramatic boat-scene, where afterconsorting with harlots and gambling on tomb-stones, the IdleApprentice, with the villainous low forehead, is at last represented asbeing pushed off to sea, with a ship and a gallows in the distance. ButHogarth should have converted the ship's masts themselves intoTyburn-trees, and thus, with the ocean for a background, closed thecareer of his hero. It would then have had all the dramatic force ofthe opera of Don Juan, who, after running his impious courses, is sweptfrom our sight in a tornado of devils.

  For the sea is the true Tophet and bottomless pit of many workers ofiniquity; and, as the German mystics feign Gehennas within Gehennas,even so are men-of-war familiarly known among sailors as "FloatingHells." And as the sea, according to old Fuller, is the stable of brutemonsters, gliding hither and thither in unspeakable swarms, even so isit the home of many moral monsters, who fitly divide its empire withthe snake, the shark, and the worm.

  Nor are sailors, and man-of-war's-men especially, at all blind to atrue sense of these things. "_Purser rigged and parish damned_," is thesailor saying in the American Navy, when the tyro first mounts thelined frock and blue jacket, aptly manufactured for him in a StatePrison ashore.

  No wonder, that lured by some _crimp_ into a service so galling, and,perhaps, persecuted by a vindictive lieutenant, some repentant sailorshave actually jumped into the sea to escape from their fate, or setthemselves adrift on the wide ocean on the gratings without compass orrudder.

  In one case, a young man, after being nearly cut into dog's meat at thegangway, loaded his pockets with shot and walked overboard.

  Some years ago, I was in a whaling ship lying in a harbour of thePacific, with three French men-of-war alongside. One dark, moody night,a suppressed cry was heard from the face of the waters, and, thinkingit was some one drowning, a boat was lowered, when two French sailorswere picked up, half dead from exhaustion, and nearly throttled by abundle of their clothes tied fast to their shoulders. In this mannerthey had attempted their escape from their vessel. When the Frenchofficers came in pursuit, these sailors, rallying from theirexhaustion, fought like tigers to resist being captured. Though thisstory concerns a French armed ship, it is not the less applicable, indegree, to those of other nations.

  Mix with the men in an American armed ship, mark how many foreignersthere are, though it is against the law to enlist them. Nearly onethird of the petty officers of the Neversink were born east of theAtlantic. Why is this? Because the same principle that operates inhindering Americans from hiring themselves out as menial domestics alsorestrains them, in a great measure, from voluntarily assuming a farworse servitude in the Navy. "_Sailors wanted for the Navy_" is acommon announcement along the wharves of our sea-ports. They are always"_wanted_." It may have been, in part, owing to this scarcityman-of-war's men, that not many years ago, black slaves were frequentlyto be found regularly enlisted with the crew of an American frigate,their masters receiving their pay. This was in the teeth of a law ofCongress expressly prohibiting slaves in the Navy. This law,indirectly, means black slaves, nothing being said concerning whiteones. But in view of what John Randolph of Roanoke said about thefrigate that carried him to Russia, and in view of what most armedvessels actually are at present, the American Navy is not altogether aninappropriate place for hereditary bondmen. Still, the circumstance oftheir being found in it is of such a nature, that to some it may hardlyappear credible. The incredulity of such persons, nevertheless, mustyield to the fact, that on board of the United States ship Neversink,during the present cruise, there was a Virginian slave regularlyshipped as a seaman, his owner receiving his wages. Guinea--such washis name among the crew--belonged to the Purser, who was a Southerngentleman; he was employed as his body servant. Never did I feel mycondition as a man-of-war's-man so keenly as when seeing this Guineafreely circulating about the decks in citizen's clothes, and throughthe influence of his master, almost entirely exempted from thedisciplinary degradation of the Caucasian crew. Faring sumptuously inthe ward-room; sleek and round, his ebon face fairly polished withcontent: ever gay and hilarious; ever ready to laugh and joke, thatAfrican slave was actually envied by many of the seamen. There weretimes when I almost envied him myself. Lemsford once envied himoutright, "Ah, Guinea!" he sighed, "you have peaceful times; you neveropened the book I read in."

