 | CHAPTER II. Ned Myers, or, A life before the mast |  |
2. CHAPTER II.
An explanation took place. Dr. and Mrs. Heizer remonstrated
about my conduct, and endeavoured, once more, to
persuade me to return to Mr. Marchinton's. A great deal
was told me of the kind intentions of that gentleman, and
concerning what I might expect from the protection and patronage
of my god-father, the Duke of Kent. I cannot help
thinking, now, that much of the favour which was extended
towards me at that early period of life, was owing to the
circumstance that the prince had consented to stand for me
at my baptism. He was a great disciplinarian—so great,
indeed, I remember to have heard, as to cause more than
one mutiny—and my father being a German, and coming
from a people that carried military subordination to extremes,
it is highly probable I was indebted, for this compliment, to
a similarity of tastes between the two. I cared little for all
this, however, in 1805, and thought far less of being protected
by a prince of the blood royal, than of going to sea,
and especially of escaping from the moral discipline of Mr.
Marchinton. Finding his arguments vain, Dr. Heizer sent
me to school again, where I continued a few months longer.
All this time, my taste for ships rather increased than
diminished. At every opportunity I was on the wharves,
studying the different craft, and endeavouring to understand
their rig. One day I saw a British ensign, and, while looking
at it, with a feeling of strong disgust, I heard myself
called by name. A glance told me that I was seen by a
Halifax man, and I ran away, under the apprehension that
feelings on this head were all alive, and that very day one of
the young ladies said, in a melancholy way, “Edouard,”
“Halifax.” These girls spoke scarcely any English, having
been born in Martinique; and they talked much together in
French, looking at me occasionally, as if I were the subject
of their discourse. It is probable conscience was at the bottom
of this conceit of mine; but the latter now became so
strong, as to induce me to determine to look out for a vessel
for myself, and be off again. With this view, I quitted a
negro who had been sent with me to market, under the pretence
of going to school, but went along the wharves until I
found a ship that took my fancy. She was called the Sterling,
and there was a singularly good-looking mate on her
deck, of the name of Irish, who was a native of Nantucket.
The ship was commanded by Capt. John Johnston, of Wiscasset,
in Maine, and belonged to his father and himself.
I went on board the Sterling, and, after looking about for
some time, I ventured to offer myself to Mr. Irish, as a boy
who wished to ship. I was questioned, of course, but evaded
any very close answers. After some conversation, Capt.
Johnston came on board, and Mr. Irish told him what I
wanted. My examination now became much closer, and I
found myself driven to sheer fabrication in order to effect my
purposes. During my intercourse with different sea-going
lads of Halifax, I had learned the particulars of the capture
of the Cleopatra 32, by the French frigate Ville de Milan 38,
and her recapture by the Leander 50, which ship captured
the Ville de Milan at the same time. I said my father had
been a serjeant of marines, and was killed in the action—
that I had run away when the ships got in, and that I wished
to be bound to some American ship-master, in order to become
a regularly-trained seaman. This story so far imposed
on Capt. Johnston as to induce him to listen to my proposals,
and in part to accept them. We parted with an understanding
that I was to get my clothes, and come on board the
vessel.
It was twelve at noon when I got back to Dr. Heizer's.
My first business was to get my clothes into the yard, a few
at a time; after which I ate my dinner with the family. As
soon as we rose from table, I stole away with my bundle,
I never saw one of them afterwards! On my return to New
York, several years later, I learned they had all gone to
Martinique to live. I should not have quitted this excellent
family in so clandestine a manner, had I not been haunted
with the notion that I was about to be sent back to Halifax,
a place I now actually hated.
Capt. Johnston received me good-naturedly, and that
night I slept and supped at the Old Coffee House, Old Slip—
his own lodgings. He seemed pleased with me, and I was
delighted with him. The next day he took me to a slop-shop,
and I was rigged like a sailor, and was put in the
cabin, where I was to begin my service in the regular way.
A boy named Daniel McCoy was in the ship, and had been
out to Russia in her, as cabin-boy, the last voyage. He was
now to be sent into the forecastle, and was ordered to instruct
me in my duty.
I was now comparatively happy, though anxious to be
bound to Capt. Johnston, and still more so to be fairly at sea.
