Under sail

SAIL

University of California • Berkeley
Gift of

MR. & MRS. ATTILIO FERRARI

UNDER SAIL

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY

NEW YORK • BOSTON • CHICAGO
DALLAS • ATLANTA • SAN FRANCISCO

MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED

LONDON • BOMBAY • CALCUTTA
MELBOURNE

THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD.
TORONTO

f

UNDER SAIL

BY

FELIX RIESENBERG

ILLUSTRATED

gorfe
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY

1918

All rights reserved

COPYRIGHT, 1918

BT THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
Set up and Electrotyped. Published, September, 1918

TO

MAUD

CONTENTS

PAGE

INTRODUCTION 1

OUTWARD BOUND 12

THE OUTWARD PASSAGE 29

CHRISTMAS DAY ON THE HIGH SEAS .... 45

THE FIGHT 65

NEPTUNE COMES ON BOARD 77

LIFE IN THE FO'C'SLE . . 90

CAPE HORN 102

ROUNDING THE HORN 115

INTO THE PACIFIC 123

CABIN AND FO'C'SLE 133

CLEANING HOUSE AND A CELEBRATION . . . 142

MAKING PORT 154

IN HONOLULU TOWN 168

UNLOADING — WITH A BIT OF POLITICS .... 179

HAWAIIAN HOSPITALITY 187

HONOLULU OF THE OLD DAYS 200

A DINNER ASHORE 212

BRITISH NEIGHBORS 223

THE MATE KEEPS Us BUSY 233

THE LAND OF LANGUOR 245

vii

viii CONTENTS

PAGE

LOADING SUGAR 253

GOOD-BYE TO HONOLULU 268

HOMEWARD BOUND 280

HAWAIIAN SHIPMATES 291

DRIVING SOUTHWARD 303

CAPE HORN AGAIN 318

MAN LOST OVERBOARD 332

AUSTRALIA'S STORY 342

STORMY DAYS 356

HEADED NORTH 366

FO'C'SLE DISCUSSIONS 377

THROUGH THE TRADES 388

APPROACHING HOME 399

THE END OF THE VOYAGE 408

THE LONG-LOOKED-FOR PAYDAY 420

ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

Old Smith 19

Frenchy 26

Deck Plan of Ship A. J. Fuller 31

Jimmy Marshall 41

Fred 49

Joe 61

Skouse 70

Martin 108

Cape Horn 114

At Brewer's Wharf 175

Charlie Horse 196

Watching the Shore When In the Stream ... 235

Brenden Reading Letter 265

JackHitchen 270

Australia 343

Sketches of Diego Ramirez 357

Axel 382

Watching Shore at Delaware Breakwater . . . 405

ix

INTRODUCTION

THE SQUARE RIGGERS

AMERICA is again facing forward to the
sea. The ancient thrill of the wide salt
spaces, of the broad horizon beyond which adven-
ture beckons us, appeals once more to the youth
of America. We are living in times when the
great importance of the sea as a career comes
home to us at every turn. The sea is the great
bulwark of our liberty, and by the sea we must
persevere or perish in the world struggle of An-
glo-Saxon democracy against the powers of au-
tocratic might.

When America returns to her own, she builds
upon foundations of tradition that have their
footings on the solid bed rock of the republic.
One glorious era of our sea history was followed
by another, and as times progressed the breed
of seamen ever rose capable and triumphant to
the necessities that called them forth.

The Revolutionary sailors, and those of 1812,
were followed by the great commercial seamen

l

2 UNDER SAIL

of the clippers. The mighty fleets of the Civil
War astonished the world, and in the period just
previous to our seafaring decline of a score of
years past, the great sailers flying the Stars and
Stripes spread their white cotton canvas on every
sea.

Their story has never been adequately told.
They are not to be measured in terms of ton-
nage, or in the annals of swift passages from port
to port. Their contribution to the legends of the
sea remains obscure. They carried a tradition
of hard driving, and were a phase of our sea life
that formed and forged the link between the old
and the new, between the last days of sail and
the great new present of the America of steam
and steel.

Men who go to sea today in our merchant ma-
rine, in positions of command, are, in many in-
stances, graduates of the ships of these latter
days of sail

Looking back, and as time goes it is not so
very far away, we can, in our mind's eye, see the
great wood-built craft that lined the waterfront
of South Street. These were the last of the
American sailing ships, entering from, and clear-
ing to, every sea port under heaven. They were
not the famous California clippers of an earlier

THE SQUARE RIGGERS 3

day, or the swift Western Ocean packet ships,
or the storied tea ships of the China trade, but
they were their legitimate successors. The ships
of this last glorious burst of sail, under the Stars
and Stripes, were larger craft, vessels built for
the long voyage haul, for the grain trade, for the
sugar trade, and as carriers of general cargo to
the Orient and the western coast of North
America.

Most of these ships were laid down in the
eighties, and left the yards of Maine to find ad-
venture and preferment in the longer routes of
commerce. The Horn and the Cape of Good
Hope were their turning points, and they smoked
through the hum of the Roaring Forties, as they
beat from the Line to Liverpool, laden with Cali-
fornia grain, or they ran before the westerly
winds, from Table Bay to Melbourne — Running
Their Easting Down — black hulled, white
winged ships, with New York, Boston, Balti-
more, or Philadelphia standing out in golden let-
ters on their transoms.

Only the strongest and best found ships, and
the most skilful and daring seamen were fit to
carry the flag across the world-long ocean courses
about the storm-swept Horn, and here again
America more than held her own in competition

4 UNDER SAIL

with the mariners of the old seafaring nations of

Europe.

Winthrop Lippitt Marvin in his valuable work,

"The American Merchant Marine," * pictures

this last Titanic struggle of the sea in stirring

fashion—

"It was a contest of truly Olympian dignity,
— of the best ships of many flags with each
other and with the elements. Out through the
Golden Gate there rode every year in the later
seventies and the eighties, southward bound,
the long lean iron models of Liverpool and
Glasgow, the broader waisted, wooden New
Englanders, with their fine Yankee sheer and
tall, gleaming skysails, the sturdy, careful
Norwegian and German ships, often launched
on the Penobscot or Kennebec, and here and
there a graceful Frenchman or Italian. The
British were the most numerous, because the
total tonnage of their merchant marine was by
far the greatest. Next came the Americans.
The other flags looked small by comparison.
In this splendid grain trade there sailed from
San Francisco for Europe in 1881-85, 761
British iron ships and 418 American wooden
ships. The Americans were the largest ves-

* Chas. Scribner & Sons, N. Y.

THE SQUARE RIGGERS 5

sels. Their average registered tonnage was
1,634 and of the fourteen ships above 2,000
tons that sailed in 1880-1, twelve flew the Stars
and Stripes. The average tonnage of the Brit-
ish iron ships was 1,356.

"The wooden yards of Maine had seen their
opportunity and built in quick succession many
great ships and barks of from 1,400 to 2,400
tons, very strongly constructed on models hap-
pily combining carrying capacity with speed,
loftily sparred, and clothed with the symmetri-
cal, snow-white canvas for which Yankee sail-
makers were famous the world around. These
new vessels were not strictly clippers, though
they were often called so. They were really
medium clippers ; that is, they were less racer-
like and more capacious than the celebrated
greyhounds of the decade before the Civil War.
They could not compete with steam; their
owners knew it. But they were launched in
confident hope that they were adapted for the
grain trade and for some other forms of long-
voyage, bulky carrying, and that they could
find a profitable occupation during their life-
time of fifteen or twenty years. They were
just as fine ships in their way as the extreme
clippers, and in all but speed they were more

6 UNDER SAIL

efficient. They were framed with oak, and
ceiled and planked with the hard pine of the
South. They were generously supplied with
the new, approved devices in rig and equip-
ment."

In the last years of the nineties there were
many survivors of this noble fleet of American
sailers still in the long voyage trade. Ships like
the El Capitan, the Charmer, the A. J. Fuller,
the Roanoke, and the Shenandoah, were clearing
from New York for deepwater ports, and South
Street was a thoroughfare of sailors, redolent of
tar, and familiar with the wide gossip of the
seas, brought to the string pieces of the street
by men from the great sailing ships.

Then the crimp still throve in his repulsive
power, and the Boarding Masters' Association
owned the right to parcel out, fleece and ship,
the deepwater seamen of the port. The Front
Street House and a score of others held the
humble dunnage of the fo'c'sle sailor as security,
cashed his "advance" and sent him out past the
Hook with nothing but a sparse kit of dog's wool
and oakum slops, a sheath knife and a donkey's
breakfast.

Those were the hard days of large ships and
small crews. In clipper days, a flyer like the Sov-

THE SQUARE RIGGERS 7

ereign of the Seas carried a crew of eighty sea-
men, and most of them were as rated — A.B.
The ship A. J. Fuller, in the year 1897, left the
port of New York, for the voyage around Cape
Horn to Honolulu with eighteen seamen, count-
ing the boy and the carpenter, the Fuller being a
three skysail yard ship of 1,848 tons register.

It may be interesting to compare the size and
crew of the Sovereign of the Seas, as given by
Captain Clark in his great book, "The Clipper
Ship Era," * with the dimensions and crew of the
ship A. J. Fuller.

Ship Sovereign of the Seas A. J. Fuller

Length 258 ft. 229 ft.

Beam 44 ft. 41.5 ft.

Draft 23.5 ft. 18 ft.

Register Tonnage 2,421 tons 1,848 tons

Crew —

Master 1 Master 1

Mates 4 Mates 2

Boatswains 2 Carpenter 1

Carpenters 2 Able Seamen 16

Sailmakers 2 Boy . . . . 1

Able Seamen 80

Boys 10 21

101

•G. P. Putnam and Sons.

8 UNDER SAIL

This condition, of small crews and large ships,
brought to the seven seas a reputation for re-
lentless driving and manhandling that has clung
to the minds of men as nothing else. The huge
American ships were the hardest afloat, and that
remarkable booklet, "The Red Record," compiled
by the National Seamen's Union of America, in
the middle nineties, carries a tale of cruelty and
abuse on the high seas that must forever remain
a blot upon the white escutcheon of sail.

These ships bred a sea officer peculiar to the
time — the bucko mate of fact as well as fiction.
These were hard fisted men, good sailors and ex-
cellent disciplinarians, though they lacked the
polish acquired by sea officers of an earlier day
when the sailer was often a passenger carrier, and
intercourse with people of culture had its effect
upon the men of the after guard. Also, the sea
had become less attractive as a career. The
boasted "high pay" of the American Merchant
Marine, was $60 per month for the Chief Mate ;
$30 per month for the Second Mate, and $18
per month for an A.B. — at least such were the
magnificent wages paid on the A. J. Fuller of
New York in the year 1897.

The mate, to earn his two dollars a day, and
keep, had to be a seaman of the highest attain-

THE SQUARE RIGGERS 9

ments. His was a knowledge won only after a
long hard apprenticeship at sea. He had to have
the force of character of a top-notch executive,
combined with ability and initiative. Then too,
he was supposed to be a navigator, a man having
at least a speaking acquaintance with nautical
astronomy. In addition to this he might be as
rough and as foul mouthed as he saw fit, and
some of them were very liberal in this respect.

Then men still signed articles, voyage after
voyage, for the long drill around the Horn, or,
to vary the monotony, if such it could be called,
made the voyage to Australia, or to China or
Japan. In the main, however, American ships
clearing from New York carried cargoes to the
West Coast of the United States, or to the Ha-
waiian Islands, where they came under the pro-
tective ruling of the coastwise shipping laws, and
were not compelled to meet the stringent insur-
ance rates of Lloyd's that barred American sail-
ing bottoms from fair competition with the
British.

The sailor men of that day were still real sea-
men, at least a large number of real seamen still
clung to the remaining ships. They were experts,
able to turn in a dead eye in wire or hemp, and
could cast a lanyard knot in the stiff four-

10 UNDER SAIL

stranded stuff that was later on replaced by
screws and turn buckles when metal hulls suc-
ceeded those of wood.

With the passing of the wooden ship — the
wooden square rigged sailer — went the Ameri-
can sailor, for comparatively few steel sailing
ships were built in the United States. With the
sailor went the romance of bulging canvas and
of storm stripped humming bolt ropes. The
tragedy, and the hardships of the long voyages
passed away, and with that passing is gone much
of the actual physical struggle with the wind and
sea that made the sailor what he was.

The square rigged breed of sailors, while not
dead yet, for the old salts die hard, has, by force
of circumstances, failed to rear a younger gener-
ation to take its place. But the old spirit of sea
adventure is as strong as ever; the ocean rages
as loud, and lies as calm, as in the days of de-
parted glory. It is still the world route to for-
eign trade, and a more ample domestic prosper-
ity. Americans are again turning toward the
sea, are heeding its age old wisdom, and are
building and handling the newer craft of steam,
and coal, and oil, with as much skill and success
as they did the sailing craft of old.

On the following pages is recorded for the sea-

THE SQUARE RIGGERS 11

men and landsmen of today, a personal story of
one of the last voyages around Cape Horn in a
wooden ship propelled by sail alone — a ship with-
out a donkey engine, a wooden Bath-built packet
at her prime in point of age and upkeep. The
advance notes have been cashed by the boarding
masters, who have left the crew in tow of their
crimps, and, after deducting for board and slops,
the last remaining dollars have been blown in on
the Bowery under the watchful eyes of the run-
ners, who see to it that the men are delivered on
board.

Our ship is the A. J. Fuller of New York,
Captain Charles M. Nichols, and she waits her
crew, ready to cast off from her berth in the East
River at the turn of the tide, at daybreak on
December 5, 1897, having cleared for the port of
Honolulu, capital of the Republic of Hawaii,
with a general cargo consigned to the old island
house of Brewer and Company.

CHAPTER I

OUTWARD BOUND

"Oh for a fair and gentle wind/'

I heard a fair one cry;
But give to me the roaring breeze,

And white waves beating high;
And white waves beating high, my boys,

The good ship tight and free,
The world of waters is our own,
And merry men are we.

Jacob Faithful.

COOK!" bawled a deep voice from a door
that burst open with a flood of yellow light
under the break of the poop, ' 'serve a round of
hot cafay nore to them passengers! And Mr.
Stoddard," added the mate from whom these
orders issued, addressing the second officer who
strode from the edge of light toward the group
of men tumbling on board, "turn all hands to in
five minutes! Stand by to cast off lines!"

Some of the shore crowd from the boarding
houses helped to pass up the chests and bags of
dunnage, and the bundles of "donkey's break-

12

OUTWARD BOUND 13

fast" as we clambered to the ice-encrusted deck
of the ship A. J. Fuller, lying at her wharf near
the foot of Maiden Lane. A flickering light, and
the rattle of stove lids in the galley, as we passed
forward to the fo'c'sle, told us that the cook was
stirring, and the snorting of a tug under the star-
board quarter gave notice of an early start.

It was dark when we came aboard ; a cold De-
cember wind rippled the black waters of the East
River, chilling to the marrow those few stragglers
who walked the cobble stones of South Street at
that early morning hour.

An odd lot of humanity dumped their few be-
longings on the fo'c'sle deck; strangers all, ex-
cepting a few who had just deserted from the
British bark Falls of Ettrick, men jumbled to-
gether by strange fate, and destined to long
months of close companionship, of hard knocks,
and endless days and nights of unremitting labor.

No time was lost, however, in sentimental
mooning; the chill morning air was charged with
activity, the "after guard" was all astir and an
ebb tide flowed, ready to help us on our way.
Gulping down the "cafay nore" that presently
was passed forward in a bucket, all hands dip-
ping in with hook pots and pannikins, hastily
dug from chest and bag, we were barely able to

14 UNDER SAIL

stow away this refreshment before a heavy fist
thumped the fo'c'sle doors.

"Turn to ! Turn to ! This ain't a private yacht-
ing tour!" was the sarcastic invitation that sent
us scrambling to the deck.

"Here ! You, I mean !" yelled the mate, "come
forward!" for I had headed aft, and, at this com-
mand, I found myself with some others hauling
a heavy water-soaked hawser aboard the fo'c'sle
head.

"All clear?" came the query from aft.

"Aye, aye! All clear!"

A long whistle sounded from our tug, as we
backed slowly from the wharf; the escort of
boarding house runners shivering on the string
piece of the dock, gave us a dismal cheer, and the
voyage around Cape Horn had fairly begun.

The first level rays of morning light began to
filter over the house tops on the Brooklyn side,
the misty span of the bridge loomed above the
river, and a dozen bloodshot eyes among the crew
forward cast their farewell glances at the Tom
and Jerry signs in the saloon windows on historic
South Street.

We were a lumbering lot, pushed and cuffed
from station to station, our best men acting like
dolts, until the exercise and crisp morning air,

OUTWARD BOUND 15

zipping above the river, wore off the effects of a
last night spent at the Atlantic Garden. South
Street, at that day still a forest of spars, with here
and there a bald spot marking the advent of the
coastwise steamers, slid past us, Governor's Is-
land, the Statue, the Narrows, and the Hook,
were passed unnoticed in the ceaseless hustle on
our decks. The running gear, left by the shore
riggers in a hopeless tangle, had to be put to
rights, and the mates worked us like demons to
get things in some sort of shape before we should
be called upon to work the vessel under sail.

Gradually order of some sort issued from the
chaos, and as the day wore on we set our fores'l,
all tops'ls, main t'gan'sl, jib and stays'ls, before
a stiff off-shore breeze that caused the towline to
slacken, and orders were given to cast off the tug.

The new steam pilot boat New York rode the
swell ahead of us, ready to take off the pilot.

"Weather main braces!" came the order; the
yards were braced aback, a yawl from the New
York touched our side for an instant, as we
surged ahead slowly against the back push from
the main, and the pilot, hanging from a Jacob's
ladder, dropped into his boat.

"See you in Liverpool!" shouted the pilot,

16 UNDER SAIL

standing in the yawl and waving a final farewell
to Captain Nichols.

"Brace up main yards, sir!" ordered the skip-
per, addressing the mate, and we swung them
around with a will.

The day was well advanced by then, a low bank
of cloud over the land shut in the sunset, and a
spanking breeze from no'east by nor' brought our
port tacks to the deck. The Fuller heeled easily
beneath the force of the wind. Off to leeward,
and rapidly falling astern, was the American
ship Tarn O'Shanter, bound for China; we heard
afterward that she was lost.

Up to the first dog watch all hands had labored
without a moment's rest, and at eight bells in the
afternoon the courses and all plain sail to royals
were drawing nicely. As soon as the gear was
shipshape and coiled on the pins, all hands were
mustered aft. There was a feeling of uncertainty
among the crew as we filed aft to the waist, stand-
ing in an awkward group about the main fife
rail, a nondescript, hard-fisted, weatherbeaten
lot of men.

Above towered the vast expanse of snowy can-
vas, looming out of all proportion in the dark
half light of the winter evening; beneath us was
the rolling, palpitating sweep of deck, yielding

OUTWARD BOUND 17

and swaying in the constant balance 'tween the
wind and sea. To windward, above the line of
bulwark, a ragged mackerel sky drove across the
cloud rack of scattered cirrus, touched with dull
red from the high shafts of the setting sun. The
black backs of the shoreward rollers swept to lee-
ward and astern, passing us as if frightened by
the lofty figure of the ship.

The watches were about to be chosen. The
two mates came down into the waist, and Captain
Nichols stood at the break of the poop to observe
this time-honored ceremony of the sea. For bet-
ter or for worse, in sunshine or in storm, we were
to be parceled off to our respective task-masters
for the long months of the voyage ahead. The
fate of friendships was to be decided, for watch-
mates are far closer than mere shipmates, and a
general desire to escape the clutches of the mate
made all of us anxious for the ordeal to be con-
cluded. Most of the men were in favor of the
second mate, Mr. Stoddard. The mate, Mr.
Zerk, was a driver, a bully, and what not, but
the second mate seemed to be easier, in spite of
the fact that he lost no opportunity to bawl out
everyone that came across his path.

"He'll be all right when we get outside," was
the remark that voiced the general opinion. Old

18 UNDER SAIL

Smith, perhaps the wisest of the real sailormen
on board, came as near to hitting the relative
values of the mates as was possible. "I don't see
no choice between them," he said. "One may be
easier, but give me the best sailor. A good sailor
aft saves work for his watch forward. See if I
don't figger it right. Take it any way you like,
there's no choosing between them rotten apples
aft, and let it go at that."

Mr. Zerk, a man of about forty, medium in
height, broad shouldered, bull necked, with close
cropped yellow hair — grey eyes set in a very red,
smooth-shaven face, except for a sweeping blond
mustache, was a native of Nova Scotia, brought
up in "blue nose" ships. He eyed us with the
cold look of a surgeon about to amputate. Walk-
ing up to the group just abaft of the mainmast,
he made his first choice without a moment's hesi-
tation.

"Frenchy, come here," and Victor Mathes, of
Dunkirk, went to the port watch, chosen by the
mate.

"Smith," was the laconic reply of Mr. Stod-
dard to the first choice of the mate. Honors
were even, for it was a toss up between the two
men.

Brenden, a husky, well-set-up sailor, trained

OUTWARD BOUND

19

20 UNDER SAIL

in the sailing ships out of Hamburg, with plenty
of beef and a good head, was the next choice of
the mate.

"Axel," said the second mate, scoring the first
advantage in the choosing of the watches. Axel
proved to be one of the best men in the crew, a
big, boyish Swede, a sailor and a gentleman.

"Roth, come here," and John Roth, late of the
opal mines in Australia, one of the deserters
from the Falls of Ettrick, and the artist of the
crew, went to port. We soon dubbed him "Aus-
tralia." The mate sent "Australia" to relieve
the wheel, and the second mate paused a moment
weighing the merits of the remaining men.

"Tom," was his choice, and another sailor,
Tom Morstad, also a deserter from the Ettrick,
went to starboard.

Things were fining down, and the remaining
victims in this heartless process of elimination
were becoming increasingly apprehensive, while
those who had been chosen grinned at us with ag-
gravating humor. The mates were getting less
and less sure of their choice as the pickings be-
came more and more undesirable. It was getting
to be a question of brains versus brawn. Husky
young clodhoppers shipped as A.B. by the
greedy boarding masters; young mules with

OUTWARD BOUND 21

nothing but their thick hides and an abundance
of main strength and stupidity to recommend
them, placed in the balance with such old fellows
as Jimmy Marshall and Jack Kitchen. Jimmy,
who claimed to be sixty-five, a wizened little old
sea-horse, but a wonderful "chantey man," won
the next choice and was taken by the mate.

Hitchen was called to starboard, and the
honors still remained about even in the contest
of wit and experience, for both mates had studied
the paces of each individual with critical eyes
during that eventful day.

The next choice was a painful one. There was
a short pause; it seemed to us that "Charlie
Horse," who had once been mate on a coaster
in the oyster trade, or Dago Tony, would surely
be chosen next.

"Felix, come here," said the mate, running his
eye over the Dago and Charlie, and lighting on
me. I stepped over to the boys lined up on the
lee side, a weight lifted from my mind, as
Frenchy, destined to be my chum, moved near
me.

It was getting on by then. Chips went aft
carrying the side lights, and Captain Nichols was
stumping the poop with some impatience, as a
hint to his officers to bring things to a close.

22 UNDER SAIL

The second mate chose Charlie, and George
Krug, or "Scouse" as we called him, was taken
by the mate. Dago Tony went to the second
mate, and Fred Erricson, a good sailor, also an
Ettrick deserter, went to port.

Mike, the wood turner, went to starboard, and
Joe Johnson, one time a cobbler's apprentice,
and general all round husky favorite of misfor-
tune, was taken by the mate.

The left-overs, Martin, and Peter the boy,
were divided by the call of Peter to the starboard
watch, and Martin fell to the mate. Peter, an
American, ex-reporter on a Worcester paper, one
time foreman in a corset factory, and a bright,
wideawake boy of something over twenty-one,
had shipped for eight dollars a month and his
health. The voyage netted him his payday many
times over, for he was endowed with brains and,
starting out a wreck, he came back a tough-
handed deep-water man.

It was close to six bells by that time. Chips
had set out the running lights and was getting
the big pump ready, having sounded the well
and reported a foot of water.

"Starboard watch below for tucker!" ordered
the mate; and then turning to the men of his
watch, he ordered, "Man the pump !"

OUTWARD BOUND 23

It was dark as we bent to the cranks of the
big pump, and with the hum of wind and the
swish of water in our ears we realized that we
were truly at sea, insignificant mortals riding on
the low deck of a vast fabric of wood and canvas,
venturing far from land on the mighty stretches
of the Western Ocean.

That first night at the pump, forerunner of
many, many other nights, our little band of
watch mates toiled in silence, except for a few
monosyllables. Four men to each crank, two on
a side, facing each other, our tired arms and
backs reciprocated to the action of rotation like
so many toy figures actuated by some hidden
clockwork; the new labor was almost a rest after
the constant pulling and hauling of the day.
Finally the low, raucous wheezing of the valves
told us we were sucking air, and the mate, from
the darkness of the poop, called out, "Belay
pump!"

It is the custom of the sea, handed down from
time immemorial, that "The captain takes her
out and the mate brings her back." That is, the
first regular watch at sea is taken by the cap-
tain's watch on the outward passage, and the
same watch is taken by the port, or mate's watch,
on the start for home. Of course the second mate

24 UNDER SAIL

stands the starboard watch, except in case of
emergency.

Accordingly, at four bells, we went below,
and after a hasty supper we sought our bunks
for a brief rest before turning out for the watch
from eight to midnight. We were tired — some
of us, to the point of utter exhaustion — and a
few of the older men claimed that we were being
cheated out of our right to the first four-hour
watch below, ours having merely been a dog
watch of 2 hours from 6 to 8. Anyhow, what-
ever we thought about that, nothing was said
above a mild growling in the fo'c'sle, and as we
tumbled out at eight bells, and both watches
lined up in the waist to muster, the chill wind cut
through us, and a moment later we were greeted
by an order from aft.

"Hands aloft to overhaul the t'gallant and
royal buntlines!"

Up I went on the mizzen, never caring to lag
behind on an order to lay aloft, a piece of twine
in my pocket. The gear was overhauled and
stopped just below the blocks, so the buntlines
would not chafe the sails, and at the same time
the stops of cotton twine were frail enough to
be easily broken. When at times they were not,
some unlucky wight would clamber aloft at the

OUTWARD BOUND 25

critical moment of taking in sail amid the slat-
ting of canvas and the most profuse showers of
artistic abuse.

Coming down from this task, I was in time to
witness a burst of profanity on the part of the
mate. "Keep moving, you beach-combing —

! Every lousy -! I won't have

no 'lime juice' sleeping on deck this voyage. D'ye
hear that?" All heard, for there was a shuffle of
weary feet about the main hatch, where several
of the watch had perched comfortably in the
dark, and, after a moment of indecision, sprin-
kled with derogatory mutterings, we paired off
in little groups of twos, walking the swaying
deck wherever we could find places free from the
back draft of the sails.

Frenchy was my first chum on the Fuller, and
though for periods we drifted apart, through
sheer mutual exhaustion of our interchangeable
ideas, yet we always came together again. Some-
how, on the very start of the voyage, when the
crimps and runners bade us that sad farewell
from the port of New York, we were drawn to-
gether. The night that we paired off, on our
first watch at sea, it seemed natural that Frenchy
and I should elect to stump the deck in company.
We preempted a path from the lee main pin rail

26

UNDER SAIL

OUTWARD BOUND 27

to the after end of the forward house. "It's bet-
ter here than anywhere," remarked Frenchy, and
I soon found he was right, as we missed the draft
from the mains'l and were partly sheltered by
the house on the forward leg of our walk.

Frenchy was a heavy-whiskered, ruddy speci-
men, sporting the square-cut beard of the French
sailor. He was an ex-naval man, and one time
prison guard in the penal settlement of New Cal-
edonia. Trained to the sea since boyhood, in
the fishing fleet of Dunkirk, for many years a
rigger in the naval yards at Brest, a sailor man
on every type of craft from the Mediterranean
ybeck to a ship. Victor Mathes was one of the
finest types of the Gallic seaman.

His life was a vague and many folded nebula
of romance. He was full of stories of the life in
New Caledonia, of the discipline on the outly-
ing islands, of punitive expeditions, and of the
intrigues and jealousies among the checkered
lives that wear themselves away in those distant
places.

Night after night we paced the deck during
the long, cold watches, and between the calls to
man this rope or that, and the horsing and rustl-
ing about that was always indulged in, we
swapped information of all kinds, related all

28 UNDER SAIL

sorts of experiences, truthful and otherwise, and
each man explored his mental storehouse for the
amusement and benefit of his chum. For hours
at a time Frenchy would talk of good things to
eat; this was a hobby, in fact a sort of passion,
with him and often drove me to the verge of dis-
traction. He would go into the minutest detail
of how his sister Madeleine, back in Dunkirk,
prepared some particular dish, telling not only of
the delightful flavor and succulent qualities, but
he would go into the subject of the way things
smelled, roast fowl, with all sorts of fancy stuff-
ing. My mouth would water at these cruel re-
citals and I know that Frenchy suffered as much
as I did at the poignant recollections of gastro-
nomic joys long past.

CHAPTER II

THE OUTWARD PASSAGE

WHEN well clear of the coast we roused
the bower anchors up on the fo'c'sle head
and lashed them. "A sure sign, sonny, that you
are off soundings," said Brenden; "these wind
wagons don't take no chances till they get a safe
offing." The cables were unshackled, and the
ends stoppered abaft the wildcats. Canvas coats
were put on to them, just over the chain pipes
leading to the locker. "Jackasses" were then
bowsed into the hawse holes for fair, taking the
"tails" to the windlass. With the ground tackle
secured, the "cat" and "fish" were unrove, and
this gear stowed away in the fore peak. We had
entered upon the real deepwater stage of the
voyage, with lee shores, and soundings, many
miles away.

The Fuller * carried a complement of sixteen

*Data re A. J. Fuller.

Ship A. J. Fuller.

Flint and Co. The California Clipper Line, Owners.

29

30 UNDER SAIL

hands forward, and a "boy," not counting the
"idlers" — that is, the carpenter, cook and cabin
steward — a small enough crew for a vessel dis-
placing in the neighborhood of 2,500 tons, dead
weight, a craft 229 feet between perpendiculars,
411/2 feet beam and 23 feet depth of hold, ship
rigged, with sky-sails, royals, single t'gans'ls,
double tops'ls, and courses. Her main yard was
90 feet from tip to tip. A crojik was carried as
well as a spanker. On her stays, she carried fly-
ing jib, jib tops'l, jib and fore topmast stays'l,
main t'gallant stays'l, main topmast stays'l. Miz-
zen t'gallant stays'l and a main spencer com-
pleted her spread of canvas. When on a wind,
in a whole-sail breeze, with crojik furled, and
spanker set, the ship Fuller spread twenty-five
kites to the wind.

Now think of the handsome way in which they
manned their ships in the olden days of the tea
clippers when a vessel half her size would carry
forty men forward! And a vessel of equal size

Signal letters J.V.G.B. International Code.
Built at Bath, Maine, 1881, of wood.

Gross tonnage 1,848.76

Net " 1,781.88

Length 229.3ft.

Breadth 41.5 "

Draft (mean) 17.8"

Depth of hold 23.0 "

THE OUTWARD PASSAGE 31

SHIP AJ.FULLER OF NEW YORK

BUILT AT BATH MAJflZ 1SQJ

BUMPWH

HATCH TO LA2ARETTE

ff HCAM

CAT *MD5

CAPSTAN

MATCH

Four MAST

• FIFC RAIL

« CHAfinELS
FO'C'SLE

HAM HATCH
MAIM WJT

PUMP ft wnj.

MAIM FIFE RAIL

HAin DiCK CAPSTAfl
WTTS

BOOBY -HATCH
OF PftO?

CABJn SKYUCHT

CoriPAHiort

WHEEL & BiftBAClE
5KY UCHT
V/HEETL HOUSE
•RFF RAIL.

DECK PLAM

32 UNDER SAIL

would carry from 80 to 90 seamen. As it was,
we were hard put to it in an emergency and "all
hands" was the rule on every occasion demand-
ing quick work, in going about, or in making or
taking in sail. When tacking it was "all hands,
and the cook at the fore sheet." One watch could
not hoist the main upper tops'l, except in the fin-
est kind of weather, and then only by taking the
halyards to the main deck capstan, and "inching"
the great yard up in slow and painful fashion
with much singing and ceyo lio" ing.

Captain Nichols shaped a course well to the
eastward, fetching almost to the Azores, before
hauling his wind aft and squaring away for an
easy run through the N. E. trades. Skysails and
flying jib were up and down a score of times a day
at this restless stage of the voyage, for every rag
was kept drawing to the last moment. In squally
weather, and we had plenty of it, the ship would
race along, her lee scuppers boiling in white water
as she heeled to the blast, hands standing by at
the halyards, which were always flaked down clear
for running, and every mother's son keyed to a
high pitch, ready for quick work at braces, clew-
lines and buntlines.

To have a "wheel" or a "lookout" during the
night watch was a rest, although the trick at the

THE OUTWARD PASSAGE 33

helm was a wideawake job, whether on a course,
or "by the wind." I had a fondness for steering
and often stood the wheel for Frenchy or Bren-
den, especially during the daytime when they
were employed on sailor jobs that no one else of
our watch was able to do. The mate winked at
this practice, and as they often let me take their
tricks at night, I was able to side step a lot of the
skysail climbing that would ordinarily have fallen
to me as the youngster of the watch.

My training on the old St. Mary's now stood
me in good stead, and by remembering a lot of the
advice given me by that prince of sailor-men, old
Bos'un Dreilick of the schoolship,* I found my-
self rated with the best men in the ship, and far
ahead of such fellows as Scouse, and Joe, and
Martin, who were strong as bulls, but knew noth-
ing. In between us ranged Australia and Fred,
good ordinary sailors who knew the ropes, could
hand, reef, and steer, but lacked that finished
technique so essential to the proper able seaman.
I must admit that in classing myself with men
like Marshall, Frenchy, and Brenden, I am do-
ing so at the tail end of this trio, and then only
because of my skill at the helm, at heaving the
"blue pigeon," and at sailing and handling boats,

* Now Boatswain of the Schoolship Newport.

34 UNDER SAIL

accomplishments that, except for steering, are
rare among deep water sailors.

"You seem to stand the wheel a lot," the Skip-
per remarked one night, having noted me by the
dim light of the binnacle, for I also had done a
trick in the first dog watch when he happened to
change the course.

The Old Man grinned, "Well, I suppose you
like to be aft. Keep at it, boy, and you'll get
there. But it's a lonesome life; dammit, I would
rather be a farmer any day."

Captain Nichols thought this a great joke, the
idea of being a farmer pleased him so he had a
good laugh as he surveyed the great spread of
canvas bowling along under his command. I
felt sure he was joking. Since then, I have often
pondered over his remark and am now of the
opinion that he was in dead earnest.

Standing lookout on the fo'c'sle head was a
favorite duty that no one delegated. Finally,
however, when we were well clear of the coast,
the mates began to pull down the lookout when-
ever there was any work to be done. There al-
ways was considerable, for the mates would start
something as soon as they felt the least bit sleepy
and would horse their watches about even though

THE OUTWARD PASSAGE 35

it was absolutely unnecessary to start a single
rope.

Our fare on the Fuller was of the regular deep
water variety, made palatable by the fact that we
were living the open air life of a lot of human go-
rillas. Our labors were torture, to me at least, un-
til at last the outraged muscles adjusted them-
selves to the unaccustomed work. Poor Peter,
he was a hundred times harder hit than I, and
the four hours below were barely enough to keep
him alive. One night, a few days after leaving
port, when we mustered at midnight, Peter was
not to be found. "Was he called ?" thundered the
mate, as Old Smith reported him "not present,"
doing so in a hesitating sort of way. "Was that
- called?" again thundered the mate. "By —
I'll call him!" he shouted, and strode forward, the
second mate following. Peter lay half out of his
bunk, one leg over the edge. He had fallen back
exhausted as soon as he got his trousers on; he
was dead to the cruel, hard world.

Mr. Zerk grabbed him by the leg, and, swing-
ing him like a bag of meal, he yanked Peter clear
through the fo'c'sle door, landing him on the deck
with a thud, amid a shower of curses and the
startled cry of the victim.

This type of brutality was calculated to "put

36

UNDER SAIL

the fear of God into us," as they say, and to
strengthen discipline, and add snap and vigor to
our movements. It certainly had the effect of
showing us how important it was to be in the
waist when the watch was mustered.

At the morning washdown the black slops that
went by the name of coffee tasted like the very
nectar of the gods. We dipped in with our hook
pots, drinking it with relish, and the fact that it
possessed mild cathartic properties, may have had
something to do with the excellent state of our
health. Cockroaches were not mentioned in the
old scale of provisions * adopted by a kind Con-

• The following is the Scale of Provisions allowed and served out to
the Crew during the voyage in addition to the daily issue of lime and
lemon juice and sugar, or other antiscorbutics in any case required by
law.

Bread
Ib.

B.-cf
Ib.

Pork
Ib.

Flour
Ib.

IPeas
pt.

Rice
pt.

Barley
Pt.

Tea
oz.

Coffee
oz.

Sugar
oz.

Water

qt.

Sunday

1

1U

^

U

u

2

3

Monday . . .
Tuesday . . .
Wednesday.
Thursday . .
Friday
Saturday

1
1
1
1
1
1

1H
IK
\it

11A

i'lA

IX

'y2

H

iy*

I*/*

iy*

8

y*
y%
y%
y*

l/c.

%

y*

1A

2
2
2
2

2
2

3
3
3
3
3
3

SUBSTITUTES

One ounce of coffee or cocoa or chocolate may be substituted for one
quarter ounce of tea; molasses for sugar, the quantity to be one half
more; one pound of potatoes or yams; one half pound of flour or rice;
one third pint of peas or one quarter pint of barley may be substituted
for each other.

THE OUTWARD PASSAGE 37

gress for the nourishment of the simple sailor
man. This was no doubt an oversight on the part
of some bucolic "sailor's friend," for they might
have specified that "one ounce of cockroaches
may be substituted for an ounce of tea."

Our tea was never without these disgusting
vermin and none of us was ever able to tell what
gave it the peculiar flavor that we came to relish
— the twigs and leaves floating about in the
brown liquor, or the roaches lying drowned in
the bottom of the can.

"They's no worse nor shrimps," philosophized
Jimmy Marshall, and we tried to believe him.

The cook, an ancient Celestial named Chow,
hailing from Hong Kong, had evidently put all
of his gods behind him. His pigtail was gone,
and with it all sense of decency, so far as prepar-
ing food for sailormen was concerned. Those
human precepts that all cooks are supposed to
act upon, the ethics, if you will, of the noble pro-

When fresh meat is issued, the proportion to be two pounds per man,
per day, in lieu of salt meat.

Flour, rice, and peas, beef and pork, may be substituted for each
other, and for potatoes onions may be substituted.

NOTE BY AUTHOR. — The above is from the fo'c'sle card of the ship
A. J. Fuller, taken' when I left her. This scale of provisions was greatly
amplified a few years later. It was found that a shipmaster sticking
close to the law in the matter of provisioning could easily starve a crew,
as there was no control over quality. On the Fuller, the owners were
liberal in provisioning. Such trouble as we had was due to the condi-
tions of deepwater voyages.

38 UNDER SAIL

fession, that Marryat tells us entitled the prac-
titioner to wear a sword, in those good old days
when the Admiralty recognized the cook, were
lacking in the breast of Chow. He was a typi-
cal deepwater cook. What went aft was right,
so far as looks count anyway, but the kids that
left for the fo'c'sle often contained the most un-
savory messes that ill-fortune can concoct. Some
of the men had words with Chow about this but
the result was increased carelessness and de-
creased portions.

"It don't do no good to scrap with the cook,"
was Jimmy Marshall's sage advice. "If the dirty
bum wants to be dirty he can fix us all up. I
knowed a cook once wot - - in the soup an' bully
on a English bark. The skipper, he caught him
at it, an' puts him in irons. The cook had to be
let out though because he was the only one wot
could do the work, an' they was mighty careful
aft not to rile him after they knowed wot he was.
You got to leave them cooks alone."

We left Chow severely alone, and some of the
crowd, Joe and Tommy especially, constituted
themselves his volunteer assistants, and almost
every first dog watch, one of them would be
around the galley helping out. Chow rewarded
them by allowing the use of the oven to make

THE OUTWARD PASSAGE 39

"dandy funk," a mess of broken hard tack and
molasses, baked to a crisp.

When ten days had elapsed, after the final ra-
tions of fresh provisions had been issued, a tot of
lime juice, that reeked suspiciously of vinegar,
was served each day — by Act of Congress — to
keep the sailor man from getting scurvey. At
the same time the "harness casks," beef to star-
board, and pork to port, did their duty nobly and
each week or so we would lift the fore hatch and
rouse up a slimy, wooden hooped barrel, and roll
it aft to the galley door, alternating to the port
and starboard harness casks.

After a month of chumming it with Frenchy,
talking steadily from three to four hours a night,
we were both pretty well cleaned out of experi-
ences and ideas. Other groups had long before
reached that deplorable state, and new combina-
tions were formed in the night walks on deck.
One night as we came on deck in the mid-watch,
Frenchy and I noticed Jimmy Marshall and
Martin standing at the lee of the main hatch, in
silence, after the watch had been mustered. The
absence of their usual animated discussions of
everything temporal and mundane attracted our
attention. Soon we found ourselves at the lee
of the hatch ; Martin and Jimmy warmed up to

40 UNDER SAIL

us and presently Jimmy and myself were walk-
ing just aft of the forward house, and Martin
and Frenchy began to pace the deck to wind-
ward.

Jimmy was a new sort of chum and the poor-
est listener I have ever met, which may have ac-
counted for the peculiar one sided lay of his mind.
The hard knocks of experience were alone ac-
countable for his knowledge, varied and pictur-
esque in the telling. He was chockf ul of religion
and was constantly repenting the bad deeds of
his youth, telling them at great length, and with
such relish, that it seemed they had come to be
his one unfailing source of enjoyment. A ter-
rible drunk in his day, he had also indulged in
robbery, having looted a house in Australia while
tramping overland to Sydney from Port Hun-
ter, where he had "jumped" a schooner, leaving
everything behind, because of a row with the
mate, in which he felled him with a handspike.

" Walked away with a piece o' change an' a
whole kit o' dunnage," was the way he put it.

And also, according to his story, Jimmy had
been a lightweight fighter in his youth, many,
many years before. He was the best chantey-
man in the crew; to hear him "sing" a rope was
an inspiration to tired arms and backs.

THE OUTWARD PASSAGE 41

42 UNDER SAIL

While memory lasts, the picture of our first
chantey, a few days after leaving port, will re-
main with me as one of the great thrills that
have come my way. A heavy squall in the fore-
noon watch sent all of our tops'l yards to the
caps, everything coming down by the run, to hang
slatting in the gear. Skysails, royals, flying jib,
t'gans'ls, jib tops'l, jib, fore topmast stays'l,
and then the upper tops'ls were lowered, the lat-
ter thrashing and straining against the down-
hauls as the ship heeled to it almost on her beam
ends, gaining headway with a rush, and righting
herself as we spilled the wind from the bulging
canvas.

Passing as quickly as it came, the squall left
us wallowing under lower tops'ls, the courses
hanging in their gear.

All hands were called to make sail, and as we
manned the main tops'l halyards Jimmy Mar-
shall jumped to the pin rail, and with one leg
over the top of the bulwark, he faced the line of
men tailing along the deck.

"A chantey, boys!" shouted Mr. Stoddard as
he took his place "beforehand" on the rope.
"Come now, run her up, lads. Up! Up!" and
the heavy yard commenced to creep along the
mast to the sound of the creaking parral, the com-

THE OUTWARD PASSAGE 43

plaining of the blocks, and the haunting deep
sea tune of "Blow the Man Down," greatest of
all the two haul chanteys.

Jimmy — "Now rouse her right up boys for Liverpool

town,"

Sailors — "Go way — way — blow the man down."
Jimmy — "We'll blow the man up and blow the man down,"
Sailors — "Oh, give us some time to blow the man down."
Jimmy — "We lay off the Island of Maderdegascar."
Sailors — "Hi! Ho! Blow the man down."
Jimmy — "We lowered three anchors to make her hold

faster,"
Sailors — "Oh, give us some time to blow the man down."

Chorus

All hands — "Then we'll blow the man up,
And we'll blow the man down,
Go way — way — blow the man down.
We'll blow him right over to Liverpool town,
Oh, give us some time to blow the man down.
Ho! Stand by your braces,
And stand by your falls;
Hi ! Ho ! Blow the man down,
We'll blow him clean over to Liverpool town,
Oh, give us some time to blow the man down."

Old Marshall faced to windward, his mustache
lifting in the breeze, the grey weather worn
fringe of hair bending up over his battered nose.
He always sang with a full quid in his cheek, and

44 UNDER SAIL

the absence of several front teeth helped to give
a peculiar deep-sea quality to his voice.