  One morning, when all hands were called to witness punishment, thePurser's slave, as usual, was observed to be hurrying down the ladderstoward the ward-room, his face wearing that peculiar, pinched blueness,which, in the negro, answers to the paleness caused by nervousagitation in the white. "Where are you going, Guinea?" cried thedeck-officer, a humorous gentleman, who sometimes diverted himself withthe Purser's slave, and well knew what answer he would now receive fromhim. "Where are you going, Guinea?" said this officer; "turn about;don't you hear the call, sir?" "'_Scuse_ me, massa!" said the slave,with a low salutation; "I can't 'tand it; I can't, indeed, massa!" and,so saying, he disappeared beyond the hatchway. He was the only personon board, except the hospital-steward and the invalids of the sick-bay,who was exempted from being present at the administering of thescourge. Accustomed to light and easy duties from his birth, and sofortunate as to meet with none but gentle masters, Guinea, though abondman, liable to be saddled with a mortgage, like a horse--Guinea, inIndia-rubber manacles, enjoyed the liberties of the world.

  Though his body-and-soul proprietor, the Purser, never in any wayindividualised me while I served on board the frigate, and never did mea good office of any kind (it was hardly in his power), yet, from hispleasant, kind, indulgent manner toward his slave, I always imputed tohim a generous heart, and cherished an involuntary friendliness towardhim. Upon our arrival home, his treatment of Guinea, undercircumstances peculiarly calculated to stir up the resentment of aslave-owner, still more augmented my estimation of the Purser's goodheart.

  Mention has been made of the number of foreigners in the American Navy;but it is not in the American Navy alone that foreigners bear so largea proportion to the rest of the crew, though in no navy, perhaps, havethey ever borne so large a proportion as in our own. According to anEnglish estimate, the foreigners serving in the King's ships at onetime amounted to one eighth of the entire body of seamen. How it is inthe French Navy, I cannot with certainty say; but I have repeatedlysailed with English seamen who have served in it.

  One of the effects of the free introduction of foreigners into any Navycannot be sufficiently deplored. During the period I lived in theNeversink, I was repeatedly struck by the lack of patriotism in many ofmy shipmates. True, they were mostly foreigners who unblushinglyavowed, that were it not for the difference of pay, they would as liefman the guns of an English ship as those of an American or Frenchman.Nevertheless, it was evident, that as for any high-toned patrioticfeeling, there was comparatively very little--hardly any of it--evincedby our sailors as a body. Upon reflection, this was not to be wonderedat. From their roving career, and the sundering of all domestic ties,many sailors, all the world over, are like the "Free Companions," whosome centuries ago wandered over Europe, ready to fight the battles ofany prince who could purchase their swords. The only patriotism is bornand nurtured in a stationary home, and upon an immovable hearth-stone;but the man-of-war's-man, though in his voyagings he weds the two Polesand brings both Indies together, yet, let him wander where he will, hecarries his one only home along with him: that home is his hammock."_Born under a gun, and educated on the bowsprit_," according to aphrase of his own, the man-of-war-man rolls round the world like abillow, ready to mix with any sea, or be sucked down to death in themaelstrom of any war.

  Yet more. The dread of the general discipline of a man-of-war; thespecial obnoxiousness of the gangway; the protracted confinement onboard ship, with so few "liberty days;" and the pittance of pa
y (muchless than what can always be had in the Merchant Service), these thingscontrive to deter from the navies of all countries by far the majorityof their best seamen. This will be obvious, when the followingstatistical facts, taken from Macpherson's Annals of Commerce, areconsidered. At one period, upon the Peace Establishment, the number ofmen employed in the English Navy was 25,000; at the same time, theEnglish Merchant Service was employing 118,952. But while thenecessities of a merchantman render it indispensable that the greaterpart of her crew be able seamen, the circumstances of a man-of-waradmit of her mustering a crowd of landsmen, soldiers, and boys in herservice. By a statement of Captain Marryat's, in his pamphlet (A. D.1822) "On the Abolition of Impressment," it appears that, at the closeof the Bonaparte wars, a full third of all the crews of his Majesty'sfleets consisted of landsmen and boys.

  Far from entering with enthusiasm into the king's ships when theircountry were menaced, the great body of English seamen, appalled at thediscipline of the Navy, adopted unheard-of devices to escape itspress-gangs. Some even hid themselves in caves, and lonely placesinland, fearing to run the risk of seeking a berth in an outward-boundmerchantman, that might have carried them beyond sea. In the truenarrative of "John Nichol, Mariner," published in 1822 by Blackwood inEdinburgh, and Cadell in London, and which everywhere bears thespontaneous impress of truth, the old sailor, in the most artless,touching, and almost uncomplaining manner, tells of his "skulking likea thief" for whole years in the country round about Edin-burgh, toavoid the press-gangs, prowling through the land like bandits andBurkers. At this time (Bonaparte's wars), according to "Steel's List,"there were forty-five regular press-gang stations in Great Britain.[5]

  ----

  [FOOTNOTE-5] Besides this domestic kidnapping, British frigates, infriendly or neutral harbours, in some instances pressed into theirservice foreign sailors of all nations from the public wharves. Incertain cases, where Americans were concerned, when "_protections_"were found upon their persons, these were destroyed; and to prevent theAmerican consul from claiming his sailor countrymen, the press-ganggenerally went on shore the night previous to the sailing of thefrigate, so that the kidnapped seamen were far out to sea before theycould be missed by their friends. These things should be known; for incase the English government again goes to war with its fleets, andshould again resort to indiscriminate impressment to man them, it iswell that both Englishmen and Americans, that all the world be preparedto put down an iniquity outrageous and insulting to God and man.