The Sterling had a good, old-fashioned cabin, as cabins went
in 1806; and I ran about her state-room, rummaged her
lockers, and scampered up and down her companion-way,
with as much satisfaction as if they had all belonged to a
palace. Dan McCoy was every day on board, and we had
the accommodations of the ship very much to ourselves.
Two or three days later, Capt. Johnston took me to the
proper place, and I was put under regular indentures, to
serve until I was twenty-one. I now felt more confidence
in my situation, knowing that Dr. Heizer had no legal
authority over me. The work I did, in no manner offended
my dignity, for it was on ship-board, and belonged properly
to my duty as a cabin-boy.
The Sterling soon began to take in her cargo. She was
to receive a freight of flour, for Cowes and a market. Not
only was the hold filled, but the state-room and cabin, leaving
barely room to climb over the barrels to reach the berths.
A place was left, just inside of the cabin door, for the table.
Passengers were not common in that day, while commerce
was pushed to the utmost. Our sails were bending when
the consignee, followed by another merchant, came down
to the ship, accompanied by a youth, who, it was understood,
youth was named Cooper, and was never called by any other
appellation in the ship. He was accepted by Capt. Johnston,
signed the articles, and the next day he joined us, in sailor's
rig. He never came to the cabin, but was immediately employed
forward, in such service as he was able to perform.
It was afterwards understood that he was destined for the
navy.
The very day that Cooper joined us, was one of deep disgrace
to me. The small stores came on board for the cabin,
and Dan McCoy persuaded me to try the flavour of a bottle
of cherry-bounce. I did not drink much, but the little I
swallowed made me completely drunk. This was the first
time I ever was in that miserable and disgraceful plight;
would to God I could also say it was the last! The last it
was, however, for several years; that is some comfort. I
thank my Divine Master that I have lived to see the hour
when intoxicating liquors have ceased to have any command
over me, and when, indeed, they never pass my lips. Capt.
Johnston did not flog me for this act of folly, merely pulling
my ears a little, and sharply reprimanding me; both he and
Mr. Irish seeming to understand that my condition had proceeded
from the weakness of my head. Dan was the principal
sufferer, as, to say the truth, he ought to have been.
He was rope's-ended for his pains.
Next day the stevedores took the ship into the stream, and
the crew came on board. The assembling of the crew of a
merchantman, in that day, was a melancholy sight. The
men came off, bearing about them the signs of the excesses
of which they had been guilty while on shore; some listless
and stupid, others still labouring under the effects of liquor,
and some in that fearful condition which seamen themselves
term having the “horrors.” Our crew was neither better
nor worse than that of other ships. It was also a sample
of the mixed character of the crews of American vessels
during the height of her neutral trade. The captain, chief-mate,
cook, and four of those forward, were American born;
while the second-mate was a Portuguese. The boys were,
one Scotch, and one a Canadian; and there were a Spaniard,
a Prussian, a Dane, and an Englishman, in the forecastle.
There was also an Englishman who worked his passage,
Dan McCoy was sent forward, too, this put ten in the forecastle,
besides the cook, and left five aft, including the master
of another wrecked English vessel, whom we took out as a
passenger.
That afternoon we lifted our anchor, and dropped down
abreast of Governor's Island, where we brought up. Next
day all hands were called to get under way, and, as soon as
the anchor was short, the mate told Cooper and myself to
go up and loose the foretopsail. I went on one yard-arm,
and Cooper went on the other. In a few minutes the second
mate came up, hallooing to us to “avast,” and laughing.
Cooper was hard at work at the “robins,” and would soon
have had his half of the sail down in the top, had he been let
alone; while I was taking the gaskets from the yard, with
the intention of bringing them carefully down on deck, where
it struck me they would be quite safe. Luckily for us, the
men were too busy heaving, and too stupid, to be very critical,
and we escaped much ridicule. In a week we both
knew better.
The ship only got to the quarantine ground that day, but
in the morning we went to sea. Our passage was long and
stormy. The ship was on a bow-line most of the time, and
we were something like forty days from land to land. Nothing
extraordinary occurred, however, and we finally made
the Bill of Portland. The weather came on thick, but we
found a pilot, and ran into St. Helen's Roads and anchored.
The captain got into his boat, and taking four men pulled
ashore, to look for his orders at Cowes.