"We have a man-o-war crew aboard, Mr.
Zerk!" shouted the Captain from the top of the
cabin, where he had come out to see the fun.

"Aye, aye, sir! Some crew!" returned the
Mate, looking over us with a grim smile.

CHAPTER III

CHRISTMAS DAY ON THE HIGH SEAS

LIFE was not always so pleasant on board
the Fuller. Hard words were the common
run of things and the most frightful and artistic
profanity often punctuated the working of the
ship. Given a ship's company barely strong
enough to handle a two thousand five hundred
ton three-skysail yarder, even had they all been
seasoned able seamen, our officers had to contend
with a crew over half of which rated below that
of the "ordinary" classification of seamanship,
thick skinned clodhoppers, all thumbs on a dark
night, and for many weeks after leaving port, as
useless as so much living ballast. The kicking
and moulding into form of this conglomerate
mass of deep sea flotsam, gathered for the ship
by the boarding masters, and duly signed on the
ship's articles as A.B., called for all but super-
human efforts. The curse is far more potent than
the gentle plea, especially when hard fists and
hobnailed sea boots are backed by all of the age

45

46 UNDER SAIL

old authority of the sea. To work a ship of the
proportions of the Fuller, with seventeen hands
forward, called for man driving without thought
of anything but the work required.

The latter days of the sailing ship as a carrier,
before invoking the aid of steam auxiliary appa-
ratus, in the hoisting and hauling, brought forth
the brute sea officer aft, and the hardened fo'c'sle
crowd, half sailor and half drudge, forward. The
"bucko mate" walked her decks, and the jack tar,
stripped of his pigtail, his bell mouthed canvas
trousers, his varnished sailor hat, and his grog,
remained in plain dungaree and cotton shirt to
work the biggest sailing craft in the history of the
world on the last hard stages of their storm
tossed voyages.

Mixed with our real sailors were the worthless
(so far as sea lore went) scrapings of the water-
front. Shipped by the boarding masters for the
benefit of their three months' "advance," and
furnished for sea with rotten kits of dunnage,
as unreliable and unfitted for the work as the
poor unfortunate dubs who were forced by an
unkind fate to wear them.

On the other hand, the real sailor men of the
crew were valued accordingly, and I can hardly
remember an instance where either one of the

CHRISTMAS ON THE HIGH SEAS 47

mates singled out for abuse those men who had
shipped as A.B. and were so in fact. My school-
ship training (St. Mary's '97) stood by me, and
though barely turned eighteen, I was saved from
most of the drudgery meted out to the farmers
of the watch.

After washing through the heavy seas we en-
countered for the first few weeks of the voyage,
while beating off the coast on the long reach east-
ward to the Azores, the long hard pine sweep of
the main deck became slippery with a deposit
of white salt-water slime. The sheen of this
scum, in the moonlight, under a film of running
water, gave the decks a ghastly "Flying Dutch-
man" like appearance, and the footing became
so precarious that something had to be done.

"They have the 'bear' out," Scouse announced,
as he trudged into the fo'c'sle carrying a "kid" of
cracker hash, ditto of burgoo, a can of coffee, and
a bag of hard tack, this cargo of sustenance be-
ing our regulation breakfast menu.

"The bear?" I asked, as we gathered about this
appetizing spread.

"Yes, the bear," volunteered Brenden, grin-
ning with the rest of the sailors. "The bear for
Scouse, and Joe, and Martin, and Fred."

At eight bells, as we mustered aft, a subdued

48 UNDER SAIL

banter went on among the men. The starboard
watch were all grinning, and as they went below
four sheepish looking fellows of the other side
turned the "bear" over to the farmers of our
watch. "Keep that jackass baby carriage mov-
ing now. D'ye hear me? Keep it moving!" bel-
lowed the mate, for there was some reluctance in
taking hold, and as Scouse and Martin tailed on,
opposed to Joe and Fred, the doleful scrape of
the bear mingled with the general laughter at the
mate's sally.

The bear consisted of a heavy box, a thick
thrum mat lashed on the bottom of it, and the
inside loaded with broken holy stones and charged
with wet sand. Four stout rope lanyards were
rigged to the corners and served to haul the thing
back and forth while the sand filtered down
through the mat, providing the necessary scour-
ing agent. A day or two with the bear in con-
stant service, both day and night, cleaned up the
decks and provided us with considerable amuse-
ment, that is, those of us who were lucky enough
to be kept at more dignified jobs.

Ships leaving the Atlantic Coast in the winter
months bend their best suit of sails. The severe
weather usually encountered in working clear of
the land, and the chance of having to ratch off

CHRISTMAS ON THE HIGH SEAS 49

50 UNDER SAIL

from a lee shore, make this precaution one of
great importance. The fact that green crews are
bound to be more or less slow in taking in sail
during squalls may also account for the "storm
suit" under which we sailed from port.

On our first night out, shortly before one bell
in the mid watch, our crowd having just gone be-
low, the fore topmast stays'l blew from the bolt
ropes with the report of a cannon. We had al-
ready clambered into our bunks, dog tired, when
this occurred, and muttered oaths, anticipating a
call of "all hands," came from untold depths of
weariness within the foVsle. On deck there was
the hurried tramping of feet, and the shouting of
the second mate. We could hear the long wail
of the men at brace and downhaul, the "Ah-hee-
Oh-hee-ah-Ho I" with all of its variation as the
slaves of the ropes launched their age-old com-
plaint on the whipping winds. I lapsed into slum-
ber with the dim consciousness that the second
mate was handling the situation alone, and a
heartfelt thanks for the warmth of the blankets
in my narrow bunk; a foot above me the cold
rain pattered against the roof of the foVsle
house, its music mingling with the swish of the
water under the fore channels.

CHRISTMAS ON THE HIGH SEAS 51

After three weeks of beating to the eastward,
having fetched almost as far across as the Azores,
and being in the region of the northern limit of
the N. E. trades, the captain hauled his wind
and squared away for the run through the trade
wind belt to the doldrums and the line. Fine
weather became the order of the day and life on
board settled down to a more regular routine.

On a Saturday morning, the day having
broken remarkably fine, a brilliant red sunset fol-
lowed by a cold grey dawn, assuring us of the
settled weather that the steady "glass" made more
certain, all the world seemed ready to rejoice,
for it was Christmas Day. Word was passed
into the fo'c'sle by the other watch, as we turned
out for our breakfast, "We shift sail today.

"All hands on deck for us, me boys!" piped
Australia. "An* the first watch on deck to-
night," chipped in Jimmy Marshall, "an' a hell
of a Christmas Day!"

Jimmy lit his pipe for a morning puff; climb-
ing into his bunk, he dangled his short legs over
the frowsy head of big Scouse who sat with his
dejected poll bent under the upper bunk board,
a fair sample of the despondent crowd of farm-
ers who faced a Christmas Day of labor.

52 UNDER SAIL

"A hell of a Christmas Day, boys,
A hell of a Christmas Day,
For we are bound for the bloody Horn
Ten thousand miles away."

Jimmy rendered this little ditty of cheerfulness
as Fred picked up the breakfast kids and started
for the galley, while we turned out on the sun-
splashed planks as the last of eight bells vibrated
over the ship. She lay still in a near calm like a
scene by Turner, all of her canvas hanging in
picturesque festoons from the jackstays, where
the starboard watch had cast off the courses and
tops'ls, leaving them depending in their gear.
The decks had not been washed down, in order to
keep them dry, and the mate himself had turned
out at four bells to start the ball rolling.

Long bundles of the fine weather canvas were
stretched on the decks ready for swaying aloft.
Working like demons in the forenoon, and with
all hands on deck after dinner, which was dis-
patched in haste, we had the courses, and in turn
the tops'ls and light sails, lowered to the deck,
and the gantlines rigged to hoist the summer
canvas; this we sent aloft in record time. These
old sails, soft and mellow, veterans of a dozen
voyages, patched and repatched, with whole new
cloths of a lighter grade here and there streak-

CHRISTMAS ON THE HIGH SEAS 53

ing the dull white-weathered surface, were as
smooth and pliable as a baby's bonnet.

On some of them, the fore upper tops'l espe-
cially, we found records of the many crews who
had handled them before. "James Brine, Liver-
pool. On his last voyage," was one inscription.
I hope Brine achieved his end and stayed ashore.
A date under this was hardly decipherable but
may have been Jan., June, or July, the day the
eighth, and the year 1893.

Bending a sail calls for the nicest knowledge;
the passing of the head earing must be done in
a certain manner, so the head of the sail will hold
well up on the yard arm; the gear, consisting of
tacks, sheets, clew garnets, and buntlines, in the
case of a "course," not to mention the leechlines,
and bowlines, must all be rove and rigged just
so. The "robands" or pieces of rope yarn, are all
looped through the "head holes" ready for bend-
ing the sail to the iron jackstay on the yard, and
when a sailor does the job, all goes as smooth as
a wedding when the parson knows his job.

After the labors of a busy day, the ship pre-
sented the comfortable well-patched appearance
of a man in the woods, free from the stiffness of
new white linen, and naturally fitting into the
familiar folds of old duds, unconventional but

54 UNDER SAIL

plenty good enough. The bright spars still at-
tested to her "smartness," but we were in easy
trade wind weather and dressed accordingly. The
fores'l was particularly large, with extra clothes
in the leeches, made to catch and hold every
breath of wind blowing over the deck.

The sail locker was re-stowed with our "best
suit," and between the coils of canvas we liber-
ally spread a bundle of old newspapers brought
out by the mate. "To give the rats something
to chew on," he remarked, as we ran the stiff new
canvas in, tier upon tier.

One thing that Frenchy called my attention
to in the stowing of the locker was the fact that
the storm canvas, lower tops'ls and stays'ls, were
placed handy for immediate removal, the mate
assuring himself of this fact by personal super-
vision; indeed he knew just where each particular
sail was located in the locker, and could go in and
lay his hand upon it in the darkest night, as he
more than once demonstrated during the course
of the voyage.

That night a tired lot of men sat down to sup-
per. The cold salt beef, the hard bread and the
can of tea came from the galley in their usual
order. Fred, who was mess cook for that week,
went back to the galley, after depositing the reg-

CHRISTMAS ON THE HIGH SEAS 55

ulation Saturday night grub. As he left the
fo'c'sle door he turned back at us with a grin on
his wide good natured face, bristling with uneven
outcroppings of yellow stubble. Fred reminded
me of an amiable plodder hulking out in his dun-
garee jacket, while the watch fell to on the beef
and tack.

"I guess he forgot to thank the cook for put-
ting so many bugs in the tea," ventured Brenden.

"Maybe he's going aft to take Christmas Din-
ner with the captain in the cabin. They have a
real plum pudding there ; I saw it in the galley,"
said Joe.

Plum pudding! Christmas! The thoughts of
loved ones far away, and of those distant homes
that perhaps were remembering some of us out
on the broad bosom of the deep waters, came as
a pang. All of us, I believe, felt this. For a mo-
ment or two silence ensued, then Fred burst
through the fo'c'sle door with the big surprise.

"Pie, boys! Pie!" he shouted, depositing three
tin plates on the fo'c'sle deck, for we dined with
the deck as a table, sitting about the kids on low
benches. The precious pie was cut with the
greatest regard for equality by no less an expert
hand than that of Frenchy, assisted by Australia,
who showed us how to cut a pie into three parts

56 UNDER SAIL

by measuring across the diameter with a knife,
adding a little to this, and then this length went
three times into the circumference.

Jimmy Marshall failed to agree with this the-
ory, but was fairly beaten in the result, for Aus-
tralia was right. The pie certainly was cut into
three very equal parts.

"An engineer in the mines showed me this,"
said Australia. "He says, Tie times across the
pie, is all the way around.' Mathematics is wot
he calls this." Australia was nearly right at that,
and the marks he made on the crust of the confec-
tions baked by Chow served as a reliable guide
for Frenchy, also bolstering him immensely in the
eyes of the more humble members of the port
watch. That Australia chap certainly knew a
thing or two, even if he was not the best sailor
in the world.

But Jimmy Marshall's comment was simply,
"Rats!"

After supper, when pipes were glowing, and
most of us sought our bunks for the hour or so
that remained to us in the last dog watch, a dis-
cussion arose as to what kind of pie it was.
Frenchy, the great gastronomic authority,
claimed it was English currant pie. "They taste

CHRISTMAS ON THE HIGH SEAS 57

so bitter, that's why I know," he added with an
air of finality.

Others differed with him. Scouse said it was
red crabapple pie. Martin claimed it was noth-
ing but plum pie. I thought it tasted like cran-
berry, but was not sure. At last, to settle the
matter, and at the earnest request of the crabbed
Jimmy, Fred trudged aft to the galley to consult
Chow and wind up the argument. He returned
in triumph with a large tin can done up in a
gaudy red label marked "Pie Fruit."

Shortly after entering the N. E. trades we
encountered the region of tropic rains, of daily
thunder storms, and of abundant drinking and
washing water. We rigged an old sail over the
gallows frame in the main deck to catch the rain,
which was teemed through a canvas pipe to the
main tank, a large upright iron cylinder stand-
ing on the keelson blocks in the main hold just
abaft of the main mast. Our allowance of three
quarts a day, per man, was anything but satis-
fying in the tropic atmosphere of the torrid zone.
At least half of this "whack" of water went to
the galley for use in the preparation of food and
the rest was divided between the scuttle butt and
the water barrel, from which it was drawn spar-

58 UNDER SAIL

ingly for washing purposes ; usually a mere rinse
to clean off the salt of a sea water scrub.

In the extreme heat, during the frequent pe-
riods of calm, our suffering through the lack of
water became intense. The Fuller, like many
other ships sailing from New York, put to sea
with her water tank barely a quarter full, relying
on the tropic rains to replenish the supply. When
the rains did finally come we fairly reveled in the
luxury of abundant fresh water, drinking, wash-
ing clothes, bathing, and just plain wasteful wal-
lowing in the refreshing element. With the first
douse of rain all hands turned out on deck to fill
their pannikins under the spouting drains from
the forward house.

The conduct of a deep water sailing voyage
in the old days of wooden ships called for what
today would be considered the highest type of
scientific management. In the maintenance of
the vessel, each part of the complicated fabric
received its due attention at some particular point
in the voyage where the weather was favorable
for that certain operation. So in the entry to
the rainy belt, that uncertain region of the dol-
drums where almost constant precipitation takes
turn about with calm or light baffling winds, we
were turned loose on the job of scrubbing paint

CHRISTMAS ON THE HIGH SEAS 59

work. The work was started aft and each watch
did its own side of the ship, there being much
rivalry as to who was doing the most work.
Everybody took a hand in this and Brenden and
Marshall would curse unmercifully at the job
when well out of earshot of the after guard. Our
hands became wrinkled with the constant wet, the
calloused flesh getting soft and cheesy, while our
oilskins, in which we worked during the worst
downpours, became soaked and clammy through
constant use.

We were not allowed the bucket of classic
"sewgee" of the steam ship sailor, a mixture of
caustic soda, soft soap and water, but were pro-
vided with nothing but a small tin of brick dust
and a rag of burlap ; a rope handled deck bucket
and a small swab completed the outfit. Add to
this formula an abundance of "elbow grease,"
and slithers of tropic rain, and you get paintwork
polished smooth and white as ivory. A week or
so, with all hands on the paintwork, whenever the
working of the ship would permit, transformed
her into a model of neatness. Woe to the luck-
less wretch who by any chance marred the deck
or paintwork with a drop of grease or tar.

About this time we made our acquaintance
with the flying fish, these swift travellers often

60 UNDER SAIL

shooting over our deck at night and being caught
in the belly of one of the courses or the spanker.
A flying fish for breakfast is not bad, and many
were caught by the men on deck keeping a sharp
lookout for them. The mates were also watch-
ing for the bag of flying fish and whenever one
landed on the poop or in the waist, one or the
other of the mates would call out and have a hand
bring the fish aft.

One night a fish landed somewhere in the waist.
We could hear the wet splatter of the flying fins,
as it was calm and the deck quiet. Mr. Zerk,
who was leaning against the weather swifter of
the mizzen shrouds, roused himself and called out
for someone to bring the fish aft.

Several of the watch started to search for the
visitor, for we also had heard him land, but with-
out success.

"How about that fish?" shouted the mate, af-
ter a decent interval, while the search was going
on.

"Can't find it, sir," Joe piped up.

"The hell you can't!" thundered the mate.
"There he is," and again we heard a faint "splash,
splash" of the wings.

"Get a light, you damn fools," was the order,
for it was mighty dark. "Come now quick.

CHRISTMAS ON THE HIGH SEAS 61

62 UNDER SAIL

Pronto!" and as Scouse banged on the door of
the deck room occupied by Chips, in order to get
him to open the lamp locker, we thought we heard
the "splash, splash" again.

With the aid of a lantern and all of the watch
the entire deck was searched. Finally, Jimmy
Marshall let out a whoop, "Here he was! Here
he was!" Some water on the deck, near the coils
of rope hanging from the main pin rail, looked
as though Jimmy was close to the flying fish.

"Here he was!" again shouted the excited
Jimmy, grabbing the lantern from the hand of
Scouse.

"Here he what?" demanded the mate, coming
down into the waist. The mate bent over the wet
spot and exploded in a string of oaths. "No fly-
ing fish ever made that! Here, you!" and he
grabbed Jimmy. "This is some of your damn
monkey shines, you old dried up bundle of sea
tripe! — - your gray hairs, I'll flying fish

you! Lay aloft to the main skysail yard and
watch the stars ! I'll call you down on deck when-
ever we need you!"

For several nights after that Jimmy spent his
time climbing up and down the main rigging,
for no sooner would he get up than the mate

CHRISTMAS ON THE HIGH SEAS 63

would think of something to do that required his
presence on deck.

The flying fish episode furnished us with some-
thing to talk about in the fo'c'sle, and while
Jimmy always tried to leave the impression that
the joke was on the mate and the rest of us, we
felt that his over zeal in discovering the puddle
of water in which his clever hand had simulated
the nervous flapping of the fins of a flying fish
had turned the tables. My idea was that Jimmy,
after seeing how well the thing was taking, could
not resist the temptation to get the credit.

We also harpooned our first bonita, a very ac-
tive, virile fish, shaped like a short double ended
spindle buoy, and striped lengthwise. These fish
are exceedingly lively and jump about with ter-
rific energy when brought on deck. Before tak-
ing this fish to the galley, Old Smith of the other
watch, and Frenchy, and of course Jimmy Mar-
shall, tested the meat with a silver coin, to see if
it was of the poison variety.

"If the silver turns black the fish is poison,"
explained Frenchy. In this case the bonita was
pronounced "good to eat," and a great feast was
on that night; however, I never cared much for
fish anyway and did not touch it. Chow had cer-

64 UNDER SAIL

tainly made an ill looking mess of it, garnished
with broken tack, and basted with pork fat.

"You'll wisht you had a bit of this tucker afore
we get to Honolulu," was the comment of Joe,
who proceeded to help himself liberally.

CHAPTER IV

THE FIGHT

AN undercurrent of trouble had been running
for some time, finding expression in much
subdued comment and criticism, at odd moments,
when small groups of the watch would foregather
about the fo'c'sle during the dog watch below.
These dog watch hours were, during fine weather,
given over largely to yarning, smoking, reading,
or playing cards, or checkers, and to the perform-
ance of such odd jobs as sailors do during their
few leisure moments. Big George, or Scouse,
as we called him, had become something of a
bully, and Joe, the most independent of his sub-
jects, had on several occasions taken pains to
let Scouse understand that he resented the way
in which the big fellow carried on among the far-
mers of the watch. Of course Scouse never dared
open his mouth to any of the real sailors, but he
had gradually set himself up as a sort of autocrat
among the pushers of the "bear."

The development of this condition was so long

65

66 UNDER SAIL

in process of evolution, that several times
Frenchy and Brenden threatened to clean things
up and put an end to the stumbling block that
threatened our f o'c'sle democracy. Always, how-
ever, Jimmy Marshall intervened. "Leave 'em
alone. Things will break, see if they don't, an'
Vll get it good, 'e will."

Following our siege of paint-scrubbing, we
started to tar down the standing rigging, work
that devolved largely upon Scouse and his gang
of understrappers, making them the bright par-
ticular stars in the firmament of wrath whenever,
by any chance, they happened to drop so much as
a pin point of tar on the immaculate paintwork
or deck.

The mate on these occasions outdid himself,
and by the fluency of his language and the sur-
prising richness of his imagery he afforded a cer-
tain amusement to those of us who were the lis-
teners. The targets of these profane outbursts
had no redress, and, if they lost none of their
self respect, it was simply because none of that
useless commodity was left clinging to their de-
voted hides. Scouse, Fred and Martin had re-
ceived recent broadsides, and with half an eye
we could see that Mr. Zerk was watching Joe
with a view to exercising a few new epithets.

THE FIGHT 67

It was our afternoon watch on deck; we turned
out at seven bells to get our dinner, and Joe, who
was mess carrier for that week, turned out lively
to get the "kids" of cracker hash from the galley.
A gentle sea was rolling in on our quarter and
Joe entered the fo'c'sle door, the kid of cracker
hash under his arm, the bread bag full of hard
tack in one hand, and a large can of steaming hot
tea in the other, the Fuller gave one of her cork-
screw twists, and Joe stumbled over the sill, dous-
ing Scouse with about half of the hot tea.

Scouse was furious, and at the same time half
of our whack of tea was running in the scuppers.

Little things assume monstrous proportions af-
ter a group of men have been in close quarters for
a long time. This is particularly so when they
have to live in such intimate and trying proxim-
ity as that in the fo'c'sle of a sailing ship. On a
deep -waterman, months at sea without even a
smell of land, let alone a sight of it, the commu-
nity life is bound to wear thin the edges of daily
intercourse. Every small incident is magnified
far beyond its worth, and only a trifle is needed
to start a racket of some kind. Brenden and
Frenchy cursed the luckless Joe for a clumsy
lout. Jimmy called him a "bloody rum cat," a
favorite expression of the little sailor, and

68 UNDER SAIL

Scouse, foaming with rage, was only restrained
by the rest of us from sailing right into Joe, re-
gardless of the cracker hash, the remaining tea,
or anything else. Joe was equally furious. He
refused to touch the tea, saying he had spilled
his whack, and the rest of us might shut up our
talk about it.

At this Australia and Fred insisted that Joe
have his tea, sharing with the rest. Talk became
loud, and in the midst of the whole affair eight
bells struck and we tumbled on deck, our dinner
half finished. Scouse and Joe went to their
work in the main rigging; some were to leeward
of the deckhouse stitching sails, while I passed a
ball of marline for Frenchy, who was serving the
wire bolt rope of the foot of an old lower tops'l
that we were repairing.

He was facing aft toward the main shrouds,
when suddenly he started, his eyes seemed to
bulge from his head, and he dropped his serving
mallet, while at the same time there was a bump
behind me on the deck, and Frenchy gasped, "Ma
foi! Look, Felix!"

I turned quickly and there on the white deck
below the main rigging was a big black greasy
splotch of tar, and Joe's tar pot rolling into the
scupper.

THE FIGHT 69

The silence that followed was painful. Mr.
Zerk came forward from the weather quarterbitt
where he was smoking his after dinner pipe, and
Joe dropped down the Jacob's ladder to the deck
under a fire of insulting profanity from the mate.
Whipping off his dungaree jacket, he started to
swab up the defiling tar before it could soak well
into the deck planks.

Scouse, whom Frenchy saw unhitch the lan-
yard of the pot as he worked above Joe, went
on with his tarring without batting an eye.
Trouble was on foot, however, in the port watch.

We went below at eight bells, four o'clock in
the afternoon, but Joe remained on deck to re-
move the last vestiges of tar, and Scouse entered
the fo'c'sle, speaking to no one. The trick played
on Joe was so contemptible that, so far as the
common feeling went, Scouse had placed himself
beyond the pale, and no man cared to break the
ice by addressing him. That big Scouse felt this
was certain, and the fact that it hurt at least at-
tested a few remaining embers of decent feeling.

The first dog watch that day was unusually
quiet, all hands mending and reading and won-
dering what the outcome would be when Joe got
the tar cleaned up on deck. At five bells Joe re-
turned to the fo'c'sle with the supper, a kid of salt

70

UNDER SAIL

THE FIGHT 71

pork and cabbage. Martin, who had busied him-
self in the galley, brought in a pan of "dandy
funk," a baked mass of hard tack and molasses,
a great delicacy with us and only possible at rare
intervals when Chow would permit us to take up
the space in his galley range. However, the
dandy funk went begging. Joe was sullen and
refused to touch it. Scouse ignored it, and so
did everyone else with the exception of Martin,
who for once enjoyed a complete meal of our
favorite dessert. Conversation during supper
was strained to the breaking point, and we were
all glad to be away as soon as possible and get
out on deck.

The second dog watch went by without inci-
dent, as we were rushed about the braces, sweat-
ing up for the night, trimming yards, and labor-
ing at the bilge pumps. It was clear, but with
no moon, and at eight bells we went forward to
the square under the fo'c'sle head. The starboard
watch were called aft by the second mate, to some
task of horsing up this yard or that, and every-
thing was propitious for the coming battle.
Blood alone could wipe out the feud between
Scouse and Joe.

"And I hope he gets a damn good lickin',"

72 UNDER SAIL

confided Martin to me as we went forward, re-
ferring to Scouse.

"Too heavy, Mart," was my opinion.

"But Australia says as how Joe can handle his
self. That boy ain't no slouch, and he's mad.
You bet he's mad," insisted Martin.

That Joe was mad, fighting mad, went with-
out saying. He had the stinging insults from
the mate still ringing in his ears, and the vile tac-
tics of Scouse, culminating in the tar pot trick,
had steeled Joe to the point of desperation.
Scouse, on the other hand, faced the question of
fighting for his right to exist in the foVsle. For
a man to be ostracized by the crowd forward is
a living hell, as has been proven on other voy-
ages.

Aggravated as the situation was by the hedg-
ing discipline of the ship, the preparations for the
battle were as secret as though we were an ille-
gal boxing club operating in some blue-stocking
community. Jimmy Marshall decided all the de-
tails, jumping around as busy as a field louse at
harvest time. He elected himself referee and
told off Australia and Brenden to look after
Scouse, while Martin and myself were detailed
to take care of Joe.

Our men stripped to the waist, bare knuckles

THE FIGHT 73

and bare feet, with the "ring" bounded by the
fore pinrail to leeward, the fife rail, the knight
heads, and the fore side of the fo'c'sle, all dimly
lighted by the fo'c'sle lamp, moved to the door-
way by Jimmy, and shedding a faint yellow
gleam over the space on deck.

Aft, the watch under the second mate were
going through the first half hour of trimming
yards, and the general shake up of things with
which the officers usually "woke up" their crowd.
No time had been lost by Jimmy, for he know
just what to do, and Joe was facing Scouse with
blood in his eyes, a very few minutes after eight
bells.

"Not much room, but good enough for a fight,
if it's fight you want," said Jimmy, buzzing
around the men to see that all was in order. Two
buckets were filled with water from over side,
hand swabs were got from the deck chest, and
our men lined up for work.

Scouse weighed about two hundred pounds,
topping Joe by twenty pounds, but for all that
they were well matched, as Joe had the advan-
tage of agility and the better chance to dodge the
hard knocks of the very substantial deck fixtures
all about.

Jimmy brought out a big silver watchi and an-

74 UNDER SAIL

nounced that the rounds would be three minutes,
"An' no punchin' in a clinch, an' no noise. These
is the Mark o' Queensberry rules," said Jimmy
with great emphasis.

The fo'c'sle lookout of the other watch came
aft to the break of the fo'c'sle head and stood by
the mast, ready to warn us of a surprise from
aft. It was to be a silent fight, a desperate, un-
compromising battle for the freedom of the
fo'c'sle slaves, and the general edification of all
hands, long wearied by the bickering between Joe
and the red head.

The men backed off in the gloom.

"Go to it!" cried Jimmy.

They clashed with the hard thuds of calloused
fists. Both men were in the prime of condition.
Both were crazy to fight. Big Scouse swung at
Joe, landing a fraction before Joe connected with
the big fellow's wind. The blow brought blood
spurting from Joe's nose and cut his lip. "Play
for his wind, Joe! The bread basket, Joe! Bat
'im in the eye! Kill him!" The side lines, hid,
in the shadow of the fo'c'sle, were with Joe.

For a minute or two there was a rapid ex-
change of blows without thought of guard or
parry. To get in as many and as strong a lot
of blows as possible was the simple system.

THE FIGHT 75

Jimmy cried out "time," but no account of time
or rounds was contemplated in the scheme of
things. Fight was the business, and to a finish.

"Biff!" They slammed against the side of
the deck house ; a splotch of blood, dimly visible
in the night, smeared the white paint. Once
again they swung back, when the ship gave a
sudden roll, as a blow from Joe's right landed
on Scouse's nose, toppling him backward against
the fife rail. An iron pin, the one used to belay
the chain sheets of the lower tops'l, caught Scouse
behind the ear and, with a grunt, he was "out."

Fortunately, nothing but rumors of the fight
got aft. Scouse was well beaten, and came to in
his bunk, after Australia and Brenden had
doused him with salt water. Joe was badly bat-
tered up, and both men carried "shiners." As
Jimmy Marshall said, "Honors is even, but it
was a wery wery ragged fight."

The mate next morning greeted the watch with
a broad grin, and the story of the mill, told to
the starboard watch by their lookout Tommy, lost
nothing in the telling. As for the port watch,
we were glad it was over and once again the at-
mosphere below returned to normal. A few
nights later Joe and Scouse chummed together,

76 XJNDER SAIL

and from that day to the night in Honolulu,
when Joe deserted and went out on the barken-
tine Irmgard to Frisco, he and Scouse were in-
separable.

CHAPTER V

NEPTUNE COMES ON BOARD

WE were then in about five degrees of
North Latitude, the trades had failed us,
and the doldrums claimed their share of bracing
and hauling, giving us little time for any other
work. Every ripple on the brazen sea called for
a different angle of the yards, and in dead calm
we lay with our head yards braced sharp up and
the after yards square, the courses guyed out
from the masts by slap lines and bowlines. Dur-
ing the day a vertical sun beat down on our
bare deck in unmerciful fashion, lifting the
scorching pitch from the seams and all but add-
ling our senses with the heat. The mates be-
came more and more exacting, every job palled,
and the stuffy, unpalatable food of the foVsle
stuck in our throats. The vessel was a chip of
hell floating on the unforgiving ocean; riveted
for days, that stretched to weeks, amid the
patches of rusty sea weed, a thousand feet across,

77

78 UNDER SAIL

that tangled about the rudder post, great sun-
scorched fragments of the dead Sargasso Sea.

And all of this time we knew that the South-
ern branch of the Equatorial Current was send-
ing us back to the W. N. W. at the rate of several
miles a day!

In watch below, choking with the heat, we lay
tossing sleeplessly in our bunks while the sickly
smell of the bilges came up from the fore peak
through the wind sails let down to ventilate the
hold. Cockroaches throve in added millions, and
we were treated to our first rations of weevily
tack. The little white worms seemed to be
everywhere. The cracker hash was riddled with
them as Chow selected the rottenest bread for
this purpose. Most of us developed boils, and
the dark brown taste, left by the vile food, re-
sulted in a general loss of appetite. The heat even
forced the rats from the hold and on a dark night
we could hear them scampering about under the
fo'c'sle head. The healthy sea tan of the tem-
perate zone left our faces, and we became peev-
ish and morose.

Some of us tried to forget our misery by read-
ing the books sent aboard by the Seamen's Friend
Society, others whiled away the hot watches be-
low, when sleep was impossible, by making won-

NEPTUNE COMES ON BOARD 79

derful models of ships in bottles, almost a lost
art nowadays, and revived on board the Fuller
by Frenchy. Most of these works of art found
resting places behind the bars of waterfront sa-
loons in Honolulu.

One blessing that came to us in this hell afloat
was the fact that the mates winked at the snatch-
ing of a few hours' sleep during the night watches
on deck, otherwise there is no telling how some of
us would have survived.

Our fo'c'sle scuttle butt soured, and Old Smith
of the starboard watch emptied it one Sunday
morning and charred the inside with a bundle of
rope yarns to which he set fire. He told us how
water gets bad in the tropics, and then how its
own impurities destroy themselves. "The bugs
scoff each other and die," and, went on Smithy,
"they drops to the bottom of the butt, like white
skeletons, and the water is as clean and good as
ever."

About this time considerable activity went on
forward among the old sailors in both watches.
One dog watch, men from both sides of the
fo'c'sle went aft and interviewed the captain.

"We are near the line," said Frenchy to me
shortly afterward. "Don't make any fuss about

80 UNDER SAIL

what goes on, and you'll get off easy," he cau-
tioned.

There were quite a few of us who had never
crossed the equator, and the preparations in the
dog watches augured ill for those who chose to
resist the just tribute demanded by Father Nep-
tune of all green sailors who, in those days, ven-
tured across the magic bounds.

A fair slant of wind had helped us along for
a few days, when the Old Man called Jimmy aft
and imparted important information.

At eight bells in the afternoon watch, as all
hands were mustering in the waist, a hoarse hail
from forward greeted us.

"Ship Ahoy! Ship Ahoy!" came the deep bass
summons from a point beneath the bow.

"Forward, there! Who hails us?" answered
the captain, who stood out on the poop, replying
to the voice from forward.

"Father Neptune hails us, Captain," answered
Hitchen, returning from the bow. "He asks if
there are any of his children on board who would
receive his blessing on their heads."

"Aye, bring him on board," ordered the skip-
per, a broad grin lighting his features, and the
two mates reflected the feeling aft by joining
in the smiles.

NEPTUNE COMES ON BOARD 81

A noise of trudging along the deck followed,
the King of the Sea, his own whiskers hidden be-
hind a broad beard of rope yarns, a bright red
harpoon in his right hand serving as a trident,
and a large razor, made of hoop iron, stuck in his
belt, walked aft. He was draped in the folds of
an old boat sail, and for all of his regal trim-
mings we recognized the famous Jimmy. A reti-
nue followed, rigged out in true deep-water style,
and carrying a tub between them, which was de-
posited on deck just aft of the mainmast.

"Captain," said Neptune, "I am told as 'ow
you 'ave green 'ands on board who 'ave to be
shaved."

"Yes, Your Majesty, we have some with the
hayseed still in their whiskers," answered the
skipper.

"Bring 'em forth !" thundered the King, unlim-
bering his razor and passing the trident to the
safe keeping of his wife, Amphitrite, in the per-
son of Axel, who towered two feet above the head
of the King.

However, what Jimmy lacked in stature he
made up in efficiency, and in the imperious
glance of scorn with which he greeted eight of
us who were lined up for his inspection.

Old Smith grabbed me by the neck; I was

82 UNDER SAIL

seated on the bottom of an upturned bucket at
the feet of the King.

"Your name?" demanded His Majesty, and as
I was about to answer a filthy swab of soapsuds
and grease was thrust in my mouth and smeared
over my face and the shaving began, ending by
a back somersault into the tub of water behind.

"Next!" called Neptune in true barber shop
style, and so, in turn, each of the green hands
went through the ordeal ; the least willing getting
the most attention. Scouse and Joe were among
the lubbers, and were accorded special rites to
the vast amusement of all hands. Australia
wound up the entertainment by handing Scouse
and Joe pieces of gunny sack, smeared with black
paint, with which to wipe their faces.

"All right now!" called the mate, after the
skipper had left the deck. "Turn to and clean
up," and we were back again to the rigid disci-
pline of the sea, relaxed for a brief hour to let
King Neptune hold his sway.

After crossing the line we picked up the first
whisperings of the S. E. trades, that soon began
to blow steadily and ushered in another busy
stage of the voyage. The refreshing wind and
falling temperature brought renewed vigor to our
jaded crew. Although we had commenced to feel

NEPTUNE COMES ON BOARD 83

the lack of fresh provisions, scurvy did not bother
us, possibly owing to the regular issue of lime
juice, but the constant repetition of salt pork
and salt beef, the weevily hard tack, and the
abominable slumgullion, a stew made from
canned mutton, made us crave for something de-
cent to eat.

Frenchy often drove us to the verge of dis-
traction with his stories of the cooks at home in
Dunkirk, until we finally had to put the ban on
that sort of discourse. Again, we landed several
bonitas teeming with energy, and, after the sil-
ver coin test, all hands fell to with a will, myself
included. We also hooked a shark and hauled
him on board by a "handy billy" snatched to the
fore rigging.

The regular routine of setting up shrouds and
stays preparatory to entering the heavy weather
off the Horn, now began in earnest. We had
left New York with a full set of new hemp lan-
yards in our lower rigging. The lanyard knots
were turned in in a slovenly manner, with a lub-
berly disregard for appearances, that proved an
eyesore to Captain Nichols. We cast new knots
in these, and set up all standing rigging anew;
a long, interesting job that initiated us into the
mysteries of "rackings" and the "Spanish wind-

84 UNDER SAIL

lass," and the practical workings of the various
"purchases" and "burtons"; the "luff tackles,"
and the "gun tackles."

The mate was the leading spirit in these pro-
ceedings, staying on deck practically all day to
supervise the work. As we would set up one pair
of shrouds to port and another to starboard,
bringing them to a "full due," the mate was al-
ways there to say when to clap on the racking and
"come up" on the rigging luffs.

How the mate stood it often amazed me, for
he was very lively at night, but toward the end
of this work the second mate would stand his last
dog watch for him, giving our first officer a six
hour spell of sleep every other day. What this
means on a watch and watch racket, sailors who
have traveled the long voyage route will know.

The real sailors came to the fore during this
time in both watches, and Frenchy, Brenden, and
Marshall, of our side, with Smith, Axel, and
Hitchen of the starboard watch, proved their
rightful claim to the full rating of A. B. Mr.
Stoddard, who was a bit weak on his marline
spike seamanship, though a good watch officer,
made up for things by the way he bawled about
and hurried and scurried his watch during the
time the mate was on deck. His men hated him

NEPTUNE COMES ON BOARD 85

thoroughly and we were glad that he had very
little to do with us.

Aboard a real shipshape and Bristol fashion
deepwaterman of the old school, if there be any
such left today, everything is done according to
the custom of the sea. From the main truck to
the keel, from the outermost end of the flying
jibboom to the last band on the spanker, the
ancient art of seamanship has decreed the ex-
act way in which certain things shall be done.
The deadeyes carry their knots inboard, forward
to starboard, and aft to port. The lanyard
lengths are justly proportioned to the length of
the stay they extend, so the required "give" will
be right, and the shroud pairs, stays, and back-
stays, are passed over the mast heads and rest
upon the trestle trees, in due and proper form;
the same in all ships worthy of the name.

Nations differ in their customs, and likewise in
their rigs. No Italian ship can sail the sea with
a straight martingale, and no other ship would
venture forth with one that was anything but
true.

For weeks at a time, after our entry into the
southern trades, it was hardly necessary to touch
a brace except for the sweating up each night
in the last dog watch, when a swig or two on the

86 UNDER SAIL

ropes would bring back any slack that had
worked around the pins. The job of setting up
standing rigging completed, we turned our at-
tention to the running gear. We rove off new
whips on all the braces, using an eye splice that
was a favorite with the mate, being tucked after
the manner of a sailmaker's splice, that is, the
continuity of the strands of the rope was pre-
served, the appearance of the whips being very
trim.

The tops'l downhauls were rove off with new
rope, and the gear of all the lower stays'ls, lower
tops'ls and courses was overhauled and replaced
where needed.

As we began to lift the Southern Cross and
the trades left us, we again shifted sail, an all
day job that this time fell on a Sunday, and when
completed found us under our best suit of can-
vas ready for that storm corner of the voyage,
Cape Horn. We overhauled the rudder tackles,
reeving new purchases "with the sun," as indeed
all purchases are rove. Oil bags were made,
shaped like beech nuts, bound with ratline stuff,
and fitted with a stout becket. By filling these
with heavy non-freezing animal or vegetable oil
and puncturing them with a sail needle, they af-

NEPTUNE COMES ON BOARD 87

forded the best means for spreading oil on the
waters in time of storm.

One sail in particular that we bent at this
time made a great impression on me; this was
a heavy storm spencer made of dark hemp can-
vas, soft and pliable even when wet, unlike the
stiff white American cotton stuff that rips out
your finger nails when fighting the bellying folds,
tough as sheet iron, as it slams out from a buck-
ing yard. The main spencer was evidently an
acquisition from some Asiatic or European voy-
age. It bent to an iron jackstay, and furled in to
the mast with a set of brails, being cut "leg-o'-
mutton," the sheet hauling aft to big eyebolts on
either side of the waist.

Double lashings were passed on all of the life-
boat gripes. Rolling and jumper tackles were
got ready for the lower and tops'l yards, to re-
lieve the stress on yards and parrals, and straps
and whips were prepared, and laid aside, for use
as preventer braces should the necessity arise. In
these preparations on the Fuller we had a fore-
sight of what to expect when off the dreaded
Cape; at the same time we were certain that no
vessel was ever better or more intelligently
groomed for heavy weather.

These preparations carried us well down to the

88 UNDER SAIL

latitude of the River Plate ; here we were warned
by the wise ones to expect some weather, which
was not long in coming.

Our watch had just gone below at midnight,
when a sou'wester zipped in from the distant
land, a live whole gale, sweetened with the breath
of the Patagonian prairies that stretched for
leagues beneath its origin. The starboard watch
started to shorten sail, but by four bells in the
midwatch things were getting so far ahead of
them that all hands were called, and we tumbled
out in the midst of a Bedlam of thrashing gear
and general confusion.

Most of the port watch were ordered aloft to
take in the fore upper tops'l, thrashing in its gear,
while the ship plunged ahead under lower tops'ls,.
reefed fore course and stays'ls. The starboard
watch were completing the job of furling the
main tops'l, and with two of our men to help,
were about to tackle the mains'l.

I was on the fore upper tops'l yard, with
Frenchy at the lee yardarm, and Scouse in be-
tween me and the mast. We were just passing
the last of the sea gaskets, when the lower tops'l
yard seemed to lift up in the air with a sudden
jump for we were standing on it, instead of on
the footropes of the upper tops'l. A great smash-

NEPTUNE COMES ON BOARD 89

ing below us, and the loud impact of something
big and hard banging against the yard under our
feet, sent us clambering to the upper stick for
our lives.

"Lee fore sheet's adrift!" someone shouted.
There was a rush in to the mast to escape the
heavy spectacle iron, and the cluster of flying
clew garnet blocks, and the next thing we knew
we were ordered to lay out on the fore yard and
secure the sail.

"Lay down and secure fores'l!" came the order
from the mate, who stood on the fo'c'sle head,
back to the gale, bellowing up his instructions.

Six of us slid down to the top and out on the
jumping foreyard. The buntlines and leechlines
were finally hauled home, and we got our gas-
kets about the flying iron. A weird morning light
was then breaking in the east and as our watch
below was gone, all hands remained on deck for
morning coffee after we hove her to under lower
tops'ls, fore and main storm stays'ls, and try-
s'l.

The Pampero gave us a taste of real weather,
and came as an actual relief after the long mo-
notonous passage through the trades and dol-
drums.

CHAPTER VI

LIFE IN THE FO'c'SLE

WITH livelier weather of the Southern lati-
tudes we were often exercised in tacking
and wearing ship, and soon became a very well
drilled company, sending the big three-sticker
about in record time. The Fuller was lively in
stays and with our small crew required the smart-
est kind of work in handling.

With all hands, including the "idlers," that is,
the carpenter, cook and cabin steward, we mus-
tered twenty men forward, hardly a man-o'-
war complement, but enough, when driven and
directed by superior seamanship, to send the long
braces clicking through the sheaves of the patent
blocks with a merry chatter.

"Hands about ship !" meant all hands, and the
cook at the fore sheet, a time honored station
filled by the Celestial with all the importance
in the world. It was all the work that Chow ever
did on deck and the heathenish glee with which
he would "let go" at the proper time, added a cer-

90

LIFE IN THE FO'C'SLE 91

tain zest to our movements, particularly as we
always hoped to have a sea come over and douse
him, which often happened.

At the order, "Ready! Ready!" the gear of
the main and cro'jik was thrown down from the
pins, clear for running. The command "Ease
down the helm!" and the order "Spanker boom
amidships!" would quickly follow, the vessel run-
ning rapidly into the eye of the wind with every-
thing shaking, and then flat aback.

"Rise tacks and sheets!" and the hands at the
clew garnets would sway up on the courses, lift-
ing them clear of the bulwarks. Then all hands
would jump like monkeys to the main and cro'jik
braces, at the order, "Weather main, lee cro'jik
braces!" the second mate, and Chips, standing
by to cast off on the other sides. By then, the
wind being a point on the weather bow, would
come the hearty warning, "Haul taut!" and
"Now, boys, mainsail haul!" and the after yards,
aback, with the wind on their weather leeches,
would spin about, the gear running through the
blocks like snakes afire, and the men on deck
pawing it in at the pins with feverish haste, be-
laying as the yards slammed back against the
lee swifters on the other tack.