  ----

  In a later instance, a large body of British seamen solemnly assembledupon the eve of an anticipated war, and together determined, that incase of its breaking out, they would at once flee to America, to avoidbeing pressed into the service of their country--a service whichdegraded her own guardians at the gangway.

  At another time, long previous to this, according to an English Navyofficer, Lieutenant Tomlinson, three thousand seamen, impelled by thesame motive, fled ashore in a panic from the colliers between YarmouthRoads and the Nore. Elsewhere, he says, in speaking of some of the menon board the king's ships, that "they were most miserable objects."This remark is perfectly corroborated by other testimony referring toanother period. In alluding to the lamented scarcity of good Englishseamen during the wars of 1808, etc., the author of a pamphlet on"Naval Subjects" says, that all the best seamen, the steadiest andbest-behaved men, generally succeeded in avoiding the impress. Thiswriter was, or had been, himself a Captain in the British fleet.

  Now it may be easily imagined who are the men, and of what moralcharacter they are, who, even at the present day, are willing to enlistas full-grown adults in a service so galling to all shore-manhood asthe Navy. Hence it comes that the skulkers and scoundrels of all sortsin a man-of-war are chiefly composed not of regular seamen, but ofthese "dock-lopers" of landsmen, men who enter the Navy to draw theirgrog and murder their time in the notorious idleness of a frigate. Butif so idle, why not reduce the number of a man-of-war's crew, andreasonably keep employed the rest? It cannot be done. In the firstplace, the magnitude of most of these ships requires a large number ofhands to brace the heavy yards, hoist the enormous top-sails, and weighthe ponderous anchor. And though the occasion for the employment of somany men comes but seldom, it is true, yet when that occasion _does_come--and come it may at any moment--this multitude of men areindispensable.

  But besides this, and to crown all, the batteries must be manned. Theremust be enough men to work all the guns at one time. And thus, in orderto have a sufficiency of mortals at hand to "sink, burn and destroy;" aman-of-war, through her vices, hopelessly depraving the volunteerlandsmen and ordinary seamen of good habits, who occasionallyenlist--must feed at the public cost a multitude of persons, who, ifthey did not find a home in the Navy, would probably fall on theparish, or linger out their days in a prison.

  Among others, these are the men into whose mouths Dibdin puts hispatriotic verses, full of sea-chivalry and romance. With an exceptionin the last line, they might be sung with equal propriety by bothEnglish and American man-of-war's-men.

  "As for me, in all weathers, all times, tides, and ends, Naught's a trouble from duty that springs; For my heart is my Poll's, and my rhino's my friends, And as for my life, it's the king's.

  To rancour unknown, to no passion a slave, Nor unmanly, nor mean, nor a railer," etc.

  I do not unite with a high critical authority in considering Dibdin'sditties as "slang songs," for most of them breathe the very poetry ofthe ocean. But it is remarkable that those songs--which would lead oneto think that man-of-war's-men are the most care-free, contented,virtuous, and patriotic of mankind--were composed at a time when theEnglish Navy was principally manned by felons and paupers, as mentionedin a former chapter. Still more, these songs are pervaded by a trueMohammedan sensualism; a reckless acquiescence in fate, and animplicit, unquestioning, dog-like devotion to whoever may be lord andmaster. Dibdin was a man of genius; but no wonder Dibdin was agovernment pensioner at L200 per annum.

  But notwithstanding the iniquities of a man-of-war, men are to be foundin them, at times, so used to a hard life; so drilled and disciplinedto servitude, that, with an incomprehensible philosophy, they seemcheerfully to resign themselves to their fate. They have plenty to eat;spirits to drink; clothing to keep them warm; a hammock to sleep in;tobacco to chew; a doctor to medicine them; a parson to pray for them;and, to a penniless castaway, must not all this seem as a luxuriousBill of Fare?