That afternoon it cleared off, and we found a pilot lying
a little outside of us. About sunset a man-of-war's cutter
came alongside, and Mr. Irish was ordered to muster the
crew. The English lieutenant, who was tolerably bowsed
up, took his seat behind the cabin table, while the men came
down, and stood in the companion-way passage, to be over-hauled.
Most of the foreigners had gone in the boat, but
two of the Americans that remained were uncommonly fine-looking
men, and were both prime seamen. One, whose
name was Thomas Cook, was a six-footer, and had the air
of a thorough sea-dog. He filled the lieutenant's eye mightily,
and Cook was very coolly told to gather his dunnage,
lieutenant answered—“Oh! these things are nothing—anybody
can have one for two dollars, in New York. You are
an Englishman, and the King has need of your services.”
Cook now took out of his pocket a certificate, that was signed
by Sir John Beresford, stating that Thomas Cook had
been discharged from His Maj. Ship Cambrian, after a pretty
long service in her, because he had satisfactorily proved that
he was a native-born American. The lieutenant could not
very well dishonour this document, and he reluctantly let
Cook go, keeping his protection, however. He next selected
Isaac Gaines, a native New Yorker, a man whose father
and friends were known to the captain. But Gaines had no
discharge like that of Cook's, and the poor fellow was obliged
to rowse up his chest and get into the cutter. This he did
with tears in his eyes, and to the regret of all on board, he
being one of the best men in the ship. We asked the boat's
crew to what vessel they belonged, and they gave us the
name of a sixty-four in the offing, but we observed, as they
pulled away from us, that they took the direction of another
ship. This was the last I ever saw, or heard, of Isaac
Gaines. Cook went on with us, and one day, while in London,
he went with Cooper to Somerset House to get an order
for some prize-money, to which he was entitled for his
service in the Cambrian, as was shown by his discharge.
The clerk asked him to leave the certificate, and call a day
or two later, when he would have searched out the amount.
This was done, and Cook, being now without certificate or
protection, was pressed on his way back to the ship. We
never heard of him, either. Such was often the fate of
sailors, in that day, who were with you one day, and lost
for ever the next.
Captain Johnston did not get back to the ship for four-and-twenty
hours. He brought orders for us to go up to
London; and, the wind being fair, and almost a gale, we got
under way, and were off as soon as possible. The next
morning we were in the straits of Dover; the wind light,
but fair. This was at a moment when all England was in
arms, in anticipation of an invasion from France. Forty
odd sail of vessels of war were counted from our ship, as the
during the night, to prevent a surprise.
We worked our way up to London, with the tides, and
were carried into London dock; where we discharged. This
was my first visit to the modern Babylon, of course; but I
had little opportunity of seeing much. I had one or two
cruises, of a Sunday, in tow of Cooper, who soon became a
branch pilot, in those waters, about the parks and west end;
but I was too young to learn much, or to observe much.
Most of us went to see the monument, St. Paul's, and the
lions; and Cooper put himself in charge of a beef-eater, and
took a look at the arsenals, jewels and armoury. He had
a rum time of it, in his sailor rig, but hoisted in a wonderful
deal of gibberish, according to his own account of his cruise.
Captain Johnston now got a freight for the ship, and we
hauled into the stream, abreast of the dock-gates, and took
in shingle ballast. The Prussian, Dane, second mate, and
the English cooper, all left us, in London. We got a Philadelphian,
a chap from Maine, who had just been discharged
from an English man-of-war, and an Irish lad, in their
places. In January we sailed, making the best of our way
for the straits of Gibraltar. The passage was stormy—the
Bay of Biscay, in particular, giving us a touch of its
qualities. It was marked by only two incidents, however,
out of the usual way. While running down the coast of
Portugal, with the land in sight, we made an armed felucca
astern, and to windward. This vessel gave chase; and,
the captain disliking her appearance, we carried hard, in
order to avoid her. The weather was thick, and it blew
fresh, occasionally, in squalls. Whenever it lulled, the
felucca gained on us, we having, a very little, the advantage
in the puffs. At length the felucca began to fire; and, finding
that his shot were coming pretty near, Captain Johnston,
knowing that he was in ballast, thought it wisest to heave-to.