By that time the ship would be practically

92 UNDER SAIL

about, with head yards and head sails aiding in
the evolution. As soon as the wind was on the
bow, all hands would spring to the lee fore braces.
"Haul taut — let go and haul!3' thundered the
order from aft. Chow would let out a wild yell
as he unhitched the fore sheet, and around would
go the head yards. Then with jib sheets shifted
over, and the spanker eased off, as the tacks were
boarded, and the sheets hauled aft, we would
pause to get our breath amid the tangle of gear
on deck.

"Steady out the bowlines — go below, watch be-
low!" and as the watch below would leave the
deck, the order "Lay up the gear clear for run-
ning," was the signal for the crowd on deck to
get busy while the good ship raced away on the
new tack with the wind six points on the bow,
a bone in her teeth, and a half point of leeway
showing in the wake.

"I hope she holds this tack for a month," was
a wish often expressed after one of these frantic
evolutions; but such hopes were vain with the
variable nature of the strong winds between the
Plate and Staten Land, that often sent us about
a half dozen times a day, insuring us plenty of
healthful exercise and a minimum amount of
sleep.

LIFE IN THE FO'C'SLE 93

On a wind was the Fuller' s best point of sail-
ing, so far as handling was concerned, and she
was as easy with the helm as a catboat.

"Keep the weather cloth of the mizzen skys'l
shaking," was the order for "full and by," and,
under all plain sail, a spoke of the wheel would
hold her for hours, with a quarter turn of weather
helm.

While our port watch crowd had at first
thought themselves the losers in the choice of offi-
cers, we soon realized that we were being favored
in many ways, mainly because of the superior
ability of the mate. He cursed unmercifully and
made no bones about cuffing some of the crew in
a playful sort of fashion, accompanied with some
ribald jest that was meant to carry off the sting
of a heavy blow, yet he managed to give us the
advantage in most operations requiring all hands.
He never hesitated to rouse out the starboard
watch an hour ahead of time when a sudden short-
ening of sail demanded all hands. On these oc-
casions we would work like fury and get below
with the loss of a half hour's less sleep than the
other watch.

Ill feeling among the men of the second mate's
watch became more and more apparent as these
tactics continued, and the talk in the foVsle had

94 UNDER SAIL

it that the second mate was afraid to stand up
for his rights. He was accordingly blamed for
every trouble forward, so far as his own watch
was concerned. Things culminated in the wake
of a squall that struck us soon after passing the
River Plate. The tops'l yards having been low-
ered to the caps, we were called out near the end
of the afternoon watch to man tops'l halyards.

Tony, of the starboard watch, was "before-
hand" with Axel and the second mate, on the
main tops'l halyards. The rest of the ship's com-
pany tailed along the deck from the lead block
bending their "beef" on the rope to the refrain
of "Ranzo, boys, Ranzo." The deck was slippery
with the wet, and a high sea, in which the F idler
wallowed without sail enough to steady her, made
footing precarious.

At the order "Belay t" given by the mate, and
the sharp "Come up behind" of the second offi-
cer, Tony failed to hold on to the rope, and the
consequence was a slight loss as the man next
the lead block hitched the halyard over the pin.

"You lazy dago - — ! Why did you

let go that rope?" shouted Mr. Stoddard, at the
same time making a lunge for Tony and smash-
ing him on the side of the face with his fist. The
Dago blocked as best he could, and the second

LIFE IN THE FO'C'SLE 95

mate drove home a second blow on the Dago's
nose. Tony clinched, the blood spurted right and
left as they went to the deck, rolling over and
over, first one on top and then the other.

"What's this?" shouted the mate. "You dirty
bum, - - you !" he exploded, jumping into

the scramble, while all hands lined up in a threat-
ening attitude, determined to see some sort of
fair play.

The mate grabbed Tony by the shirt, as he was
on top, and yanked him over. The fact that the
Dago had Mr. Stoddard down seemed to rile
the mate beyond all reason. He ripped off the
shirt of the Dago, and as he threw him across the
deck a knife flashed and the mate kicked it into
the scuppers, at the same time digging his heavy
sea boots into the side of the Italian. The second
mate staggered to his feet, a jagged streak of
blood on his face where Tony had landed, and his
jacket covered with gore.

This scene, common enough perhaps in the
annals of the sea, made a deep impression on
us. His watchmates carried the Italian forward,
and Mr. Stoddard went to his room under the
starboard side of the poop. Bad as the feeling
had been toward our officers, up to this time it had
mingled with it a certain element of respect. Ar-

96 UNDER SAIL

tistic and fluent profanity never hurt anybody,
and was almost always justified by some bung-
ling piece of work on the part of the lubbers who
"gummed up" their action whenever the least
chance was afforded them. But in the attack of
the second mate on Tony there was something
that looked like deliberate planning, and in the
mixup a number of us saw the mate jerk the knife
from the Dago's belt.

As Mr. Zerk went aft he picked up the knife
from the scuppers. "Irons for you!" he hissed
at the Dago as they took him to the fo'c'sle.

But we heard nothing more of it. The captain
had come out on deck in the height of the excite-
ment, following the fight, and called the mate
to his side; he was wise in his day, and knew a
thing or two about the tactics of his officers.

Soon we were tailing again to the halyard,
tautening out the leeches of the tops'l, an embit-
tered crowd who but a few moments before were
singing at the ropes. Peter, in the meantime, was
swabbing up the bloody deck.

One who has never been there can hardly real-
ize the absolute subjugation under which a crew
may be placed by their officers, especially if they
are on a deep-sea voyage under sail. None of
us is perfect, and the humble sailor man as well

LIFE IN THE FO'C'SLE 97

as the rest of the human race is prone to take
things as easy as the law of the craft on which
he sails will allow. This fact, coupled with the
hard circumstances under which a small crew is
compelled to work a very large ship, may, in a
measure, condone the tactics which have for their
object the putting the "fear of God" into a crew.

Young officers at times are inclined to be a bit
"easy" with men, thinking it will result in more
willingness. The more seasoned members of the
cloth, men who have sailed as merchant officers
for many years, realize that the maintenance of
discipline aboard ship is only possible under a rule
of autocratic severity, demanding instant obe-
dience to orders and quick punishment for the
first departure from the iron bonds. This is as
necessary as life itself. The least hesitation, the
slightest possibility of argument, when ordering
men to places of danger or extreme difficulty,
would soon result in disaster.

At sea we have the sharp distinction of caste —
the wonderful potency of Mister So and So. He
is an officer, if not always a gentleman. To for-
get the "sir" when addressing one of our mates
would have been a dangerous thing to do. In fact
only one man ever did it, but he was a Kanaka
and signs on later in the story.

98 UNDER SAIL

In many ships, captain and mates never fail
to use their "handles" in addressing each other,
and this was so on the Fuller, in fact there was
as little familiarity aft, in the personal relations
of our officers, as one might expect to find be-
tween the representatives of two armies meeting
to arrange a truce. And the wonderful part of it
was that they left the ship at the end of the voy-
age as coldly distant as the day they stepped
aboard; that is all but the second mate, which is
again running me ahead of the lawful progress
of this yarn.

However, to get back to the deck and to the
lives of our particular little sea community, plow-
ing their painful way over the cruel surface of the
many wrinkled ocean, we resented the under-
handed flavor of the affair between the mates and
Tony. With all the excuses for hazing granted
and allowed for, there is nothing to be said in
favor of lying about a fight. The imputation of
the knife, held as evidence by the mate, and the
whole character of the mixup left a bad taste in
our mouths for many weeks.

From that time on we entered upon a stage of
the voyage notable for its hardship. The officers
were drivers from the time we dropped the Nave-
sink Highlands, but for a long time after the in-

LIFE IN THE FO'C'SLE 99

cident off the River Plate, nothing but harsh
words found any place in their vocabulary.
Weather conditions became more unsettled and
severe and one blow followed close on the heels
of another. We were in oilskins for weeks at a
time, soaked to the skin through the worn out
"slickers." Most of us developed salt water boils
and one formed on my left wrist, through the
constant chafing, and has left a scar to this day,
as I had the habit of stopping the sleeves of my
coat with a few turns of marline to keep the
water out. It was impossible to dry things in the
brief four hours below, and the "slop chest" was
soon depleted of its stock of new oil clothing. It
would be hard to picture a more depressing pe-
riod than that through which we passed just be-
fore entering the real weather off Cape Horn.

In one of our brief periods below some of us
were patching the tears in our oilskin coats and
pants, resulting from a tussle with the fore upper
tops'l, the downhauls having carried away, and
left the sail a bellying fighting mess of canvas
that four of us were ordered to subdue. Sewing
oiled cloth is a poor job, and a loosened finger
nail on my right thumb, added nothing to the
cheerfulness of the sewing party.

"I'll bet few lads would go to sea if they could

100 UNDER SAIL

look in here for a half hour," I remarked, follow-
ing a turn of thought that revolved more or less
about my own folly.

• "An' I don't think you would stay in 'ere or
out on deck or anywhere else in this leaky old
bucket if you knowed what is afore us," chipped
in Jimmy. "You 'aven't never gone round the
Horn yet, so God 'elp you, is wot I says."

"Yes, Gott help all of us," said Scouse with a
heartfelt grunt from the sea chest at the forward
end of the fo Vsle where he and Joe were playing
checkers on a new "heavy weather" board just
made by the resourceful Joseph. This board was
covered with a piece of canvas, the squares being
marked off with pencil. The checkers (and here
is where Joe prided himself) were made by saw-
ing pieces from an old broom handle, and Joe had
driven a sharp brad through each one of them
so they would cling to the canvas on the checker
board.

On deck chanties had ceased to enliven us, and
we went through the hard watches in a dogged
spirit of endurance. We felt like martyrs, a state
of mind not altogether without its compensations.
In the watch below, in a steaming atmosphere of
gloom, lighted by a single oil lamp set into a hole
in the partition bulkhead between the two sides

LIFE IN THE FO'C'SLE 101

of the foVsle, we slept as much as possible, which
was not half enough, ate our rude meals, and had
our dreams of happier days to come. Each man
respected the rights of his neighbors and each
bunk was a sort of damp narrow castle. Here in
the smelly air, in the dim light, cold, tired, and
often hungry, we lived, or rather, existed.

CHAPTER VII

CAPE HORN

ON a clear Monday morning, the seventh of
February, 1898, to be exact, the captain,
after working up his A. M. sight, came on deck
and announced a good observation. It was the
first time the sun had been visible in some days,
and by working a Sumner he found we were on
a line cutting close past Cape St. John, on Staten
Land, having sailed the ship down between the
Falkland Islands and Cape Virgins by dead
reckoning. We were coiling down the gear after
the morning washdown, and I was busy at the
monkey rail when he came on deck with his re-
sults, and imparted the above information to the
mate in my hearing.

"Better send a hand to the main skysl yard,
Mr. Zerk," said the captain, in conclusion.

I was handy, and at a nod from the mate
sprang up the Jacob's ladder and onto the rat-
lines, going up like a monkey, out over the fut-
tock shrouds, up the topmast rigging, narrowing

102

CAPE HORN 103

to the topmast crosstrees, in through the horns of
the crosstrees, and on farther up the t'gallant and
royal rigging, on the slight rope ladders abaft
the mast. Coming to the skysail mast, hardly
larger round than the stick of a fair catboat, I
shinned up with the help of the halyards, and
swung myself astride of the yard, my arm about
the aerie pinnacle of the main truck. From my
vantage point the sea was truly an inspiring
sight; clear as crystal, the limpid air stretched
free to the distant horizon without a mist or
cloud to mar the panorama of vast blue ocean.
I felt as though I had suddenly been elevated to
a heaven far above the strife and trouble of the
decks below.

For the moment I forgot the object of my
climb in the contemplation of the sparkling scene
stretching as far as eye could reach. I glanced
down to the narrow deck far beneath, white in
the sun, the black top of the bulwarks outlining
the plan of the ship against the deep blue waters ;
niy eye followed the easy curves of the squared
canvas on the main, the great breadth of the
yards extending to port and starboard, and
I wondered that so small a ship could support
such an avalanche of sail as bowled along under
my feet. Aft, a foamy wake stretched for a mile

104 UNDER SAIL

or two, for we were sailing at a fairish speed with
the wind from the north, a point on the port
quarter.

I saw the men flaking down the fore tops'l hal-
yards, clear for running, on the top of the for-
ward house, and I saw the mate watching me
from the weather fore pinrail, his head thrown
back as he gazed aloft ; something told me to get
busy, and I looked far ahead to the south.

A faint blue streak on the horizon held my
eyes. Accustomed to the sight of land from out
at sea, through my voyages in the schoolship;
still I hesitated to name it land. We were sixty-
two days out, and land looked strange. Again
I brought my sight to bear upon the distant sky-
line ahead; there was no mistaking the dim out-
line of land rising from the sea at a point imme-
diately to the south of us and reaching westward.

"Land ho!" I hailed the deck.

"Where away?" came the voice of Captain
Nichols.

"A point on the lee bow, sir!"

"All right ! Lay down !" shouted the mate, evi-
dently not intending that I should further enjoy
my lofty perch on the skysail yard.

We raised the land rapidly, the breeze increas-
ing slightly as the day advanced. At noon

CAPE HORN 105

Staten Land was visible from the deck, and by
eight bells in the afternoon watch we were sailing
past the bold shores, some ten miles distant, and
drawing the land well abeam. Running south
for a good offing, and taking in our light sails
with the coming of darkness, we hauled our wind
to the starboard quarter at the end of the last dog
watch and headed bravely for old "Cape Stiff."

Captain Nichols might have ventured through
the Strait of Le Maire, with the weather we were
having, though at the best it is taking chances
to keep the land too close aboard when in the
troubled latitudes of Terra Del Fuego. Count-
less ships, with the fine Duchesse de Berry among
the last of them, have ground their ribs against
the pitiless rocks that gird those coasts. How-
ever, we were enjoying the rarest of Cape Horn
weather — sunshine, fair wind, and a moderate
sea.

For the first time in many weary days we
livened things up with a chantey as we swigged
away on the braces and tautened every stitch of
canvas with well stretched sheets and halyards.

Jimmy Marshall had just started "Whiskey
for my Johnnie," and the captain came forward
on the break of the poop and joined in the chorus
in a funny, squeaky voice — but none of us dared

106 UNDER SAIL

laugh at him. He was so delighted with the
progress we were making and the chance that
we might slip by the "corner" in record time, that
nothing was too good for us. The mate came
down from his high horse and with Mr. Stoddard
and Chips, who had just finished their supper and
were stepping out on deck, to join them, the full
after guard took up the refrain — and the words
rose in a great volume of deep sea song.

"Oh, whiskey — my Johnnie;
Yes, whiskey made me sell my coat
Whiskey, my Johnnie.
Oh, whiskey's what keeps me afloat,
Oh whiskey for my Johnnie."

When we pumped her out that night at the
main pump, for the ship was almost on an even
keel, we noted the skipper had begun to stump
the quarter deck in a very excited way, constantly
ducking up and down the companion, and scan-
ning the horizon with an anxious eye. Cape
pigeons were circling close to the ship with an
endless chatter, and far above us swung a huge,
dun-colored fulmar gull, its white belly clean
against the grey sky.

"There is something doing with the glass," re-
marked Frenchy, eyeing the skipper, "We'll.

CAPE HORN 107

have some weather to look out for before long,"
and all of us watched the gull with fascinated
eyes. Jimmy and Brenden agreed with Frenchy
that we were in for heavy weather.

But in spite of these dire predictions, and in
spite of a "red dawn," the day broke and con-
tinued fair, and we were again regaled with a
glimpse of land, jagged somber peaks, jutting
into the sky to the north like the cruel teeth of a
ragged saw, grey blue above the far horizon.

I was aft flaking down the mizzen tops'l hal-
yards on the morning following the landfall when
Captain Nichols stumped past me from the break
of the poop to the companion. He had been up
all night, and the continuation of fine weather
evidently pleased and surprised him. He had a
pair of binoculars in his hand, and, in passing,
he stopped and offered the glasses to me, point-
ing to the southernmost promontory, a cold blue
knob rising from the sea.

"That's Cape Horn over there, Felix. Take a
good look at it. You may never see it again, if
you were born lucky."

Almost staggered by this sudden good fortune,
I brought the captain's glasses in focus on the
dreaded cape, my whole being thrilled with the
pleasure of looking through those excellent binoc-

108

UNDER SAIL

CAPE HORN 109

ulars at that distant point of rock, the outpost of
the New World, jutting far into the southern
ocean. I doubt if the gallant old Dutchman,
Schouten, who first "doubled" it, experienced
half the exhilaration that I did on first beholding
that storied headland. At four bells in the morn-
ing watch I went to the wheel, and while the
watch swabbed down the decks after the morn-
ing washdown, I was privileged to look at the
Cape out of the corner of my eye, between times,
keeping the "lubber's line" of the compass bowl
on sou'west by sou', for the skipper had shaped
a course a point or so further off shore, as the
currents had evidently set us in toward the land
during the night and he wished to keep his safe
offing.

The wind in the meantime had veered round
to west-nor'-west, blowing directly off the land
and with increasing force. The light sails were
taken in again, and by eight bells we were under
t'gans'ls, upper and lower tops'ls, reefed fores'l,
reefed mains'l, spanker, jib and topmast stays'ls.

As I left the wheel and went forward, I deter-
mined to attempt a pencil sketch of Cape Horn,
the weather being too dull for a photograph, even
if the land were not too distant. The result, after
some trials, and the loss of my breakfast, which

110 UNDER SAIL

was nothing, resulted in a fair representation of
what we saw of the Cape, and I turned into my
bunk with a feeling of satisfaction. After all, it
was worth a good deal to have actually set eyes
upon the Horn.

When we turned out at one bell, for dinner,
we found the wind had veered farther to the west,
we were sailing by the wind with the starboard
tacks aboard, the cold spray from a rising sea,
breaking over the fo'c'sle head, and spattering
against the foVsle door.

Jimmy sat up and rubbed his eyes as the watch
was called and swore gently under his breath.
Brenden went out on deck to take a look at the
weather. "Hell, we got it now. I have seen
this before. D'you feel the ice?" he asked.

Indeed we all felt the drop in temperature,
and the short snappy jerk of the ship, as she met
the new direction of the sea, was anything but
pleasant.

Coffee was served out to us that noon instead
of lime juice, and the warmth was welcome; it
helped wash down the last cooked meal that Chow
was able to prepare for ten days.

Mustering on deck at eight bells, we found we
were driving south under a leaden sky. Cape
Horn, still dimly visible, was soon shut off, van-

CAPE HORN 111

ishing in a cloud cap over the land astern. We
were sailing due south, the wind having headed
us, and at four bells, the wind rapidly increasing
in violence, the starboard watch turned out to
help in shortening down. We at once took in
the t'gans'ls, mains'l, and jib, and these were
followed in quick succession by other canvas until
at eight bells we had the Fuller stripped to her
lower tops'ls, close reefed main upper tops'l, and
storm stays'ls. The sea rose to mammoth pro-
portions, fetching as it did from the very edge
of the Antarctic ice barrier.

The canvas aloft soon became stiff with ice and
all gear on the ship was coated with frozen rain,
as we were swept by a succession of rain and hail
storms. At nightfall we were hove to, on the
starboard tack under goose winged main lower
tops'l, reefed main trys'l, and storm stays'l. The
oil tank forward was dripping its contents on the
sea, and two oil bags were slung from the fore
and main weather channels.

The storm, for the wind had now increased to
fully sixty miles an hour, held steady from the
west until midnight. Then it suddenly went to
nor'west, and in the squalls, when the wind rose
to hurricane force, the Fuller lay over on her
beam ends. A vicious cross sea added its danger

112 UNDER SAIL

to the situation. All hands were then on deck,
remaining aft near the mizzen rigging. The
fo'c'sle, galley, and forward cabin were awash.
Four men braced themselves at the spokes of the
wheel, under the eye of the second mate, and re-
lieving tackles were hooked to ease the "kick" of
the tiller. Preventer braces and rolling tackles,
got up earlier in the day, were hove taut to steady
the heavy spars aloft. All loose gear was stream-
ing to leeward, washing in the sea, through the
open scuppers and freeing ports. A fierce boil-
ing of white phosphorescent wave caps lit the
sea as it broke over the ship, intensifying the
black pandemonium overhead. The sleet-laden
spume shot over the prostrate vessel in a contin-
uous roar, drowning all attempts at shouting of
orders.

It was during the wild but fascinating hours
of this night that I realized the high quality of
seamanship that had prepared us for an ordeal
such as we were going through. The consum-
mate skill with which the great wooden craft was
being handled came home to me with a force that
could not be denied. How easily a bungling lub-
ber might have omitted some precaution, or car-
ried sail improperly, or have done, or not done,

(CAPE HORN 113

the thousand things that would have spelled dis-
aster !

The captain and mate stood at the lee of the
mizzen mast, each with a turn of the tops'! sheets
about him, and hitched over the monkey rail.
The rest of us, crouching at the lee of the cabin
trunk, knee deep in the water when she went
over in the heavier squalls, held our places won-
dering what turn things would take next. Look-
ing through one of the after cabin ports, on my
way to the wheel, I saw Chow and Komoto, the
cabin boy, packing a box by the light of the small
lamp swinging in its gimbals. They were evi-
dently getting ready to leave — where to — them-
selves and their gods alone knew.

All things have an end, and the Stygian black-
ness of the night gave way to gray streaks of
dawn that broke upon us, revealing a scene of
utmost desolation. A note of order was given
to the wild confusion of the gale-wracked fabric,
when Chips, his lanky figure skimming along the
life line, and his sounding rod sheltered under his
long oil coat, ventured to the main fife rail to
sound the well. As for the crew, we were soaked
with salt water and frozen to the marrow. The
main lower tops'l had blown from the bolt ropes
during the night; we never missed it until morn-

114

UNDER SAIL

ing. Twenty feet of the lee bulwark — the port
side — was gone, and a flapping rag of canvas at
the main hatch told us that the tarpaulin was
torn. Looking forward through the whistle of
wind and spume that cut across the sharply tilted
rigging, the scene was one of terrific strife, as
though some demon ruler of the sea had massed
his forces, and was making a desperate drive for
the destruction of the wooden handiwork of man
upon which he dared to venture over those for-
bidden wastes.

CHAPTER VIII

BOUNDING THE HORN

NO matter how miserable one may be, action
of some kind always comes as a relief. Our
hard lot on the Fuller was positively made more
bearable by the added hardships of the storm,
and when the night was past we were glad to
force our chilled limbs and hungry bellies to some
sort of effort. Anything was better than to hang
to the mizzen rigging and slowly freeze to death.
The torn hatch tarpaulin was a serious matter.
The merchant service holds no higher duty, where
passengers are not carried, than the duty toward
cargo. This is often forgotten by men who lack
the true traditions of the sea. But our officers
were well alive to the importance, not only of
bringing our ship around the Horn, but of bring-
ing her cargo through in good condition.

The mate, followed by Axel, Brenden,
Frenchy, and Mike, a husky, well-set-up sailor
of the starboard watch, went into the waist and
worked their way along the deck at great peril.

115

116 UNDER SAIL

After much trouble they managed to wedge down
the flapping canvas, which was under a constant
deluge of blue water, whole seas coming aboard
in quick succession.

By noon the weather abated somewhat, and
we got the ship under fore and mizzen lower
tops'ls, and close reefed main upper tops'l. Be-
fore nightfall we had sent down what remained
of the main lower tops'l, and bent a new sail.
That afternoon we experienced an adventure
fraught with much excitement to us of the port
watch. The jib having worked loose from the
gaskets, by constant dipping into the sea, as the
ragged crests of blue water buried the bowsprit
and jibboom, six of us were ordered out to secure
the sail by passing a three-inch manila line
around the sail and boom.

Brenden, Scouse, Frenchy and I were on the
weather side, and Joe and Martin went out on
the boom to leeward. The job was almost fin-
ished, two seas had already drenched us, and we
were chilled with the dip in the cold water, when
the ship rose to a heavy roller, her bow lifted high
into the eye of the wind, and then plunged down
into the deep trough between two seas. The mo-
mentum was so great that she failed to rise
quickly enough, and her jibboom stabbed right

ROUNDING THE HORN 117

into the heart of the onrushing wall of cold blue
water, regardless of the half dozen luckless
wretches clinging to the furled canvas with all
their might. The great sea went on over us,
thundering down on the fo'c'sle head, and rush-
ing aft along the deck in a noisy white cataract of
foam. When she shook free we were left cling-
ing to the jibboom like drowned rats, that is, all
of us but Joe.

Aft on the poop, the mate heard our cries, and,
springing to the lee rail, he yanked a bight of
line from a pin and hove it overboard, catching
Joe just in time as he rose close along side.
When she heeled to leeward, ready hands hauled
the half-drowned Joe on board. Captain Nichols
had come up on the first cry, and taking Joe into
the cabin, he poured out a liberal hooker of whis-
key from the medicine chest. The funny part of
the whole thing was that Joe was more thankful
for the drink than for his escape from certain
death, for we never could have lowered a boat in
that sea.

We got a watch below that night, and the cook
managed to heat some coffee, but cold salt beef
and hard tack were all that the kids contained
when we went below for supper. Wrapped in
our damp clothes we managed to peg in a few

118 UNDER SAIL

hours of necessary sleep. Life, for a week after-
ward, was not worth living, unless one held some
latent strain of the old berserker flowing through
his veins. It was a fight, and the elements
charged us and flanked us in midnight fury, in-
creasingly cold as we edged farther to the south
in our attempt to round the meridian of Cape
Horn.

In latitude 56° 29' S. and longitude 68° 42' W.
from Greenwich, about sixty sea miles S. W. by
W. from Cape Horn, lies the island of Diego
Ramirez, a weather-worn rock jutting from the
black waters of the sub-antarctic. Ten days
after fetching away from the Cape, we beat south
and sighted this grim sentinel, the outpost of the
tempest and the gale — ten days of such seagoing
as seldom falls to the men who nowadays go down
to the sea in steamers.

Under conditions of the kind we experienced,
every man was put to the test, and his worth as
a member of the crew clearly established. For-
tunately for us, and for the races representative
in our small company — of which we boasted
quite a few — no strain of yellow fear developed
during the days and nights when the work aloft
called for the performance of duty dangerous in
the extreme. Not one of us but had been ship-

ROUNDING THE HORN 119

mates with men lost overboard, or maimed for
life in accidents to sail or spars. Never was there
a moment's hesitation to lay aloft, or out on a
swaying bucking yard in the black cover of night,
to grapple with canvas hard and unruly. No
work was too trying, and no hours of labor too
long. We thought nothing of the eternal injus-
tice of a fate that sent us out to sea to fight for
our very lives on a ship far too big for so small
a crew to handle safely, if indeed any crew of
mere men could ever safely handle so large a
ship.

Never was there a suspicion of holding back,
and through it all, the discipline of the dis-
gruntled warmer latitudes was dropped and
orders were quickly obeyed as a matter of course ;
yes, as a matter of self-preservation. The dis-
gusting profanity of warmer climes was laid in
the discard for a while, and we were men doing
men's work.

Wet and hunger were the rule; to be chilled
with the cold was normal, and our salvation was
the constant struggle with the working of the
ship. Accidents occurred, and old Jimmy lay in
his bunk with his right arm in a bandage from a
dislocation due to a fall on the slippery deck.
This was roughly set by the captain with the

120 UNDER SAIL

help of the mate and the carpenter. The galley
fire had hardly been lighted an hour at a time as
the seas flooded everything forward. Cold salt
junk — from the harness casks to the kids — com-
prised the mainstay of our ration, not to mention
the daily whack of mouldy, weevily hard tack.
Had it not been for an occasional steaming hot
can of slops called tea and coffee, we should have
surely perished.

Our oilskins were in shreds, boots leaked, and
every stitch of clothing in the ship was damp,
except when dried by the heat of our bodies.
Had I been told of this before starting out — well,
I suppose I would not have believed it — and,
when I say that during it all we had a fairly good
time and managed to crack jokes and act like a
lot of irresponsible asses, it goes to prove that
man was born to be kicked; be he on a sailing
ship around the Horn, on the hard edge of the
Arctic littoral, or in the bloody trenches; fate
is always there to step in and deliver the neces-
sary bumping.

When south of Diego Ramirez, we passed the
American ship Shenandoah, Captain "Shotgun"
Murphy, bound from 'Frisco to Liverpool, with
a cargo of grain. She was racing two English
four-masted barks, and we were told that she

ROUNDING THE HORN 121

dropped her hook in the Mersey a month ahead
of them.

When sighting the Shenandoah we were close
to the wind on the starboard tack, standing
about due west; the Shenandoah was running
free, with the wind two points abaft her port
beam, carrying everything to t'gans'ls, stays'ls,
and jigger, a truly magnificent sight and the first
sail we had seen close aboard since leaving the
Tarn O'Shanter off Sandy Hook.

When abeam we exchanged the courtesies of
the sea, dipping our ensign from the monkey gaff,
and running aloft our "number," the gay string
of lively colored flags, pennant, and burgee—
J. V. G. B. of the International Code — the uni-
versal language of the sea.

The Shenandoah also ran up her number, a
spot of color in the beautiful spread of white
cotton canvas on her yards. The sky was dull,
but the clear air set her off with cameo like dis-
tinctness against the grey background of the
horizon. The deep blue of the sea smothered
white under her bow and, as she rolled gracefully,
the yellow gleam of her copper flashed along
under her sleek black side, or else we caught a
glimpse of her white decks over the line of her
bulwarks, as she dipped to leeward.

122 UNDER SAIL

We had sighted the sail ahead, and, having our
starboard tacks aboard, were accorded the right
of way. Hitchen, of the other watch, gathered
with a group of us on the fo'c'sle head to watch
the stranger drive past us. Being somewhat of
a scholar, the little Englishman delivered himself
of the following verse:

"If close hauled on the starboard tack,
No other ship can cross your track;
If on the port tack you appear,
Ships going free must all keep clear;
While you must yield when going free,
To sail close hauled or on your lee.
And, if you have the wind right aft,
Keep clear of every sailing craft."

In obedience to this Law of the Sea, the four-
masted ship Shenandoah starboarded a point,
passing the Fuller well to windward, and some
five miles south of the Island of Diego Ramirez.

CHAPTER IX

INTO THE PACIFIC

AFTER close to two and a half months at
sea we had reached the turning point on the
long course to Honolulu. The Atlantic with its
trials lay behind us, and just in our wake the
sullen waters of the Horn lashed themselves
against the coast of Terra Del Fuego. Ahead
stretched the broad Pacific, greatest of oceans,
and fraught with every angle of adventure that
comes to the men who sail. Indeed the sailing of
a great ship like the Fuller is the rarest kind of
sport from the standpoint of seamanship, where
every stitch of canvas is made to draw to its full
capacity in every wind that blows. From the
cold latitudes of the Cape up to abreast of Val-
paraiso, we had good lively sailing. Great rol-
lers followed us, for the winds were mostly fair,
and, as the seas overtook us and expended them-
selves to the north, we drove onward, cutting
down the latitude in record time ; the cape pigeons

123

UNDER SAIL

were left behind, but several albatross formed
a convoy almost to the edge of Capricorn.

During these weeks of strenuous weather a
favored few of us were told off to lay up sennet
for use in making chafing mats, and as "service"
on the backstays, where subject to the wear of
gear. We would perch ourselves on the coils of
rope stowed on the fore hatch tarpaulin under
the fo'c'sle head, where we were sheltered from
the weather and at the same time within easy call
from aft.

Frenchy was the leading sailor in these arts
and taught us to lay up round, flat, and French
sennet. The less skilled men busied themselves
in making nettles and foxes, using the primitive
"spinning jinney," and rubbing down the small
stuff with canvas to "smooth" it before balling.
Here, too, we were initiated into the fine points
of marling spike work, Frenchy, Brenden, and
Jimmy Marshall showing the less knowing ones
how to turn in many a splice and knot. Turk's
heads of three, five, and seven strands were made,
and the more difficult series of four, six and eight
strands were mastered by some of us. Jimmy
worked a wonderful set of manropes for the after
companion, crosspointing them in red, white and
blue, and topping them with rose knots.

INTO THE PACIFIC 125

I was delighted to pick up a vast amount of
interesting and useful knowledge about the dif-
ferent knots and hitches used at sea. How many
sailors today can properly cast a carrick bend,
turn in a mariner's splice, or a Flemish eye, or
work a cringle into a Bolt rope? Hitchen, of the
starboard watch, taught us how to make the Eng-
lish bag knot, an intricate and beautiful forma-
tion cast in the bight of a line.

Our work under the fo'c'sle head got all hands
started, and during many a dismal wet dog watch
we practiced the forming of every knot from the
bowline down, Peter, the boy, and myself trying
to outdo each other in the variety of our achieve-
ments. Frenchy taught us a new way to form
that "king of knots," the bowline, in which the
loop is passed through the gooseneck twice, form-
ing a double loop, a most useful knot employed
in the French Navy. When a man is to be low-
ered over side, he sits in one of the loops and the
other is passed under his arm pits, the gooseneck
coming against his chest. His weight tautens
the part under the arms, and it is impossible for
a man to drop out of this bowline, even though
he becomes unconscious.

In this manner much of the unrecorded lore of
the sea was passed on to us in the Fuller as the

126 UNDER SAIL

same things have been handed down through the
ages since the Phoenicians, the Norsemen, and
the more ancient sailors of Cathay first rigged
their barks, fashioning their bends and hitches in
the same manner as the sailors of today. Where
the marvelous knots originated, no one can tell.
Who invented them, no one knows; but we do
know that the rope craft of the sea is standard
and defies improvement. It takes time to learn
the knots, bends, hitches, and splices; how much
longer it must have taken to discover them can
only be imagined.

In time, much of this will be entirely super-
seded by wire and steel, as indeed all lower stand-
ing rigging is already of wire. But turnbuckles
and riveted plates are part of the metal ships,
unyielding and stiff, that buckle the hollow steel
masts, or sheer the channel plates clean from the
hull, when wrenched by the resistless power of
the sea.

In the days of wood, of tough live oak, and
tarred hemp lanyards, with their "give" and
"spring," the old style rigging knots and splices
endured for thousands of years. Can steel and
steam resist the hands of time as well?

On the Fuller we were taught that everything
had to be done just so to be "shipshape and Bris-

INTO THE PACIFIC 127

tol fashion," as the old sea phrase has it. It was
always :

Worm and parcel with the lay,
Then turn and serve the other way.

And the humblest tools have had their form
decreed since the art of seamanship began. The
serving board and the serving mallet used by
Noah; the fid, the marling spike, the sewing
palm, and the caulking iron, are the ultimate
tools of the most ancient handicraft; the art of
building and rigging ships. We used all of these
implements with industry as the blustery weather
sent us up from the Horn to Honolulu. We saw
how able sailors fit a cringle to the tough four-
stranded hempen bolt ropes on the storm can-
vas ; we learned the proper way to strop a block,
with the splice where it belongs, as every sailor
knows, and the throat seizing f rapped and
hitched in sailor fashion.

The hours spent under the foVsle head during
those days of the voyage were not so tedious.
The Horn was behind us and the prospect of fine
weather ahead. Yarning was always going on,
and often we spent the dog watches in making
fancy plaitings and knottings for sea chest covers
and the like. I realized that such men as Mar-
shall, Old Smith, Kitchen, Axel, Brenden, and

128 UNDER SAIL

Frenchy were of a dwindling breed, soon to be
as rare as the makers of stone axes, or the sea-
men of the Roman galleys.

One other sailor of the ship's company asked
odds of no one in the range of his knowledge of
the sea. Whatever else we may have thought of
him, we were forced to acknowledge Mr. Zerk a
seaman of the most accomplished sort. Versed in
the art of wire splicing and up to every dodge in
sailmaking and rigging, he combined the ability
of the marling spike man with the gift of the
larger seamanship involved in the handling of a
vessel under all conditions. If his eye ever lights
on this, and I hope it will, I herewith accord to
him the full measure of my admiration, for the
combination of these two types of sailor is rare;
as rare as the few remaining ships of the school
that brought him forth.

The Fuller was a wooden vessel, Bath built,
and coppered, not with the beautiful "red copper"
we read about in Clark Russell, but with a com-
position resembling brass, tough, yellow, and
antifouling; a less expensive sheathing than the
pure copper, and, to my mind, every bit as good a
color, the bright yellow, between the deep blue
sea and the black hull, striking a pleasing line

INTO THE PACIFIC 129

that glints like gold when the sun just hits it at
the proper angle.

Our ship was a full-bodied model, really a
medium clipper, surprisingly sharp, and with a
clean run aft that gave her a handy pair of heels
in any kind of a favorable wind. Like most
ships "of a certain age," the old girl was troubled
with her timbers and joints. These had an un-
comfortable way of sliding over each other and
complaining in a truly agonizing manner.

"She has lots of 'give' to her," one of the men
remarked on our running into the first sea after
leaving port.

The working of the vessel's timbers kept her
bilge "sweet" by admitting a liberal quantity of
nice cool sea water seeping in all the way from
the garboard strake to the channels, a circum-
stance that necessitated constant pumping, back
breaking labor that in heavy weather continued
during the whole of the twenty-four hours, with
two hands bending over the lee bilge pump. The
wheel, the lookout at night, and the bilge pump,
were taken in rotation by all hands. For back
breaking, soul destroying labor, nominate the
bilge pump. I had a standing offer in the fo'c'sle
to stand two wheels for one bilge pump, Scouse
and Fred and Martin being my best customers

130 UNDER SAIL

until I was dated up so far in advance on the
steering that I had to take this on as well as the
pumping, which came along oftener as it called
for two men.

In the matter of small trading we did a thriv-
ing business in the fo'c'sle, some of us even
branching out into foreign trade with the star-
board watch. I was the one to introduce this
practice on board the Fuller, a relic of my school
ship days, when pools were formed in the differ-
ent messes and five and ten rations of cold corned
beef traded off for potatoes, or potatoes and but-
ter paid out as rental for the use of the precious
frying pans of which there were a few on board.
When I worked out a system of credits for dif-
ferent kinds of grub on the Fuller it was found
to be a source of diversion and made possible
some adjustment along the lines of personal
taste, in the matter of our meals. We had stock
fish every once in a while, no doubt as a conces-
sion to the Scandinavian contingent, to be found
in every ship that sails the seas. I invariably
passed off my share of this delicacy to Fred or
Martin and would be credited with their rations
of apple jack, a stew of musty dried apples; or
I would contract for half of their whack of lime
juice and vinegar.

INTO THE PACIFIC 131

Mr. Zerk, with whom I always was a favorite,
that is until we got to Honolulu, occasionally
gave me a jar of preserves, of which he had a
large store. These were home-made pickles and
jams, and when brought into the fo'c'sle caused
quite a commotion.

"Rats with 'im and 'is rotten marmerlade," de-
clared Jimmy in great dudgeon when I brought
forward the first fruits of my "stand in."

"Eat it yerself but don't ast no self-respectin'
man to touch it," was the sarcastic way in which
the haughty Marshall voiced his sentiments.
"Wot do you say?" he demanded, glaring about
the fo'c'sle to see if anyone dared dispute him.

"Righto," piped up Joe. "That rotten skunk
aft has poisoned the stuff, I'll bet."

"No, it's good," I declared, dipping in with the
tip of my sheath knife. It was a jar of very red
cherry jam. It also had a very pleasant aroma
as well as a pleasing taste. I purposely took a
second very large helping and could see that the
temptation to fall was great.

"Here, Frenchy, don't eat any, now. Just
taste it, perhaps it does taste a little funny."

Frenchy tasted. "I don't know. It does taste
funny," he said.

132 UNDER SAIL

"Here, gimme a piece o' tack," and Joe was
sampling the jam very liberally.

In a moment all hands, including Jimmy, were
tasting it, and all declared it tasted funny. As a
matter of fact it did taste very funny if we ac-
cepted apple jack as a standard.

As the last smear of jam was cleaned from the
jar the hypercritical Jimmy had the nerve to re-
mark, "That was the rottenest marmerlade I ever
tasted."

However, after that no questions were raised
when I brought a donation forward, though to
tell the truth these treats were scarce, as the
mate's private stock ran out long before we got
to Honolulu.

CHAPTER X

CABIN AND FO'c'SLE

CAPTAIN NICHOLS was a good deal of
V*^ a mystery to us forward. He seldom came
on deck except for a few moments of a fine morn-
ing, when he would bob up, "take a sight" and
stump deliberately down the companion to the
chronometer, counting the seconds out loud on
his way. At noon he "took the sun" alone in
solitary scientific grandeur; only once do I re-
member seeing the mate take an observation.
One noon, I was at the wheel at the time, our
first officer came aft shortly before eight bells,
carrying an ancient "hog yoke." His sleeves
were rolled up, and a greasy shine on the arc of
his instrument told of efforts at polishing. Some-
how he could not get the sun to behave, for the
curious relic seemed sadly in need of adjustment.
He retired in disgust when the captain "made
eight bells," and stumped forward without an-
swering, when the skipper arked him what he had
for altitude.

133

134 UNDER SAIL

Tipping me the shadow of a wink, the captain
went below to work up the position.

The captain on the other hand was quite reg-
ular in his methods of navigation. He watched
the course closely, having a particularly fine tell-
tale compass swung beneath the skylight in his
private cabin, as every one of us had evidence by
the uncanny way in which he would pop up out
of the companion at the most unheard of hours
of the night and walk quickly to the binnacle,
and seldom except when the helmsman was off
his course.

I met the captain a number of years afterward
in Philadelphia. He was then in command of a
fine steamer and I was second mate of another
vessel of the same line. In the course of a pleas-
ant visit talking over old times on the Fuller, I
asked him how he managed to keep such close
watch on the navigation of his ship without any
particular assistance from his officers.

"By staying awake nights, sir," was his laconic
reply.

At any rate, whatever his method, Captain
Nichols knew pretty well where we were at all
times.

On the old ships, and the Fuller was a very
good example of her class, the master was housed

CABIN AND FO'C'SLE 135

in truly palatial style. On our ship the captain's
quarters were spacious, taking up two-thirds of
the cabin and running the whole width of the
vessel, and fore and aft from the mizzen mast to
the lazarette. The captain's stateroom was most
commodious; he enjoyed the comfort of slumber
in a large mahogany bunk built after the lines of
a Dutch galiot, as broad as it was long. This
room took up the space of three ordinary state-
rooms on the starboard quarter. At the foot of
the companion was a cozy after cabin luxuriously
paneled in mahogany between fluted columns
of the same wood picked out with gold leaf at
base and capital. Other rare woods of a lighter
shade were inlaid on the center panels, and the
whole furnishing of cushioned lockers, round
table, and skylight, with its tell-tale compass,
book and chart cases, gave it the air of a costly
yacht cabin.

His bathroom, connected with a large salt-
water tank, filled each morning by the deck wash-
ers, was on the port side, and two spare state-
rooms opened into the after cabin from port. A
bulkhead divided these private quarters from the
forward or mess cabin, off which were the pantry,
storeroom, steward's room and slop chest. The
mates were berthed in two staterooms on either

136 UNDER SAIL

side of the after cabin, but their doors opened
into a sort of thwart ship vestibule running the
width of the after cabin just below the break of
the poop. The mizzen mast came down through
the after end of the mess cabin, and a large brass
lamp swung in gimbals just below the long sky-
light.

A repeating rifle in a rack above the captain's
bunk, and two revolvers on each side of the chart
table, composed the offensive battery. A long
brass telescope reposed in a rack in the com-
panion, and at the foot of this was slung a very
good mercurial barometer. Typical of the best
traditions of the sea, such were the quarters of the
after guard.

Forward we were not done so well. The
fo'c'sle took up the forward part of the deck
house and was sheltered from the force of the
sea and wind by the high break of the fo'c'sle
head. These quarters were divided by a bulk-
head running fore and aft, to separate the
watches, and plain unpainted bunks lined the
sides. Light was afforded by a poor lamp set in
a hole in the wall between the two sides, a cheap
expedient thought of, no doubt, by some thrifty
soul who knew that this was far better than the
traditional whale oil, or slush dip, of the hoary

CABIN AND FO'C'SLE 137

days when sailor men were shoved below decks
in reeking quarters just over the fore peak.

However, the foVsle was home to us. We
lived there and had our being amid an atmos-
phere not altogether bad ; what we lacked in con-
veniences we made up for in ingenuity. Above a
few of the bunks were rough calendars marked
on the woodwork, some of them from previous
voyages. Brenden kept track of our position by
notching each day on the scantling overhead.
Under these marks he had signs that stood for
the N. E. trades, the Line, the S. E. trades,
etc. All sorts of little shelves were rigged up to
hold tobacco, matches, ditty bags, well thumbed
books, old newspapers, and what not. Lines of
marlin were stretched above the bunks for drying
clothes.

