Читать книгу Life and Adventure in the South Pacific - John D. Jones - Страница 4
ОглавлениеLIFE AND ADVENTURE
IN
THE SOUTH PACIFIC.
CHAPTER I.
New Bedford.—Fitting out a Whaler.—Shipping a Crew.—Green Hands.—Shippers.—Outfitters.—A Sailor’s Wardrobe.—All Hands on board.—Good-by to Yankee Land.—The Pilot taking leave.—The last Farewell.—Captain’s Speech.—Choosing Watches.—The Modus Operandi of Ships’ Watches.—Sea-sickness.
The city of New Bedford, Mass., has for many years been the principal whaling-port of the United States. From there hundreds of young men have annually gone to different parts of the world to battle with the monsters of the deep, and, after a long and weary absence from home and friends, returned with ships “laden with the spoils.” It is not our purpose to give a description of this far-famed (among whalemen) place, but we trust it will prove interesting to the reader if we briefly sketch the modus operandi of fitting out a whaler, and “shipping a crew,” that if any one shall be tempted to see the world in a whaler, he may be put upon his guard against some of the impositions practiced upon “green hands” by the “shippers,” as they style themselves, of whaling-ports.
In fitting out a whaler for a voyage, every thing is usually done as cheaply as possible, and often on the “penny-wise and pound-foolish” plan. With some owners, however, we are happy to say, it is different. They have a regard for the health and comfort of the ship’s company, and their ships are generally well fitted, with good provisions, good whaling material, and every thing necessary to make the voyage one of pleasure and comfort to the crew as well as profit to themselves. In nine cases out of ten such ships get good crews, and make profitable voyages. But there are others who are actuated by a niggardly disposition in fitting and provisioning their ships, and the result of the voyage, as far as profit is concerned, is a corresponding one.
After a ship has her provisions, water, and every thing necessary for the voyage on board except her crew, she is “hauled into the stream,” ready for sea as soon as the ship’s company can be got on board, which generally occupies a day or two, as many of them are having their last “spree,” spending their “advance,” and often coming on board half intoxicated. Some of them, when they ship, are in that condition, and hardly know, until they are at sea, their true situation and how they came there. The majority of a whaler’s crew (foremast hands) are “greenies,” hardly any of them ever having smelt salt water, and knowing nothing of a seaman’s life, its hardships, its exposures, its joys, or its sorrows. But the poor fellows soon learn, and many of them, before they have been clear of the land a week, vainly wish themselves at home. Many of them are picked up by “shipping agents” throughout the country, who send them on to their respective shipping-houses in New Bedford. They are then furnished by the shippers with second or third rate boarding-houses, the board to be paid out of their advance. It is a common practice for the shippers to make contracts with owners to furnish them with so many “green hands” at so much per head; the shipper receiving his price from the owner, and then, in addition, charging poor “greeny” ten dollars for “getting him a ship.”
NEW BEDFORD FROM A WHALEMAN’S POINT OF VIEW.
He is then, after being shipped in a vessel of whose captain, officers, destination, etc., he is entirely ignorant, consigned to the tender mercies of the “outfitter,” who is to furnish his wardrobe for a five years’ voyage. The poor fellow is here sadly taken in. The outfitter will spin him a nice yarn, and promise him a splendid outfit, “enough to last him the whole voyage,” which he manages to postpone giving him until the ship is just ready to sail, when he will “fit him out” with a wooden box, made of pine boards, which he calls a chest, size about seven by nine, with perhaps a broken lock, and “stowed” with his five years’ clothing. As a general thing, this clothing is made in such a manner and of such material that it gives out before the ship gets into the Pacific, and the “slop-chest” is resorted to for a new supply. It is a common remark among whalemen who have been “bit,” that the cloth is “made of bull’s wool and dog’s hair, woven together by thunder and lightning.” The “five years’ supply” generally consists of two red or blue woolen shirts, two under-shirts, two pairs of drawers, one pair of woolen pants, one round-jacket, one monkey-jacket, two pairs of thin pants, two “hickory” shirts, a sou’wester or tarpaulin, two pairs of stockings, one pair of shoes, a jack-knife, comb, looking-glass, paper of needles, one quarter-pound of thread, five pounds of tobacco, a keg of oil soap, a tin cup, pan, and spoon, mattress, pillow, and blankets. For this lot of stuff the outfitter charges the moderate sum of seventy-five dollars, draws an order for that amount upon the owners, and, just as the ship is to sail, tells the “greeny” he must sign it, or he can’t go in the ship. Many times he is urged to, and often does, sign an order, the amount of which is left blank; and, after the ship sails, the outfitter fills the blank to suit himself. The poor victim is thus completely in their power, and they know it, and act accordingly. There are exceptions, of course; some men are engaged in the business who would scorn to do a mean action, but, generally, the outfitters of New Bedford are, politely speaking, gentlemen robbers.