Ten minutes after our maintopsail was aback, the felucca
ranged up close under our lee; hailed, and ordered us to
send a boat, with our papers, on board her. A more rascally-looking
craft never gave such an order to an unarmed
merchantman. As our ship rose on a sea, and he fell into
the trough, we could look directly down upon his decks, and
thus form some notion of what we were to expect, when he
and appeared to be composed of the rakings of such places
as Gibraltar, Cadiz and Lisbon. He had ten long guns;
and pikes, pistols and muskets, were plenty with him. On
the end of each latine-yard was a chap on the look-out, who
occasionally turned his eyes towards us, as if to anticipate
the gleanings. That we should be plundered, every one
expected; and it was quite likely we might be ill-treated.
As soon as we hove-to, Captain Johnston gave me the best
spy-glass, with orders to hand it to Cooper, to hide. The
latter buried it in the shingle ballast. We, in the cabin,
concealed a bag of guineas so effectually, that, after all was
over, we could not find it ourselves.
The jolly-boat had been stowed in the launch, on account
of the rough weather we had expected to meet, and tackles
had to be got aloft before we could hoist it out. This consumed
some time, during which there was a lull. The felucca,
seeing us busy at this work, waited patiently until we
had got the boat over the side, and into the water. Cooper,
Dan McCoy, Big Dan, and Spanish Joe, then got into her;
and the captain had actually passed his writing-desk into the
boat, and had his leg on the rail, to go over the side himself,
when a squall struck the ship. The men were called out
of the boat to clew down the topsails, and a quarter of an
hour passed in taking care of the vessel. By this time the
squall had passed, and it lightened up a little. There lay
the felucca, waiting for the boat; and the men were reluctantly
going into the latter again, when the commander of
the felucca waved his hand to us, his craft fell off and filled,
wing-and-wing, skimming away towards the coast, like a
duck. We stood gaping and staring at her, not knowing
what to make of this manœuvre, when “bang!” went a
heavy gun, a little on our weather quarter. The shot passed
our wake, for we had filled our topsail, and it went skipping
from sea to sea, after the felucca. Turning our eyes in the
direction of the report, we saw a frigate running down upon
the felucca, carrying studding-sails on both sides, with the
water foaming up to her hawse-holes. As she passed our
stern, she showed an English ensign, but took no other notice
of us, continuing on after the felucea, and occasionally
measuring her distance with a shot. Both vessels soon disappeared
As for ourselves, we jogged along on our course, wishing
good luck to the Englishman. The felucca showed no ensign,
the whole day. Our guineas were found, some weeks
later, in a bread-locker, after we had fairly eaten our way
down to them.
The other adventure occurred very soon after this escape;
for, though the felucca may have had a commission, she was
a pirate in appearance, and most probably in her practices.
The thick westerly weather continued until we had passed
the Straits. The night we were abreast of Cape Trafalgar,
the captain came on deck in the middle watch, and, hailing
the forecastle, ordered a sharp look-out kept, as we must be
running through Lord Collingwood's fleet. The words were
hardly out of his mouth, when Spanish Joe sung out, “sail
ho!” There she was, sure enough, travelling right down
upon us, in a line that threatened to take us between the
fore and main masts. The captain ordered our helm hard
up, and yelled for Cooper to bring up the cabin lantern.
The youngster made one leap down the ladder, just scraping
the steps with his heels, and was in the mizzen rigging with
the light, in half a minute. That saved us. So near was
the stranger, that we plainly heard the officer of the deck
call out to his own quarter-master to “port, hard a-port—
hard a-port, and be d—d to you!” Hard a-port it was, and
a two-decker came brushing along on our weather beam—
so near, that, when she lifted on the seas, it seemed as if the
muzzles of her guns would smash our rails. The Sterling
did not behave well on this occasion, for, getting a yaw to
windward, she seemed disposed to go right into the Englishman,
before she would mind her helm. After the man-of-war
hailed, and got our answer, her officer quaintly remarked
that we were “close on board him.” It blew too
fresh for boats, and we were suffered to pass without being
boarded.
The ship proceeded up to Carthagena, and went in. Here
we were put in quarantine for several days. The port was
full of heavy ships of war, several of which were three-deckers;
and an arrival direct from London made quite a
sensation among them. We had divers visits from the
officers, though I do not know what it all amounted to,
place called Aguilas, where we began to take in a cargo of
barilla. At night we would discharge our shingle ballast
into the water, contrary to law; and, in the day, we took
in cargo. So clear was the water, that our night's work
might easily be seen next morning, lying beneath the ship.