The scheme of society within the sacred walls
of our castle was a sort of despotic democracy.
The ruling class, the able seamen of the watch,
Marshall, Frenchy, Brenden, were the arbiters
of all matters temporal and mundane. This was
by mutual consent and should be so. In addition
to this, Jimmy was the autocrat of the crowd and
ruled us with an iron hand, though there was
not a man forward but could have hove him over-
board.

138 UNDER SAIL

Scouse, after the balance of power had been
reestablished in the conflict with Joe, became one
of the common folks again, and was glad of it.
The bunks were arranged in order of desirability,
the able seamen taking the best bunks on the
upper tier and near the two ports or the lamp.
Australia and I were about on a par as far as
social standing went, and when it came to talk-
ing about the mines or discussing matters other
than those relating to the sea, we often took the
center of the stage.

Martin, who had been a wood turner in his
youth, and Fred, who was a good average sailor
with a discharge from the Revenue Cutter Serv-
ice, generally acted as spear carriers in our little
f o'c'sle comedy. They were excellent eaters, both
of them, standing well up in the forefront with
Scouse and Joe; the rottenest cracker hash or
the most greasy salt pork never phased them.
To the mate these men were a constant inspira-
tion in his flights of blasphemy, and hardly a day
passed but that he vented his wrath on one of
them.

Never once during the entire voyage did any
member of the crew miss a single bit of personal
property. Add to this the fact that the general
moral tone of conversation among us was far

CABIN AND FO'C'SLE 139

above the average of men who would consider
themselves superior, and we have to at least re-
spect the crew of the Fuller as they respected
themselves.

Chips, a melancholy Norwegian, a long, lanky,
cadaverous knight of the caulking iron and the
carpenter's bench, berthed in a little room next
to the lamp locker. He was kept busy sounding
the well, and making the constant repairs that a
well groomed wooden ship requires. In the in-
tervals of this duty he looked after the hatch tar-
paulins sheltering the precious cargo, tended the
running lights, served out the daily whack of
water, oiled the tiller tackles, and sat down to
dinner with the second mate. Poor Chips! A
gentleman of the lower caste, eating aft and liv-
ing forward. He was a good fellow, but far too
gloomy for us, who were of the "people," light
hearted ourselves and ready to crack a joke at
the least opportunity.

Chips had one other duty which he performed
twice on our voyage round the Horn. On these
occasions he was called upon to "salt the masts."
A small plug was taken out of the lower mast
heads, and salt filled into the hollow core of these
great "sticks." The fore and main masts were
"built up," that is, made up of four quadrantal

140 UNDER SAIL

pieces, scarfed full length, and banded by stout
iron hoops. At the outside juncture of the built-
up pieces they were beveled, forming the
"chapels" of the mast, the latter being painted
white and giving the lower masts on the fore and
main a checkerboard appearance.

Each morning of the voyage, and particularly
during the fair weather part of it, we were exer-
cised at the washdown. This is more than a mere
part of the work at sea; it is an established in-
stitution, a sacred rite that is carried on through
all conditions of wind and weather. In the
tropics the washdown is a pleasure, and also a
necessity, as it alone keeps the decks tight and
the ship sanitary.

A "water spar" would be rigged over the side
to leeward at a point in the waist abreast of the
main hatch. A clump block and a single whip
with a canvas water bucket, the rim weighted
with a ring of lead, was used to haul aboard the
water which was dumped into a deck barrel. Coir
brooms, wooden buckets, and much slopping
about in bare feet would usher in the day, no
part of the deck being neglected.

The routine was : At four o'clock in the morn-
ing, "Get your gear on the pins," everything
being laid up clear of the deck. "Rig water

CABIN AND FO'C'SLE 141

spar," and then old Chow would run out of the
galley with a bag of hard bread and a big can of
slops, while the Japanese steward would hurry
along the deck with a cup and saucer; coffee —
cabin style, for the refreshment of the mate, who
would sing out: "Get your coffee," and for a few
minutes we would all sit on the main hatch, in
fine weather, or crowd in the lee of the forward
house if it was stormy, and dip into the steaming
chicory.

Then — "Get out your washdeck gear! Wash
down!" and the day's work would begin.

CHAPTER XI

CLEANING HOUSE AND A CELEBRATION

THE rough passage around the Horn — sea-
going with the bark on — worked the discon-
tent out of our systems, and with the return of
fine weather, all hands cheered up and life be-
came more and more worth living. The dog
watches were lively, with hotly contested argu-
ments on all topics under heaven. The less the
debaters knew about a subject, the more they
would have to say about it; resembling in this
regard large numbers of more sophisticated folk
ashore. Some of the discussions would last for
days, being carried on as a serial story, from dog
watch to dog watch, with overflow sessions on
deck at night. As none of the contenders would
ever budge an inch from their positions, the
points at issue always remained undecided except
in the fish argument, which was settled by the
mate.

For a long time Martin, Joe and Scouse in-
dulged in heated discussion as to whether fish was

142

CLEANING HOUSE 143

meat, or whether it was something else. Joe con-
tended for the negative, that fish was not meat,
while Martin and Scouse insisted that fish and
meat were the same thing.

Joe had two against him, but heing quicker
with his tongue he was able to hold Scouse and
Martin pretty well in check.

"If fish ain't meat, wot is it?" demanded Mar-
tin. 'Is it wegetables, or wot?"

This always stumped Joe, but he stuck to his
guns and came back stronger each time: "It's
fish, that's wot it is, F-I-S-H-FISH!" his voice
rising above everything else in the heat of argu-
ment.

The debate finally closed in a particularly vio-
lent session that continued as our side went aft to
muster in the second dog watch.

"Fish you say!" shouted the mate at the un-
heard of disrespect on the part of Joe, who was
frothing at the mouth in the defense of his con-
tention. "I'll fish you, you thick-headed ass,"
and as Joe woke up to the fact that a new cham-
pion had come into the field, the whole watch
broke into a laugh at the sequel. "Fish, is it?
Well, I'll fish you good and proper. Get a
pot of slush and rub down the mizzen topmast.
Drop a spot, and you stay on deck tomorrow

144 UNDER SAIL

forenoon, you fisherman!" The last with biting
sarcasm.

Joe lay aloft with his slush pot, and as a bright
moon gave him plenty of light at his work, it
also enabled the mate to watch him closely.
However, this ended the argument, much to the
satisfaction of all of us, for it was a bit wearing.

Jimmy Marshall had a large dog-eared Bible
in his possession; a red stamp on the title page
read as follows: "Property of Seamen's Bethel,
Sydney. Do not take from chapel" While
lying up with his arm in a sling, having been
tossed between the spare main yard and the after
bitts, by a sea, he delved industriously into the
lore of the good book; and when he was back on
deck again Jimmy refused to chantey to the tune
of "Whiskey," and his verses, when singing a
rope to "Molly Brown," were painfully proper.

Each night in the dog watch he insisted on
reading from the Old Testament, starting at the
very beginning. Jimmy had a pair of steel-
rimmed spectacles, and to further his missionary
work, he changed bunks with Scouse, so that he
could be directly under the lamp, while the big
red-head moved into the best bunk in the fo'c'sle
right next to an open port.

Jimmy worked his way through Genesis and

CLEANING HOUSE 145

got well started on Exodus by the time we picked
up the S. E. trades. His pronunciation of the
hard names was truly wonderful and required
much careful wiping of his spectacles. By the
time he was within hailing distance of Leviticus
we were again approaching the doldrums and
once more we unbent our storm canvas and
shifted into the easy weather sails.

Australia, one of the most consistent chron-
ologists of the fo'c'sle, working by the brad-hole-
and-peg method, using the stumps of burnt
matches, pegged a hole around which he had
scratched a circle.

"The 'dead horse' is worked off," announced
Australia, as we turned out for breakfast one
morning, springing a surprise, as it had been
more than a week since the subject was broached
last in the fo'c'sle. March 5th, three months
since leaving the wharf at South Street! It
seemed a year in point of experiences.

"Well," ventured Martin, "the boarding mas-
ters are smiling today."

"Yes, the lousy squeezers, I'll bet the Front
Street House has a good dinner for the boss on
my advance."

"I hope he chokes, Joe," chipped in Fred.

"Choking is too good for them; burning is wot

146 UNDER SAIL

they want," went on Joe, almost forgetting his
breakfast in the heat of his indignation. "They
take in Australia and Martin and Fred and me,
and wot do we get? Wot do we get? Why, a
few days' grub and a lousy, dirty bed, wot ain't
fit to sleep on, and then they send us out. We
go down and sign, and the next day out to sea
for us in this bloody hell wagon. A half a kit of
dog's wool and oakum slops, took from some dead
sailor, maybe, and rotten poor oilskins, and sea
boots that is no good. A big bargain, and all for
six quid — that's all — only six quid for the lot; a
mess of fine wearin' rags. And today they col-
lect their hard earned money and all we has to do
is to ride down here on a yachtin' toor round
Cape Stiff."

"It ain't right. It's hell, that's it— hell!"
agreed Australia. "Lookit me and Fred, and
Mike, we was only in port two days. Just two
days board and no advance money. Said the
British Consul would get us sent back to the
Ettrick. And that cost us six quid!"

"Nothing ain't right," it was Jimmy who
spoke. "You booze, and worse, you sells out
your manhood an' your rights to low livin' pigs
wot lives off o' the likes o' us. Its principles wot
you needs. Young men, take my advice and get

CLEANING HOUSE 147

principles. 'Ard? O' course it's 'ard to get prin-
ciples, but they saves you a lot o' trouble an' you
can put away a bit. I say live right and you'll
be right."

"How old are you, anyway?" demanded Bren-
den.

"Old enough to know my own bloody busi-
ness," rejoined Jimmy, scenting a comeback on
his reform precepts.

"Well, now that your dead horse is worked off
you can start in and save until you hit New York
again."

"Well, if I do save a bit, it's none o' the likes
o' a Dutchman like you wot'll 'elp me spend it,"
and Jimmy hopped out of the fo'c'sle at eight
bells sharp. The mate was so surprised to see
him leading the watch aft that he promptly sent
him up to the fore skysail to loose sail, for the
night had been squally and the second mate had
taken in the kites, a thing he was prone to do,
while the mate always promptly set them again.

After the argument about the advance, we all
made up our minds to work off no more dead
horses. As Australia put it, "A year at sea and
a week in port, and nothing to show for it."

Most of us had slop accounts to clear off with
the skipper, and then the velvet would pile up at

148 UNDER SAIL

the rate of eighteen dollars a month, at that time
standard wages out of the port of New York for
deepwater sailors.

None of the men had shaved for at least a
month, and the crew forward presented a truly
deep sea appearance; "Rooshin Jews on a ocean
picnic," was the comment of Jimmy, who never
shaved, and whose whiskers also failed to increase
but rather diminished in their moth-eaten way.

On the first Sunday of real fine weather, when
the bushes were beginning to get uncomfortable,
the fo'c'sle barbers got busy in both watches.
Frenchy and Australia were the tonsorialists of
our watch and after taking on all hands, Frenchy
shaved Australia and trimmed his mustache.
Hair cuts were had by all and the effect was
good. Perhaps the feeling of cleanliness due to
the trimming had something to do with the desire
for a "field day"; at any rate, two of the men,
Old Smith, of starboard, and Frenchy, went aft
and got permission from the mate to have a cele-
bration.

The coming Wednesday was named, and as
we were then on the edge of the S. E. trades, the
day broke fine. Accordingly after breakfast that
morning the watch on deck, all but the helmsman,

CLEANING HOUSE 149

were allowed to go forward and assist in remov-
ing the contents of the fo'c'sle.

The watch below also turned to, and green and
blue sea chests with wonderful "tumble home"
sides and fancy canvas tops; plain canvas bags,
"the sailor's round-bottomed trunk"; bags with
fancy eyelets and elaborate grommets ; well-worn
blankets ; knobby straw mattresses, the "donkey's
breakfast" of the sea; and all of the humble fur-
nishings of the fo'c'sle of a deepwater merchant-
man, were hauled out on deck in the light of day.
The fore rigging, the bottoms of the upturned
boats on the forward house and the fo'c'sle head,
were littered with these things as box and bag
yielded up their contents to the purifying action
of the sun. All of our salt encrusted gear was
rinsed out in a barrel of rain water, saved for the
purpose, until free from salt, as most of our
clothing was so highly hygroscopic that the least
fall of dew would make them damp and clammy.

We then rigged the water spar, and with a lib-
eral supply of sand and canvas and with ffki-yi"
brooms we scrubbed our home until the place
fairly radiated. The scuttle butt was cleaned out
and re-charred, the fo'c'sle lamp taken down and
polished, and two hands got busy and gave the
ceiling a fresh coat of white paint, brightening

150 UNDER SAIL

up things to a wonderful extent, for this had not
been done for some years.

All doors and ports were left open to allow
the fo'c'sle to dry out, and at noon both watches
lunched together, "al fresco," under the shade of
the fores'l. A hamper of chicken sandwiches, a
case of cold beer, and a box of cigars would have
delightfully rounded out our dinner of pork and
pea soup. However, we were in a merry mood
and the unaccustomed company of the other
watch made the simple fare and weevil-ridden
tack taste particularly good. Besides, relations
with the after-guard were becoming more and
more pleasant. The fight between Tony and Mr.
Stoddard had faded from mind in the trying
weeks that had intervened and the feeling of an-
ticipation, as we neared the end of the passage,
helped to make us receptive to better things.

By gradual stages, without in any way com-
promising their dignity, our experienced officers
assumed a less harsh way of speaking; orders
were mandatory to the last degree, of course, but
less liberally spiced with profanity. An occa-
sional joke on the part of those aft would send a
ripple of laughter among the men pulling at
sheet or halyard. The cook also felt the mysteri-
ous balmy influence of the Pacific sunshine, and

CLEANING HOUSE 151

every other day we would be delighted with a big
pan of ginger bread in the fo'c'sle. On Sundays
we would have duff with real raisins in it.

Honolulu was drawing near; none of us had
more than a few dollars of pay on the books, and
crews among the island and coast traders were
hard to get, with pay correspondingly high. Per-
haps this had something to do with the change of
atmosphere. Even those who had the most rea-
son to complain were beginning to cheer up and
forget their troubles of the past.

A clean fo'c'sle, dry, well aired bedding, and
smiling skies, ushered us into the region of the
equatorial rains. The flying fish began to zip
through the air again with increasing frequency
and the mates as usual gathered them up, but,
strangest of strange things, the cook was told to
send half of the catch forward. The daily thun-
derstorms came with their accustomed regularity.
At about eight bells in the afternoon watch it
would cloud up suddenly, any sails spread out on
deck, in the course of repair, would be hastily
dragged to the sail locker or under the fo'c'sle
head, and presto! — a rumble of thunder would
follow the first faint flashes of lightning. Then
several bright jagged discharges would come in
quick succession, a clap of Jove's artillery, and a

152 UNDER SAIL

douse of rain, followed by the golden rays of the
sun streaming through such rainbows as are sel-
dom seen anywhere but in those latitudes.

During a tropic storm at night, just after leav-
ing the trades, we were roused out at midnight
and ordered aloft to take in the t'gans'ls. The
yards and rigging were soaked with rain, and,
as we got to the tops, St. Elmo's fires started to
flicker on the yard arms with a pale blue light.
The night was black, and oppressive with the hot
humid wind, we were wet and clammy, and the
sleep was in our eyes when

"And sudden breaking on their raptured sight,
Appeared the splendor of St. Elmo's light."

Jimmy Marshall, fear clutching at his heart,
refused to mount the futtock shrouds; springing
to the forward leg of the main topmast back-
stays, he slid to the deck while the rest of us went
aloft. The stoutest of us, however, were touched
with superstitious feelings. The "corposants," as
the men called them, started us on a series of
ghost stories in the night watches on deck. A
few days later we were becalmed in a dense fog,
such as sometimes is encountered in the warm,
damp region bordering the line. Joe went aft to
relieve the wheel just after listening to a grue-

CLEANING HOUSE 153

some tale. A giant man out in the fog over the
quarter reached for Joe when abreast of the open
door of the wheel house. Joe nearly fainted with
fright, at the sight of his own shadow thrown on
the fog wall by the naked binnacle light that the
helmsman had taken from the cowl to trim.

CHAPTER XII

MAKING PORT

ONE hundred and seven days out from
Sandy Hook, we crossed the line for the
second time in longitude 122° west from Green-
wich. The grooming for port then started in
grim earnest. Holystones were brought out and
the time-honored couplet of the sea,

Six days shalt thou labor and do all that thou art able,
And on the seventh holystone the deck and scrape the cable.

became a matter of routine on board the Fuller.
Captain Nichols had never been in the islands
before, in fact none of us had, and we were to
make our acquaintance with them dressed up and
polished in Yankee form.

The art of holystoning, as practiced on Ameri-
can deepwater ships, deserves a special niche in
the archives of the sea. No more thorough pro-
ceeding can be imagined. To the steamship hand
who holystones like a gentleman, at the end of a
long handle, the art has lost its fine points. On

154

MAKING PORT 155

the Fuller we dug into the work in deep sea
fashion. Our knees became sore from constant
"praying" and the skin on our hands was worn
down thin, making us tender in hauling at the
braces or going aloft. To overcome the hardness
of the deck, we rigged up pieces of board to which
three cleats were nailed and a strip of old canvas
stretched over them. This afforded a yielding
cushion to kneel on and kept our legs out of the
water swishing about with the rolling of the ship.

We worked in gangs, sawing away with the
stones and wearing a scum of wood from the
deck. Each man soon became jealous of the
work done by his shipmates and we were careful
to keep all hands going, as there was a certain
amount of deck to be gone over, and the sooner
finished the better. In holystoning we used two
sizes of stones, the larger ones called "bibles" and
the small pieces, useful for getting into the cor-
ners and along the edges of paint work, known
as "prayer books."

From the time of commencing to holystone,
and slick up for port, there was no more watch
below in the afternoon; the watch coming on
deck at eight in the morning would stay on deck
until six in the evening with a half hour below
at noon for dinner. Going below at six, supper

156 UNDER SAIL

would be had and at eight the watch that had
been on deck all day would turn out for the first
watch at night.

Thus, every other day, a watch coming on in
the morning would have eighteen hours of duty
on deck during the following twenty-four. On
the other hand, the other watch would merely
have the usual watch and watch. Of all diaboli-
cal inventions for working men this afternoon on
deck was best designed.

While still in the doldrums, and after the holy-
stoning had been completed, we were set to clean-
ing the sides of the ship where the rust had
worked through, and where the dirt from the
scum rubbed off the decks had streaked long lines
down from the scuppers. We liked this work,
scrubbing the black sides, and painting. It al-
ways seemed to me like a vacation to get outside
of the ship and off of the familiar deck. Scaf-
folds were rigged and sometimes our feet would
dangle in the cool water on the shady side of the
hull.

One day there was a commotion as Brenden
and I worked away on a plank slung beneath the
mizzen channels. The water under us surged up
and a great black object rose beneath our feet,
for all the world like a submarine boat coming to

MAKING PORT 157

the surface. Outcries brought all hands to the
ship's side. A huge whale had come up in the
shadow of the ship. Some hands ran forward,
and presently big Scouse came aft on the run
carrying a harpoon from the bosun's locker and
a coil of heaving line.

As he was mounting the rail the mate jumped
after him, yanked the harpoon from his grasp and
sent the red head scurrying forward.

"You damned mutton-headed ass!" he cried.
"Do you want to send us all to the bottom?
That's a razorback. He'll ram us, quick as hell,
if we rile him."

The whale sank from sight as suddenly as he
appeared, and, razorback or not, we had no op-
portunity to try his temper.

The sight of the whale started all hands for-
ward looking for ambergris. This was described
as a grayish amberlike substance to be found
floating on the unsuspecting surface of the sea in
large chunks of fortune, the finding of which
would set a man up on a cosy farm for life, or
enable him to see a snug retirement behind his
own bar and beer kegs. Frenchy and Jimmy
both had seen ambergris, and for a while regaled
us with many tales of its origin, value and uses.

One of the results of the prospecting over-

158 UNDER SAIL

board for ambergris as we lazed along in the
tropic seas of the Pacific was the better knowl-
edge we obtained of the abounding life in the sea.
In after years when at sea on the decks of swiftly
moving steamers, I have often pondered over the
sights that were given us of the queer inhabitants
of the deep as we slowly worked our way across
the ocean in the Fuller. From her low decks,
when becalmed, or when sailing along at from
four to five knots in fine weather, especially in
the tropic seas, the teeming life in the depths
below was brought very close to us.

The glint of queer fins, the vivid flash of some
big fish rising near the surface in hot pursuit of
prey, and the common sight of a school of flying
fishes rising from the water just in time to miss
the cruel jaws of their pursuers, gave us a faint
idea of the ruthless rule of might below. Often
the smother of white mist as the cloud of flyers
would rise, and the swift black demons in hot
chase under them, like avenging torpedoes tear-
ing through the blue, would show glimpses of
other and larger fish after the pursuers.

Time and again we would lie out on the mar-
tingale and look under the fore foot of the ship
to see if there was a pilot fish around. These
queer customers would swim along just under

MAKING PORT 159

the stem of the ship, convict garbed, in thwart-
ship black and white stripes, and about two feet
long. The presence of a pilot fish under the bow
was evidence of a shark under the bottom of the
vessel, swimming along in the hope that some-
thing edible would be thrown overboard, or that
the vessel would founder and disgorge her human
freight into the deep.

Wnole flotillas of the dainty nautilus would
sail by us for days. These "Portuguese men-o'-
war," as sailors call them, spread a shell-like sail
to the wind, pink and airy, gliding gaily before
the gentle zephyrs of the line. They truly teach
us a lesson, as Pope has it:

"Learn of the Little Nautilus to sail
Spread the thin oar, and catch the driving gale."

With the picking up of the N. E. trade wind
a few degrees north of the line, we knew that the
main haul to Honolulu was on its last stages.
There was more easting in the wind than is gen-
erally the case, and we made good progress, hold-
ing a course well to windward of Hawaii. For a
week at a time we cut through the water at an
average speed above ten knots, going it night and
day. The sailing was glorious and we all felt the
thrill of it. Were we not rushing forward to a

160 UNDER SAIL

paradise set in the middle of the broad Pacific for
our rest and refreshment? We hungered for
fresh provisions and for a decent sleep of more
than a shade over three and a half hours at a
stretch. The afternoons on deck had worn us
down and the cooler winds bringing such speed
and hope were a wonderful tonic.

"Will I take in the skysails?" Mr. Stoddard
asked of the captain one night as he came on deck
to take the mid-watch. I was at the wheel turn-
ing over the course to Axel, who came aft to re-
lieve me. The Fuller was boiling along, every-
thing taut, the white water in her lee scuppers.

"No, leave them blow away," said the skipper,
laughing. However, we found him on deck still
at four in the morning and he took coffee with
the mate before going below for a nap. But the
skysails "stayed put" and indeed every bit of rag
was doing noble duty.

"The Honolulu girls have us in tow," was the
slogan on board.

At brace and sheet and halyard, we sung our
ropes with a will, and a cheerier crowd of weath-
er-worn, under-fed and half-rested humanity
would be hard to find. Man is an adaptable ani-
mal, more rugged than the beasts of burden, and
cheaper than machinery, and in the lesson taught

MAKING PORT 161

us on the clean white decks of the Fuller is to be
found the remaining hope for the survival of sail.
It is cheaper, and with the advent of iron boxes
rigged by means of screws, and bolts, and nuts,
the sailor of the marling spike days will not be
needed. Crews can be recruited, and fed for less
than it takes to make steam, and men can be
found to sail them, to drive them, as we were
driven, and if they, too, are past masters at the
art, to lull the crews into a state of con-
tentment, and even happiness, after experiences
that would cause a revolt in the worst peniten-
tiary of the land.

When in 154 degrees of west longitude, and
21 degrees north latitude, Captain Nichols up
helm and shaped a course direct for the northeast
point of the Island of Molokai, the leper island
of the Hawaiian group. We made the land just
before nightfall. Anchors were got over the bow
ready for letting go in case of emergency, and
the dipsea lead was placed handy on the fo'c'sle
head, the line being carried aft, outside of all
gear, to the tub at the taffrail, in which the bulk
of it was coiled. A small snatch block on the
weather mizzen t'gallant backstay was ready for
hauling in should we have to take a cast. The
hand lead, or blue pigeon, was coiled in the miz-

162 UNDER SAIL

zen chains ; I was told by the mate to stand by in
case we should have to use it, my schoolship train-
ing having made me a good leadsman.

All was excitement on board as we closed in
with the land, the good smell of it coming out to
us as we raced into the Kaiwi Strait, lying be-
tween Molokai and Oahu, upon the southern
shore of which Honolulu is situated.

At midnight we were abreast of Koko Head,
a peak near the eastern end of Oahu. We put
down our helm and hauled our wind ahead, brac-
ing sharp, under easy canvas, on the starboard
tack, the ship heading north. Skysails, royals,
and flying jib were allowed to hang in their gear,
while we hauled up the mains'l, and furled the
crojik, at the same time setting the spanker.

At four bells in the mid-watch, closing in with
the land faster than was comfortable to sailors
accustomed to large sea room, we wore ship, and
headed her back toward Molokai.

We wore ship again before daybreak in order
to hold the weather gauge off Diamond Head,
and at the first streak of dawn we squared away
and the Fuller was put under full sail as we bore
down past Diamond Head for the entrance to
Honolulu Harbor.

A whale boat put out from the land carrying

MAKING PORT 163

the pilot, followed by a wheezy tug of diminutive
build. We put down our helm, paid a hawser
out over the bow to the tug, and as we horsed up
on her the Kanakas started a panic cry on her
decks, while the captain on the poop shouted
rapid orders to both mates and we let our yards
down by the run and swayed up on the courses,
manning the clew garnets, clewlines and bunt-
lines in feverish haste.

"Take the lead!" the mate shouted to me, and
at a nod from Captain Nichols, I sent the blue
pigeon shooting out ahead into the clear blue
water of the harbor entrance as we ran down be-
tween the barrel and spar buoys that mark the
fairway.

"And a half, six!" I felt sand. "Hard bot-
tom!"

The pilot came over to me and looked curious.
"No need of this, captain," he said.

"Oh, give the lad some exercise, pilot," the
skipper answered. "It won't hurt him."

"By the mark, five!"

We were running past the sea wall and the
boathouse to starboard. I could see the light-
house over the deck on the port bow. The tug
was whistling, and as we swung to port, into the
harbor proper, I noted the marine railway and

164 UNDER SAIL

the Pacific Mail Wharf with a lot of people on
the Esplanade watching us come in.

"Mark under water, five!" I shouted.

"All right, Felix, come in; that'll do," said the
skipper, and a few minutes later I found myself
on the mizzen skysail, furling sail. We were
brought to in the stream by letting go the port
anchor and casting off the tug at the same time,
and, as the chain rattled through the hawse pipes
in a smoke of rust, a whistle on a factory ashore
blew a long blast of welcome. It was noon, the
harbor life suddenly stopped, for we missed the
faint rattle of steam winches and the shouting of
the Kanaka stevedores at the railroad wharf.

"Now give us a harbor furl, boys," called up
the mate. And as we worked away, we noted
the captain going ashore in the whale boat with
the pilot. Below us stretched the most beautiful
city in the world; cool looking green palm trees
lined the streets, the fat squat outline of the
Punchbowl rose gratefully verdant behind the
little city, a restful sight to our sea-weary eyes,
and far beyond we looked up into the misty
vista of the Nuuanu Valley. Stranger still, on
the wharves we noted native and white women
in their fresh looking white dresses, and we could
hear the cries of children at play.

MAKING PORT 165

Laying down from aloft we squared yards,
and went below for our dinner of pea soup and
pork, with a kid of cabin tack — a piece of strat-
egy on the part of Chow that was truly an in-
spiration. The sight of weevils, and the near
view of the clean sweet shore, would have been
too great a contrast.

We opened hatches that afternoon, ready for
the port warden's inspection, ripping out the
caulking of oakum and taking off the three lay-
ers of tarpaulin, but not lifting the covers. We
also sent down the fore and main courses and
tops'ls, and cockbilled the main yard for a cargo
boom, rigging the cargo pendant from the main
topmast head, the same being stayed out over
the main hatch by a fall from the fore topmast
cross trees.

At four o'clock the captain returned with a
boatload of fresh provisions, joints of clean red
meat, fresh vegetables, onions, green stuff, ba-
nanas and pineapples, and a big basket of real
baker's bread, the loaves rich and mellow in the
sunlight, like bricks of gold. How our eyes
popped out at the sight and smell of this treasure
cargo from the shore! Our salt ridden senses
were starved for something fresh and clean. A
dozen hands rushed to the side to help unload

166

UNDER SAIL

the boat, passing the grub up the ladder and
carrying it in to Chow.

Captain Nichols also announced that we would
go alongside at Brewer's Wharf the next day.

At six, in the evening glow of the harbor, we
pumped her out and went below for supper.
Vegetable soup, floating with fresh green things
and rich in meat extract ; steak, onions, and pota-
toes! Have you ever been without potatoes for
three months? If you have you will know how it

feels to crave them. The fresh bread and the
delicious ripe bananas topped off the meal.

We were too full to speak, all hands together
at our feast under the break of the foYsle head.
Millionaires cannot buy such appreciation, and
our bellies were stretched to the utmost limit.

MAKING PORT 167

An anchor watch was set, by lot, of one hour
tricks, and I was fortunate enough to escape.
Before eight o'clock the fo'c'sle was heavy with
slumber as we dreamed away the hours in such
heaven sent rest as only the angels can under-
stand ; we were one hundred and twenty-one days
out from the port of New York, and our first
night of unbroken sleep ahead of us.

CHAPTER XIII

IN HONOLULU TOWN

We have had enough of action, and of motion; we

Rolled to starboard, rolled to larboard, when the surge was

seething free
Where the wallowing monster spouted his foam fountains in

the sea.

Let us swear an oath and keep it with an equal mind
In the hollow lotus-land to live and die reclined,
On the hills like Gods together,, careless of mankind.

Tennyson.

WELL, now that we are here, what?" Joe
put the universal question. "I hopes we
has it a bit easy for a change," he went on, seeing
that no one rose to his query, and no doubt some
dim, subconscious yearning must have stirred in
the recesses of Joe's mind; perhaps the sight of
the palms may have wakened this, for in his
clumsy way he voiced the spirit of the poet. In-
deed we had all of us sensed the languor of that
lotus-land in the humid morning vistas of heavy
tropical foliage lining the avenues of the city,

168

IN HONOLULU TOWN 169

and stretching far beyond into the blue-green
richness of the Nuuanu Valley. After months
of deep sea existence, the smell and feel of the
ripe, luxurious land came to us with a powerful
appeal. All of us felt this, but, sailor-like, the
feeling was disguised in various ways.

"I hope them bulls aft gives us a fair deal/'
went on Joe. We were at breakfast, both
watches together, assembled outside the fo'c'sle
doors.

"Fair deal!" snapped Old Smith as he speared
a spud. "Say, you young heifer, do you think
you was brung all the way out to Honolulu for
to loll back at your ease and eat the bread fruit,
that we reads about, offen the fatness of the land,
without no toil nor trouble? You'll get your
damned good whack of sweatin' here. I know
these ships, and it won't be just because the
weather is hot, neither."

This was followed by dire predictions of hard
grinding to come, ghastly prospects fathomed
from the depth of experience by such masters of
discouragement as Jimmy Marshall and Aus-
tralia.

"Say, shut up, will you! Maybe it won't be
so bad," piped Frenchy, who never liked to have
his meals interrupted, especially when we were

170 UNDER SAIL

breakfasting on dry hash made with potatoes and
onions, a real feed much needed by our hungry
crowd. We had turned out at dawn for a hasty
washdown, had put the long boat over the side,
and rousing out a number of large manila haw-
sers, had flaked them down in the boat ready for
warping. The cable was hove short and the
quarter moorings were taken in. In addition to
this a number of the men under the second mate
had completed the rigging of the cargo gear.
The carpenter, with me helping him, had rigged
the dolly, wedging it under the pinrail on the
starboard side just forward of the main hatch
with blocks of wood and a small jackscrew. The
large cargo blocks had been hooked and moused
to the pendants, and the falls were rove, all for
the starboard side, as the skipper had inspected
the berth and that was to be our side for dis-
charging at the Brewer Wharf.

Breakfast came as a rest, a breathing and a
talking spell with a good day's work already to
our credit. The change in routine, however,
made the work seem easy enough, for we arose
from our full night of rest with a feeling of
wonderful vitality. Word came out that an
island steamer would hold the berth at the Brewer
Wharf until noon, and we were to warp in to the

IN HONOLULU TOWN 171

Oceanic Steamship landing to allow the port
warden and the agents the opportunity to inspect
the hatches and make a survey of the condition
of the cargo, at the same time bringing us that
much nearer our berth.

A plunge overboard in the early dawn, the last
man on anchor watch having called me a half
hour before the rest, put me in fine fettle. All
hands were eager to get foot ashore and the pros-
pect of tying up to the beach filled us with ex-
pectancy. The fresh grub, the full night in, and
the electric atmosphere of contact with human
affairs, gave us a keen sense of being again in the
world of the living. After breakfast we sat
around for a few precious moments smoking and
yarning as we gazed toward the shore. News
filtered out that the battleship Maine had been
blown up in Havana harbor on the night of Feb-
ruary 15th. War with Spain was imminent and
the port of Honolulu was pregnant with impend-
ing world affairs, made even more intense by the
fact that there was no cable in those days and
news came only at intervals with the arrival of
the mail steamers. War might be declared at
any moment and rumor had it that a squadron of
raiders from the Philippines might descend on
the port.

172 UNDER SAIL

The gunboat Bennington lay in the harbor
with the old training ship Mohegan and constant
gun drills were being gone through.

We "turned to" promptly after breakfast, and
while one watch carried out the lines the other
manned the capstan bars and broke out the hook
as soon as the warp was thrown over a cluster of
piles on the Esplanade. When the anchor came
up dripping with gray mud, the long warp was
carried in over the fo'c'sle head and taken to the
main deck capstan and we walked the ship along-
side in the good old-fashioned way.

At the string piece of the wharf there was a
misunderstanding as to orders. The mate being
in command took occasion to deliver his compli-
ments to the second mate in no uncertain tones.
So refreshing was the spectacle of wrath de-
scending upon the head of the hated second mate
that all hands stood idle grinning at the show.
The old saying, "trouble aft; good times for-
ward," at once went into effect. Mr. Zerk, see-
ing his mistake, ordered Mr. Stoddard to his
room, and then turned his attention to "the peo-
ple" as we hustled out the breast lines and ad-
justed the springs. We got the gangway over
in jig time, to the great amusement of the dock
loafers, and crowds of curious citizens, who had

IN HONOLULU TOWN 173

heard that a Yankee hell wagon was alongside
with the bucko mate in full action.

When the gangway was lowered, Mr. Stod-
dard walked ashore with as much dignity as he
could muster, garbed in a wrinkled brown suit
and a rusty, dented derby that struck a ludicrous
note amid the straw-hatted natives on the wharf.

"I hope he never come back," growled Tony,
no doubt thinking of the day off the River Plate.
"If ever I get him ashore— ' but the Italian
did not finish, for we were hustled about lifting
hatch covers and setting things to rights, the deck
being littered with long bights of the wet haw-
sers.

Native boys offered to dive for pennies, but
we had none to give, and enterprising Chinamen
crowded on board with baskets of fruit and ham-
pers full of bottled pop, the whole gang being
driven ashore by Mr. Zerk with his best delivery
of picturesque profanity. The Kanakas on the
shore started to mock him, and that made matters
worse, as none of us dared crack a smile. Later
on Mr. Zerk was to learn that the happy, care-
free natives were an independent lot, who would
work under persuasion, but were stubborn as
mules when driven.

Captain Nichols came aboard with the port

174 UNDER SAIL

warden, and the top layer of cargo was examined.
We carried a hundred tons of blacksmith coal on
top of a general cargo, the coal being separated
from what was below by old canvas and tar-
paulins. One of the inspectors jumped down and
tasted the coal for salt. Indeed it would have
been mighty hard to tell whether the cargo had
been damaged or not and, in a way, it was a bit
of strategy on the part of the South Street steve-
dores. After some discussion, the state of things
seemed to pass muster, and a great many smart
looking young men from the offices of the agent
came down and looked over the ship. Most of
them carried papers of some sort, and in their
white duck trousers and their fancy silk shirts,
brilliant neckties, and spotless shoes, we seemed
to behold some favored species. No doubt they
looked at us too, though without interest, we be-
ing merely a lot of lean and leathery deepwater
sailors dressed in common dungaree.

The captain himself was no slouch when it
came to dressing and on this occasion he upheld
the dignity of the ship, and the great American
Merchant Service, by sporting a wine colored
cutaway suit. His shoes were shined like the gal-
ley stove on a Sunday afternoon, and his heavy
watch chain and fob dangled across his vest,

IN HONOLULU TOWN 175

which was buttoned to the very top in spite of
the heat. Of course he wore a boiled shirt, and
his black derby was of a square topped model,
conservative and dignified.

Inspection over and the island steamer out of
our berth at the Brewer Wharf, we cast off and
again warped our ship across the harbor. This

AT BREWER'S WHARF

took up the remainder of the first day. The boss
stevedore came aboard and we learned that the
crew was to work aboard ship, breaking out and
slinging the cargo. The "hatch man" and the
"dolly man" were to be natives of the shore
gang; two important posts, as upon them de-
pended largely the speed of unloading.

176 UNDER SAIL

Word was passed forward that the captain
would allow those of us who wished to, to draw
against their pay on Saturday afternoon. In
the meantime, it being Wednesday, we were
alongside and free to explore the city in so far as
such investigation could be carried on without
the expenditure of coin. However we found the
Chinamen ready to take "chits" for modest
amounts.

After pumping out, and before knocking off
for supper, the mate called Charlie Horse aft
and appointed him night watchman. He was de-
lighted with this billet, and except for a good deal
of grumbling about not being told earlier and
having a chance to get some sleep in the after-
noon, he was well pleased. Charlie Horse had
once been mate on a schooner, a fact that he never
allowed us to forget, much to the amusement of
such men as Australia and Hitchen. Jimmy
Marshall resented all mention of it and more than
once made cracks about the kind of "schooner"
Charlie Horse was most familiar with. Charlie
Horse, and no one ever forgot the Horse part
of his name, which I believe was Horstman or
something like that, never ventured an opinion
without a great deal of deliberation, a trait that
has much to recommend it, especially when at

IN HONOLULU TOWN 177

times he was referred to during heated argu-
ments.

The long night shifts in Honolulu were well
suited for one inclined to secluded thinking and
deep contemplation. Besides this, Charlie Horse
was to have the laugh on us after our second
night in port.

That first blessed night of supreme rest while
our ship lay in the stream, swept by a cool sea
'breeze, was followed by a sweltering night of dis-
content. Most of us turned in early, after a short
stroll ashore, and in our ignorance of the cus-
toms of the place, slumbered in innocent exhaus-
tion without a thought of the perils of the night.

Parts of New Jersey and Long Island are
noted for their mosquitoes. Alaska is also some-
what remembered on this account by unfortu-
nates who have summered along the southern
shores, but Honolulu in the historic year 1898
could boast of one of the most vicious swarms of
torturers lining the shores of the seven seas. We
were ripe for them, our skins spiced with the
salt horse and pea soup fluid that coursed through
our veins. We were tired from the labors of
the day, and slumbered unmoved while the en-
emy put all that was exposed of us to the bayo-
net. I lay stripped in my bunk gasping for

ITS UNDER SAIL

breath, and in the morning found I was a mass
of bumps, red and unsightly. The next day the
china merchants along Nuuanu Street did a big
business in mosquito bars, supplying us on the
strength of our "chits" after the captain had veri-
fied the statement that each man was to be paid
five dollars, on account, at the end of the week.

CHAPTER XIV

UNLOADING — WITH A BIT OF POLITICS

ALL hands working together made us better
acquainted with the men of the starboard
watch. Axel and I developed a lasting friend-
ship, and of course Old Smith joined the higher
councils of our watch. Kitchen and Mike and
Tommy proved to be a great team of kidders,
and with Australia, of our side, formed a dandy
quartette, singing such old time favorites as
"Tom Bowling" and "All in the Downs."
Hitchen, a very superior sort of sailor, an Eng-
lishman, reticent about himself, but a volume of
information about the ports of the world, was a
great addition to our life aboard. In fact the
men of both watches were sea worn and
tired of each other, and we welcomed the new
contact with our shipmates. Add to this the un-
usual sights of the shore and the fresh provi-
sions, as well as the possibility for rational sleep,
and sailors will know what I mean when I say
that we were a very happy lot of men aboard
the Fuller.

179

180 UNDER SAIL

Scouse had a large mouth organ, "Made in
Germany," a gaudy tin affair well fitted for his
capacious maw. Tony had an accordion, and
no one could deny that we were a lively crowd
forward. On the other hand the people aft were
shrouded in gloom. The mate lived very much
alone and Captain Nichols was separated by
more than a bulkhead from his first officer. Chips
was also a lonesome figure, dining in dreary state
at the second table. Tommy said that since the
second mate had gone, the Jap boy felt it be-
neath his dignity to wait on Chips, and the lanky
carpenter found the table set with all that he was
to have at one load, soup, meat, dessert, etc. "I
wisht they'd let me at it once," said Joe, his
mouth watering at the mention of dessert.

The second mate did not return on board the
night following his racket with the mate, and
we were in hopes he would quit the ship. Our
wishes were realized, for the afternoon of the
second day in port, while we were in the midst
of breaking out the coal in the main hatch, Mr.
Stoddard came to the coaming and looked down
on the grimy crowd shoveling coal. He carried
a dilapidated satchel and had evidently been
paid off by the skipper.

"So long, you dirty bums!" he called down,

UNLOADING 181

sending a squirt of tobacco juice into the midst
of the coal-dust and sweat-covered gang.

Tony, who was in the hatch, dropped his round-
nosed shovel, and picking up a lump of coal hove
it at Mr. Stoddard, just missing him as he dodged
back from the coaming.

"Wait until I get you ashore, you dirty

5= ," shouted our ex-officer, shaking his

fist at the hatch as he ran over the gangway.

"Thank heaven he's gone," I remarked to
Frenchy, both of us looking down at the play
from our perch on the fore tops'l yard where we
were unreeving the downhauls.

"A good thing he's done with us, and the ship
saves thirty dollars a month while we are in port,"
was Frenchy's wise comment.

That night Tony and Tommy went ashore for,
the purpose of finding Mr. Stoddard and beat-
ing him up. The ex-second mate was boarding
in a Chinese house in Beretania Street, according
to reports from some of the Kanakas, and the
two avengers trailed him from that place to the
Criterion saloon.

The true story of what happened was long ob-
scured, for both Tony and Tommy came aboard
very late and turned in refusing to say anything
until the next morning, when they were given the

182 UNDER SAIL

third degree by the exacting masters of foVsle
affairs in the persons of Jimmy and Australia.

The stories did not tally and for a long time
it was thought that Mr. Stoddard had given them
more than they counted on. The truth came out
when Chips told the yarn to some cronies on the
beach. It seems that Mr. Stoddard met Tony
and Tommy as he was leaving the saloon. Their
determined manner, and clenched fists, at once
warned him of trouble. With a knowledge of
sailor psychology, nothing short of masterly, he
advanced toward them in true "come on" style,
greeting them with a warmth of cordiality en-
tirely unexpected, and a moment later Tony and
Tommy were with him at the bar drinking im-
ported beer at two bits a glass, and wondering
how they had ever been so mistaken in him.

No doubt Mr. Stoddard would have got his
licking had he remained in port, but we learned
that he shipped before the mast on the bark
W. H. Dimond bound for San Francisco.

A day at the coal got us rid of that objection-
able part of the cargo, and when we took up the
tarpaulins we found a large consignment of case
oil filling most of the 'tween decks. Case oil,
let it be known, is kerosene in large square cans,
packed two in a case, and nicely calculated as

UNLOADING 183

to weight so that a good husky sailor man can
just about lift one of them without straining
himself too much. However, I can vouch for the
fact that these cases are very hard to handle and
get heavier and heavier as the exercise is con-
tinued.

The stevedores ashore, so we learned later,
were Republicans, a jolly lot of progressive Ka-
nakas, demons for work and constantly chatter-
ing like crazy brown magpies. On the other
hand, the donkey crew, the man at the dolly, and
the hatch man, a lively Kanaka named Nigger,
were Royalists of the bluest strain compatible
with their swarthy complexions. The Royalists
did their level best to send the case oil out on
the wharf so fast that the lowly Republicans
could not handle it. Below decks, in the stifling
heat, we labored in gangs, running the cases to
the square of the hatch from two sides, while Old
Smith and Frenchy adjusted the slings about the
stacks of twelve cases and up they would shoot.
It seemed that the cargo hook was constantly
dangling in the hatch like a hungry black worm
while that demon Nigger raised a hell of sweat
and hurry with his constant shouting to "Hook
her up! Hook her up!" and every few minutes

184 UNDER SAIL

the mate would bend over the hatch and roar
down his bit of encouragement.