  There was on board of the Neversink a fore-top-man by the name ofLandless, who, though his back was cross-barred, and plaided with theineffaceable scars of all the floggings accumulated by a reckless tarduring a ten years' service in the Navy, yet he perpetually wore ahilarious face, and at joke and repartee was a very Joe Miller.

  That man, though a sea-vagabond, was not created in vain. He enjoyedlife with the zest of everlasting adolescence; and, though cribbed inan oaken prison, with the turnkey sentries all round him, yet he pacedthe gun-deck as if it were broad as a prairie, and diversified inlandscape as the hills and valleys of the Tyrol. Nothing everdisconcerted him; nothing could transmute his laugh into anything likea sigh. Those glandular secretions, which in other captives sometimesgo to the formation of tears, in _him_ were expectorated from themouth, tinged with the golden juice of a weed, wherewith he solaced andcomforted his ignominious days.

  "Rum and tobacco!" said Landless, "what more does a sailor want?"

  His favourite song was "_Dibdin's True English Sailor_," beginning,

  "Jack dances and sings, and is always content, In his vows to his lass he'll ne'er fail her; His anchor's atrip when his money's all spent, And this is the life of a sailor."

  But poor Landless danced quite as often at the gangway, under the lash,as in the sailor dance-houses ashore.

  Another of his songs, also set to the significant tune of _The King,God bless him!_ mustered the following lines among many similar ones:

&n
bsp; "Oh, when safely landed in Boston or 'York, Oh how I will tipple and jig it; And toss off my glass while my rhino holds out, In drinking success to our frigate!"

  During the many idle hours when our frigate was lying in harbour, thisman was either merrily playing at checkers, or mending his clothes, orsnoring like a trumpeter under the lee of the booms. When fast asleep,a national salute from our batteries could hardly move him. Whetherordered to the main-truck in a gale; or rolled by the drum to thegrog-tub; or commanded to walk up to the gratings and be lashed,Landess always obeyed with the same invincible indifference.

  His advice to a young lad, who shipped with us at Valparaiso, embodiesthe pith and marrow of that philosophy which enables someman-of-war's-men to wax jolly in the service.

  "_Shippy!_" said Landless, taking the pale lad by his neckerchief, asif he had him by the halter; "Shippy, I've seen sarvice with UncleSam--I've sailed in many _Andrew Millers_. Now take my advice, andsteer clear of all trouble. D'ye see, touch your tile whenever a swob(officer) speaks to you. And never mind how much they rope's-end you,keep your red-rag belayed; for you must know as how they don't fancysea-lawyers; and when the sarving out of slops comes round, stand up toit stiffly; it's only an oh Lord! Or two, and a few oh my Gods!--that'sall. And what then? Why, you sleeps it off in a few nights, and turnout at last all ready for your grog."

  This Landless was a favourite with the officers, among whom he went bythe name of "_Happy Jack_." And it is just such Happy Jacks as Landlessthat most sea-officers profess to admire; a fellow without shame,without a soul, so dead to the least dignity of manhood that he couldhardly be called a man. Whereas, a seaman who exhibits traits of moralsensitiveness, whose demeanour shows some dignity within; this is theman they, in many cases, instinctively dislike. The reason is, theyfeel such a man to be a continual reproach to them, as being mentallysuperior to their power. He has no business in a man-of-war; they donot want such men. To them there is an insolence in his manly freedom,contempt in his very carriage. He is unendurable, as an erect,lofty-minded African would be to some slave-driving planter.

  Let it not be supposed, however, that the remarks in this and thepreceding chapter apply to _all_ men-of-war. There are some vesselsblessed with patriarchal, intellectual Captains, gentlemanly andbrotherly officers, and docile and Christianised crews. The peculiarusages of such vessels insensibly softens the tyrannical rigour of theArticles of War; in them, scourging is unknown. To sail in such shipsis hardly to realise that you live under the martial law, or that theevils above mentioned can anywhere exist.

  And Jack Chase, old Ushant, and several more fine tars that might beadded, sufficiently attest, that in the Neversink at least, there wasmore than one noble man-of-war's-man who almost redeemed all the rest.

  Wherever, throughout this narrative, the American Navy, in any of itsbearings, has formed the theme of a general discussion, hardly onesyllable of admiration for what is accounted illustrious in itsachievements has been permitted to escape me. The reason is this: Iconsider, that so far as what is called military renown is concerned,the American Navy needs no eulogist but History. It were superfluousfor White-Jacket to tell the world what it knows already. The officeimposed upon me is of another cast; and, though I foresee and feel thatit may subject me to the pillory in the hard thoughts of some men, yet,supported by what God has given me, I tranquilly abide the event,whatever it may prove.