Our ship was to sail on the 23d of October, 18—. Accordingly, on the morning of that day, every thing on board was in a glorious state of confusion. Chests, bundles, bedding, etc., were strewn about the decks until the lawful owners should take charge of them.
As soon as the crew were all on board, orders were given to “man the windlass,” and in a few moments the anchor was on the bow, and our last hold on American soil broken. Many an hour must pass, and many a mile of the blue wave be plowed, ere we could again drop our anchor in this port. The captain now came on board, accompanied by his wife and son, the huge sails were loosed, and we left the city of New Bedford with fine breezes and pleasant weather; many of us with gloomy forebodings, vainly endeavoring to penetrate the dim veil of the future and conjecture as to whether we should be spared again to tread our native shores; again to clasp in our embrace those dear friends we were leaving behind us sorrowing. But the future was all shrouded in mystery, and we could but sigh farewell, and place our trust in Him who “doeth all things well.”
As we are now at sea, the pilot takes his leave, with those who have come off to bid adieu to their brothers, sons, friends, etc.; and now the weather-beaten tar as well as the green hand brushes away a tear, as they bid a long farewell to happy homes; and as their native shores gradually sink behind the wave, all appear to be suddenly impressed with the loneliness of their situation, and the dangers they have to encounter and overcome ere they again behold the dear ones at home.
THE PILOT.
THE MATE.
At about 6 P.M. the captain came on deck, called all hands aft, and made a short speech, the substance of which was that, “as long as they behaved themselves, they should receive good treatment, should have plenty to eat and drink, and a regular watch below; that they were to go when told, come when called, and that without grumbling; and if any of them should act contrary to this, they would find they had come to the wrong place; that there were some thirty of the crew, and he but one, and it was utterly impossible for him to do every thing to please so many different minds, yet it was perfectly easy for them to so conduct themselves as to suit him; and,” he adds, “let every person sweep his own door clean and mind his own affairs, and there will be no difficulty; but if not, look out for ‘breakers:’ in fine, he hopes there will no trouble, and in forty months to be sailing up Buzzard’s Bay with a full ship.”
The captain and chief mate then proceeded to choose watches. Of the modus operandi of ships’ “watches” we presume a great many are conversant; but, for the benefit of those who are not, we will here relate it. The ship’s company is first divided into two equal portions, called the larboard, or mate’s watch, and the starboard, or captain’s watch, which is commanded, or, technically speaking, “headed” by the second mate. At 8 P.M. the “watch is set,” one watch remaining on deck, and the other going below until twelve. They then change, those on deck going below, and remaining until 4 A.M., when they again change for four hours more, until eight. At that time they are again changed, the watch that had “eight hours out” having the “forenoon watch below,” from 8 till 12 M.; and in the afternoon the watch that had but “four hours out” the night before have the afternoon watch below, from 12 to 4 P.M. The time from 4 to 8 P.M. is divided into two short watches, called “dog-watches,” for the purpose of regulating or keeping them in proper succession. For instance: the larboard watch is on deck from 8 P.M. to 12; the starboard from 12 to 4 A.M.; the larboard from 4 to 8 A.M.; the starboard from 8 A.M. to 12 M.; the larboard from 12 to 4 P.M.; the starboard from 4 to 6 P.M., and the larboard from 6 to 8 P.M., when the watch is set. They are thus changed every night, one having eight hours on deck and four below one night, and the next vice versa, continuing thus for the voyage.
It being 8 o’clock, eight bells were struck, and one watch was sent below. About this time the majority of us landlubbers were paying tribute to old Father Neptune—casting up our accounts—and it mattered very little to some of us whether the ship went up or down.
Of all the miserable beings in the world, the sea-sick “greeny” is the most miserable. Those who have been sea-sick can appreciate his situation when we tell them that, in addition to the feeling produced by the sickness, he is made the butt and laughing-stock of those around him who escape the infliction. Those who have never experienced this sickness can not appreciate the blessing of having escaped it, and we will not attempt, therefore, to describe it. However, to use a homely expression, when one is really sea-sick, good and strong, he “doesn’t care whether school keeps or not!”