My job was to help hand the cases down from
the tiers, lifting them to small trucks upon which
we rushed them to the hatch opening. A half
day of this exertion found us pretty well blown,
and when the noon whistle sounded over the har-
bor we got on deck, bolted our dinner and
stretched out on anything that was handy and
relaxed. Some of the boys slept, but I was too
sore to sleep and had a feeling that it was better
to stay awake, anyhow, as the rest would seem
longer.

When we turned to at one o'clock the gang on
the wharf started to howl defiance at Nigger and
his men, and the cruel ball began again with the
mate, as king driver, egging along the perform-
ance. Being rid of the second mate and with the
captain ashore, he was thoroughly enjoying him-
self.

The cases of oil were hard to grab hold of, and
as I have said, got heavier and heavier as the
weary day advanced. Cursing and sweating in
hot 'tween deck, we strove like mad to keep up
our end of the fight.

"Don't let them niggers beat us," shouted
Brenden, as he dug in with renewed energy, the

UNLOADING 185

sweat dripping into his eyes as he began slinging
down the cases like a madman.

"The dirty black bastards!" shouted Jimmy.
"I hopes they croaks afore I sees the last o' this
place."

By the time the afternoon was half over my
arms and back were numb with pain. I had
ceased to sweat and every effort was made by
super-force of will. We were red-eyed with the
labor and the heat ; swearing had ceased, and we
plugged along doggedly as the damnable Nigger
kept up his constant bawling to "Hook her up!"
or "Liki! Liki!" (meaning "the same").

Frenchy, who was under the hatch, suddenly
brought us to our senses. "Rain, boys! Rain!"
he shouted.

In our torture we had not noticed how dark
it was getting, and when the first large cool drops
pattered down on the 'tween deck hatches cov-
ering the cargo in the hold, we knew that relief
was at hand. A minute more and the rain came
down in tropical torrents while we struggled to
get the big strongback into place, the hatch covers
on, and the tarpaulin spread. Our black tor-
mentors had fled to cover under a nearby shed,
and the donkey engine crew were drawing the fire
from beneath their boiler. Nigger, too, had dis-

186 UNDER SAIL

appeared, for Scouse came up determined to
take a fall out of "that black - -."

To say that we were thankful for the rain is
mild; we were saved by it, nothing less, and as
we went to the fo'c'sle that night we were as
badly beaten a lot of men as ever cumbered the
port of Honolulu.

"Say, Smith!" yelled Joe, shouting through
the partition that separated the fo'c'sles.

"Well, what do you want?"

"You was right when you said sum thin' about
me workin' here."

"I told you you'd sweat, didn't I?" shouted
back Old Smith.

"Say, Smith," in a chastened tone.

"Yes?"

"Was you sweatin', too?"

"Shut up! Shut up!" cried Jimmy in alarm.
"If you wants to start a fight, do it tomorrow,
an' let your betters get some rest."

CHAPTER XV

HAWAIIAN HOSPITALITY

ON a fateful Saturday night, the one when
we drew five dollars apiece against our
payday, Peter, the boy, and I decided to go
ashore and have our hair cut by a regular barber
and then indulge in the pleasure of a luxurious
bath with plenty of soap and a good big tub of
hot water. After the hair cut the bath — and this
took us to a Japanese establishment that was
conducted upon true oriental lines. As a bath
house it was Al, but in addition to the supply of
hot water, which was drawn by a female attend-
ant, I found that she (the attendant) was ready
to remain and assist in the scrubbing. Being of
a modest turn of mind myself, and unable to con-
verse with this would-be helper, I finally made
known my desire for her removal by pushing her
through the door. The floor was slippery and in
my embarrassment I may have given her too
hearty a shove, for she lost her footing and shot
out in a most undignified manner, "cutting the

187

188 UNDER SAIL

star" as we used to call it when skating. Peals
of laughter sounded through the flimsy walls, the
Japs taking the whole thing in good part.

However, in the native Japanese quarter, this
sort of thing was considered proper, and, as I
afterward learned more of the Japanese, while in
their islands, I found that it was all a simple mat-
ter of point of view and nothing at all extraor-
dinary.

Of Peter a great deal might be said. He was
a type of the young American who will, when
circumstances force him into it, go to sea. How-
ever, I have only touched upon him lightly, as he
in no way represented that bygone breed of sailor
that made history on the hard square riggers of
that day.

Peter had a delightful voice that passed in
Honolulu in lieu of real coin, at least among the
Kanakas, where his wit and general good nature
won him many friends. We attended a luau up
in the Nuuanu Valley, a real native feast where
we were received royally because of the high re-
gard in which Peter was held by the Kanakas.
Poi, one finger stuff, and none of your poverty
stricken watery three and two finger poi of the
stevedores and little island traders, was on the
bill of fare. Pork, fish, and fruits of all kinds

HAWAIIAN HOSPITALITY 189

afforded by the islands were served to us on
ti leaves, while swipes flowed freely.

Peter sang "Hawaii Ponoi" over and over
again with our hosts, and we wound up late at
night with the native girls dancing the Hula
Hula. All very decent, of course, but calculated
to impress one with the broader range of vision
accorded simple strangers traveling in that land
of song and sunshine when without the stodgy
hall mark of smug respectability to hamper them
in their enjoyment. Peter astonished the natives
by sleight of hand tricks with a pack of worn
playing cards, and before we left them had dated
us up for another engagement. My head the
following morning was something to be remem-
bered with respect, and I swore off all further in-
dulgence in the Kanaka's wonderful hospitality.

On board, our routine became more established.
After the consignment of case oil was put over,
we found the work less trying and were better
able to meet it as we accustomed ourselves to the
new labor, although the Republican-Royalist
feud continued to the end of our stay. In the
main hold, directly below the hatch, we carried
a locomotive boiler. Getting this overboard called
for some seamanship on the part of the mate.
He strengthened the main yard support by extra

190 UNDER SAIL

tackles, and hoisted the fish fall up to the cargo
pendant, which in turn was backed by several
parts of wire rope. The yard purchase was re-
placed by a fourfold tackle rove off with new gear.
Once ready, we sent the boiler over the side in
good style, setting it squarely on a flat car.

While this special gear for getting over the
heavy freight was being rigged, the remaining
running gear of the braces was unrove, coiled and
marked for stowing while old stuff was sent up
to take its place, as all such untarred rope deteri-
orates rapidly when exposed to the dust of the
port for any length of time. Following the dis-
charge of the boiler we roused out a large num-
ber of cases of heavy machinery, all to be assem-
bled as a complete locomotive. The Fuller was
stowed with a very mixed cargo, her manifest
containing every kind of agricultural and house-
hold implement imaginable. Castle and Cook, a
large importing house in the Islands, got a lot of
our cargo and as we would unload a consignment
of stuff for them they would run an advertise-
ment in the daily papers—

CASTLE AND COOK, Large assortment
of the best fruit jars with patent screw tops
just received from the States by Ship A. J.
Fuller.

HAWAIIAN HOSPITALITY 191

Had we been wrecked on a desert island, our
freight would have set us up as a very respectable
lot of Robinson Crusoes, for we brought the most
general of general cargoes.

After a week in port, my mosquito mottled
face having subsided to normal, I presented a
letter of introduction to Mr. William H. Mc-
Inerny, at his place of business on Fort Street.
Mr. Mclnerny, his mother, sister and brothers,
were most kind to me, and I enjoyed their hos-
pitality with an appreciation made extra keen by
the life of the ship. Clean table linen and all of
the ordinary necessities of civilized existence
seemed extra good. On the other hand I had
sense enough to appreciate the life aboard ship.
This was never dull, and was soon destined to
become particularly strenuous.

Mr. Mclnerny called for me frequently of a
Sunday and took me driving behind a pair of
fast horses. His first appearance on the ship
aroused the gravest sort of suspicions in the mind
of the mate. He eyed me critically when I went
ashore in my best Sunday suit, pressed the night
before by a Chinaman on Nuuanu Street. As
we drove off, so Peter told me afterward, the
mate shook his head as much as to say, "Another
young fellow gone wrong."

192 UNDER SAIL

The next morning there was considerable cold-
ness in the manner of the mate, but nothing ac-
tively malignant. He gave me no harder work
to do than before, but he did not condescend to his
customary gruff camaraderie.

When Mr. Mdnerny called for me again on
the following Sunday with a different rig and
another pair of high steppers, Mr. Zerk became
thoroughly disgusted. On Monday he called me
aft just before we turned to after the washdown,
and made some very sarcastic remarks about my
"dude friend."

"I suppose you will be getting out of the ship?"
he ventured.

"I have never thought of getting out," I an-
swered.

"Well, I was just thinking that you might
have a chance to get out. Maybe your friends
with their horses and carriages would not like to
see you working too hard."

"I suppose they would hate to see me work
hard, seeing what an easy time I am having now."

"Damn your hide, they will hate to see you
work before I get through with you. Call that
thick ass Scouse aft and that -
Joe."

When these unfortunates arrived they found

HAWAIIAN HOSPITALITY 193

Mr. Zerk under a heavy pressure of bottled-up
wrath. The whole silly business had so exas-
perated him that he fairly sizzled with madness.
Heretofore his outbursts were mostly impersonal,
at least they always seemed so to me; merely a
part of the day's work. We were now turned
over to Chips and found that he had received in-
structions to clean out the limbers of the ship,
starting in the fore peak and working aft as the
bottom of the hold was uncovered. From that
time on until the ship was discharged I was kept
at the most disgusting work of the voyage.
Bucket after bucket of a thick sludge, the results
of a previous voyage to the Orient, when the
Fuller loaded some filthy cargo in Hong Kong,
was lifted out. Of course she was never cleaned
in New York, where the crew was always dis-
charged as soon as the hook went down, and no
longshore laborer would do the work we were
set to.

After three days of this Joe said to me as we
came up out of the hold covered with filth: "Here
is where I quits. To hell with this. That rotten
bull aft thinks he can work anything off on us.
Some may be soft an' easy, but," and here Joe
came in strong, "I can get thirty dollars a month

194 UNDER SAIL

in the coasters, an' I won't be leavin' much. To
hell with the rotten skunk, says I."

That night Joe found a chance to go out on
the barkentine Irmgard due to sail in two days
for San Francisco. Like most of the craft trad-
ing to the Islands from the coast, the Irmgard
was glad to pick up a deepwater sailor. Joe
agreed to work his passage to Frisco and would
then sign on regularly before the U. S. Commis-
sioner. Joe wanted Scouse to join him but the
big fellow shook his head as Joe urged him, dur-
ing the next two days down in the bilge dirt.
All conversation on the subject of Joe's depar-
ture was taboo in the fo'c'sle, though Joe worked
hard to have Scouse join him, even going so far
as to see that it would be all right for him to
ship in Frisco.

"No, Choe, I don't do no more pilge cleaning
when I ged back. Dere ain't no rotten pilges
on farms, ant you never knows what rotten back-
ets you ship on. I stand dis ant, den, no more."

The night that Joe left we got his clothes
ashore over the bow. All he had was a round bot-
tomed sailor's trunk — a canvas bag. Joe was a
favorite with all of us, and his bag bulked large
with parting gifts of clothing. In addition to
this we all chipped in, at the suggestion of Old

HAWAIIAN HOSPITALITY 195

Smith, and at a tarpaulin muster, though it was
near the end of the week, we managed to find five
dollars. Let it here be said that after the first
generous advance of five each, the Captain cut
us down to two dollars each week, and held down
on the slop chest. Of course five dollars was out
of the question, as the pay per month was only
eighteen.

Also, in the details of Joe's departure we had
to keep everything from Charlie Horse. As
watchman he would undoubtedly be blamed for
not reporting the desertion. As it was, Charlie
Horse was given a hard call by Captain Nichols,
and later on he thanked us for keeping him in the
dark. Charlie was a decent sort and said he was
glad he did not have to lie about the affair when
called aft.

"Joe's going," Frenchy whispered this to me.
It was near midnight and Joe had returned as
he promised, after depositing his dunnage in the
f o'c'sle of the Irmgard, only a few wharves away.

"Good-by, boys."

"So long, Choe. Goot-luck. Goot py," the
last from Scouse. Joe slid down one of the bow-
lines and we watched his dark figure walking
along the wharves. Under a street lamp on Nuu-

196

UNDER SAIL

C WJ*4_ tt*Mv rv

HAWAIIAN HOSPITALITY 197

anu Street Joe waved back at us on the strength
that we were watching him.

We all felt sorry to lose Joe. Scouse was es-
pecially gloomy over his departure, and I missed
the happy-go-lucky fellow in our work below.

Next morning when Joe failed to show up at
the wash down, Mr. Zerk was furious. Charlie
Horse came in for a round of abuse and all hands
in general were cursed fore and aft and athwart-
ship. In it all I seemed to detect a certain note
of insincerity. In fact the mate was glad that
Joe had left ; it seemed to please him that the drill
in the limbers was tough enough to have had that
result.

No one was assigned to take Joe's place, but
after a week of it Scouse was relieved and Tony
became my partner in filth.

"I suppose we will have other deserters," said
the mate, coming down and looking us over. His
words were evidently intended for me.

"I don't think so, sir. Scouse doesn't mind this
a bit," which was a foolish remark, but at least
resulted in giving the red head a relief.

I kept fit by getting up an hour earlier each
morning than the rest of the crowd and taking
a plunge overboard as a bracer, swimming about
the ship. In the evening, being too dirty to give

198 UNDER SAIL

a hand in pumping out, I had the pleasure of a
plunge into the cool waters before supper. I
always washed out my dungarees as soon as I
came up, and alternated, leaving the ones last
worn to have a good sunning.

Captain Nichols saw me one noon looking
rather dirty. He may have remarked the fact
that he had seen me in the same state some ten
days before, when the grind first started.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Cleaning out the limbers, sir."

"How do you like it?" grinning.

"Fine; wish the ship had four instead of two,

sir."

This seemed to tickle the old man, and what-
ever he did I don't know, but the next day the
mate came below and lifted a horrible fuss about
the way things were dragging, with Chips at his
heels saying "Yes, sir, yes, sir," so fast that the
mate turned on him and asked him if he had St.
Vitus's dance. "Yes, sir," answered Chips, before
he realized his mistake. "Well, then, get the hell
out of here and let me finish this." Four extra
men were sent down and the job cleaned up the
next day.

I was mighty glad when the drill was over, for
to tell the truth my health was beginning to suf-

HAWAIIAN HOSPITALITY 199

fer from the nasty grind and the constant breath-
ing of foul air. In the fo'c'sle, too, the boys were
more than decent about it. "Well, you stuck it
out," was the opinion.

CHAPTER XVI

HONOLULU OF THE OLD DAYS

HONOLULU harbor in 1898 retained more
than a trace of its old time flavor of ro-
mance. In later years, when I again visited the
port, the improvements had entirely eliminated
many old landmarks that spoke so clearly of the
historic past. At the time we were there in the
Fuller, the remains of the hulk that once was the
famous, or perhaps I should say infamous, Ha-
waiian man o' war, Kaimiloa, lay bedded in the
mud flats at the delta of the Nuuanu River, a shal-
low part of the harbor between the railroad wharf
and the waterfront of the city.

The Kaimiloa, a vessel of 170 tons, had once
been called the Explorer, and was then engaged
in the copra trade. King Kalakaua purchased
her (she was a wooden steamer, by the way) for
$20,000, and had her refitted as a ship of war. On
the 17th of May, 1887, she was dispatched to
Samoa to strengthen the hands of the embassy.
Robert Louis Stevenson wrote, "The history of

200

HONOLULU OF THE OLD DAYS 201

the Kaimiloa is a story of debauchery, intrigues,
and waste of government property."

On this memorable cruise she was under the
command of a half -pay British naval officer who
must have been possessed of a keen sense of hu-
mor. "The Primacy of the Pacific" was King
Kalakaua's dream, and the H. M. S. Kaimiloa
was the apple of his eye. Her armament, so far as
I could find out, consisted mainly of a heavy sil-
ver service boasting several large caliber punch
bowls. In every way she was appointed with
a view to the pleasure of the monarch.

In Samoa she got into difficulties. German
men o' war in the port refused to recognize her
colors, or return her salute, and she finally de-
parted, returning to Honolulu by way of Pago
Pago (what's in a name?), where her half -pay
commander exchanged her small arms for gin,
and had a month's debauch, as a sort of bracer,
before reporting home to the Kanaka Admiralty.
This cruise is said to have disgusted King Kala-
kaua with his navy, and further support was
withdrawn. What became of the silver service,
the armament, or the half-pay commander, can-
not be recorded by the writer.

The forlorn remnant of this royal hulk, with
planks bleaching in the sun, centered upon an

202 UNDER SAIL

interesting sector of the harbor. Here in the
shallow weed-grown water numerous native
women, wearing extremely proper Mother Hub-
bard wrappers (when dry), were always fishing
industriously. No lines or nets were used, but
the finny unfortunates were caught between the
toes of the fishers. The fact that the natives of
the islands relish live fish only added to the fas-
cination with which we observed their operations.
The harbor was also the scene of much active
fishing by the Japanese, who employed a seine
and several small sampans. So changed was all
this when the writer returned to Honolulu, some
eight years later, that it was with a pang of re-
gret he recalled those old romantic, inefficient
days.

Not far from the Fuller was the berth of the
Morning Star. We could look over her decks
as our ship rose higher with the discharge of her
cargo. This famous missionary craft was a
yacht-like three-masted schooner with auxiliary
steam, the mizzen being built of steel and serving
her as a funnel. The comings and goings of the
missionary folk, male and female, for they bus-
ied themselves mightily on board the pretty craft,
furnished us with something to look and wonder
at when we were not otherwise engaged on board.

HONOLULU OF THE OLD DAYS 203

We established friendly relations with her
crew, meeting some of them ashore at the con-
certs. Frenchy made the acquaintance of her
cook and the " doctor" presented him with a can
of curry powder. But no matter how friendly the
crew of the Morning Star might be when ashore,
they were careful to never go aboard the Fuller;
also the moral atmosphere of this vessel was so
strong that it pervaded the clothing of the whole
ship's company, for none of them ever was seen
in any of the barrooms frequented by sailors.
However, Peter had met them while attending
lauas and they were as fond of swipes as the next
man, quite human, even to the extent of getting
gloriously drunk.

One class of visitors on board the Morning
Star, who seemed in the majority, were the army
officers. And by the word "army" as generally
used in the capital of the Hawaiian Republic
at that time, was meant the Salvation Army.
The Salvationists were very influential in affairs
along the waterfront. We had been in port about
a week when their advance guard came over our
rail, sort of spiritual Uhlans descending upon us,
after dusk, as we sat about between the time of
clearing away the supper kids and lighting our
pipes for a stroll ashore. And let it here be said

204 UNDER SAIL

that whatever good they may do in other fields,
and there is no denying this, they were working
in ground already fairly moral when they
boarded the Fuller. My observation has been
that the moral index, if I may coin a term,
is inversely proportional to the amount of work.
Hard workers, physical and mental, are as a rule
fairly moral.

On the ship Fuller was gathered at that time
as decent a lot of men as ever sailed the seas.
I have listened to more obscenity in a short space
of time among men who held themselves edu-
cated than fouled our ears during the whole voy-
age about which I am writing. For one thing,
we always had something interesting to talk
about, and our few leisure hours were too pre-
cious to throw away.

The head scouts of the army were no doubt at-
tracted by the rather cheerful noises coming from
our band, an organization making use of all the
typical sailor instruments, the accordion, several
mouth organs, a jew's-harp, and a drum made
by Jimmy Marshall out of a small paint keg
with canvas stretched on both ends. The mis-
sioners from the good ship Morning Star were
very much interested, no doubt scenting talent
for their concerts, and the party came aboard

HONOLULU OF THE OLD DAYS 205

on what might be called a cutting out expedi-
tion.

"Yes, we were getting lots to eat." "No, the
ship was not particularly hard. The captain was
all right." "Yes, the mate did swear a lot; in
fact he was a bad man, but we had seen worse."
"Yes, the life of a sailor is a hard one. We all
liked Honolulu. Etc. Etc." Old Smith had
the party in tow, and acted as spokesman while
the parley was going on. Jimmy in the mean-
time buzzed around, all eagerness to get in his
fine work at panning the ship, the grub, and
everything else.

One of the visitors noticed this. He was a tall
thin man wearing the fatigue uniform of nothing
less than a Major, and was evidently a student
of the genus sailor, that is, a student of the sailor
man going through his paces ashore; a down
trodden unfortunate, sleeping in a bunk innocent
of woven wire springs, without clean linen sheets,
and having to wash himself in a common deck
bucket, all of which of course is true enough.
The tall man was drawn aside by Jimmy, his
grizzled monkey face working like a nutcracker.
Jimmy talked to such good purpose that the tall
army officer handed him a card and asked him to
call when ashore. Our band then struck up, and

206 UNDER SAIL

nobody could help but notice that Jimmy Mar-
shall was a most proficient drummer.

The upshot of this was that a week later Jim-
my took to his bunk sick. "Contusion of the
liver/' he called it. "Too much work an' the
rotten grub 'as got me at last." There was
much groaning in his bunk, and when Captain
Nichols looked him over he shook his head.

The following day several army authorities
came aboard to visit Jimmy, a mighty fine look-
ing captain among them, for we all admired her.
Two days after this Jimmy rose from his bunk
with great effort and went aft while the captain
paid him off. Kanakas came aboard for his dun-
nage, and Jimmy Marshall joined the Salvation
Army. We saw him on the corner of Fort and
Hotel Streets soon afterward beating a brand-
new drum and utterly ignoring us. How the
army did it remained a mystery until a young
man from Brewer's office let fall the hint that
army influence was exerted through the agents.
Whatever it was, it worked, and for many a day
we missed Jimmy. His "beef" on a rope was neg-
ligible, but he was clever at every sailor art and
his singing was in a class by itself.

Scouse summed up the fo'c'sle opinion when
he said, "Dot's a smart feller, dot Chimmy."

HONOLULU OF THE OLD DAYS 207

While the efforts of the Salvation Army were
directed with vigor and enjoyed the support of
the powers that were in the city, the devil was
also well represented in the thriving little nest
of humanity, way out there in the middle of the
Pacific. This was before the time of the great
fire that swept away the Japanese quarter, and
before the yoshiwara had been established. Sa-
loons had a pleasant ingenuous fashion of ad-
vertising in the daily papers. Such items as,
"Drink at the Criterion Saloon," "Visit the
Louvre Saloon, for your rickeys," were displayed
in bold type. Intoxicated men reeled along the
streets at night in the region bordering the water-
front, and assaults of various kinds were not in-
frequent. All nations were represented in the
motley crew who formed the floating cosmopoli-
tan conglomeration drifting about the port. The
new republic being the eddy in the middle of the
transpacific lanes where human flotsam gravi-
tated, like Hong Kong and Port Said, it had
become a nodal point of adventure.

Of course Honolulu itself rose serene and
beautiful above this mess of wreckage that
washed up on her beach. Beautiful homes were
there, on the long avenues lined by royal palms,
set in fine grounds, bordered by hibiscus hedges

208 UNDER SAIL

alive with flaming red. The date palm and the
fan palm all added to the natural beauty sur-
rounding her public buildings and her dwellings.
The solid worth of the place far outweighed the
ribald doings of the beach combers, not all of
them, let it be said, in dungaree. Well-dressed ad-
venturers were even more numerous, and no
doubt far more dangerous, than the unattached
sailors of the port.

The life in the Chinese and Japanese quar-
ters, with their hundreds of small shops supply-
ing the modest needs of their countrymen, was
most interesting to us. In fact we were com-
pelled to do most of our trading with these mer-
chants, as two dollars per week was of little ac-
count in attempting to go shopping on Fort
Street in the American or English stores. As
for having a regular blowout, with drinks of
civilization, at two bits per glass, it was simply
not to be thought of. Watermelons, bananas,
pineapples, soda pop, and ginger ale were our
refreshments after an evening spent at the con-
cert in Emma Square, or Thomas Square, and
very often I went to a small Chinese coffee house
on Beretania Street for a cup of Kona coffee
and a plate of sinkers. If a steamer had arrived
it was the custom to have a concert at the Royal

HONOLULU OF THE OLD DAYS 209

Hawaiian Hotel, the band, by the way, being a
particularly fine one under direction of Professor
Henry Berger, and supported by the Govern-
ment. King Kalakaua during his famous tour
of the world conceived the idea of having such
an organization in Honolulu. It was composed
of native Hawaiians, all excellent musicians, and
he secured Professor Berger to lead it. The fre-
quent concerts inaugurated by King Kalakaua
have been continued ever since. Bad as the old
king may have been, the band will always remain
a large item to his credit. Without it, Honolulu
would be a bad place in which to live; many a
poor devil has enjoyed the treat of the best mu-
sic under conditions calculated to conserve its inr
fluence, who would otherwise have spent his even-
ing in some hideous dive.

The concerts in the grounds of the Royal Ho-
tel were a sort of dual function so far as I was
concerned. When attending them in the com-
pany of Mr. Mclnerny I walked boldly into the
lobby of the hotel and lolled about on the ve-
randah like a gentleman. When out with
Hitchen, Frenchy, Axel, or Tommy, and on the
single occasion when we induced Old Smith to
forsake the waterfront, I stopped on the lowly
outskirts of the crowd among the natives, and the

210 UNDER SAIL

groups of Chinamen, Portuguese, and Japs. We
enjoyed the music and had as good a time as the
folks on the verandah; in fact we were more
comfortable, for we dressed in cool clean dun-
garee with our cotton shirts unstarched and open
at the throat. Pipes were always in order, lavish
conversation was indulged in, and we got to be
accepted on an equal footing by many of the na-
tives. Nigger, the hatch man, a sort of top boss
among these people, was one of the best of Ka-
nakas, which is saying much ; a white man under
his skin, and a gentleman every inch of him. He
introduced us to as exclusive a society as there
is in the islands, and we always swore by him
in spite of the way he treated us the first few
days of our stay in port, but then, as he ex-
plained, it was the Republicans he was after, and
of course us white fellows could look out for
ourselves.

On Sundays, when I was not out driving with
Mr. Mclnerny, Frenchy and Axel and myself
would wander about the city looking at the
strange sights. Tommy got to be one of the
sightseers later on, and in our different excur-
sions on foot we covered the place pretty well.
The Palace (from the outside), the statue of
Kamehameha I, the Museum, and the cottage in

HONOLULU OF THE OLD DAYS 211

which Stevenson lived at Waikiki, were some of
the points of interest visited. We also made a
long hike out to the Pali. All of this is unin-
teresting but simply spread upon the record to
show that the sailor man of the old deep water
days, of which I write, was liable at times to en-
joy many of the milder forms of dissipation now
almost exclusively indulged in by Cook tourists
and the winners of voting contests sent abroad
by enterprising newspapers.

CHAPTER XVII

A DINNER ASHORE

WITH all due respect to Chow, and he
moved in the best silk-shirted circles of
oriental society, we could never say that his reg-
ular bill of fare on board the Fuller was exactly
epicurean. He was bound to remember that sail-
ors were the ultimate destination of his efforts
and he guided himself accordingly.

When the ship was at the end of her discharg-
ing, and my trials with the mate had come to a
close, so far as the bilge was concerned at least,
Frenchy suggested that we have a dinner ashore.
I felt like celebrating and readily agreed. At
first we thought of having this feast alone, but
after due deliberation, and consideration of all
of the questions involved, we decided to invite a
third shipmate. Frenchy figured this out on the
basis of the size of the bird that he held to be
the necessary central feature of the proposed
banquet. The kind of a bird Frenchy had in
mind was a three-man bird — indeed many a fam-

212

A DINNER ASHORE 213

ily of twice that number would have considered
it sufficient. Then again, in his way the French-
man was quite a philosopher, and realized that
in a three-cornered celebration the whole affair
would take on a better air. Three may be a
crowd under certain circumstances, but where
shipmates get together, three of them generally
manage to have a better time than when they
travel in pairs.

Now as to the third man. I suspected that
Frenchy had already selected him when we went
out on the foVsle head to talk the matter over,
a few nights before the event was to come off.
He urged me to suggest candidates. I did, pos-
sibly more on their merits as sailors than any-
thing else, forgetting that the man who knows
best how to stow a fore t'gan'sl may not be the
handiest shipmate with a knife and fork. Hitchen
or Axel were named by me.

"No, Felix, that Hitchen always laughs at
me when I tell about the way we cook things in
France. Axel is all right but he eats stock fish.
Let us ask Tommy. Tommy knows a good din-
ner when he smells it. Let's ask him."

Thereupon Tommy was asked, and of course
accepted. We were to pool our week's allowance,
two dollars apiece, and by the ready way in which

214 UNDER SAIL

Tommy and Frenchy got together on the propo-
sition I knew that they had already thrashed out
all the details. Frenchy merely started the ball
rolling my way by true foVsle diplomacy, the
boys imagining perhaps that I would want some-
one besides Tommy as the third man, for some-
how or other Tommy and I had never chummed
to any extent since our arrival in Honolulu.

The matter of Tommy disposed of, Frenchy
took the arrangements in hand, going ashore with
Tommy Saturday night to perfect the details,
for these archconspirators had already selected
the place at which we were to dine. It transpired
that Nigger, who was a warm friend of mine
host, had highly recommended the place, so I
agreed to put myself in the hands of my friends
after the time-honored custom of more exalted
candidates, turning over to them the two silver
dollars received from Captain Nichols, and that
night I followed my routine of many other even-
ings of enforced economy, and repaired to the
reading room of the Y. M. C. A.

When I came aboard Frenchy and Tommy
were there to meet me. They had seen the pro-
prietor of a little restaurant on Fort Street a
few doors north of Hotel. A table had been re-
served for Sunday, at one o'clock, and the final

A DINNER ASHORE 215

specifications of that dinner minutely laid down.
Frenchy was enthusiastic. I would now see what
a real dinner was like ; I was to tell him frankly
if it was not better than the dinners I had had
ashore with my friends. The proprietor, a Por-
tuguese, was a man of taste ready to welcome us
as friends of Nigger; his wife was to cook the
dinner herself. Clean white tablecloth, napkins,
and everything right, had been ordered by
Frenchy.

We did not tell the rest of the crowd forward
of our plans, for like enough they would only
ridicule the idea. As a matter of fact it did seem
like an extravagance, but we were having so
much fun out of it before we ever came to the
actual disposition of the dinner, that it was well
worth the sacrifice entailed. "A man likes to
have things good once in a while," was the jus-
tification of Frenchy.

Sunday morning, after the washdown, which
was always particularly thorough on that day,
lasting an hour or so longer than usual, we par-
took of a very light breakfast. We then shaved
carefully, that is, Tommy and I did, and got out
our best clothes, brushing them with great care.

"Are you going riding to-day?" asked Martin
with a grin.

216 UNDER SAIL

"No, Mart, I expect to dine at the Palace with
President Dole."

"Is Tommy and Frenchy going with you?"

"You guessed it. By special invitation, Mart,
Tommy and Frenchy have been asked up to dine
and to advise the President as to the cut of his
whiskers. Some say he should shave like Tommy,
on account of the heat, others contend he should
let them grow like Frenchy, on account of the
mosquitoes ; so you see he is asking us up to din-
ner in order to settle the matter," at which both
Tommy and Frenchy expanded perceptibly, and
Mart, muttering "Rats," went out on deck to
escape the jibes of the crowd. It was certain
that something unusual was up, but after the
manner of a free fo'c'sle, the men kept their own
counsel, only such goats as the wood-turner Mar-
tin having the crust to edge in.

Frenchy broke out his best — a blue suit, very
square cut in the shoulders, double breasted, and
of substantial cloth, rather heavy, but undoubted-
ly good. He told me proudly that it had been
made to order in Dunkirk two years before when
he was home on a visit. He also polished the leath-
er visor on his blue cloth cap, a petty officer's cap,
a relic of the old days in the navy. Of course
Frenchy had on a stiff white shirt, one with a

A DINNER ASHORE 217

very small bosom, which made it necessary for
him to keep his coat buttoned, for he decided not
to wear a vest. This shirt was a work of art,
hand made by sister Madeleine, and having col-
lar and cuffs attached. In place of a tie he wore
a loosely knotted scarf of black silk.

Tommy had a gray sack suit, not new, but well
brushed and neat. The edges of the vest, which
he insisted on wearing, were lined with black
braid, and he had worked black silk triangles at
the corners of the pocket slits. Tommy wore a
very shiny boiled shirt, a low wing collar, a fancy
butterfly tie of the very latest South Street pat-
tern, held in place by an elastic band, and a gray
felt hat.

I donned my visiting clothes, and the three
of us turned out in the height of perfection,
scrubbed, polished, and rubbed down to the last
turn; Beau Brummel, had he ever shipped deep
water, would have had nothing on us.

"Well, I hope you has a good time," called
out Brenden as we headed aft for the gangway,
just as the smelly kids from the galley were com-
ing forward, in the hands of Fred and Tony,
masses of greasy potroast unappetizing and un-
couth.

The mate sighted us as we went over the gang-

218 UNDER SAIL

way. He stood in the shadow under the after
awning giving us a thorough looking over.

"Three gentlemen of Verona!" he cried after
us in derision, for let it be known Mr. Zerk was
something of a scholar in his way and not with-
out a sense of inaccurate but racy humor.

Glad to be clear of the ship, we headed up
Nuuanu Street to King, put our helms hard to
port and ran east under the shadow of the sub-
stantial concrete stores and offices, with their
heavy iron shutters closed for the Sabbath day.
From King Street we turned northerly into Fort
Street and, with yards squared, and three abreast,
we bore up to the haven in which we were to
dine, as well pleased a trio of low degree mari-
ners as ever sailed.

The proprietor, swarthy, stout, and smiling,
and wearing a white apron, greeted us at the
door; while his wife peeked from behind a cur-
tain in the rear, as he ushered us to a nice round
table next to a window overlooking a cool shady
garden. We were the only diners in this cozy
room, the private parlor of mine host. The
trades were blowing rather strong that day and
a pleasant breeze came in through the open win-
dow. The lace curtains still linger in my mem-

A DINNER ASHORE 219

ory, with other details of the feast, and I had to
tuck them back, for they threatened the soup.

When I say that a small vase of flowers deco-
rated the white linen, or perhaps it was only cot-
ton, but at any rate fresh and clean, the fine hand
of Frenchy will be recognized, for, let us say so
again, and if necessary, again and again, he had
planned the dinner from first to last in every de-
tail.

The soup, for of course we started with soup
and not with any of the exotic indigestible frip-
pery often attempted by ambitious but ill-in-
formed caterers, was cold consomme! "Hey,
wot's this?" demanded Tommy, "are we late?"
"No, Tommy, you eat this cold. Try it." "Say,
that's all to the all right!"

Well, it certainly was "all to the all right," and
real cold, in fact chilly would be the proper word.
The host fluttered about; he was doing things
right, and to entertain guests such as we, who
knew and demanded that every detail be carried
out; for such appreciative guests were rare in-
deed in the vicinity of Fort Street, not far from
Hotel.

The fish course was a dainty morsel of some
native species, flaky and white. It would take

220 UNDER SAIL

a connoisseur, and few of them shipped at sea
in those days, to describe that meal.

The roast was a fat fowl, but not too fat, a
plump bird of the genus chicken.

When this rare bird appeared on the table
Frenchy insisted upon congratulating the cook,
the proprietor's wife, who blushed with pleasure
at the gracious compliments showered upon her,
and the bird, with equal facility. Of course
Frenchy carved. He carved exactly as he had
often carved before in the long hungry night
watches off the coast of North America when
we first chummed together. Only now he was
dismembering a real plump drumstick done to
a golden brown, and not one of the imaginary
mouth-watering tantalizers of the cold high seas.
Dressing was there too, and mighty good, and a
big dish of mealy mashed potatoes, white and
satisfying.

"Have some gravy," said Tommy, passing
around the gravy boat, a vessel he was well able
to command.

We wound up with a salad of lettuce, and
Frenchy mixed the dressing at the table. It
will not stretch the imagination of the reader to
believe that by this time our shipmate was in a
highly satisfactory mood. Tommy and I were

A DINNER ASHORE 221

having the time of our lives, and as far as dinners
go I have never enjoyed a better. Since then
it has been my fortune to kick heels beneath the
same table with a prince of the royal blood, to
have broken bread with schoolmen and with men
of the old world who feel themselves of noble
strain; I have speared spuds with the fishermen
of the north and have shared my bacon and corn
pone with the niggers in the swamps of Florida;
I have dined in state and have taken my chances
in a college commons, but never can I remember
a better or a merrier meal.

Some guava tart and cream cheese, the latter
served on small green leaves, and large generous
plebeian cups of clear Kona coffee, completed
the dinner.

Our host had a surprise for us. He opened,
and passed around, a box of good cigars, urging
us to help ourselves to extra ones, which we did.
He then took off his apron and, drawing a chair
up to the table, joined our well satisfied company.
We talked of all things under the heavens and
upon the land and waters. More coffee was
called for at intervals, and when our host learned
that I had been in Horta, his native town in the
Azores, a new bond of interest was established.

Finally, with regret, the time came to depart.

222 UNDER SAIL

A fine touch worthy of that finished sailor, Vic-
tor Mathes of Dunkirk, God rest his soul and
grant him all prosperity, was the fact that the
meal had been paid for in advance and we left
our host without the sordid jingling of change
or offering of a pauperizing tip, this worthy
bowing us to the door, three contented sailors,
with extended belts, and empty pockets, and
nothing but a ship to call our home.

CHAPTER XVIII

BRITISH NEIGHBORS

THE memory of our famous dinner ashore,
a feast that was enjoyed over and over
again in reminiscences during the succeeding
months of the voyage, brings to mind, hy very
contrast, the sad picture of a body of men who
were constantly hungry. These unfortunates
were the crew of the iron ship British Monarch.
We became very friendly with the crowd on the
Britisher during our stay in port, finding them
there when we came and leaving them behind
when we put to sea. These poor devils talked
of food, thought of food, and dreamt of food;
they did everything but eat it in anything like
satisfying quantities.

They were a typical English ship's company
in this case, carrying a larger number of Britons
than was generally the rule. The Dutchman, that
is anything hailing from the north of Europe,
of course predominated.

"Bli me if she ain't the 'ungriest bloody tawnk

223

224 UNDER SAIL

hout o' Lunnon. Arsh thy calls hit. Sye, hif
arsh hever tysted like that, so 'elp me. And they
arsts me to heat me fill, the rotters! Blarst 'em!
The bloody rotters!"

The speaker, a native of parts near London,
a vivacious and interesting lad named Parker
Tweedy, treated us to this and much more in the
same vein. Tweedy elected himself a "Hextra
'and" at our mess and helped clean up the kids
on many an occasion. In fact many a pocket
full of tack and many a half pan of dry hash
went from the Fuller to the British Monarch.

Two very youthful apprentice boys, fair
haired and rosy faced, with china-blue eyes, were
among her complement. These children, they
were nothing more, gloried in the most awful
command of profanity. The boys were to be
seen wandering about ashore of an evening, their
faded blue uniform caps proclaiming them the
sons of doting parents who were willing to pay
a bonus of fifty pounds in order that their boys
might learn the rudiments of seamanship and
navigation on the clipper ship British Monarch,
late of the China and Australia trade. "Uniform
is worn — meaning the caps — and the young gen-
tlemen are berthed in separate quarters in the
cuddy house." So read the tale that snared them.

BRITISH NEIGHBORS 225

However, nothing except hunger ever seemed to
happen to these lads, and as they flattened their
noses against the confectioner's windows ashore,
they were unconsciously absorbing lessons that
might be of value to them in after life.

Like most English ships of this class, the
British Monarch was a disgrace to the sea and
in no way representative of the best traditions
of the English service. The system in vogue in
ships of her kind may be epitomized as one of
least work and less food. Day after day the
crew would sling a scaffold plank over her side
and chip her rusty plates in a languid, melan-
choly way, interspersing their half-hearted labors
by lengthy discussions. Small patches of the
chipped surface would be coated with red lead
and the British Monarch looked like a tattered
sea rover wearing a very much torn coat through
which patches of red undershirt were visible.

Her gear aloft was most slovenly, Irish pend-
ants hanging from every yard, and her spars tak-
ing any direction in which they happened to be
at the time the braces were belayed. Her skipper,
a youngish man and very unassuming, would
scull about the harbor in a small jolly boat visit-
ing his friends. Why the crew stayed by the ship
was a mystery, with good billets going begging

226 UNDER SAIL

for sailor men to hold them; however, when we
learned that they had a year's payday on the
books and were looking forward to some happy
distant time when that rusty ark would drop her
anchor in the Thames or Mersey, the reason for
their staying by was plain.

Kitchen and I went on board of her after we
had been in port for several weeks and I was sur-
prised to have him take me aft into the cabin.
All he would say was that he had met Mr. Gore,
the mate, back in England ; they were old friends,
"so what's the difference if I am before the mast
so long as it's in another ship?" which was true
enough. The cabin of the ship was very elabo-
rately appointed, though not well taken care of.
The British Monarch had been in the East India
trade at one time and was fitted to carry a lim-
ited number of cabin passengers.

Mr. Gore, the mate, was a taciturn man of
about forty, much given to study and reflection,
for which he had ample opportunity, as the care
and working of the ship never seemed to bother
him. The second mate, Mr. Hauton, a lad of
less than twenty, was most hospitable. He was
a graduate of an English schoolship, and as I
was from the St. Mary's, we had a lot to talk
about, comparing notes on all matters relating

BRITISH NEIGHBORS 227

to the profession of the sea. He was a "Wrinkles"
fan and exhibited a thumbed copy of the first
edition. As I had a copy of the latest, much
enlarged, Hauton made me promise to loan it to
him.

One thing that was notable was the fact that
they had the run of things aft, going into the
captain's room for books, and freely inviting
their friends on board to partake of such hos-
pitality as the vessel afforded. The social equal-
ity aft was better balanced than in the Fuller,
and deservedly so. On the other hand, our mate
was a far better sailor than either of these men,
yet he was as far removed from the captain, as
we were from the sacred shelter of the forward
cabin.

Hauton and I made a number of interesting ex-
cursions about Honolulu and its vicinity. We vis-
ited the Oahu prison, whose white walls loomed
over the green meadows beyond the railroad
wharf. Another trip took us out to the great
Ewa Plantation. Hauton was keen on visiting
the coast traders as they came in from Califor-
nia, and having more or less of a fixture during
the long stay in port of the British Monarch, he
was able to make many friends. His reason for
staying by the ship was the fact that the time in

228 UNDER SAIL

port, he being signed on as a regular officer, was
telling toward his sea service. On their return,
if they ever did return, he would go before the
examiners of the Board of Trade as a candidate
for the First Mate's Certificate of Competency.

They do this sort of thing much better in Eng-
land, and in fact in all of the European coun-
tries, than we do. There an ambitious lad of
seventeen, who has had his service and possesses
the necessary knowledge of navigation, can pass
for second mate. In the United States the young
man must be twenty-one, an age at which they
commanded ships in the good old days, before
the Local Inspectors of Steam Vessels can exam-
ine him for a second mate's license.* This fool-
ish rule kept me roughing at sea, in subordinate
billets, for three years before I could qualify and
go to sea as an officer, that is, three years more
than were necessary, as I was- qualified by ser-
vice and knowledge at the age of eighteen.

Another thing, and here is as good a place to
say it as any, the whole system of examining mer-
chant officers is wrong. The U. S. Local In-
spectors of Steam Vessels are earnest, capable
officers, but must work with the laws and regu-

* Changed in 1916 to admit men of 19 years, having the required
sea experience, to examination for third or second mate.

BRITISH NEIGHBORS 229

lations as they find them. The examinations are
even less rigid now * than formerly, owing to the
great need for officers to man our ships.

One of the worst features of the thing is the
fact that they give a man a "license" I have no
desire to quarrel about mere words, but why not
be consistent? As we "license" our merchant
marine officers, let us do the whole thing in the
same hayseed fashion and give our naval officers
"permits" instead of "commissions," or perhaps
include them in the scheme of licenses. An old
sailor once told me that he would rather have a
liquor license than a license to sail the oceans
as master. Dog licenses, peddler's licenses, and
what not, all confused in the average mind with
merchant officer's licenses are the result of ig-
norance founded on a political system, that, orig-
inating ashore, has bungled the laws governing
our sea service since the fatal time when it was
taken under the present system of control.

To end this "backwash of wrath" let us give
our merchant officers "A Certificate of Compe-
tency" or any old thing but a "license." As a
matter of fact the officer's license looks very
much like the license displayed in saloon win-

* 1918.

230 UNDER SAIL

dows, permitting them to do business by virtue
of their payment of internal revenue taxes.