As we lay in a roadstead, it mattered little, few vessels
touching at the port. While at this place, there was an
alarm of an attack from an English man-of-war that was
seen in the offing, and priests enough turned out to defend
an ordinary town.
We got about half our freight at this little village, and
then came down as low as Almeria, an old Moorish town,
just below Cape de Gatte, for the remainder. Here we lay
several weeks, finishing stowing our cargo. I went ashore
almost every day to market, and had an opportunity of seeing
something of the Spaniards. Our ship lay a good distance
off, and we landed at a quarantine station, half a mile, at
least, from the water-gate, to which we were compelled to
walk along the beach.
One of my journeys to the town produced a little adventure.
The captain had ordered Cooper to boil some pitch
at the galley. By some accident, the pot was capsized, and
the ship came near being burned. A fresh pot was now
provided, and Cooper and Dan McCoy were sent ashore, at
the station, with orders to boil down pitch on the land. There
was no wharf, and it was always necessary to get ashore
through a surf. The bay is merely an elbow, half the winds
blowing in from the open sea. Sometimes, therefore, landing
is ticklish work and requires much skill. I went ashore
with the pitch, and proceeded into the town on my errands,
whilst the two lads lighted their fire and began to boil down.
When all was ready, it was seen there was a good deal of
swell, and that the breakers looked squally. The orders,
however, were to go off, on such occasions, and not to wait,
as delay generally made matters worse. We got into the
boat, accordingly, and shoved off. For a minute, or more,
things went well enough, when a breaker took the bows of
the jolly-boat, lifted her nearly on end, and turned her keel
uppermost. One scarcely knows how he gets out of such
a scrape. We all came ashore, however, heels over head,
less the pitch and a pair of new shoes of mine, and it met
with exactly the same result. On a third effort, the boat
got through the surf and we succeeded in reaching the ship.
These are the sorts of scenes that harden lads, and make
them fond of risks. I could not swim a stroke, and certainly
would have been drowned had not the Mediterranean
cast me ashore, as if disdaining to take a life of so little
value to anybody but myself.
After lying several weeks at Almeria, the ship got under
way for England again. We had fresh westerly gales, and
beat to and fro, between Europe and Africa, for some time,
when we got a Levanter that shoved us out into the Atlantic
at a furious rate. In the Straits we passed a squadron
of Portuguese frigates, that was cruising against the Algerines.
It was the practice of those ships to lie at the Rock
until it blew strong enough from the eastward to carry vessels
through the Gut, when they weighed and kept in the
offing until the wind shifted. This was blockading the Atlantic
against their enemies, and the Mediterranean against
their own ships.
We had a long passage and were short of salt provisions.
Falling in with an American in the Bay of Biscay, we got
a barrel of beef which lasted us in. When near the chops
of the channel, with a light southerly wind, we made a sail
in our wake, that came up with us hand over hand. She
went nearly two feet to our one, the barilla pressing the
Sterling down into the water, and making her very dull,
more especially in light airs. When the stranger got near
enough, we saw that he was pumping, the water running
out of his scuppers in a constant stream. He was several
hours in sight, the whole time pumping. This ship passed
within a cable's-length of us, without taking any more notice
of us than if we had been a mile-stone. She was an
English two-decker, and we could distinguish the features
of her men, as they stood in the waist, apparently taking
breath after their trial at the pumps. She dropped a hawse-bucket,
and we picked it up, when she was about half a mile
ahead of us. It had the broad-arrow on it, and a custom-house
officer seeing it, some time after, was disposed to seize
it as a prize.
We never knew the name of this ship, but there was
something proud and stately in her manner of passing us,
in her distress, without so much as a hail. It is true, we could have done her no good, and her object, doubtless, was
to get into dock as soon as possible. Some thought she had
been in action, and was going home to repair damages that
could not be remedied at sea.
Soon after this vessel was seen, we had proof how difficult
it is to judge of a ship's size at sea. A vessel was made
ahead, standing directly for us. Mr. Irish soon pronounced
her a sloop of war. Half an hour later she grew into a frigate,
but when she came abeam she showed three tiers of
ports, being a ninety. This ship also passed without deigning
to take any notice of us.
| CHAPTER II. Ned Myers, or, A life before the mast | |