The yawl of the Britisher was an able, fine
modeled boat, sported a leg-o'-mutton rig and
frequently, of a moonlight evening, the breeze
being fair, Kitchen and I would go out sailing
with the mates of the British Monarch. On one
occasion Hauton and I took the yawl out
through the harbor entrance and beat our way as
far east as Waikiki Beach, expecting to sail back
before it with a fair breeze. It fell calm and we
were compelled to beach her and leave the boat
in charge of a native, as she was too big an order
for us to row back alone, especially as we car-
ried only one oar. This taught us a lesson, for
we had to walk back, not having a cent in our
pockets. The next night we went out by car
with the two apprentice boys and a number of
our Hawaiian friends, who brought their uku-
leles. The sail back into the harbor was most
enjoyable. These people have excellent voices,
as a rule, and sing with a haunting plaintive
strain of sadness that can never be forgotten.

In the undertow of human flotsam that cir-
culated about the wharves and waterfront sa-
loons, there was considerable talk about the
smuggling of opium. It seemed a profitable

BRITISH NEIGHBORS 231

business to engage in, judging by the talk we
heard. A leak in the customs, or some loophole
in the restrictions on the trade, allowed a lot of
the drug to get into Honolulu. Often, as we
sailed about the harbor in the evening, we would
notice the small schooners coming in and out,
many of these being consigned to Chinese and
Japanese merchants. The cleverest of the smug-
glers would come into the port with their ship-
ment of opium slung under the keel of the vessel.
Bearings would be taken at some point, perhaps
some time before letting go the anchor, and the
contraband tripped to the bottom. All that was
necessary then was to deliver the bearings; the
consignee could go out and pick up his freight
in a fishing net when most convenient.

Going to sea breeds a garrulous curiosity
among sailors. The shipping in the harbor was
a constant source of discussion aboard the Fuller.
Of fine trim sailing craft, Honolulu held more
than her share in those days. Such craft as the
barkentine Irmgard, the bark Nuuanu> and the
Foohing Suey were a delight to the eye. The
bark Rhoderick Dhu was also one of them, and
eight years later I saw her come slambanging
into the broad harbor of Hilo, all sail set and
a crowd of gaily dressed women on her poop.

232 UNDER SAIL

She was still popular as a passenger carrier,
and came to anchor with the precision of a man-
o'-war.

The island steamer, a typical product of Ha-
waii, is a cross between a steam schooner, only
shorter, and a New England boarding house and
factory combination. A black tin smokestack
rises above the front porch, two stump masts are
fitted with leg-of-mutton sails to steady her, and
a large crew of Kanakas complete the maritime
mess.

CHAPTER XIX

THE MATE KEEPS US BUSY

NEWS that war with Spain had been de-
clared reached us on April 27th, coming by
the U. S. Mariposa from Sydney. On the same
day we discharged the last piece of cargo in the
hold of the Fuller and hauled into the stream to
get ready for our return loading of sugar. This
ended our shore liberty for a few nights, but it
really came as a relief to us. Three busy weeks
along shore, weeks that seemed like months when
we thought of all that had happened, sickened
us of the dust and smell, the latter emanating
largely from the Chinese houses with their pe-
culiar odor of rancid sweetened grease. The
chatter of the Kanakas wearied us and the mos-
quito pest along shore was enough to discour-
age even the most pronounced optimist. We were
glad, indeed, for a few days of comparative quiet
while in the stream; at least it was three days
of quiet that we looked forward to.

Before hauling away from the wharf we took

233

234 UNDER SAIL

aboard a lot of rough pine and spruce lumber,
material to be used in lining the ship. Shore
carpenters came out, men thoroughly versed in
the work, and in an incredible time had fitted a
complete inner skin throughout the hold. This
was kept at least a foot away from the sides of
the vessel and some two feet above the bilges,
and the ceiling next the keelson, the ceiling being
at the bottom and not at the top of the hold, as
landsmen might imagine. The boarding of this
inner skin was cleverly laid, clinker fashion like
the clapboards on a house, so that any sweat
or leak water in the hold would be shed and run
down clear to the bilges without wetting the pre-
cious cargo.

A cargo of sugar such as was to be carried by
the Fuller was worth at that time in the neighbor-
hood of a quarter of a million, and the greatest
precautions were taken to safeguard it. In ad-
dition to guarding against wet, all places where
the sugar bags might, by any chance, come in
contact with iron, as the bolt heads in the heavy
knees that jutted through the inner lining, were
wrapped with extra thicknesses of gunny sack.
When this job was completed the lower hold
looked like the inside of a gigantic melon, nicely
hollowed out. There was a clean sweep from the

THE MATE KEEPS US BUSY 235

fore peak to the lazarette, only interrupted by
the mainmast and the upright water tank, a sim-
ple hold such as was considered safe and proper
in the days of Columbus and of Drake.

The 'tween decks of the Fuller was rather

WATCHING THE SHOEE WHEN IN THE STREAM

fancy. Her voyage previous to the one we were
on had taken her to China and while in Shanghai
the 'tween decks was scraped bright. The under
side of the spar deck, the lining, knees, and
waterways, were all in natural wood and coated
with a varnish made of shellac and oil. The heads
of bolts, and all iron work, had been painted with

236 UNDER SAIL

aluminum paint and then varnished. When we
first noted this it brought forth some caustic com-
ment.

"They do the cargo a damn sight better than
they do us," remarked Australia. And this was
right and proper. The cargo pays freight and
should be considered, whereas we were a part of
the expense, to be cut down as low as possible
both in numbers and wages.

Captain Nichols, too, was glad to get away
from the wharf and all the annoyances incident
to discharging. The dust and unavoidable dirt
tracked aboard ship by the people from shore
were a constant vexation to his soul. I have often
seen the skipper bob up from the companion and
chase some unsuspecting visitor ashore without
ceremony; some poor deluded mortal without a
proper reverence for the sacred character of
those spotless after decks that we had holy-
stoned and scrubbed so carefully every day of
the voyage.

When we got in the stream a comfortable
deck chair was brought out for the captain and
placed on top of the cabin and several times we
saw him actually recline at his ease in this con-
cession to luxury. The skipper also wore won-
derful white clothing with double blue stripes;

THE MATE KEEPS US BUSY 237

this was really silk, but looked for all the world
like the standard pattern for bedticking. It
must have been cool, and after all that is why
he wore them. Coming out to the ship a few
days after we had hauled out, the captain had
his boatman row him around the vessel while he
eyed her carefully. Evidently everything was
right aloft, yards square and all gear snug, for
of course the mate had seen to that, but he was
not pleased with the appearance of the hull. The
following morning we got busy and all that day
half of us were over the side scrubbing her. We
took long brooms and cleaned off the high wall
of copper, for being light she showed some six
feet of it, and when we got through, the Fuller
looked something like her old self.

During all of our time in Honolulu the mate
remained very much to himself. I only remem-
ber seeing him go ashore a few times and none
of us ever met him when off the ship. He led
a lonesome life, and after the hard day of driv-
ing us with all duties devolving on him alone, I
have no doubt he was pretty well done. Thinking
it over, I have since come to the conclusion that
the terrible Mr. Zerk, the bully and the slave-
driver, with a curse always ready on his lips, and
a heavy fist prepared to enforce his mandates,

238 UNDER SAIL

was a sort of Mr. Hyde to a very domestic Zerk
saving his payday at the rate of a paltry sixty
dollars a month against the time of his return
home to the wife and kids. His supply of home-
made jams and preserved pickles, so sparingly
given me on the passage out, confirms this con-
clusion. True, I hated him cordially during
those trying days in Honolulu, but then I was
very much of an ass, and no doubt deserved all
that was given me. When we went into the
stream, things got better; the mate slackened
up to the extent of allowing me to tally aboard
the lumber for the lining.

About this time talk in the fo'c'sle was much
concerned with speculation as to who would be
our second mate. Martin said he had overheard
the mate tell someone from the shore that a man
was coming out from Frisco to take the billet.

"Not on yer life," said Australia; "they will
pick something easy from forward. This mate
likes to run things hisself and all he wants is
some boy to stay awake nights to call the captain
if a squall blows up. They will pick one of
us, but whoever he is, he will be a fool."

In fact not long afterward judicious sound-
ings were taken forward by that left-handed
diplomat, the gloomy Chips. Whoever sent him

THE MATE KEEPS US BUSY 239

on his fruitless errand must have received an en-
lightening message. Chips cornered one man
after another and in a deliberate fashion got his
ideas as to who was willing to go aft. We were
all of one opinion as to who was most fitted for
the billet; Old Smith of course was the man.
Although he was known as Old Smith, it was
more a matter of respect, his age being only
about forty or forty-five. He had sailed before
the mast since boyhood, most of this time deep-
water, back and forth around the Horn, sailing
as second mate many times but always going
back to the fo'c'sle as his choice.

Smith never drank to excess while in Hono-
lulu, was a clean-cut, able seaman, a type as
scarce in those days and unknown now.

Some hitch ashore occurred in regard to our
cargo, for we lay in the stream three days after
we were ready to load. In the interval the mate
hit upon a brilliant idea. Why he thought of
this piece of hazing, for such it was, is merely a
guess on my part, but the growing cheerfulness
forward must have annoyed him. The band was
particularly active after we left the wharf, the
concerts on the fo'c'sle head, of an evening, last-
ing well into the night.

The day after the hold was finished we were

240 UNDER SAIL

horsed about unmercifully at the washdown.
Fred, Martin and I had put large batches of
clothing to soak the night before, expecting to
find time during the day for scrubbing, as we
looked forward to a rather easy time.

"Hey! Put them swabs up. Never mind
that, Smith; break out a couple of barrels of
sand. Leave the water spar," this last to Frenchy
and Charlie Horse, who were about to unrig it;
for Charlie Horse always helped at the morning
washdown after his night of watching, "to
give him an appetite for breakfast," as the mate
said.

"Wot in hell is the racket?" asked Australia
in alarm. "So help me — is that busher going to
start something new?"

"Dot's it. Somethings new again. Maybe the
'bear' in port, or something," chimed in Scouse.

"Get your breakfast!" shouted the mate as
soon as the sand was on deck, and we went for-
ward with the whole ship in a mess — gear on the
pins, deck wet, and two barrels of mysterious
sand at the main hatch.

"By , he's got me," confessed Hitchen;

"whatever the bloody bitch has up his sleeve is

a new one."

"Joe was wise; that's what he was, wise. And

THE MATE KEEPS US BUSY 241

say, that little hipercrite Jimmy, was he wise?
Well, ast me, will you, after tonight? I'll bet
something is doing, and something very fine.
We been having our fling too much. The hell
with these American working wagons!"

"Aw, shut up, Brenden, will you? For Gawd's
sake, have some feelin's for us. Look at Fred;
he's too tired to eat."

The reaction from our high spirits of the last
few days was complete. We sat around dejected
after breakfast, and it was with a feeling of re-
lief that we heard the bull-like roar of the mate
urging us to turn to. This summons reverber-
ated across the harbor, and must have advertised
us as a packet of strife.

Things were not long in abeyance. We were
ordered to wet down decks again and spread
the sand on the main deck as far forward as the
windlass. Old Smith, Frenchy, Brenden, and
Martin were told off to lend a hand to Chips.
The first lengths of the chain cables were stop-
pered just abaft the wild cats, and by means of
handy billys and chain hooks we roused up long
bights of the rusty cables and ranged them'
along the deck, constantly wetting down and
sprinkling sand to protect the planks. This
was no easy job; in fact we worked like slaves

242 UNDER SAIL

at the back-breaking labor, having something
like a hundred fathoms to handle on each an-
chor. The night after this started our band
went out of business, for we all turned in.

Mr. Zerk was positively cheerful during the
second and last day of this job. When we had
completed hauling out the chain, made of great
links a half foot long, and strengthened by a
heavy stud, he descended to the chain locker,
while I went with him carrying the lantern. We
found very little dirt in the locker, and that also
seemed to please the mate. The whole operation,
aside from furnishing us considerable exercise,
did no particular good, nor for that matter harm.
I was glad of the opportunity to see the thing
done, an interesting piece of work from the stand-
point of the student of seamanship. The ends of
the cables were passed through heavy ring bolts
on the keelson and then were carried up and se-
cured by a stout lashing to rings in the knight
heads. This method of securing made it possible
to slip the cables by casting off the ends and let-
ting them go by the run, as the ends are always in
sight. The necessity for slipping cables comes
very seldom, but when it does have to be done
the safety of the ship and all on board depends
upon the ability to let go quickly and without a

THE MATE KEEPS US BUSY 243

hitch. During this work we examined the mark-
ings on the chain. At the links next to the shack-
les, that separate the different shots of the cable,
turns of wire are placed on the studs so that in
running out the cable the shackles can be exam-
ined as they go over the wild cats, and the length
of chain out determined. Large swivels are also
provided for taking out the turns when a vessel
swings completely around in a tide way. Where
two anchors are out, and the chains become
twisted, we have the necessity for "clearing the
hawse," an old time honored operation per-
formed by the voyagers in the days of Columbus
when hawsers were used. The hawse pipes still
retain their name though great chain cables are
now employed.

The labor of stowing the cables was less pain-
ful than that of rousing them up as gravity
worked with us.

On the night we finished this job we received
word that the ship was to go alongside again the
next day, and again we were glad of the change.
That the system on board was a good one can-
not be denied. We were always glad that some
disagreeable piece of work was done, and, except
for the croakers, who were always predicting
trouble — and were always right — we were a very

244 UNDER SAIL

contented lot of men. It also happened that in
the scheme of things no part of the ship was ever
neglected, and the owners received full value in
the care of their vessel for the wages that were
slowly accruing to us.

CHAPTER XX

THE LAND OF LANGUOR

THE month in port had pulled us together in
a remarkable manner. The ship's company
forward were as one large family gathered by
strange chance from the ends of the earth, and,
because of the wonderful adaptability of human
nature, we were working and living our life in
pleasant harmony. Of course it might as well be
said that if anything otherwise had occurred, if
constant fighting had taken place, our well
trained masters of the cabin would have put the
disturbances down with little delay.

On the Fuller we mustered an imposing ar-
ray of nationalities; besides Americans, we had
Norwegians, a Swede, an Italian, two Germans,
and an Englishman. The mate, an American,
had "Blue Nose" written all over him. He was
one of those hard men, originating in Nova
Scotia, who have added their bit to the consum-
mate seamanship of New England and New
York. The Chinese cook, and Japanese boy,

245

246 UNDER SAIL

and later on our Kanaka sailors, helped to make
us as conglomerate as any melting pot. The one
man we lacked, and it was the only place in my
career of much work and poor pay, that I did
not find him, was the Irishman. We missed
Paddy ; he should have been there.

The amount of the pay day coming to us, some
time in the distant future, was a constant source
of computation. Figuring the time since the
working off of the dead horse, and deducting the
slop chest account, also the money advanced
while in port, and while the figures were often
disappointing, there was still the possibility of a
tidy pay day looming far ahead. Unlike the
poor whaleman with the prospect of nothing but
his "Iron Dollar" and escape from slavery, we
did have a show to collect. The captain in
American ships is allowed to charge a profit of
ten per cent on his slop chest account. I doubt
if Captain Nichols did even this. He had the
steward serve out such things as were wanted,
and the prices were lower than the cost of simi-
lar articles on South Street. When Peter dipped
in too strong, getting, or rather attempting to
get expensive things from the slops, the captain
refused to let him have them. Peter once want-
ed some tobacco, he was going very heavy on

THE LAND OF LANGUOR 247

this item as he regularly gave it away. Captain
Nichols shut down on him and after that handed
him cigars whenever he happened to see Peter.

Scouse was one of the principal calculators of
the pay day. He had a frugal mind and was
planning great things with his money when he
should once more get back to New York. With
Joe gone, Scouse became a different man. He
was a sobered Scouse, a deep thinking plodder
who gave himself up to day dreams that must
have been of vast extent. Scouse announced that
he intended to get married. He planned to meet
and marry some good obliging German girl,
"Just over; dot's the one." A girl not averse
to a big lumbering Dutchman with a shock of
coarse red hair, and a terrible appetite; however
a man not afraid to work. His idea was to go
west. "No more from dis rotten sailor's humbug
by me. I was going to be somepody ant get re-
spect ant lif like decent people." Also he fig-
ured on a nest egg of a little over one hundred
dollars. But then, families have been founded
on less, though of course the founders were not
destined to be welcomed home by a band of
crimps and blandishers.

Frenchy too had great plans. He was going
back to Dunkirk. To be sure he even talked

248 UNDER SAIL

of going back to Havre, in the French Line,
paying his steerage passage. Then he planned
to get spliced, and his scheme was to go out in
the fishing fleet, or else back to New Caledonia,
where he knew the country, and start life afresh.

Axel was going back to Sweden, to Stock-
holm, so he said, and never more out on the briny
billows of discontent. Fred was also a prospec-
tive homeward bounder. Trondhjem was his
destination, and the fishing fleets of the town the
means for his living. Tony and Charlie Horse
intended to join Scouse in so far as they were
bound for the interior of the U. S. A.

During these many discussions, the wise sailor
men like Kitchen, Brenden, and Smith, the sea-
soned shellbacks, full of the cruel furrows of time
spent before the mast, and God alone knows
what other outlandish callings that roving men
may follow, kept their counsel and smiled.

"Sonny, I guess I am down on the books of
some ship that sails a few weeks after we get
back. Another crowd, another skipper and
mates, and another voyage." Old Smith was as
nearly sentimental as it was possible for him to
be, and still be Old Smith. "Yes, I like this ship,
but how in hell are we all going to sign on again

THE LAND OF LANGUOR 249

when more than half the crowd is going to get
married?"

It was strange how thoughtful the hard days
of hauling that chain made all of us. Besides
this, the Honolulu climate was gradually getting
under our hardened hides. They can say what
they like about the Hawaiian Islands being a
"white man's country." It is if you mean a white
man who never has anything harder to do than
to tell a Kanaka or a Jap to lift the burden. The
trades do blow, and it is lucky for the inhabitants
that they do, otherwise, the Isthmus of Panama
would be duplicated out in the broad Pacific. In
spite of the pleasing winds and the beautiful clear
weather, things are a bit too balmy for contin-
ued physical exertion. Lifting a gin rickey is
good enough exercise, and if you lift them often
enough, out at Sans Souci, for instance, you can
imagine anything you like about the Islands.

Working men stay home, if you are white, let
the coolies shoulder the physical burdens; but if
you are wealthy and also lucky, you will very
likely own stock in a sugar plantation. They
were paying seventy-five per cent dividends in
those days, and this is so even now, I believe.
Also if one is ambitious to put pep and fire into
things, seek a cooler clime. It is a fact that the

250 UNDER SAIL

white people of the Islands, who can do so, spend
a part of their time on the coast and whenever
possible, prospective mothers go to the coast dur-
ing the time of their pregnancy, as the Hawaiian
climate seems to rob them of much of the neces-
sary vitality for the ordeal of birth.

But the Islands do hold a magic, all pervading
charm, they are as unlike any other islands as it
is possible for them to be. Honolulu, with its
beautiful villas, with its modern setting amid a
glory of tropical verdure, springing from an age
old fertile humus, bathed in tropic sun, cannot
be duplicated.

On getting alongside the railroad wharf,
which we did by the economical and laborious
process of warping across the harbor by use of
a kedge anchor, we found that the greater part
of the day had gone by, a day that started at four
o'clock in the morning with the regular wash-
down to begin things, when we were ordered to
carry out the kedge and pick up our moorings.

Time was plentiful with us in those days, for
the eight hour schedule had never been heard
of. Mr. Furuseth and Senator La Follette were
not there to shield us from cruel fate, and besides,
whatever extra drilling was done, was simply
at the expense of sleep, a thing under the com-

THE LAND OF LANGUOR 251

plete control of the mate. We got up when we
were told to by the mate, as Charlie Horse went
aft for his orders each evening, and when extra
work was to be done he was instructed accord-
ingly.

Once alongside, we took aboard the long hard-
wood sugar chutes, worn smooth by endless pol-
ishing of the gunny sack, in which the partly re-
fined sugar is shipped. These chutes were ar-
ranged very cleverly by Nigger who came
aboard with a shore gang of stevedores. The in-
clination must be just right, and the chutes must
be placed just so, in order to prevent spilling,
where it is necessary to cut corners in order to
reach the farther parts of the hold. We were
glad that natives were to stow the ship; in fact
this work is mighty technical, and we never
would have been able to do so with our crew.
Working with the natives, we picked up a lot
of knowledge about the handling of sugar, points
that were to be of much use to me in later years
when I returned to the islands as mate of a
steamer.

On the Railroad Wharf there were several
lines of track and some turnouts carrying short
flat cars loaded with sugar bags all safe under
huge tarpaulins. We also found the warehouse

252 UNDER SAIL

pretty well stocked with it, and were told that
when we once started to load, the sugar would
pour into the ship in a constant stream.

That night we again put up our mosquito bars
against the enemy from which we had mercifully
been saved during the few days in the stream.
Tired but strangely content, we sat on the fo'c'sle
head in the evening glow or walked out on the
stringpiece of the railroad wharf, which then
jutted far into the harbor, and watched the lights
aboard the U. S. S. Bennington. Except Peter,
we had made no friends aboard the gunboat.
They seemed like men of a different world, as
indeed they were. The sounding of "taps" over
the water, the clear plaintive notes of the bugle,
ended our day. We were to load on the mor-
row; at last we were to start on the final half of
our voyage, with the taking aboard of our first
bag of sugar.

CHAPTER XXI

LOADING SUGAR

LOADING a deepwater ship with sugar in
the port of Honolulu during the golden
summer days of the young Republic was a lively
business.

"Hi there! On the dock! Bear a hand with

that sugar! Shake it up now ! Shake it up! Do

you think we have a year to load this ship? By

-! I'll shake you up! Yes, me! You lazy

black 1"

"Pan! Paul Kaliopoulie! kaue Ki! Ki! O
— ooo maloue baue Pau. Likee Pan — / Pan!
pan! pan! Oh — ee hakau! pan! pan!" or words to
that effect, according to the phonetic rendering.
A violent protest of many tongues, bristling
with exclamation points, and heated Kanaka
epithets, rose from the indignant dock gang.
Glances of the utmost withering scorn were shot
up out of the hold at the mate standing abreast
of the main hatch, and all over the dock shirts
were being slipped back onto the silky brown

253

254 UNDER SAIL

backs, stripped in readiness for the work to start.
The uproar of indignation was spontaneous, and
on the outskirts of the racket the stocky Japa-
nese coolies from the sugar plantation gangs, and
from the railroad gang, stood around in sullen
enjoyment of the situation. Aboard ship we of
the crew were circumspect, but our appreciation
of the situation was keen.

"What's this?" A smart looking chap in a
suit of khaki, and wearing a panama hat, stepped
out of the office on the dock. He was sun
browned and efficient ; springy in his movements,
a natural commander of men.

"Pan !" cried a dark skinned per-
spiring stevy, pointing at the mate, and sending
forth another shower of island rhetoric. The
gang foreman of the shore crowd was explain-
ing, brown face shining and eyes flashing black
and white.

"All right! I'll see about it." The railroad
superintendent climbed aboard and took Mr.
Zerk aft, out of earshot, where they got things
settled. Then the superintendent went back
on the dock, the gang foreman got an ear-
ful of second hand apologies, explanations
and promises. Important details of same were
passed on to independent Kanaka citizens by

LOADING SUGAR 255

their boss, and the steam winch started as
the shirts again were slipped off of the silky
brown backs of the workers. We are off. The
first sling of sugar bags shot over the bulwark
and landed on the platform abreast the hatch and
four Kanakas started sending it down the chutes
like lightning. Bing! Another sling dripped
on the platform, and down it went. The action
became automatic, the brown bodies swayed rap-
idly, surely, and on the wharf we heard them
shouting as the Jap coolies inched along another
car with their crow bars. I was stationed at a
point where two chutes met at an angle, and the
yellow bags passed me in rapid succession, slap-
ping the chute with a smart patter as they
jumped the corner. Soon the whole thing be-
came a matter of easy routine. This was living!
What an easy job! The dusky gang below,
working in the half light of the hold, and assisted
by the crew, were placing a bottom layer of su-
gar bags and forward stacking and stepping
back the tiers, "boulking" it, as sailors say, for
the ends of the hold to be kept clear.

The Hawaiian sugar is only partly refined,
and of a dull golden color when the sun strikes
it. It is largely granular, the particles being
almost the size of a small pea. The sacks, made

256 UNDER SAIL

of gunny, are stamped with the names of the
various plantations; Ewa, Laie, Halawa, Holua
Loa, Kilauea, Makee, Wailuku, and a dozen oth-
ers, all of them the mystic symbols spelling
wealth to their fortunate owners.

They weigh in the neighborhood of one hun-
dred and fifty pounds of the limpest, deadest,
weight in the world and without decent "ears"
at the end of the sack to afford a hold. Fre-
quently a sack would break, and we would help
ourselves to the sugar. The taste is pleasant at
first, and we were remarkably liberal in our in-
dulgence, perhaps no more so than a crew of girls
would be if they were loading a cargo of choco-
late creams.

The sugar as it comes from the island refiner-
ies is about twice as sweet as the white granu-
lated article. To a crowd accustomed to black
jack molasses as a sweetener for their coffee, the
sugar was a wonderful delicacy, for a time. Soon
we became cloyed with the taste, and for weeks
after my first gorging of sweets, I took my coffee
and tea without it, though we always had a small
keg of the stuff on hand forward during the re-
mainder of the voyage. The sweet overpowering
smell of the sugar soon permeated the ship, and in

LOADING SUGAR 257

the heat of midday, became nauseating to us
who were not used to it.

The Kanaka workers, splendid specimens,
would toss the heavy sacks with apparent ease,
the muscles rippling under their smooth skins
as they worked. The greatest good feeling pre-
vailed in the hold, and the men constantly re-
ferred to our mate amid sallies of laughter for it
was considered a great victory for them when
the superintendent smoothed matters out.

On deck, at the hatch, and on the wharf, the
tally men checked the loading of every sling and
bag of sugar that went into the hold. The plan-
tation, the railroad, and the ship's agents had
their independent checkers. These chaps, mostly
sedate older men, well educated, apparently well
paid, kept the neatest tally books I have ever
seen. They made the cleanest little marks with
very sharp pencils, which they were always sharp-
ening with very sharp pen knives; little marks
four in a row, and a cross for every fifth bag.
Before the end of each day's loading these very
independent tally men would get together under
the foVsle head, or behind a convenient freight
car on the dock, and reconcile all differences, thus
proving themselves brothers under their skins to
independent folk in higher stations. Years after-

258 UNDER SAIL

ward, I recognized some of these same tally men,
still at the job of making very neat little marks
and crosses, an easy job no doubt and well worth
while if it contributed toward the upkeep of a
happy family; most of them looked like settled
benedicts.

As we cleaned out the warehouse, the sugar
began to come in on the railroad and was slung
right aboard from the cars, the Japs sending the
loaded cars along by pushing, getting them
started by short crow bars, used as levers under
the wheels. These Japs were a husky lot with
very able bodies, small heads, black cropped
hair, often wound with a red or white head band.
Most of them had dazzling white teeth which
they constantly exposed by expansive grins; al-
together they were a testimonial to a rice and fish
diet, so far as physical wellbeing is concerned.

The days at the sugar wharf were among the
most pleasant of our stay in Honolulu, and like
all good things they raced away with disquieting
swiftness. Having lighter duties to perform, we,
were not so dog tired at night and enjoyed our
leisure that much more. Peter continued to
make progress with the native population and on
one eventful night was presented with a large
jug of swipes, as a token of esteem.

LOADING SUGAR 259

Brenden, Axel and I were up on Nuuanu
Street, in the vicinity of Merchant, watching the
shifting crowds as we wandered aimlessly about.
Presently we spied Peter, coming toward us, car-
rying his jug. The street was fairly crowded,
and going ahead of us, toward Peter, was a one-
legged man; a pugnacious individual who
brought down his iron shod peg with loud deter-
mination. The wooden leg yawed badly, sailing
at least three sheets in the wind, and the flag side-
walk was none too wide for him. Coming up to
Peter, he lurched suddenly to port, taking our
shipmate squarely on the bow, and the three of
them, all carrying cargo, Peter, the Peg Leg,
and the Jug of Swipes, rolled into the dusty
gutter.

A fight started right there. The Peg, to give
him a proper name, attacking, and Peter defend-
ing himself from the strange fury of the indig-
nant cripple.

"Separate 'em! Don't you see the man's got
only one leg?"

"Hi! The bloat wi' the wooden pin is fight-
in'! Blarst 'im! — look at 'im!" Sailors, beach
combers, natives, and Orientals were gathering
and taking voice.

We closed to render assistance as the crowd

260 UNDER SAIL

formed under the circle of light from a street
lamp. The two combatants sat back in the gut-
ter after a second exchange, both having fought
sitting down.

"What are we fighting for?" cried Peter, cov-
ered with dirt and sweat.

"I dunno," admitted the stunned Peg.

"To hell with this, let's quit!"

"Naw. I wanna fight!" Peg was getting back
his belligerent wind. "Wash in that jug?" he
demanded, seeing the prize.

"Swipes!" cried Peter, trying to retrieve the

jug-

"Lesh fight fer swipsh. Al ri! Fight fer
swipsh!" he screamed with enthusiasm.

The Peg made another lunge at Peter, as our
boy jumped up with surprising energy, and we
grabbed our shipmate and hauled him out of the
crowd of riff raff that was rapidly increasing.
Some blue- jackets from the Bennington came
up, scenting fun, and Axel was just in time to
beat them to the jug of swipes that lay neglected
in the dust. He passed this to a Kanaka standing
near, a boy we recognized as one of the loading
gang, who rapidly departed with his unexpected
present, while we hurried off with Peter in the
direction of Fort Street. What became of Peg

LOADING SUGAR 261

is unknown. On Fort Street we were attracted
by the melody of Salvation Army music, and to
wind up the night, watched our famous Jimmy
rouse things up in his new uniform, his chest ex-
panding visibly as he ignored us and pounded
his drum with added zest.

On nights such as this, warm and sultry, when
the trade wind was not over strong, the smell
from the Chinese and Japanese stores would
come out into the streets with added intensity.
The Chinese merchants, in the shadow of their
open front stores, would entertain their families
and friends of an evening with interminable jab-
berings that must have been mighty interesting
to them. I used to wonder what these indus-
trious law abiding citizens found to talk about;
now I realize that, except to those who were
blind or deaf, the Honolulu nights could hardly
be long enough for them to discuss half of the
peculiar doings of the daffy white people residing
in that busy little town, in those stirring days of
the Republic.

To a foremast hand, a common sailor in the
fo'c'sle of a deepwaterman, the point of view is
almost on a level with that of the perpetually un-
assimilated Oriental. The sailor sees, he hears,
and if he is gifted with brains that think, he must

262 UNDER SAIL

needs wonder at the strange ways of folks who
dress themselves so well, who live on the most
appetizing foods, perform very little hard work,
and who do themselves to the height of their abil-
ity. That we had a few philosophers among the
crowd forward goes without saying ; men who had
lived, and who had had their fling, and for all I
know to the contrary are having it again. I
wager Kitchen, if not killed by this time, has
mounted to more enlightened planes; perhaps
back to a station from which he temporarily
stepped down to sign articles in the ship A. J.
Fuller for the voyage around Cape Horn.

We did a lot of swapping of books and maga-
zines among the craft in the harbor. The poor
starved crowd from the British Monarch were
first over the side with bundles of old magazines,
paper covered novels, and mind destroying sheets
called "Tit Bits," and "Snappy Bits," periodi-
cals of a peculiar type. After reading one of
them for an hour (and the funny part is you
keep on reading and reading) , it is a sort of men-
tal dope, nothing remains but a vague idea of a
lot of short paragraphs full of piffle.

We got a number of Clark Russell stories in
this exchange, though we really had little to give
in return. All hands read these yarns and while

LOADING SUGAR 263

there was much grumbling about "too much
skirt," the sailor was recognized.

Hitchen and Old Smith were the best read
among the crowd, with Australia a close second ;
leaving out of course that biblical student, the
dear departed Jimmy. Frenchy also was enti-
tled to a place among the intellectuals of the
fo'c'sle; he read Voltaire, had several copies of
his works in the original, as well as shopworn
copies of Les Miserables, and the Toilers of the
Sea. Frenchy read English with difficulty. Axel
also was handicapped in literary discussions by
his lack of English though he waded through
books in that language, having been taught it
at school; of course he spoke English well, as in-
deed all did, barring a bit of slack here and there,
that merely served to give the fo'c'sle individu-
ality.

One thing I will always remember with a great
deal of pleasure is the fact that Axel was the
first one to give me a definite story of the An-
dree North Pole Expedition, he having tried for,
and almost succeeded in going along. A univer-
sity professor took the place he wanted at the
last moment, the scholar going to perform the
duties of a common jack in order to be with An-
dree. I recall the fo'c'sle discussion of this ill

264 UNDER SAIL

fated venture, the final outcome of which was
still in doubt. I felt at that time that Andree
had a good chance to accomplish his end, and I
still think so; the luck simply ran against him.
Nine years later it was to be my fortune to have
a part in a similar expedition under Wellman, ex-
cept that a dirigible balloon, of which I was navi-
gator, was employed. We were more fortunate
in so far as we got back. Andree, Strindberg,
and Fraenkel were not fools as some think, but
fearless scientists who took a legitimate chance
to explore the unknown polar regions; fate was
against them, but even so, they have left the
memory of a brave deed inscribed on the bright
scroll of Swedish honor.

Old Smith had a dog-eared copy of Marcus
Aurelius that had served its noble duty in dis-
cussions with Jimmy Marshall, while the latter
was deep in the wisdom of King Solomon. I
don't know what Brenden read, but he was a
great letter writer, and often received mail.
When taking pictures one day, Brenden asked
me to take a picture of him reading a letter from
his girl Hilda. The Letters of One Brenden,
Able Seaman on the ship A. J. Fuller, would
certainly make quaint reading, could they be got

LOADING SUGAR 265

at and translated, for Brenden conducted his cor-
respondence in German.

Mike, and Martin and Fred were mere fillers
in. Beef on a rope, and able eaters, they remain
as memories, indistinct and still quite clear; they

BREXDEN READING LETTER

never succeeded in making an impression on the
life of the ship but were the background of that
distant time, seldom saying anything that was lis-
tened to. Of Tommy, or the more dignified
Tom, we will learn more later on. He was a man
with a past, and I hope a future, for he certainly
earned the right to a very bright one while on
the Fuller; that future, however, did not lie on
the sea. As high admiral of a pickle barge and
fleet commander of a whole flotilla of shelf jugs

266 UNDER SAIL

full of vinegar and preserved edibles, in his own
delicatessen store, he may have risen to success.

Scouse never read anything; he was too busy
thinking, and as he did less and less talking as
the voyage lengthened, we concluded he must be
a very deep fellow. Scouse had points, and I
have no doubt after all the hazing afloat and
skinning ashore, he learned and digested lessons
of the utmost value.

Peter, of whom so much has been said and so
little told, was in a way the most interesting
•character on board. He was, and no doubt still
is, one of the most generous souls alive. If he
is rich, it is certainly for no lack of a wild desire
to share his last cent with any unfortunate that
might cross his path. Peter started to sea in
deep water sail for reasons that do him credit.
He saw a way to recoup his health and at the
same time bring to a conclusion an intense amour
that seemed to lead directly to an early grave.
He shipped on the F idler, leaving a large wash
behind in the tender care of his sweetheart. No
boarding master captured part of his advance,
and for a week afterward at least, so Peter said,
two coffee pots must have stood on a certain
N. Y. kitchen window, as a signal that his laun-

LOADING SUGAR 267

dry was ready to be taken away. The lady's
husband was a night clerk in the post office.

The career of Peter would serve as a theme
for a first class psychological novel with the plots
of half a dozen red-hot problem plays added by
way of good measure. He started life with the
curse of good looks, of the romantic type, dark
and interesting, his rather long silky locks, curled
slightly, and his regular features were classic.
Deep brown eyes, and a very fine, rich voice
completed his downfall. As reporter on a coun-
try paper, Peter told us how he would write
up the stories of the socialist meetings, by send-
ing a boy around to the local hall to see if the
lights were lit. His adventures as foreman in a
corset factory, as cadet in the American Line,
and as a social worker in the humble ranks of
those who uplift the sailor ashore, were chapters
in the start of a busy life.

CHAPTER XXII

GOOD-BYE TO HONOLULU

AS the hold began to fill up, the top of the
sugar was brought inboard from the wings
to an apex, and the lower cargo space not quite
filled. The 'tween deck was then loaded in or-
der to carry the dead weight sufficiently high to
prevent the ship from being stiff; to make her
more "sea kindly" as sailors say. Theoretical
questions of metacentric height, of the center of
buoyancy, and their relation to stability never
bothered the captain or Mr. Zerk. But as the
loading progressed they paid a lot of attention to
her trim and in the placement of the last part of
the cargo, the mate assumed complete charge.
The Fuller sailed best trimmed a few feet by the
stern, but in the final loading this extra depth
aft was cut down to a single foot as a matter of
experiment, the mean draft loaded being seven-
teen feet eight inches, giving her the usual free-
board of about four feet or three inches to every
foot of draft, according to the old rule. Draft

268

GOOD-BYE TO HONOLULU 269

is shown by figures cut into the stem and stern
post ; these are six inches high and the figure rests
on the mark it indicates.

In addition to the sugar from the railroad, we
had steamers of the inter-island trade come along
side and discharge their cargoes right onto our
deck. These craft have been touched upon be-
fore. The Mawna Loa, one of the largest at that
time, was quite a passenger carrier. As I think
of the inter-island steamers they always appear
to have been somewhat out of drawing, when
compared with the beautiful sailers of those days.

During the final week of loading, when we
had closed the 'tween deck hatches to the lower
hold and were putting down the finishing tiers
of cargo, we paid our last visits ashore. I bid
"good bye" to Mr. Mclnerny and the good
friends I had made, both in society and out. We
went over to the British Monarch, Hitchen and
I, for a last visit. The mates had a bit of a
"blow" for us, hot toddy, which tasted right in
spite of the warm weather, cigars, and some
Huntley and Palmer biscuits broken out of their
stores for this special occasion. Of course we
promised to write, and never did, and Mr. Gore
gave me an old copy of Raper, he having two
of them, as a parting gift. To Hitchen he gave

270

UNDER SAIL

GOOD-BYE TO HONOLULU 271

a tin of navy cut that had been sent out to him
from England. They were hoping for word of
a charter to be on their way, and thought they
might load sugar for New York, when we
planned to meet again as sailors sometimes do.

With what little change we had left, we laid
in a few stores for the voyage home, a few
bunches of bananas, odds and ends of clothing,
and the like. I purchased a pair of mittens, af-
ter a search in that tropic city, as mine had worn
out in hauling at the gear. The most startling
addition to our life forward was a green parrot
that Frenchy brought aboard, having swapped
him at the Union saloon for a small brig, rigged
in a bay rum bottle. This brig had been a long
time making, and Frenchy only let go of it when
he was assured of a prize. The bird, hailing
from God knows where, as I don't believe they
are native to the islands, was to be a present to
his sister Madeleine. Frenchy named him
Jaques, at once vulgarized to common Jake, and
he was hung in his wooden cage under the fo'-
c'sle head.

Just before hauling into the stream, Captain
Nichols shipped three Kanakas to take the places
left vacant by Mr. Stoddard, Jimmy, and Joe.
This made it certain that someone from the crew

272 UNDER SAIL

would be taken aft as second mate. The Ka-
nakas were a rare assortment. Kahemuku, a
lanky, poetical looking fellow with long hair and
dreamy eyes, hailed from Tahiti. The two oth-
ers, both of them short and somewhat stout,
were from Honolulu and should have known bet-
ter than to ship around the Horn. John Aahee
was assigned to the starboard watch; he was
clean shaven and dull, a poor devil who merely
existed after we got to sea. Black Joe, so the
mate called him, since his name was beyond or-
dinary understanding, was fully whiskered with
a bunch of fuzz that looked like the stuffing of
an old hair mattress. Joe had a peculiar idea
about the relation between officers and men, and
never could get this straightened out. Black
Joe and Kahemuku were assigned to the port
watch to take the place of Jimmy and Joe.

Some of the men thought that I would be
called aft as second mate. Ambitious as I was
for preferment, I realized that the billet would
be about the worst thing that could happen to
me. Whatever the captain may have thought
about it, the mate was against me, as we re-
mained at loggerheads while I visited with my
"dude friends," which I did at intervals as long
as we were in port.

GOOD-BYE TO HONOLULU 273

Old Smith was the logical candidate for the
job, and the mate wanted him. Others were like
Barkis, but the strange part was that the real
sailors in the crew, the men who knew enough
to stand a watch at sea and work the ship, were
the most anxious to side step the honor.

Having loaded our sugar, the chutes were
sent ashore, and we again hauled out into the
stream, this time for good. We at once battened
down the hatches, putting on triple tarpaulins,
and, having taken down the cargo pendants, we
again rove the seagoing running gear; after a
day of scrubbing, during which the spars were
washed clean of dust, we then began to bend sail.
This took us the greater part of two days while
we sent aloft the fine weather canvas. Then fol-
lowed another general washing down and clean-
ing over the side, and the ship A. J. Fuller looked
herself again. Loaded to her deep sea trim, with
yards squared to a hair and canvas furled with
a harbor stow, we were as flash a ship as ever
hailed from the port of New York — clean, and
seamanlike in every detail. Fancy manropes were
got out for the gangways, the galley smoke stack
was given a coat of black paint, making "Charlie
Noble," as this piece of humble but necessary sea

274 UNDER SAIL

furniture is called, as sporty as any part of the
old girl.

In the meantime, while our busy little ship
world revolved within its restricted orbit, events
of historic importance were happening in the
great arena beyond the seas. Dewey had cap-
tured Manila and the first troops to go out from
the United States were expected in Honolulu, en
route to the Philippines. Preparations to wel-
come them of a gigantic nature were carried out
by the enthusiastic citizens of Honolulu, the
American element being in the ascendant. A tre-
mendous flag was got ready, to be raised over the
railroad wharf, and huge stores of sandwiches
were made and held in readiness for the soldiers.
Also every barrel and bottle of beer in the place
was put on ice against an emergency. The cit-
izens were determined that hunger should not
outflank the U. S. forces, if by any means it could
be prevented, nor was old General Thirst to be
allowed to down a single man. It was also de-
cided that U. S. legal tender was not to be ac-
cepted when offered for refreshment by a man
wearing the uniform of Uncle Sam, showing how
war fever (for a time) upsets the commercial
mind.

The transports City of Pekin, City of Sydney,

GOOD-BYE TO HONOLULU 275

and Australia, came into the harbor on June
first carrying twenty-two hundred troops. These
vessels were under convoy of the U. S. S. Charles-
ton. The day was a gala one and in the midst of
the excitement we received our orders to sail for
Delaware Breakwater. This came as a surprise
as we expected to be sent to Frisco because of
the possibility of our being picked up by a Span-
iard in view of the uncertain state of affairs in
the Atlantic. We were then in the stream, wist-
ful gazers at the harbor activities and the glimpses
of great times ashore afforded by the pier heads
and the esplanade.

With the coming of our orders, Captain Nich-
ols sent out such fresh provisions as deep water
ships usually take to sea with them. A potato
bin had been constructed under the fo'c'sle head
in a place that would be fairly dry and having
a good circulation of air. Into this we put about
a ton of the tubers. Some fresh meat was sent
aboard, and a few bunches of bananas strung in
the after wheel house for the cabin mess. A num-
ber of our men had been offered billets on coast-
ers, and this was specially so during the last few
weeks of our loading. The pay day of close to
fifty dollars already on the books, and the pros-
pect of landing in New York with almost eighty

276 UNDER SAIL

dollars added to it, was a prospect hard to leave,
especially since the plans for great futures de-
pended absolutely upon these prospective nest
eggs. The fact, however, was that we were a
well selected crowd and liked to sail together.
The captain was absolutely square and the mate
was a sailor from his toes to his truck; we were
too much accustomed to the routine on the Fuller
to want to change. As far as I was concerned,
I was happy to remain on board and work back
around old Cape Stiff again. Mr. Mclnerny had
offered to have me released from the articles and
wanted me to take up my residence in the islands,
telling me of the many advantages, much after
the manner of Robinson Crusoe's old father, when
that wilful lad determined upon the sea as a ca-
reer. I, too, had old Crusoe's trouble pretty well
soaked into my system. I was really an en-
thusiast about going to sea, in spite of the hard
knocks, so I made up my mind to complete the
voyage.

On Sunday, five days before we sailed, the cap-
tain called Old Smith aft and formally offered
him the billet as second mate. Old Smith re-
fused to move out of the fo'c'sle, and came for-
ward with a fat cigar in his teeth, saying, "The
skipper's all right. He sure is all right."

GOOD-BYE TO HONOLULU 277

After that we were too busy to think anything
more of the vexed problem, being horsed about
at bending sail and preparing for sea. On the
eve of our departure we were sitting on the
fo'c'sle head watching the crowded harbor, the
comings and goings from the men o' war and
transports, and listening to the bugle calls. We
had washed up after the day's work, and the mess
cooks had gone to the galley for the kids.

"We'll sleep our last night in, tonight," ven-
tured Frenchy, as we perched on the heel of the
starboard cathead. It was a thought that came
to all of us.

"Grub O!" called Fred from the space about
the fore pin rail, where both watches ate together
while in port. We sat around the kids, under the
tall gear of the foremast rising overhead, the faint
peppering of stars showing between the yards as
we began our supper.

"Here comes the mate," said Martin, who was
perched on the short ladder leading to the fo'c'sle
head, from the port side of the house.

"Wot of it, let him come."

Presently Mr. Zerk stood in the gangway
looking at us, he bulked big, and smoked a strong
cigar. This was the first time he had ever in-
truded upon our meals during our stay in port.

278 UNDER SAIL

"Where's the second mate?" he asked pleasant-

iy-

Most of us looked around anxiously, half ex-
pecting the old second mate would bob up from
some dark corner.

"Come on, where is he?" The mate was evi-
dently enjoying his little game. "Where is he
now?" came the question again, but in a sharp
tone such as we usually associated with coming
trouble. "Come on, where is he?" Suddenly he
started to laugh; of course we all joined him in
a sort of nervous chorus.

"Ho, there he is hiding behind the kid! Our
new second mate, Mr. Morstad! Well, well,
well!" and this is how Tommy, most unexpected
of candidates, became Mr. Morstad, second mate
of the ship A. J. Fuller.

"Lay aft," said the mate, as he turned to go,
"the steward has your dinner ready, and don't
forget to bring your napkin."

Tommy was choking with astonishment,
speechless, and miserable. None of us laughed
at the last cruel thrust ; in fact we felt sorry for
Tommy, but as soon as we saw him stop eating
the foVsle grub, with the quick perception that
better things awaited him aft, a lively discussion
arose.

GOOD-BYE TO HONOLULU 279

"Call him Mr. Morstad!" thundered Australia.
"I won't have no disrespect here just because Mr.
Morstad ain't had the bringin' up you an' me has.
No, sir, I have some respect for the officers of
this ship, I have."

There was a lot more in a similar vein. Volun-
teers offered to carry his chest aft, and did every
thing but lift it, poor Tommy having to drag
it along the deck until he got to the waist, when
Chips came out of his den and helped him the
rest of the way. It was dark then, and the gong
for the second cabin table no doubt compensated
Tommy for all the tortures of his departure.

"I'm damn glad he ain't in my watch," said
Brenden, and all of us to port felt the same way.
Before Tommy had time to adjust himself to
his new condition, the kicking started to star-
board.

In this particular episode of the voyage Mr.
Zerk departed as far from the traditions of the
sea as it was possible for him to go. The next
morning, as we got under way to sea, Captain
Nichols made it a point to show public respect
to the new second officer. It was "Mr. Morstad,
this," and "How do you head, sir?" all of which
pleased Tom immensely, and was the right and
proper thing to do.

CHAPTER XXIII

HOMEWARD BOUND

And we're off to Mother Carey
(Walk her down to Mother Carey !)
Oh, we're bound for Mother Carey where she feeds
her chicks at sea !

Kipling.

BARE feet, gripping the cool deck of the
fo'c'sle head, still wet with the washdown,
pattered in rhythmic circles to the music of the
pawls, sounding over the early morning stillness
of Honolulu Harbor. We were heaving up the
anchor, having already taken in our quarter
moorings. The pilot was aboard ; Captain Nich-
ols stumped the poop with his characteristic jerky
stride, all business; second mate Tom was aloft
with a half dozen hands, and the pleasant swish
of falling canvas, and the rattle of blocks and
running gear, sounded above as they cast off the
long sea gaskets. About us in the harbor the
men o' war and transports lay silent to their moor-
ings, sleeping off the effect of a day and night

280

HOMEWARD BOUND 281

of revelry ashore. Mr. Zerk stood out over the
bow on the port cathead, his hand on the catf all,
as he leaned far over.

"Five fathom shackle at the water!" he sung
out.

"All right! Bring her short!" came the order
from the poop.

"Aye, aye, sir! Walk her up, up, boys! Walk
her up, and wake Tier up"

Old Smith got the tune and presently the dirge
of an anchor chantey echoed across the water as
we bent our weight against the capstan bars.

"Paddy come back and turn in your slack,
Heave round the capstan, heave a pawl, heave a pawl.
We're leavin' Honolulu girls, and never will come

back,

Heave round the capstan, heave a pawl, heave a pawl.
An' happy days all lie behind, good bye to swipes and

rum,
Heave round the capstan, heave a pawl, heave a pawl."

"Short stay, sir!" bawled the mate, and we
stopped our song. The faint echo of a cheer
wafted across the harbor; we recognized the hail
from our friends on the British Monarch, watch-
ing to see us off.

"Break her out, sir!" answered the captain,

282 UNDER SAIL

sending his voice along the length of the ship in
sharp, snappy syllables.

"Aye, aye, sir!"

At "short stay" I was ordered to the wheel
and as I slipped the spokes from the beckets, the
crowd at the bars again put their beef to the
cable, and the anchor left bottom. The tug fas-
tened to our quarter got her signal from the pilot;
we heard the jangle of bells in her engine room;
we commenced to move.

"Hard a port!'' ordered the pilot.

"Hard over, sir!"

"Steady so! Steady so!" We were heading
toward the old marine railway, the line of the
Esplanade having swung under the jib guys with
remarkable swiftness, as I turned the wheel to
meet her.

"Port handsomely!" I gave her wheel. "Port,
I say! Hard a port!"

"Hard a port, sir!" Again the shore shot
past her bow, and then the blue water of the
harbor mouth lay fair ahead.

"Steady! Starb'd a point! Steady so!"

We were pointing out through the narrow en-
trance of Honolulu Harbor. Forward they had
hooked the cat and the fall was brought "two

HOMEWARD BOUND 283

blocks" while the great hook hung upright, drip-
ping the slimy harbor silt.

The mate then assumed charge of the deck,
sheeting home and hoisting away as fast as the
men could man the ropes. A light off shore
breeze on the port quarter bellied out the canvas.
The buoys, barrel buoy to starboard, spar buoy
to port, slipped past us. Presently the tug start-
ed to drag her head to port, as the ship's way
increased, and I had to give her wheel to meet
her.

"Guess we are all right now, Pilot."

"All right, Captain. All clear ahead and plenty
of water from here to the Horn. Good luck and
a quick passage."

They shook hands, the pilot waved a farewell
to the mate down in the waist, then jumped onto
the wheel house of the tug from our mizzen chan-
nels. A few squeaky toots by way of a salute
as she cast off, and the tug swung sharply about
and headed back to port; the last link binding us
to Honolulu had been severed.

At eight bells, breakfast time, I was relieved
and, on my way forward, I stopped for a part-
ing glance back at Honolulu. What was my
surprise when I found it well down on the hori-
zon, the Island of Oahu stretching a mere blur

284 UNDER SAIL

of bluish green across our wake. A lump rose
in my throat for I did wish to have another look
at that fair city of dreams, but it was already
a thing of the hazy past; a figment of memory;
the port of phantasmagoria; a jumble of many
colored people, of smells, of music ; of green and
restful bowers, of feverish energy and of indo-
lence, of days of dirty, sweaty labor, and of
nights of romantic adventures. And what of
Jimmy Marshall, I wondered, left behind with
his uniform and drum?

Yes, we were out to sea again, the cool breeze
wafting us along, out on the restless ocean as
before, months and months ago too numerous to
remember, when we sailed to the eastward with
the Navesink Highlands dropping far behind us
in the sunset. Now the only difference was the
fact that the Island of Captain Cook, the first
port of Stevenson on his retirement to the Pa-
cific, and that vivid stage upon which Father Da-
mien lived and died, was fading away far to the
north.

At breakfast we again separated into watches
but with orders to turn to again, as the first
day was to be one of "all hands." We were glad
to a man that the homeward passage had com-
menced. The drop in temperature put snap into

HOMEWARD BOUND 285

us and Australia celebrated our departure by
tearing down the dingy mosquito bar triced above
his bunk. He balled this up and hove it over the
side with the remark, "Here goes me night cage;
good-bye forever."

The breeze was blowing strong, a splendid
northeast trade, and the smooth sea made our
progress something very cheering. At two bells
I was called aft and, with Brenden and Frenchy,
helped heave the log chip under direction of Cap-
tain Nichols.

The log line, soaked with water, was wound
on a large reel. Brenden stood on one side of
the wheel house and held this over his head, each
hand gripping a handle of the reel as he faced
squarely aft. He was far enough forward from
the taffrail so we could tend the line. The log
chip, a small quadrant of wood weighted on its
circular side to make it swim upright in the water,
was attached to the line by a triple bridle, the
two parts from the ends of the circle being seized
to a small wooden plug that fitted snugly to a
wooden socket seized to the part of the log line
running from the apex of the chip. This ar-
rangement holds the chip upright and perpen-
dicular to the direction of the log line ; when the
line is given a sharp jerk, the plug disengages,

286 UNDER SAIL

the chip capsizes, and can be easily hauled aboard.
It is really a sort of miniature sea anchor.

Captain Nichols stood by with the sand glass.
Frenchy was told to cast the chip overboard,
while I stood at the rail to see the line run clear.
Twenty fathoms of the "stray line" went over
first, the end being marked by a piece of red
bunting. As this ran over the taffrail the skip-
per called out "Turn," at the same time turning
the glass himself. He was greatly pleased with
the whole proceeding and danced around much
after the manner of a small boy with a new kite.
The sand glass was a twenty-eight second one,
and the captain had dried it out in the galley that
morning and then compared it with his chron-
ometer.

The line was tearing over the rail like wild
and as the captain called, "Up!" Frenchy
grabbed the line.

Examining the line we found we were making
10.2 knots.

At the time of shouting "Up!" Captain Nich-
ols stepped over to the Bliss taffrail log trail-
ing on the weather quarter and noted the dial.
An hour later we again hove the old-fashioned
log and checked our reading on the patent log.
For the information of landsmen, it may be well

HOMEWARD BOUND 287

to say that a knot on the log line — and here is
where the term comes from — is a distance of
forty-seven feet, four inches (for a 28-second
glass), the same proportional part of a sea mile
or "knot" of 6,080 feet that 28 seconds is of an
hour. The different knots along the line are dis-
tinguished by fish line tucked into the strands
and a knot cast for each mark away from the
start. Tenths are estimated, the length between
knots being divided by shreds of white bunting
into five parts. If sailing fast, as we were, a
short glass is sometimes used ; this registers four-
teen seconds and the readings on the log line
must be doubled. In passing it may be well to
mention that the old-fashioned log chip, where
speeds are not over, say fifteen knots, is the most
reliable method of measurement of rate of speed
through the roster ever devised. Also, the fact
that the sea mile or "knot" is six thousand and
eighty feet, and not five thousand two hundred
and eighty feet as ashore, is due to the fact that
in navigating a ship over the sea it is necessary
to have a standard of measurement bearing a
simple relation to the size and shape of the earth.
One sea mile is the length of one minute of arc
measured on the meridian, 6,080 feet. This is the
mean value, for, owing to the flattening at the

288 UNDER SAIL

poles, the minute of arc varies slightly from the
poles to the equator.

Ten knots and over is fair going for any
sailer, and extra fine for trade wind sailing. Our
hopes for a quick passage were high. The water
boiled past us in a smother of swishing foam, a
cheerful chatter when homeward bound, while
aloft every inch of sail was doing its full duty.
Before noon we got the anchor scrubbed clean
and at once unshackled the cables and sent them
below, bowsing the jackasses into the hawse pipes,
as on the passage out. Both bower anchors were
then secured inboard and lashed to heavy ring
bolts on the fo'c'sle head, the cat and fish falls
were unrove, stopped up and stowed below.

We put in the afternoon rousing up this rope
and that, tautening every stitch of canvas to its
full extent. Our new second mate was given his
first lessons in the handling of a watch at sea,
and did well enough, considering the fact that
Chief Mate Zerk kept the center of the stage,
as was his habit whenever anything transpired
on the deck. At four bells the starboard watch
went below, and we stood the first dog watch.
In the second dog watch we sat around yarning,
still being too full of rational rest to seek our
bunks. We watched Tommy handle things alone

HOMEWARD BOUND 289

—but for all that Captain Nichols was always
to be seen far aft, stumping the poop, and keep-
ing a mighty watchful eye on the progress of
events. During the night watches he was par-
ticularly in evidence. Tommy gained confidence
faster than he did experience and assumed a cer-
tain air of superiority that was galling to his
former watchmates. Old Smith was the one to
carry things along by setting a correct example
to the men. Often when Tom did not know just
what to do, Old Smith would start things by
jumping to the proper rope and the order would
tally along afterward. On the other hand, things
got so that when Tom gave the wrong orders
the watch would disregard them and do what
they thought was right. Old Smith, Hitchen,
Axel and Charlie Horse knew as much about
sailing as any second mate, and the result was not
disastrous, although at times a trifle ragged.

The captain shaped a course due south, mag-
netic, running along the meridian of one hundred
and fifty-eight degrees west from Greenwich.
This carried us to the eastward of Karatoo Island
and we then put more easting in the course and
sailed past the Walker Islands, crossing the equa-
tor when five days out from Honolulu; a fair
bit of travelling for a vessel of the latter sailing

290 UNDER SAIL

ship days. Here the trades failed us and again
we were to wallow in the stagnant latitudes that
try the spirit and vex the soul. But the ship's
company forward were in excellent humor and
anything but sea weary. We employed the time
below, not given over to sleeping, in sewing our
much worn clothing, in scrubbing clothes, an art
in which we were expert, and in yarning about
the times gone by.

As the days spread into weeks we thought
more and more of the times to come, and of course
discussed them at great length. Much of our
mental intercourse had a hopeful, speculative
trend. Being wholly human and with all the
weaknesses that sailor flesh abounds in, it is not
to be wondered at if the ambitions of that voyage
never fully materialized; judging by my own, I
can say they did not. I wanted to command an-
other such ship as the Fuller, to stump to wind-
ward and set the course, to have all night in, and
eat delicious viands at the cabin table. Stranger
fate was to await me before I cast my anchor
in the fair cove called home, with kids to crawl
upon my knee and call me "Dadda," and a wife
to remind me now and then that I am not cap-
tain here.

CHAPTER XXIV

HAWAIIAN SHIPMATES

DAMN these rotten oilskins. By what's
this?" "Oh, helir It was black as a
pocket on deck and a sudden douse of rain sent
us scrambling for our oil clothing. "Damn it
I'm lousy, sure as you're born. Ugh!" and sim-
ilar forceful if inelegant expressions punctuated
the night as we struggled into these smelly, sticky
rags. They were as paper to the rain; we were
wet before we knew it. In the pockets and in
every fold millions of cockroaches, whole na-
tions of them, debouched upon the streaming
decks. Some of us stole forward and in the light
from the fo'c'sle examined things. On the fo'c'sle
deck, where we had knocked them in hastily, un-
hooking the oiled clothing from the bulkhead be-
hind the water butt, were several regiments of
roaches.

During our two months in Honolulu we had
never used oilskins, and, sailor-like, left them
hang. In the warm atmosphere the bugs mul-

291

292 UNDER SAIL

tiplied amid luxurious surroundings with unlim-
ited supplies of delicious linseed-oil to thrive up-
on. Fortunately we were in the tropics and a wet
back did not matter, especially as we always
doused ourselves with a bucket of salt water after
a wetting by rain, a sure way to prevent colds.
As for the evicted roaches, they were no doubt
as mad as we were. In the next fine spell we
rubbed our oilskins with fresh mixtures of raw
oil and a little melted beeswax from the sail-
maker's stores.

The first job of any magnitude started, after
leaving port, was to scrape all bright work, that
is, all varnished woodwork, masts and light spars.
We then rubbed them down with boiled linseed-
oil. This work was done from bo'sun's chairs,
using pieces of broken glass as scrapers. The fine
shavings fluttered into every crook and corner of
the ship, lodging in the coils of rope and pro-
viding a constant job of cleaning while the work
was under way. Scouse was again elected to
the drudgery, but in this instance he became a
man of some importance, for Kahemuku and
Black Joe were assigned to work with him. He
jollied them in a rough, uncouth way and they
sat at his feet in respectful worship. They were
permanently constituted the knockabout gang of

HAWAIIAN SHIPMATES 293

our watch and cleaned out the head every other
morning when we were on deck for the wash-
down. Getting up coal for the galley of a Sun-
day morning was one of their regular jobs, and
after the washdown they were the boys who han-
dled the big deck swabs while the rest of us got
the gear off the pins and stowed the washdeck
utensils.

As for myself, a change had come over the
mate, or I too would have been of this crowd.
Our relations were fairly cordial again, becoming
increasingly so when I loaned him copies of
"Midshipman Easy" and "Commodore Junk,"
books given me by my father when I left home.

Of the three Kanakas we had the prize win-
ner in Black Joe. In the first place Black Joe
never said "sir" to an officer, but he applied this
mark of distinction to every hand forward. At
first some of the boys wanted to make Black Joe
permanent messman of the watch. He was will-
ing enough, for he knew nothing about a ship
and felt his shortcomings and wanted to help
out.

"Be fair with him. How would you like that
job regular?" Frenchy put in the good word
and we decided that Black Joe was to get a
square deal forward anyhow.

294 UNDER SAIL

His failure to properly respond to orders from
aft caused a lot of suppressed amusement. The
mate bawled him unmercifully but to no purpose,
for Black Joe simply had things set in his mind
and there was no changing him. Finally, the
mate worked out a satisfactory solution of the
problem, so far as he was concerned, though Black
Joe could hardly be termed a third-rate success
as a sailor.

"Here you! Fred, take that baboon and loose
the fore upper tops'l!" was his method of hors-
ing him. In working the gear on deck he would
shout, "Get that Kanaka coon and hook him on
the lee fore brace!" In working ship Black Joe
was pushed and pulled from station to station.
He could not coil down a rope properly no matter
how often the trick was explained to him; every
other time he would lay the gear down left hand-
ed as like as not. If he hitched a coil on the
fife or pin rails it was an even chance that a fid
would be needed to get it down. Black Joe was
all thumbs and his slow mind worked backward.
His best performance was at the kids, but his
table manners would have disgraced him at a
luau.

Kahemuku was of a different type. He was
sentimental, a dreamer and all for himself when

HAWAIIAN SHIPMATES 295

aloft. The way he would strangle the stick when
out on a yard was a sight for the angels. His
long arms were as good as three turns of a sea
gasket, and his bare feet would grip the foot
ropes with brown prehensile toes. Life was made
more bearable for him by the fact that he was
constantly looking forward to a shining goal.

"Pilladelpia" was the burden of his song. He
intended to see the great city of "Pilladelpia"
and asked interminable questions about it, sit-
ting on the edge of his bunk, a great dusky six
footer, with the wistful brown eyes of a trust-
ing child. When told we would probably go
to New York, he would answer, "No, I wanna
go Pilladelpia." Poor Kahemuku, whatever be-
came of you God only knows. You most cer-
tainly never fell from aloft, but your passage
around the Horn in the Antarctic winter must
have prepared you for any fate.

Sailors, like other mortals, are as jealous of
their little rights and privileges as any of us
ashore. To stand a trick at the wheel in regular
turn, to see that everyone stood his lawful share
of this duty, was a strong incentive to silence on
the part of those who were wise to the fact that
Kahemuku and Black Joe knew nothing about
steering. They could not box the compass, and

296 UNDER SAIL

in fact knew nothing about the action of the helm
or the use of the wheel.

Black Joe stood a trick nevertheless between
Australia and Fred, and Kahemuku followed
Fred and was relieved in turn by able seaman
Brenden. That these three worthies, Australia,
Fred and Brenden, knew about the Kanaka's
lack of proficiency was proven by the fact that
they always passed the course over the head of the
Kanaka to the man following. For the first few
days out of port the steering was easy. The wind
held on the port quarter and the sea was smooth.
It also happened that the blacks had their tricks
during the day watches while the captain slum-
bered. The mate, as was his custom, seldom both-
ered with the course during the day, devoting
all of his energy to directing the work on deck.

On the third day out Australia went to the
wheel in the first night watch and at four bells
Black Joe headed aft to assume complete charge
of the steering, being shunted on his way by
watchful shipmates. Presently a terrible commo-
tion aloft startled us, we were brought by the
lee with a slamming and slatting like thunder.
Mr. Zerk jumped to the break of the poop and
started to bawl orders.

HAWAIIAN SHIPMATES 297

"Hard up, helium/ Weather fore braces!
Lively there!"

Everything was shaking, with the yards point-
ing into the wind, and the ship started to roll.
"How do you head?" There was no response.
"How do you head, damn you!"

Forward we were swinging the head yards, and
she started to box off, while aft a secondary
commotion centered about the wheelhouse, with
Captain Nichols acting the part of Satan, in yel-
low silk pajamas, and Black Joe performing
duty as the Butt of All Evil.

"What are you steering?" roared the captain.
"Mr. Zierk!" never had we heard him so sharp
before. The mate was already aft, and to change
the course of wrath, he grabbed Joe and tossed
him headlong out on the deck, holding the wheel
himself while he added to the din. "Lay aft!
Lay aft, a man!" Frenchy responded. In a few
more moments we were back on the course again
and the captain held a drumhead court at the
break of the poop.

"Keep those black monkeys forward," he or-
dered, "and don't let this happen again. By
God, sir, these waters are full of coral reefs, and
I have got to hold my course, sir," he added, turn-
ing to the mate.

298 UNDER SAIL

The next morning the three Kanakas were
mustered in the waist and the captain found that
none of them had the least idea about steering,
either by compass or by the wind. John Aahee
of the starboard watch was denser even than Joe.
Later on these simple fellows made up for their
lack of steering by doing additional turns at the
back-breaking bilge pumps.

After the generous way in which we lived in
Honolulu, the return to sea grub was sudden and
disappointing. A week or so saw the end of fresh
provisions and we were back again on the salt
horse of the passage out. Lime-juice was given
us at noon, and with the exception of spuds, we
were on the regulation lay. The tack was weev-
ily, the tea even more flavored with roach content
than before, and the old drill of cracker hash,
slumgullion, salt horse, and pea soup, with occa-
sional helpings of applejack, or rare treats of
Chow's gingerbread, carried us along.

About this time the parrot, Jake, came in for
his share of attention. Frenchy planned to take
the bird home to Madeleine, and as his sister
would have no use for him otherwise, our careful
shipmate guarded the moral tone of the green
bird with great care. He also made a screen of
ravensduck for the cage and was much worried

HAWAIIAN SHIPMATES 299

over how the bird would weather the cold in high
southern latitudes. A month of this care on the
part of Frenchy was rewarded by the usual re-
sult in cases of that kind, whether with dogs,
birds, or children. Jake cut loose in a most ex-
traordinary manner, after one of his French les-
sons, and the outburst would have been a credit
to Mr. Zerk. Frenchy was grieved beyond all
hope of recovery and one and all we swore to
our own innocence. The upshot of it was that
Frenchy lost interest in the parrot and the pro-
fane Jake became a prime favorite with the crew
forward. He was really started on his downward
path by Kitchen, of starboard, who took him in
hand while his master slept.

"Here comes the grub!" was one of his re-
spectable parts of speech, varied later on by "To
hell with the grub," under the tutelage of Aus-
tralia.

After crossing the line, and working our way
through the doldrum belt of daily showers, calms
and baffling winds, we held a course that carried
us between the Marquesas and Tuamotu, or the
Low Archipelago. During this time we kept a
special lookout at night and sighted several isl-
ands, giving them a wide berth. We were in-
structed to keep our eyes peeled for "white water'*

300 UNDER SAIL

and had a number of false alarms. On a dark
night, in this region, the sea is particularly black,
of a blue blackness that defies description. The
seas are very phosphorescent, especially so under
a cloudy sky, and the breaking of a number of
rollers leaves a white wake that is disturbing to
a lookout on the edge for breakers. One imag-
ines that breakers are ahead every few minutes.
Light rain squalls and brilliant floods of sun-
shine alternating in the neighborhood of the Mar-
quesas resulted in our witnessing the most re-
markable phenomenon of the voyage. We lay be-
calmed late in the afternoon of a humid hot day,
odd jobs were going on all over the ship, iron
work was being chipped, service renewed, and
Australia and Brenden were rattling down,
everyone being busy. Frenchy and I, for we
usually worked together at "nice" jobs, were
cutting and fitting the canvas for a new mast
coat on the mizzen, the old one having cracked
and started a leak into the cabin. This was
a job that required expert fitting and we
were all attention to the work. All hands
were so occupied that we did not notice the
black rain squall that suddenly came upon us
in a puff of cold air. A few minutes of this, while
we manned the weather main and lee crojik, to

HAWAIIAN SHIPMATES 301

get whatever push there was in it, was followed
by the sun breaking through more scorching than
before, while the wind, such as was left, was dis-
tinctly up and down. A beautiful rainbow formed
under the receding cloud, and then we saw that
we were near an island, close aboard off the star-
board bow, while the rain pall drifted rapidly to
port. We came upon it with such suddenness
that for a moment most of us lost our heads.

"Hard starb'd!" shouted the skipper, and then
there was a laugh on deck in which he joined
heartily. We were as stationary as the island
except for the little way upon us given by the
passing rain squall. "Lay aloft and take a look
at that." Captain Nichols addressed Frenchy
and me, and we skinned up the mizzen while he
went to the companion and took the long glass
from the rack. That land certainly looked
strange !

When going over the top, I stopped. Frenchy
was ahead of me and almost at the crosstrees.
He was looking around in a bewildered sort of
a way ; he was glancing around the entire horizon,
thinking the ship had changed her head. I too
looked all about but could see nothing.

"What do you make out?" called up the skip-
per.

302 UNDER SAIL

"Nothing in sight, sir!"

"All right. Lay down!"

It was a fine mirage; a remarkably clear one.
When we got to the deck the "island" had as-
sumed grotesque shapes: the green faded out
and the palm trees began to look like young
waterspouts. Suddenly the whole picture melted
from view.

CHAPTER XXV

DRIVING SOUTHWARD

THE mirage served as a subject for conver-
sation during many succeeding days and
the captain warned us to be more than ever on
the lookout for islands. He seemed to take espe-
cial pains with his navigation, testing the patent
log repeatedly by use of the chip log, and com-
ing up at all sorts of hours during the day and
night when by any chance the lubber line was as
much as a quarter point off the course. When
on a wind, during this period, he practically lived
on deck, turning in "all standing" for short naps
during the day.

A lookout on the fore t'gallant yard was also
stationed during the daytime. Several more small
islands were passed, the distant palm trees seem-
ing like a low broken comb upon the horizon, for
we gave them plenty of offing as the atoll forma-
tion often throws its reefs far out. Several times
our course was altered to do this.

In the f o'c'sle we had a round of mystery stories

303

304 UNDER SAIL

about islands mainly. One by Frenchy took the
prize for heavy ghost atmosphere and when told
in the dusk of a last dog watch with only the stars
overhead to wink at its absurdity, the effect was
all that could be desired. This tale had to do with
an invisible island, situated somewhere about the
Loyalty Group near New Caledonia. The island
was invisible by day but could be found by a
night landfall, and indeed was so discovered by
that tight little brig the P&re Duchesne, owned
and sailed by no less a person than the notorious
Jean Ravail, who did not, as Frenchy assured me,
perish in the sewers of Paris, as was supposed.
Ravail was a pirate, of course, though he sailed as
a peaceful trader, exchanging cognac and rum
for beche-de-mer, through the southern islands of
Polynesia. Driving onto the ghostly island in
the blackness of the night, anchor was let go just
in time to prevent the brig from running up the
beach, and then, to the tune of entrancing music,
the whole crew, led by Ravail himself, were de-
coyed ashore by women in flowing robes of white.
They left to a man, even old Pouly, the mate,
who held out to the last until a scantily draped
siren came aboard and carried him ashore in her
canoe. The story is supposed to have been found
entered by Pouly in the logbook of the brig when

DRIVING SOUTHWARD 305

she was picked up by the frigate La Perouse,
drifting with her cable chafed through by the
coral reef. Many weeks of cruising failed to lo-
cate the island. I always liked this story, for
Frenchy enjoyed telling it and did it remarkably
well.

The starboard watch also stirred uneasily after
the mirage and as a direct result of it Charlie
Horse got religion. Not that he had not always
had it, but these singular events merely brought
it to the surface as it were. Charlie Horse began
where our late shipmate Jimmy left off. He was
extremely rigorous in his beliefs and did not hes-
itate to preach infant damnation, advising all of
us who had not been duly baptized to rectify this
mistake as soon as possible. He paid special
attention to John Aahee of his watch, and to
that simple-minded native the awful creed of
Charlie Horse was a throbbing reality. The exist-
ence of purgatory was assured; hell was a pos-
itive fact, a hot and terrible place of torture.
Often during a brief dog watch of a Sunday, the
port side would get some of the overflow, which
we listened to with varying tolerance; his own
watchmates had arrived at the point of active
protest.

With Charlie Horse preaching religion of the

306 UNDER SAIL!

hell-fire-and-damnation brand, Frenchy and other
less expert story-tellers filling the intervals of
the night watches on deck with ghostly discourse,
and adding to this the appearance of St. Elmo's
fires at the yard arms after one of the tropic dis-
turbances, it was no wonder that we were a bit
on edge where anything that smacked of the su-
pernatural occurred. Talk had been rather rem-
iniscent in one of the last dog watches, the weath-
er wras fine and we were sailing along before a
gentle quartering breeze without having started
a sheet or brace for several days — calm of spirit
prevailed on board for a time, there was little
hazing and, except for the growing rottenness of
the tucker, we were content. The mind must
therefore cast about for something new to seize
upon. The name of Jimmy Marshall had been
mentioned a great deal during the watch re-
ferred to, Axel having told of meeting Jimmy
on his last night ashore, while returning to the
ship. Jimmy was sneaking up the dark side
of Nuuanu Avenue — there was a moon out — and
bumped into Axel before he knew it.
"What! Down to the ship, Jimmy?"
"Naw, jest took a look at 'er. I 'ears you
was sailin' an' jest walked down past the Mon-
arch an' looked over. 'Ow's 'ell on board?"

DRIVING SOUTHWARD 307

"Same old wagon, Jimmy. How are they
treating you?"

"They's slowly killin' me, Axel, so help me
Gawd, they is. Talk erbout yer rotters! Say,
if you knowed as 'ow they does me along of
some other poor Gawdfersooken fellers. Well,
what ov it? They looses Jimmy afore long,
that's wot they does."

'Til bet they prays the liver out of him, and
starves the little faker to boot," was Australia's
opinion.

At about one bell, in the first watch, we had
just got to the stage of half sleep, and were drop-
ping off for our precious three and a quarter
hours, when we were all sitting up as well as
we could, in our bunks. Fred was terror strick-
en. "By - - It's Jimmy. I see him!"

"What in hell's bitin' you?" Australia demand-
ed.

"Jimmy Marshall's in here! He spoke tome!"

"Spoke? Say, you big stiff, if you don't shut
up I'll speak a few words you'll remember!" Aus-
tralia was mad clean through. There was a si-
lence. Something stirred over Australia's bunk,
next to Fred's.

"Who's that?"

"Jimmy Marshall?" shouted the thoroughly

308 UNDER SAIL

frightened Fred, and then a voice near the top
of the fo'c'sle, in the familiar tones of our late
shipmate, very cracked and lifelike, added to the
fear.

"Gawd have mercy. Gawd have mercy !" came
the words.

"It's Jimmy! Take him away! Take him
away!" shouted several, Martin and Scouse
among them. We were all tumbling out of our
bunks. Frenchy shot through the open door of
the fo'c'sle and Scouse close after him. Suddenly
there was a wild mixture of screams and screeches
and Australia exploded in a loud, whole-souled
oath of relief. He held the struggling Jake by
the tail feathers. The parrot had recently been
about the only consistent listener to the doctrines
of Charlie Horse, and his appearance in our
fo'c'sle at night gave him a chance to retail some
of his new line of talk. Someone had evidently
left his cage open and he came in to get out of
the draft. From this time on the bird got to be
a nuisance as well as a reminder of our folly.
Frenchy sold him to Chips for a suit of oilskins.

During these days of the voyage we overhauled
our best suit of sails preparatory to bending them
for the heavy weather off the Cape. I had by
that time become fairly proficient in the use of

DRIVING SOUTHWARD 309

the palm and needle and could sew a presentable
flat seam, or round seam, as occasion demanded.
Frenchy was the best sailmaker in our watch, and
with Brenden and myself, constituted the sail-
maker's gang to port. Old Smith, Hitchen and
Axel were the starboard complement in this kind
of work. We had our benches in the most com-
fortable part of the deck and of a morning, after
the washdown, while we were getting the canvas
out, the rest of the crowd would wipe the deck
dry with pieces of old sugar bags, getting right
down on their shin bones and rubbing the planks.
We put in new tabling, renewed lining cloths,
sewed on new leather at the clews, wetting it
so that when dry the leather would shrink tight,
gripping the bolt ropes so the strands would
show through. In some of the older sails we
sewed an extra line of stitching down the middle
of the double flat seam where the cloths join.

I learned to properly work the reef and head
holes. The canvas was cut with a "stabber" and
a small fish line grommet laid over the edge, the
hole then being finished off with a fencing of
heavy waxed and double laid twine. In these
later degenerate days, a brass eyelet ring is often
crimped around the hole, a much quicker job and
about one-third as strong.

310 UNDER SAIL

In all of the lore of cutting canvas for sails,
and we made a set of skysails on the voyage, the
mate was a past master. The "roaching," the
proper way to allow for gores in the cloths, the
fact that "square" sails are anything but square;
all such old-time knowledge was handed down
and eagerly assimilated. We talked of the "hoist"
of this sail, meaning sails that spread by hoisting
the yard; and the "drop" of that sail, referring
to the courses and lower tops'ls.

On the Fuller the mains'l and crojik (corrupt-
ed from the "cross jack" of the ancients) were fit-
ted with "cross leeches" and a "midship rope."
These were stout hemp ropes sewed to tabling
clothes on the forward side of the sail, the cross
leeches running from the head earings to the mid-
dle of the foot, and the "midship rope" from the
head to the foot of the sail also on the forward
side. This left the after side of the sail smooth
so as to draw best when flattened on a wind.
At the foot of the sail, and hooked into a stout
thimble where the cross leeches and midship rope
joined, the "slap line" led aft, and the "midship
tack" led forward. With wind a point or two
on the quarter, the weather clew garnets of the
main and crojik would be hauled up and these
sails set perfectly by the midship tack and the

DRIVING SOUTHWARD 311

weather cross leech, in this way allowing a good
share of the breeze to distend the great foresail
for all it was worth. Sailors who have not been
shipmates with this method of fitting the after
courses will appreciate the utility.

One thing Mr. Zerk always harped upon
was the necessity of making canvas set flat, wheth-
er on the wind or before it.

A large sail, the main course, for instance, is
fitted with what at first blush appears to be a
useless amount of gear. The sail being bent to
the yard by means of the head earings and ro-
bands is handled by use of the following ropes:
the tacks leading forward from the clews, the
sheets leading aft. When before the wind the
sail is held to the deck by the two sheets, the tacks
being idle. When on a wind, that is, close hauled,
the weather tack is boarded and the lee sheet
hauled aft. To reef, the tacks and sheets are
started and the reef band hauled up on the yard
by the reef tackles. To furl, the clews are
hauled up to the quarter of the yard by means
of the clew garnets while the body of the sail
is gathered in by the leechUnes and the bunt-
lines. Add to this bowline bridles for steadying
out the weather leech when on a wind, slap line
for keeping the foot of the sail away from the

312 UNDER SAIL

mast in light winds and calm, the midship tack
used when sailing with the weather leech hauled
up, and we have a very respectable lot of rig-
ging on our sail. Upper tops'ls are almost as
bad. Now this means nothing to the landsman,
but a lot of queer names, yet the gear has come
down through long ages of elimination and repre-
sents the utmost efficiency in handling sailing can-
vas. A main sail is a mighty spread on a large
modern ship and may show to the wind as much
as four thousand square feet of surface. Our
mainsail on the Fuller was approximately of this
size. Given a heavy press of wind, say twenty
pounds to the square foot, and we have the sail
urging our ship along to some purpose.

To get back to the voyage, after a reminis-
cent ramble with technicalities for which we ask
forgiveness, though old, and perhaps new, "shells"
may read it, I will add that the working of can-
vas is one of the best jobs aboard ship. We were
excused from jumping up at every order to do
some bit of pulling or hauling, and knowledge
of the tricks of palm and needle stamped a man
as of the real salt.

Australia, Charlie Horse, Tony, and a few
others were kept busy renewing chafing gear, fit-
ting sword mats and helping Chips, who was con-

DRIVING SOUTHWARD 313

stantly employed about the ship at repair and
renewal of the wooden fittings. The battens on
the "swifters" were always being broken by the
clew garnets, and had to be renewed, the pump
leathers were overhauled at frequent intervals,
hatch wedges were constantly inspected and "set
up," and Chips was the man to do these things.

Martin, Mike, Fred and Peter were given a
large job of overhauling all spare blocks. The
pins were knocked out and turned over so that
the least wrorn side of the pin would bear against
the bushing. Iron straps were chipped and red
leaded and all the deck and emergency tackles
were treated in the same way, the blocks, thim-
bles, and falls being put in fine shape; nothing
was spared in the quality of the material with
which we worked. Whips and gear aloft might
be turned end for end, but after that they were
unrove and put to humbler uses ; never spliced ex-
cept in an emergency. On a ship, the odds and
ends of rope yarn, oakum, and old wornout gear
is headed up in barrels and sold as "shakings."
This is often the perquisite of the mate.

Scouse, as usual, was in for the drudgery, with
Kahemuku and Black Joe tailing along as his as-
sistants. He did not seem to mind it and got on
famously with the Kanakas. It was always "sir"

314 UNDER SAIL

to Scouse, from Black Joe, who looked upon the
big Dutchman as a sort of hero. The red thatch
may have had something to do with this attitude,
but whatever the cause, Scouse would have got
at least two votes had he ever become a candi-
date for President of Hawaii.

Just before shifting sail, this taking place dur-
ing a lull between the S. E. trades and the coun-
ter trades, we sent down the main lower tops'l
yard and rigged and sent up a spare spar that
we had on deck. This was a regular seaman's
job and called for all hands during an entire
day. The old yard had a slight spring, a fault
developed in the heavy weather off the Cape on
the passage out. We unbent the sail, leaving it
stopped on the main yard, all the gear, clewlines,
buntlines, etc., being carried into the top and the
quarter blocks hooked to the main cap. The yard
was sent down by means of a stout burton from
the topmast pendant, and the upper tops'l sheets,
downhauls, etc., were unrove and carried into the
main top. The upper tops'l was hung in its gear
and the yard steadied out by the braces alone. As
we had a fair sailing breeze, the t'gan's'l and up-
per canvas was kept set.

As soon as the long yard was down, we un-
hooked the burton and fastened onto the new

DRIVING SOUTHWARD 315

stick, swaying this aloft, when the braces were
hooked. The lifts were then attached and, as
soon as the yard was up, the standard was keyed,
and all running gear rove. We bent sail in rec-
ord time, had everything shipshape again and
sheeted home before two bells in the afternoon
watch.

A few days after this, on a Sunday, of course,
we shifted sail and we knew that we were in for
some more dirty weather. "Well, this will be
the last," was the feeling voiced more than once
by the men in the fo'c'sle.

During the time of many jobs, of fine weather,
and much activity of a sailor kind, the Kanaka
Kahemuku astonished us by his skill in tattooing.
Of a Sunday he was always busy. His first sub-
ject was Scouse, and we watched the progress
of art with great interest. Kahemuku offered to
fix me up, but I had in mind the advice of my
father and decided to remain undecorated by
anchor or star.

"You are wise, kid," Australia agreed. "Them
marks never come off and they are a hard thing
to get by with. Many a poor bloke has gone to
the gallows because he carried a bright red star
of hope tattooed on his chest."

While not altogether complimentary in his al-

316 UNDER SAIL

lusion, Australia was right. Scouse, however,
showed his honest contempt for this point of view
by having a Hula Hula dancer done on his chest.
For a while he looked as if he had been crusted
by a growth of barnacles.

As we ran past the little islands of the South
Pacific, that lay sparsely scattered along our
track, Kahemuku would gaze at them with in-
tense longing. His desire for "Pilladelpia" alone
compensated him for their loss. But, after a
while, the increasing chill overcame all thoughts
of that wonderful city of "Pilladelpia," and Kahe-
muku, Black Joe and the melancholy Aahee
turned a shade of ghastly gray. They lay shiv-
ering in their bunks during the watch below, ob-
jects of compassion to the rest of us who were
hardened to the cold sea.

The rapidly dropping temperature, it was then
the last week of June and the middle of the Ant-
arctic winter, served to remind us that we might
expect a colder and perhaps stormier time of it
than on the passage out when we rounded Cape
Horn in the middle of the southern summer. One
thing that would be in our favor, and all of the
old sailors mentioned this, was the fact that for
the most part we would have fair winds, the pre-
vailing storms coming from the west, sweeping

DRIVING SOUTHWARD 317

eastward along the edge of the Antarctic Conti-
nent, Cape Horn shoving its nose into the very
center of the storm path.

The sting of the cold, crisp nights, as we in-
creased our latitude, warned us that we were in
for weather not far ahead. The Kanakas became
more and more inert at each drop in temperature.
They were so poorly provided for in the way of
warm clothing that all hands dug into chest and
bag, contributing from wardrobes none too large.
The Kanaka boys did everything they could to
show their gratitude. Our two of the port watch
worked at the bilge pumps each night until they
were utterly done. "It keeps them warm, and
no one died working yet," said Brenden. "As
long as they keep going they're still alive," added
Australia, and this was true enough, so we were
ready to accept their sacrifice at the back-breaking
job.

CHAPTER XXVI

CAPE HORN AGAIN

AS the strength of the winds increased and
we were mostly always before it, Captain
Nichols concluded the ship would sail better if
she was a trifle further down by the stern. We
had loaded on an evener keel in Honolulu than
on the passage out and now it was decided by
the skipper to shift some weight aft. This was
done by breaking out two hundred bags of sugar
from the fore part of the hold and dragging it
aft to the extreme end of the lazarette. The
weight shifted, about fifteen tons, certainly made
her steer better than before.

On June twenty-third we rove off a new main
tops'l halyard purchase, and overhauled the tops'l
tye. The weather was getting more and more
severe, and we ran before it under fore lower
tops'l, close reefed fores'l, reefed main upper
tops'l, main lower tops'l, and mizzen lower tops'l,
all other sail being on the yards and furled with
the exception of fore topmast stays'l and jib, both

318

CAPE HORN AGAIN 319

hauled amidships as a precaution against broach-
ing to. The seas rose gradually and the ship
rolled heavily. On June twenty-fifth our cargo
shifted in the fore part of the 'tween deck, giving
us a nasty list to leeward of about five degrees,
and all hands were called at two in the mid watch
to trim cargo. This was a devil of a job, except
that it was warm, and kept us steadily employed
for a stretch of twelve hours with only a short
spell for grub. Captain Nichols himself came
into the 'tween decks, and later on Mr. Zerk, my-
self and two of the men, Frenchy and Axel, if
I remember right, went through the lower hold
on top of the heaped-up sugar, where the sweet,
sticky smell, slightly sour, mingled with the odors
of the riled-up bilge, and the complaining of the
hull. I carried a lantern and the rays, against
the knees and beams, cast weird shadows. The
hold was a fearsome place, pitching and rolling
as if in mortal agony.

We found it increasingly necessary to keep the
pumps going as the water worked in rapidly when
running. A ship under such conditions of wind
and sea is alternately lifted with her midship sec-
tion carried on the back of a roller, her ends more
or less tending to droop, or she is in the trough
between two wave crests with her ends buried and

320 UNDER SAIL

the midship section hanging. Oftentimes a poorly
built craft becomes "hogged," that is, the midship
is permanently lifted up and her sheer thrown
out.

A constant repetition of stresses such as we
were experiencing on the Fuller, made intense
by the dead weight of the cargo and the urge
of the masts carrying their spread of sail, is bound
to result in damage to the vessel. While working
in the hold, the complaining of her timbers seemed
worse than ever before on the voyage. We often
wondered if she was going to pieces, as indeed
many unreported ships have done. The sensa-
tion below gave one an impression of being at sea
on a very uncertain proposition; a great leaky
wooden box, with every solitary frame, scantling,
hook, knee, and plank, complaining bitterly at the
hard fate that had wrought them in the shape of
a ship.

"I wish the bloody owners was down here for
a day or two," said Old Smith, as we were shift-
ing cargo in the hold, and I heartily agreed with
him.

A few days later, when on deck, we forgot the
forbidding pandemonium below; purposely for-
got it, as so many people do with other things,
and, as the ship did not wrack herself to pieces

CAPE HORN AGAIN 321

that voyage, we at least were saved a lot of un-
necessary worry.

On July first we were still plowing before it
under reefed canvas. All work on deck was at
a standstill except that required for sailing the
ship, and by way of exercise and safety, the
"farmers" dragged the "bear." Cape pigeons
were everywhere and we caught a number of
them for their wings by trailing a fish line over-
board and hooking them. These birds are beau-
tifully marked and when taken on deck invariably
vomit their dinners ; it almost looks as though the
motion of the ship made them seasick. High over-
head gray molly-hawks and fulmar gulls soared
white-bellied and noisy against the leaden sky.

Oil bags were trailed over the side as the high
seas surged past us like race horses, their white
crests crinkling dangerously under our transom,
and along the full sweep of the bulwarks, slop-
ping aboard as we rolled, filling the gangways
and main deck with tons of cold, blue water.
Often, at the braces, we would be buried in these
seas, a strange sensation that for the moment,
as the weight of water lifted the feet from the
deck, gave one the sensation of being detached
from the ship, of being out in the midst of it all
thousands of miles from shore; a funny feeling

322 UNDER SAIL

is this, entirely devoid of fear, though, of course,
one held on like blazes to whatever was most
handy, usually the pin rail or other substantial
deck fitting.

Much has been written about the height of
waves, and as we approached the southern limit
of our course and headed to the east, well below
the parallel of Cape Horn, we got the full benefit
of those constant westerly winds that blow around
the world. Here the heaviest straight line gales
are to be met with and the great fetch of deep
water helps to produce magnificent waves of the
first magnitude.

Lecky, in his "Wrinkles," a book no sailor
should be without, and a book no lover of the
sea who likes to "be up" on things nautical should
neglect to read, quotes Mr. Thomas Stevenson
as the authority for an empirical formula that
approximates the possible maximum height of
waves, the same being considered as a function
of the "fetch."

This is given as a matter of interest, for work-
ing it backward it shows how tremendous the sea
spaces through which the rollers that followed us
had their being. The Stevenson formula is as
follows :

Height of wave in feet equals the square root

CAPE HORN AGAIN 323

of the "fetch" in nautical miles multiplied by the
constant 1.5.

Or, backward: the distance a wave has come
equals its height, divided by 1.5, and the quotient
squared.

As the wind increased in strength the waves
mounted until immense billows were formed that
measured from 50 to 60 feet in a vertical line
from hollow to crest. This was easily determined
by mounting the shrouds and watching until the
ship was in the trough, then noting the height of
eye on a level with the wave crests. In reversing
the Stevenson formula we find that for a 60-foot
wave a fetch of at least 1,600 miles is neces-
sary.*

* Dr. G. Schott, as the result of studying the form and height of
sea waves, claims that under a moderate breeze their velocity was
24.6 feet per second, or 16.8 miles per hour, which is about the
speed of a modern sailing vessel. (Some speed !) As the wind
rises, the size and speed of the waves increase. In a strong breeze
their length rises to 260 feet and their speed reaches 36.0 to 36.4
feet per second. Waves the period of which is 9 seconds, the
length 400 or 425 feet, and the speed 28 nautical miles per hour,
are produced only in storms. During a southeast storm in the
southern Atlantic, Dr. Schott measured waves 690 feet long, and
this was not a maximum; for in latitude 28 degrees south and
longitude 39 degrees west, he observed waves of fifteen seconds'
period, which were 1,150 feet long with a velocity of 78.7 feet per
second, or 46% nautical miles per hour. Dr. Schott does not think
that the maximum height of the waves is very great. Some ob-
servers have estimated it at 30 or 40 feet in a wind the force of

324 UNDER SAIL

Enough sail had to be carried to give the ship
ample steerage way when the walls of rushing
water passed us, for incredible as it may seem
to those who have not had the experience, the
waves of the sea run at a speed far greater than
anything afloat that sails. The tidal wave, theoret-
ical at least, must have a speed of one thousand
miles per hour in order that the tides may follow
the attraction of the moon and girdle the earth
each twenty- four hours ; some speed even in these
days of rapid travel. Here we have a vertical
translation of motion and not a horizontal shift-
ing of water at that terrific speed. In the sea
waves caused by wind friction, there is also sim-
ply a translation of up and down motion, except

which is represented by 11 on the Beaufort scale (the highest
number of which is 12); and Dr. Schott's maximum is 32 feet.
He believes that in great tempests waves of more than 60 feet are
rare, and even those of 50 feet are exceptional. In the ordinary
trade winds the height is 5 or 6 feet. The ratio of height to length
is about 1:33 in a moderate wind, 1:18 in a strong wind, 1:17 in a
storm; from which it follows that the inclination of the waves is
respectively about 6, 10, and 11 degrees. The ratio to the height
of the waves to the force of the wind varies greatly. — Scientific
American.

Note on Above by Author. — It would seem that the late Dr.
Schott, if quoted correctly, did not consider the "fetch" as an
element in the process of wave formation at sea; but his maximum
waves were observed at a point where there was plenty of sea

CAPE HORN AGAIN 325

for the rearing crest ; if the sea waves moved bod-
ily it would be extremely dangerous to live near
the seashore and the coasts would soon be worn
away; also, ships would not dare venture upon
the ocean.

This statement about the possible destructive
effect of the sea waves were they to move bodily
started one of the hottest arguments ever con-
tested in the fo'c'sle of the Fuller. Tired and
worn as we were, the greater part of an after-
noon watch below was taken up in assailing my
position. Australia could not see that I was
right; even my staunch pal Frenchy doubted it.
Finally I brought out my trusty "Wrinkles in
Practical Navigation" by that sailor's friend, the
late Captain S. T. S. Lecky, who added laurels
to the name of the English merchant sailor that
will never fade, and put them all to rout. The
passage on Great Sea Waves is worth giving,
and I here include it.

"The term 'Great Sea Wave' is used in con-
tradistinction to 'Great Earth Wave,' which lat-
ter is the name given to the disturbance experi-
enced on land.

"An earthquake may have its center of impulse
either inland or under the bed of the ocean. In
the first case, when the 'Great Earth Wave/ or

326 UNDER SAIL

superficial undulation, coming from inland,
reaches the shores of the sea (unless these be
precipitous, with deep water) it may lift the water
up, and carry it out on its back, as it were; for
the rate of transit of the shock is sometimes so
great that the heap of water lifted up has not
time to flow away toward the sides.

"At Arica, in Peru, and other places, this sud-
den going out of the sea has made bare the bot-
tom of the bay, and left ships aground which
only a few minutes before were riding quietly
at anchor in several fathoms of water.

"As soon as the shock is over, the body of water
thus forced out to sea returns as a huge wave, and,
on approaching a sloping shore, rears up like a
wall, and breaks with overwhelming force. Some-
times, however, its volume, height, and velocity
are so great that it comes ashore bodily, and
breaks far inland, causing even greater destruc-
tion to life and property. At Arica, the Wateree
— a 'double-ender' belonging to the United
States Navy — was carried inland quite a dis-
tance by the reflux, and remained as evidence
for many years. If the writer's memory is not
at fault, she was carried clean over the railway
embankment.

"When the seat of the disturbance is beneath

CAPE HORN AGAIN 327

the ocean, the 'Great Sea Wave' rushes in upon
the land as before — with this difference, that it
is not preceded by the water retiring from the
foreshore, as in the first case. . . .

"About the most notable instance of a ' Great
Sea Wave' occurred during the stupendous and
ever-memorable eruption in August, 1883, which
had for its center the Island of Krakatoa, in the
Straits of Sunda. On this occasion the loss of
life amounted to 37,000, caused chiefly by the
sea waves, one of which attained the almost in-
credible height of 135 feet. Its effects were
traced to all the principal tide gauges of the
world, and were even observed at Havre, some
11,000 miles from the source of origin.

"A full account of this eruption, which was
investigated in detail by committees and sub-com-
mittees of the Royal Society, comprising many
of the leading scientists of the day, has been pub-
lished in a volume of nearly 500 quarto pages,
under the editorship of Mr. G. T. Symons. In
this book every branch of the phenomenon and
its effects have been most thoroughly dealt with,
and is consequently well worth perusal."

What Captain Lecky has said may well cause
us to pause and wonder how a "Great Sea Wave"

328 UNDER SAIL

would affect Coney Island of a hot Sunday in
midsummer.

However, on the ship Fuller, to get back to our
muttons, we thought of no Coney Island. We
were very much at sea, and thankful for the
fact that the waves could grow no larger. For
it is a fact that the rapid rate of progress of
waves serves to limit their height, for as soon as
the speed of the wave becomes about half that
of the speed of the wind the accelerating effect
of the wind action remaining is absorbed by the
friction of the water particles, and the waves
are at their maximum.

We had a splendid opportunity to study the
waves, and it was with a never-failing fascina-
tion that I always looked for the occasional group-
ing of three or four large rollers, rising above
the rest, due to a piling up because of differences
in rate of progress. On the ships of an earlier
day, the fear of being "pooped" was always up-
permost in the minds of timid helmsmen, but on
the Fuller we were protected in a measure by the
wheelhouse. This structure, right aft against
the taffrail, served as a shelter, and at the same
time housed the tiller, the tiller shackles, and the
relieving tackles. The fore part was given over
to the wheel and was quite fancy, immaculate

CAPE HORN AGAIN 329

white gratings under foot, bright wood panelling
inside and brass fittings wherever possible. A
sliding shutter overhead was thrown back, when
on the wind, to allow the helmsman a sight of
the weather cloth of the mizzen skysail. Just for-
ward of the binnacle, and taking in the whole
front of the wheelhouse, was a window fitted with
sliding shutters. At least one of these was al-
ways open, for the officer of the deck never came
into the wheelhouse when on duty, merely shout-
ing his orders to the man at the helm. The good
sense that finally provided wheelhouses on sailers
was amply justified. Comparative warmth and
protection from wind and sea helped just that
much in steering, and a far better course was
held through the long, strenuous watches of heavy
weather. The wheelhouse was always one of
the most comfortable spots aboard ship.

To my mind, steering was a lot of fun. This
was specially so in good lively weather. The
direct pull of the rudder, the "kick" and the
"feel" of the ship never failed to thrill me with
a sense of power. Just as handling "the stick"
on a good able boat in fine brisk weather is a
sport of never-ending delight, so the trick at the
wheel aboard the Fuller always made me feel that
I was the man who sailed the ship.

330 UNDER SAIL

The pointer by old Bo'sun Dreilick, of the St.
Mary's, and now of the Newport, that ancient
mariner of many, many voyages, filled with the
accumulated wisdom of the seven seas, stood me
in good stead. "When at the wheel, work the
ship in your mind as if you had charge of the
watch," was his advice. Doing this aboard the
Fuller with such a consummate sailor as Mr.
Zerk in charge was an instructive exercise. Dur-
ing daytime tricks I could see where sails needed
trimming, or where a shift of canvas would help
her, and would often have everything settled in
my mind before the mate would notice things.
At night it was different. The least shift of
wind or the slightest change of weather always
found him on the alert. To an ambitious lad,
anxious to master the hoary art of conducting a
ship across the surface — decidedly, surface — of
the many wrinkled ocean, this practice can be
recommended; the only trouble is that such ambi-
tious lads are now scarce, and the ships are scarcer
still.

Captain Nichols had a pleasant way of coming
up, especially during the second dog watch, after
the mellowing influence of a Chow dinner, cabin
style, and conversing for a minute or two. He
would let drop a hint as to where we were and

CAPE HORN AGAIN 331

sometimes give me sights to work out. While we
were making such heavy weather of it and the
wheel was hard to manage, he told a story calcu-
lated to make me anything but cheerful. The
ship had yawed and the slap of the rudder sent
the wheel over against all the "beef" I could
bring to bear. Then suddenly, when the pressure
shifted to the other side, the wheel came back
with the kick of a stubborn mule, and I was
bodily lifted off my feet, saving my head by
doubling about the spindle.

"Look out, son!" shouted the Old Man. "I
had a sailor thrown up against the top of the
wheelhouse once and his skull bashed in. That
was his last trick at the wheel. You better be
careful."

CHAPTER XXVII

MAN LOST OVERBOARD

AT this stage of the voyage hardship had
become a habit; rotten tack and half-
cooked cracker hash all went the same way; we
were toughened to the grind. A mess of weevil-
ridden hard bread was disposed of by knocking
the worms out and eating what was left, the
crumby, mealy stuff, soggy with damp, was often
made more palatable by heating in the galley with
a sprinkle of molasses or a coating of our abun-
dant sugar. The working of the ship was done
in grilling discomfort of wet clothing, and the
cold added its quota to our troubles day after
day. But for all that we were living. The scenes
of wild fury that only those who have run before
it in the latitudes of Cape Horn can understand,
spread about us in a fitting panorama to the trag-
edy of suffering on our half-drowned deck. Sure-
ly the angels must have wondered at the vast am-
bition of men who dared such dangers and lived
such hardships; all of which vast ambition could

332

MAN LOST OVERBOARD 333

be summed up in one sentence — the pay of an
able seaman out of the port of New York — eigh-
teen dollars per month, minus "advance" and the
deduction for "slops," leaving the net earning in
the neighborhood of ten or eleven dollars.

We were getting our romance in the raw, how-
ever, and, like most things in this world, we were
paying for the show — working our way — through
experiences that only those who go down to the
sea in deepwater sailing ships know anything
about.

Endless rows of mighty snarling combers, the
howl of sleet-laden wind tearing through the
glistening gear aloft, and the blind rush of snow-
storms, crusting everything with a powdering of
white, gave us a real taste of weather such as
I had never experienced before.

"Thank God we are going before it, and not
trying to beat back," said Kitchen to me one
night, as he came aft to relieve me at the wheel.

John Aahee, of the starboard watch, disap-
peared and we thought he had been lost over-
board. For two days we missed him and kept
the news from Black Joe and Kahemuku, who
were in a state of low spirits, where the loss of
Aahee would have well-nigh proved fatal. On
the third day after the absence of John he sud-

334 UNDER SAIL

denly reappeared, when the boys of our watch
heard a loud knocking on the under side of the
forehatch. Having enjoyed a two days' sleep
on the sugar in the 'tween deck, he climbed in
by way of the forepeak, which had been opened
in order to rouse up a barrel of saltpork.

The mate threatened to put him in irons for
shirking duty and promised all sorts of dire pun-
ishment. However, the poor Kanaka was so far
gone that it seemed he never would survive, and
I believe he was positively numb when the mate
made him finish out the last two hours of the
watch on deck by bending over the bilge pump,
"to get the sleep out of your eyes, you -
black."

July Fourth found us nearing the end of our
southing. We experienced a moderation in the
weather, and set the fore and main t'gans'ls. The
fore t'gans'l split during a squall that blew up
before it had been set an hour, and we at once
got busy in sending down this rag and bending
another sail which went with a loud "bang!" dur-
ing the midwatch, Second Mate Tom being on
deck and Captain Nichols pacing up and down
on the forward side of the wheelhouse.

"There she goes again!" we heard them shout-
ing out on deck, amid the din of wind and the

MAN LOST OVERBOARD 335

booming of the seas as they fanned away from
the flare of our bows, when her head doused down
into the back of a roller. The report as the new
canvas split was sharp and characteristic^ waking
most of us, as it was directly overhead.

"I hope they don't call us out," was the thought
expressed by all ; we plunked down in our blank-
ets with a will as though we were going to wring
every last fraction of sleep out of each precious
second of the few hours of the watch.

Our days were becoming more than merely
strenuous, they were of that dead level of sus-
tained hardship where the senses cease to regis-
ter the added kicks, but go on in a sort of merci-
ful anesthesia, no doubt brought about by the
toxic action of prolonged fatigue.

On the glorious Fourth, Chow had spread him-
self to the extent of favoring the fo'c'sle mess
with two large pans of gingerbread, nicely cut
into squares, so that everyone would get his law-
ful whack. This gingerbread was a special stunt
in baking such as I have never seen its like be-
fore or since. The top crust was flexible, and
leathery, of a deep seal brown. The bottom was
hard and usually well burnt. By grabbing the
top crust and the bottom, the middle portion
could be made to stretch at least twice its size and

336 UNDER SAIL

then broken apart, but long strings like cobwebs
would connect the two halves. We blamed it for
the boils that appeared on most of us toward the
end of each passage, for Chow liked to bake it,
and we had it at least once a week or oftener.

Poor Frenchy was taken sick during those dis-
mal days, and when he mustered aft one dog
watch, and promptly swooned, we picked our
shipmate up and carried him to his bunk with
heavy hearts. If gloom could kill a man, Frenchy
would have cashed in his record during the next
few days. The fo'c'sle was as sad a hole as a
man could think of. Captain Nichols came for-
ward and examined Frenchy during our watch
on deck. This was a sort of concession to the
proprieties, as he only came forward of the
main hatch one other time on the voyage that
I can recall. After his professional visit the
steward called me aft and handed me a large
tumbler full of a dark liquid called "black draft"
by Australia; it had marvelous cathartic power.
I was instructed to give this to Frenchy at one
dose. What it did to him in his weakened state
can be imagined.

The next day the mate came to the fo'c'sle and
examined the sick man and reported aft. Frenchy
had said he was much better, which was a lie,

MAN LOST OVERBOARD 337

but a wise one. I then prevailed upon Chow to
give me some cabin stew that he was preparing,
and with this under his belt and a hook pot of
coffee, cabin style, Frenchy felt better. I also
broke out a set of brand-new underwear that I
had been saving against an emergency. It was
extra heavy, and with this on him and the good
food, he felt like a new man. Chow fed Frenchy
for three days, and fed him well, after I had
prevailed upon Chips to give him the parrot,
Jake. Fortunately Frenchy recovered before
Jake got in his fine work in the galley, for in
less than a week the latter was back under the
fo'c'sle head again, having started his talk about
"to hell with the grub," etc. This was more than
Chow could stand, and one night his cage shot
out of the lee door of the galley amid a series
of quirks and screeches, and Fred rescued the
bird from a comber that was about to curl over
the bulwark.

Our precautions in the way of preventer gear
and rolling tackles were employed as on the pas-
sage out, and the relieving tackles were hooked
to the tiller in the after wheelhouse. Captain
Nichols also had two heavy hawsers bighted about
the base of the mizzen mast and flaked down on
the cabin top ready to pay out through the quar-

338 UNDER SAIL

ter chocks should we by any chance broach to.
At the end of these we had constructed two im-
provised sea anchors or drags. Under ordinary
circumstances we would have been hove to in such
weather as we were having, but the wind was
fair and the captain determined to run before
it as long as possible.

Discomfort and hardship on board were not
altogether confined to the foVsle. The after
cabin was washed out a number of times and the
mate was swamped by the seas backing up in
the waist and running over the sills of the cabin
doors. Mr. Zerk was much less violent during
the stormy days. The hard drive to the south and
east put a feeling of common danger into the
minds of all; it had a very beneficial effect. So
far as the psychic aspects of the voyage went, we
were happy.

Also, we were, with the possible exception of
Black Joe and Kahemuku of our watch, and the
unfortunate Aahee of starboard, a very ready and
smart crowd. When I say possible exception in
referring to the Kanakas I mean that these un-
happy people were always running with the
crowd, and while always in the way they bent
what beef they had to any gear we might be haul-
ing on. Sailors have a weird wail, or dirge, with-

MAN LOST OVERBOARD 339

out words, to which they sway at brace or hal-
yards and Black Joe became proficient in this,
throwing his whole spirit into the thing. Even in
those days of actuality the perfect picture of
glistening oilskins and the splashing sea, with the
human cry of labor mounting above the snap of
the storm, was driven home to me — and I was
mighty wet and tired, too.

On July tenth we were still going large before
a heavy sea. Second Mate Tom was on deck in
the afternoon watch and, the wind having mod-
erated some, his crowd were aloft shaking the
reef out of the fore upper tops'l. Aahee was otf
the lee yardarm and as the sail dropped a squall
of wind slapped along suddenly, and he, holding
on to the jackstay with all of his might, turned
a complete somersault as his heavy boots shot
up from the footrope. He was wrenched from
the yard, his body struck the belly of the reefed
foresail and dashed into the sea. Some claimed
he also struck one of the jib boom guys.

All hands were called and the ship hove to.
Mr. Zerk stormed out on deck mad clean through,
and Captain Nichols conned the wheel, myself
and another man from starboard being at the
spokes. A half barrel of oil was broached into
the sea as we braced sharp and put down the

340 UNDER SAIL

helm, manning the lee fore braces with great
speed. The main spencer was hauled out and
reefed spanker set while we braced sharp forward.
Mr. Morstad had thrown over two life buoys, but
we could not see either one of them. As we hove
to the seas swept over us with redoubled fury,
the racket aloft being frightful. We then re-
alized how hard it was blowing. Captain Nichols
estimated it at from 9 to 10 on the Beaufort
Scale,* and the Fuller bore down almost on her
beam ends.

To launch a boat would have been madness
and we watched the sea for a sight of Aahee or
of the life buoys, all, however, without success,
as no doubt he had drowned at once and the buoys
were several miles to windward, while we were
drifting off faster than they.

Once hove to we shortened down for the night

* The Beaufort Notation, to indicate the force of the wind.

0 Calm.

1 Light airs: just sufficient to give steerage way.

2 Light breeze. Ship under all plain sail 1 to 2 knots.

8 Gentle breeze.
4 Moderate breeze.

5 Fresh breeze. Ship close hauled can ca ry Skysails.

6 Strong breeze.

7 Moderate gale.

8 Fresh gale.

9 Strong gale.

3 to 4

4 to 5

Topgallant sails.
Reefed topsails.
Lower topsails, courses.
Lower topsails; reefed

courses.

10 Whole gale. Hove to, under main lower topsail and reefed foresail.

11 Storm. " under storm staysails.

12 Hurricane. " " under bare poles.

MAN LOST OVERBOARD 341

under lower tops'ls and storm stays'ls. The death
of Aahee was tragic in the extreme; Kahemuku
cried in his bunk, and no means could be found
to stop him. Black Joe said nothing, he ate in
silence, and when we went below he turned in
without a word.

They were one less to starboard; only a weak
brown man gone, a poor piece of human wreck-
age washed loose from that plaything of the
storm, a ship at sea.

CHAPTER XXVIII

AUSTRALIA'S STORY

TT^OLLOWING Frenchy's sickness, Aus-
X/ tralia and I chummed together as Frenchy,
by common consent, was allowed to perch on a
coil of rope on the main hatch just forward of
the mast during the night watches, the mate wink-
ing at this whenever the weather was not too
bad.

On such nights Australia and I would stump
the wet deck and we got to be very good friends.
Unlike so many of the crew, I remember his name,
John Roth, and from what he told me at various
times I knew that he had come from a good fam-
ily, as such things go, people in easy circum-
stances. His grandfather had settled in England,
coming originally from southern Germany, and
his father had taken over and extended a business
founded at that time. Roth had received a good
education, evidently, though he was of a shift-
less temperament and his talk savored of the
fo'c'sle and not the schools. He unburdened

342

AUSTRALIA'S STORY

343

344 UNDER SAIL

himself as we tramped the deck and I found him
to be a charming companion and much deeper
than was my idea of the devil-may-care deserter
from the Falls of Ettrick, who had impressed me
as a sort of scatterbrained ne'er-do-well, when we
first bumped against each other in the fo'c'sle of
the Fuller, for my bunk was ahead of his, as we
settled down in that first mix-up, months before.

"I'll tell you, Felix, there's lots of blokes who
have had less chances than me, and is well off
today. I always got in the way of trouble and
you bet trouble never missed me once."

This sounded like something new, so I kept my
mouth closed instead of replying after the usual
manner of deck chums making conversation.

"When my father died," went on Australia,
after a long pause, "my brother took the man-
agement of the business. He was in the building
trade and doing very well at it, supporting moth-
er, two sisters, brother and myself. My brother
James had quit school and was helping father
at the time of his death. I was at school near
Winchester, much to my disgust, for I hated
school and wanted to go to sea." Australia
paused. He was strangely sober and we paced
on deck for a turn or two in silence. Then he
continued, and I remember how his words came

AUSTRALIA'S STORY 345

slowly but with a long-forgotten attention to
choice and grammar.

"On the settlement of the estate of my father
a small legacy of four hundred pounds was left
me, and with the business safe in the care of
my brother I felt at liberty to quit school and go
to sea. I had an idea that I would settle down
somewhere with my money and be a gentleman
planter, or something like that. At any rate, I
cashed in and, with more money in my pocket
than was good for me, put to sea in the fo'c'sle
of a ship out of London bound for Melbourne.
I'll call her the Iverclyde, that's near enough.
They shipped me 'ordinary,' and when I handed
the mate a five-quid note, as I asked for the job,
he was sure he had hooked a fool, or a lunatic.
The rest of my fortune I carried in a wallet in
the bottom of my chest, a place no one would ever
think of searching for money.

"The Iverclyde was an iron ship, a wet ship, if
you know what I mean. We was drowned and
we was starved, but never overworked. Once the
crowd went aft and told the mate they wanted
to put the main topgans'l on her, as she was roll-
ing so. The mate he says, 'All right, Bo'sun, set
the main topgallant sail,' and that is the way we
worked.

346 UNDER SAIL

"We ran into Table Bay, with a sprung bow-
sprit, lifted loose of the gammoning when she
was taken aback while the mate was sleeping
against the binnacle. This was my chance, and
by use of another note, I got smuggled ashore
with a suit of dirty dungaree and a big bundle of
damp Bank of England notes, leaving the rest
of my kit behind. I soon got some decent clothes,
and put up at the Royal Hotel. The life in Cape
Town suited me, I made friends among a fast
bunch, spent the filthy, and enjoyed the air of
mystery that surrounded me. No one ever sus-
pected that I was from the Iverclyde, though I
saw our captain walk by the hotel once; in fact
I was very safe there.

"Shortly after the ship left, I found that I was
being shadowed. Some bloke was always in my
wake. I tried to get him and blow him to a dog
watch of drinks and find out his game, but it was
no use. When they saw I was on to them, for
they watched every move I made, and I was
spending free, the gentleman aft gives the sig-
nal and I am arrested. It seems that an embez-
zler was wanted and they had me spotted for the
game. Not knowing the lay they was on, I
did not get my story straight at first, thinking
they was still after me for deserting the Iverclyde.

AUSTRALIA'S STORY 347

This was bad. They chucked me in jail and kept
me there for three months, lifting what was left
of my wad. 'I say, is this all that's left?' the
officer exclaims, counting fKe notes. They ex-
pected to pick up about ten thousand pounds.

"When the correctness of my story was proved,
they let me go. I heard that the blackleg they
was after was caught in Calcutta.

"Sure, they let me out and gave me what was
left of my wad. Almost half gone, but then I
had three months of lodging and tucker free and
a little over two hundred saved. I was a wiser
one after that, but I was still a fool, which was
something I did not find out till later.

"In order to get away from Cape Town, and
at the same time follow my idea of settling down
in some warm climate where a man can become
a planter and have a lot of blacks do the work for
him, I shipped before the mast on the Dutch bark
Java, out of Amsterdam, bound for Batavia. This
craft had put in short of water and several hands
who had died on the passage down to the Cape.
The Java was unlucky. The most unlucky tub
that ever sailed, except the 'Flying Dutchman, but
unlucky enough for any real ship. We winds up
in a typhoon, a hundred miles west of the Sunda
Strait. The masts went by the board and at the

350 UNDER SAIL

daylight I was met by a man coming out from
behind a clump of small trees. He was dressed
in dirty white clothes and had a young beard. I
told him the yarn of the wreck and asked him
where I was. He directed me to Anjer, about
thirty miles east along the coast. I asked him if
he could give me some clothes. He said yes, if
I would wait where I was he would be back in
about two hours.

"Well, to make a long story short, as they say,
I waited, being a natural born fool and not know-
ing any better. Still," and Australia paused in
his extraordinary tale, "I don't think anyone
else would have done different. I was so glad
about meeting this man that I carefully unrolled
a wet five-pound note and set it out on a rock to
dry, weighting it with a little stone. I wanted
to square him for his trouble.

"About noon my man shows up. He has a suit
of white cotton clothes that were not any too new,
a pair of shoes, brogans, they call them, and a
straw sun helmet. He also gave me a half loaf
of bread, after I handed him the five-quid note.
This took his breath away, so he got reckless.

"About two miles out of Anjer I was met by
two constables. They ran at me so fast that I
knew there was something wrong and before I

AUSTRALIA'S STORY 351

could say Jack Robinson they had the bracelets
on me, and was going through my pockets for
weapons. They got the wad, and that settled me.
'Gawd,' I says, 'what am I in for now?' My
clothes was stripped off of me in the jail, and
took as evidence, I found out later. When my
shoes came off, my left foot, for I wore no sox,
was a dull red, like rust — this was blood.

'You are charged with murdering the keeper
of the Fourth Point Light!'

" 'Great Gawd!' I cries, 'what next!'
"Well, they has me, and no mistake. I am a
British subject and I set up a roar. The Consul
was called, and I tried my best to get him to
believe my story. It was no go. 'Bally rot!' he
says.

"I was sent to Batavia, and held for murder.
Fortunately my story about what happened in
Cape Town was verified in an unexpected man-
ner or things would have gone hard with me.
What saved me was a newspaper story of my
jail term in that port, my belt of money, and my
hard luck in being taken for the crook. This
tallied with my yarn when I gave an account of
myself, and the fact that the Java had sailed, as I
said, and the story of the salvage crew put on
her, sent on from Singapore when the steamer

350 UNDER SAIL

daylight I was met by a man coming out from
behind a clump of small trees. He was dressed
in dirty white clothes and had a young beard. I
told him the yarn of the wreck and asked him
where I was. He directed me to Anjer, about
thirty miles east along the coast. I asked him if
he could give me some clothes. He said yes, if
I would wait where I was he would be back in
about two hours.

"Well, to make a long story short, as they say,
I waited, being a natural born fool and not know-
ing any better. Still," and Australia paused in
his extraordinary tale, "I don't think anyone
else would have done different. I was so glad
about meeting this man that I carefully unrolled
a wet five-pound note and set it out on a rock to
dry, weighting it with a little stone. I wanted
to square him for his trouble.

"About noon my man shows up. He has a suit
of white cotton clothes that were not any too new,
a pair of shoes, brogans, they call them, and a
straw sun helmet. He also gave me a half loaf
of bread, after I handed him the five-quid note.
This took his breath away, so he got reckless.

"About two miles out of Anjer I was met by
two constables. They ran at me so fast that I
knew there was something wrong and before I

AUSTRALIA'S STORY 351

could say Jack Robinson they had the bracelets
on me, and was going through my pockets for
weapons. They got the wad, and that settled me.
'Gawd,' I says, 'what am I in for now?' My
clothes was stripped off of me in the jail, and
took as evidence, I found out later. When my
shoes came off, my left foot, for I wore no sox,
was a dull red, like rust — this was blood.

" 'You are charged with murdering the keeper
of the Fourth Point Light!'

" 'Great Gawd!' I cries, 'what next!'

"Well, they has me, and no mistake. I am a
British subject and I set up a roar. The Consul
was called, and I tried my best to get him to
believe my story. It was no go. 'Bally rot!' he
says.

"I was sent to Batavia, and held for murder.
Fortunately my story about what happened in
Cape Town was verified in an unexpected man-
ner or things would have gone hard with me.
What saved me was a newspaper story of my
jail term in that port, my belt of money, and my
hard luck in being taken for the crook. This
tallied with my yarn when I gave an account of
myself, and the fact that the Java had sailed, as I
said, and the story of the salvage crew put on
her, sent on from Singapore when the steamer

352 UNDER SAIL

arrived, helped me. The British Consul took up
matters, and by spending the greater part of
what I had left, funds that were again at my dis-
posal, I cleared myself. However, in the mean-
time, my people in England had got the story
of my being a murderer with full details of the
horrible deed. It killed my mother, who was in
feeble health. Nothing of the clearing up ever
reached the other members of my family and to
them I am a murderer to this day.

"I left Batavia on a tramp steamer bound for
Sydney, a wiser young fellow than ever before,
also a much poorer one, for I had just two pounds
in my pocket when I went ashore.

"My narrow escapes had the effect of making
me restless. In the next two years I worked
at every trade and calling that I could lay my
hands to. I tried sheepherding, I went into
the bush and tried farming, working as a laborer.
I worked as a blacksmith in Sydney after picking
up something of the trade travelling with a small
circus. In Melbourne I started a very good busi-
ness in peddling milk. I gave this up as soon
as it began to pay me and I could afford the help
to make it easier. Again I shipped to sea. News
of my mother's death had reached me, and I
worked my way back to England. My brother

AUSTRALIA'S STORY 353

had married and would have nothing to do with
me. My name was never mentioned in his home.
Both of my sisters had married and moved away,
one to Scotland and one to America — Canada, I
think. Then I went to Liverpool and shipped
on the iron bark Falls of Ettrick. Now that is
my story. Rotten, eh? Well, I hope some day
to settle down, and quit this thing for good. I
have cheated the rope out of a good stiff by help-
ing along the murderer with five-quid, and nearly
paid for it with my own neck ; I almost got mine
a number of times before and since. If I had a
decent chance I could make good, if I only could
settle down and stick."

"You ought to get married; that would settle
you, Australia, old boy," I offered, somewhat
taken aback at the recital, for it was poured out
from the heart. I knew that a strange sort of
adventurer was telling me the things closest to
his soul. What I said jarred.

"Married? Say, kid, I've tried that game.
Yes, sir, I've been married twice, and I suppose
they could jail me for that, too."

"Twice?"

"You bet. Once in Melbourne, and again in
London, when I came home and found I was a
murderer yet."

354 UNDER SAIL

"What happened to your wives?"

"I don't know. Guess they are married again,
leastways the one in London is. She was no
good. Thought I was a rich bushman and
wanted to get in on the wad. But the wife in
Melbourne was decent. I should have stuck;
that was when I was in the milk business." Aus-
tralia paused. "I hope she sold that for a de-
cent figure. You see she was expecting some-
thing, and — oh, rats — what am I saying—

"Weather main brace!" sang out the mate, and
in a moment we were tailing to the rope, and
Fred and Black Joe were wailing in the night as
we swigged at it. The watch was nearly over and
Mr. Zerk was working the sleep out of us. As
for me, I was wide awake. Australia never men-
tioned his story again, except to say in an off-
hand way that it was all a lie about being married
twice. "I just wanted to see how far I could go
with you," he said.

Australia was a wiry chap of medium size, full
of life and a distinct ornament to the f o Vsle. He
was never at a loss for a witty retort and his sal-
lies at the expense of the mate — during the watch
below of course — furnished endless amusement.
He always shaved in port except for a diminutive
mustache, but at sea he sported a growth of beard,

AUSTRALIA'S STORY 355

merely trimming this with a large pair of scissors
such as tailors use for cutting heavy cloth, a mur-
derous weapon that he carried in a canvas sheath
nailed to the inside cover of his sea chest.

Unlike sailors on shorter runs, and that hybrid
animal, the deckhand in steam, the sailor on board
a deepwater ship has a sense of home. He occu-
pies the same bunk for a year or more at a time,
and in spite of the way he is robbed, or perhaps
I should say, was robbed, he carried a small ac-
cumulation of household goods, things that the
crimps and boarding masters did not consider
worth while stealing. Every bunk in a measure
reflected the personal taste of the owner.

Australia was one of the few men on board
the Fuller who owned a mirror. When he wanted
to nail this up under the lamp in the f o'c'sle, there
was a storm of protest, and the damning imple-
ment of an effete civilization was again restored
to his chest. A mirror was only permissible on
rare occasions when a man shaved; otherwise it
was taboo.

CHAPTER XXIX

STORMY DAYS

DIEGO RAMIREZ ahead, a point on the
port bow!" This was the news that greeted
us as we turned out on the morning of July 17th,
1898. It was Sunday, cloudy, but clear, one of
the first days without snow or hail since the fourth
of July. Off to the E. S. E. was a sail and by
the long time it took us to raise her we knew she
too was a homeward bounder.

The morning watch had set all of the tops'ls,
shaking the reefs out of the fore and main, and
we were sent aloft to loose the main t'gans'l,
sheeting home and hoisting away with a will. As
we raced along under the lowering gray, the rocky
islands of Diego Ramirez stood out with the dis-
tinctness of cameos cut against the light skyline
to the northeast. The breaking and dashing of
the white frothy seas marked them well and
served to remind us that we were plowing in a
fairish sort of a seaway ourselves. Our added
sail made the riding better and we hove the log

356

STORMY DAYS

357

after getting the t'gans'l on, showing a speed of
ten knots.

As it was Sunday, there was no objection to

SHIP'S HEAD MExt. \tan li pi E, ISLAND THREE POINTS

FORWARD OF PORT BEAM ' ct- NORTH '(Magnetic)

ISLAND* BEARING N.N.W.

ISLAND BEARING
DISTANT 4 MILES

(Magnetic)

our doing some sightseeing; I got the ship's head
from the wheelhouse and went forward and made
sketches of the island, the first one, bearing north,
magnetic. This gave a continuous line with a
cleft near the eastern side. A few minutes more
and the cleft opened up, showing Diego Ramirez

358 UNDER SAIL

to be at least two separate islands. My sketches
were made on N. ; N.N.W. ; and N.W.

Australia also got busy with his case of cray-
ons, for he was an artist as well as a story-teller,
and his sketch of Diego Ramirez is one of the
most cherished souvenirs in my scrapbook.

All hands gazed at that bit of weather-scarred
rock jutting up from the troubled waters, with
a feeling of reverence. It was the turning point,
the high tide of distress on many a hard voyage
into those stormy waters. Kahemuku and Black
Joe watched it with a sort of fascination. No
green-capped cliffs with white cataracts dashing
into a warm deep sea as at their native islands
of Hawaii. Not a scrap of verdure, not a ray of
hope, only black-blue water and sullen sky with
between them the primal crags rearing their worn
heads above the sea.

Since John Aahee was lost, the brown-skinned
brothers had merely suffered to exist. They
talked much together, and Aahee was mentioned
constantly. We did our best to cheer them,
though to tell the truth we all felt the death
keenly. To starboard they missed him more than
we. Second Mate Tom was of course blamed by
the fo'c'sle judges, though he had nothing to do

STORMY DAYS 359

with the accident any more than having been on
deck at the time.

As we quickly dropped Diego Ramirez on the
quarter, we went below at noon for our dinner.
The day was incredibly fine for that season and
we made the most of it. We were then tearing
past the south point and would soon get some
northing into the course. Cape Horn lay far be-
low the horizon to the north, and from the prog-
ress we were making we had hopes of establishing
a record, for the Fuller at least. We had made
the run from Honolulu to Diego Ramirez in for-
ty-five days ; as a matter of advance information
to the reader, it took us sixty-three days more to
sail from Ramirez to the Delaware Capes, our
passage as a whole merely proving a very fair
one of one hundred and eight days, against one
hundred and twenty-one on the passage out. This
difference of thirteen days in favor of going east
can be attributed to the westerly winds off Cape
Horn. From this it will be seen that the ship
A. J. Fuller was not the fastest craft afloat, and
yet she was far from being the slowest.

The sail ahead of us proved to be a Norwegian
bark. We came up to her in handsome style, our
ensign snapping from the monkey gaff, and as
her colors went up, we "dipped" in the long

360 UNDER SAIL

graceful salute of the sea. The bark made her
number and asked to be reported. She was
droughing along at a slow pace under reefed
main upper tops'l, lower tops'ls, and reefed fore-
s'l, showing a leg-o'-mutton sail on the mizzen.
We were then under all plain sail to royals, and
must have made a glorious picture to the sailors
lining the sides of the square-head craft. Mo-
ments like that make one tingle with pride at the
sight of the colors, a sort of pride that seldom
comes to those who sail under the flag in these de-
generate days.

From Diego Ramirez we shaped a course to
take us well clear of Staten Land; the familiar
sound of this name was like home, and I found
myself talking about it in the dog watch with
peculiar relish. Old Smith of starboard joined us,
and told of having run through the Strait of Le
Maire on the passage to the eastward. This is
safe enough, though careful skippers like Captain
Nichols prefer the wider reaches of the Atlantic
to the Le Maire Strait, dividing Staten Land
from the larger island of Terra del Fuego.

As we brought the wind about two points abaft
the port beam, the sky started to thicken and dur-
ing the early watches of the night we were again
treated to real Cape Horn weather. At midnight

STORMY DAYS 361

we took in the lighter canvas, reefing the main
t'gans'l. By eight bells in the midwatch we had
her staggering under reefed fore and main upper
tops'ls, lower tops'ls and reefed fores'l, fore top-
mast stays'l, and reefed spanker. We were mak-
ing heavy weather of it, the seas dashing high
over the f o'c'sle head as she buried her nose when-
ever a big roller tumbled in under the counter.

There was no warm breakfast, Chow having
been flooded that morning by a heavy sea. The
door to the carpenter shop was stove in and poor
Chips was in a state bordering on hysteria, with
all of his tools wet. To add to our woe, and
looked upon as a sign of bad luck by all hands,
the parrot was drowned when his cage unshipped
from the hook under the fo'c'sle head and he was
deposited in the scuppers. He lay there all night
and was picked up by the starboard watch in the
morning. Poor Jake, of all the sad birds that
ever cruised on stormy water, you were the un-
luckiest as well as the most profane.

Everything was afloat fore and aft. The fo'-
c'sle was swimming and the after cabin was also
washed out when a storm shutter carried away
on one of the ports. Brenden, Frenchy and I
were called aft during our watch below on Mon-
day forenoon and told to swab up the captain's

362 UNDER SAIL

quarters. We worked the better part of an hour
in these palatial spaces, our caps respectfully
tucked into our pockets. The captain gave us a
large tin of cabin roast beef, and a half can of
fine pilot bread, as a reward for our trouble. Of
course we shared this forward and we had a
rather elaborate spread that noon — a clammy
cracker hash which we threw overboard, hot slops,
and the grub from aft.

"Give me meat like this and they can take my
watch below any day," was Frenchy's opinion of
the canned roast beef. At about the same time,
no doubt many of our soldiers were dying of this
stuff under the hot sun of Cuba, — they called it
embalmed beef.

Ramirez is in 56 degrees 29 minutes south, cor-
responding in latitude to the Wrangell Astro-
nomical Station just south of Sitka, Alaska.
When we remember that the Antarctic winter is
even more severe than that of the northern hem-
isphere, it will be possible to get some idea of the
state of the sea through which we were racing.
Running north between Staten Land and the
Falklands we encountered a succession of storms
that were calculated to impress us with the qual-
ity of the Cape. We were under shortened can-
vas most of the time, and as the winds became

STORMY DAYS 863

very unsteady, we were compelled to wear ship
frequently, the great seas making it difficult to
attempt to put her about in the eye of the wind.

My journal entries follow, covering the last
two weeks of heavy weather, shifting winds, and
great cross seas ; a period of cold and wet with-
out parallel on the voyage:

July 18th, 1898. Wind hauled to S.E. at
end of day. Yards sharp up on starboard
tack. Heavy snow at nightfall. Cold. Saw
some small cakes of pan ice. Wind stronger.

July 19th. Snow, hail, and ice, all over
decks. Wind moderate, from S.E. as before,
veering a point at noon. Braced in yards. Set
topgallant sails. Overhauled another homeward
bound bark; could not make out her colors.

July 20th. No snow today, but very cold.
Are heading N.N.W. Wheel from four to six
during washdown, glad to get out of it. Passed
between Falkland Islands and mainland to-
day, no land in sight. Wind holding steady.

July 21st. Colder today. Wind freshen-
ing. Furled fore and main upper topsails in
the midwatch. Heading N.N.W., starboard
tack. Looks bad. Rigged life lines today.

July 22nd. Wore ship in morning watch,

364 UNDER SAIL

set fore upper topsail and mainsail. Ship un-
der fore and main upper topsails and two
courses, fore topmast staysail and spanker.

July 23rd. Warmer, but still cold enough
for my monkey jacket. Weather puzzling.
Old Man seems worried. Told me we were a
long way from home; I know it.

July 24th. Sunday. Wind unsteady. At
braces most of day. Calm in afternoon. Got
orders to shorten down to reefed topsails.
Caught two Cape Pigeons in dog watch. Let
one go and took wings of best one. Glass
falling. Got up rolling tackles. Steadied out
life lines. All hands forward hope the skipper
has made a mistake. Funny sky to south.

July 25th. Wind jumped out of the south
last night. Heavy sea running. Colder than
before. Sleet in the wind. Under lower top-
sails and reefed foresail. Running fast. Ship-
ping blue water.

July 26th. Running with wind one point
on starboard quarter. Sea came aboard in mid-
watch and carried away the freeing ports on
port side, from mainmast to the poop. After
cabin flooded again. Colder, hail all night.

July 27th. Wind abating. Got sail on her
to topgallant sails. High sea running. All

STORMY DAYS 365

hands standing by. Ship yawing badly. Took
in mizzen topgallant. Blowing up again at end
of day, started to shorten down.

July 28th. All hands took in the mainsail at
six this evening. Called all hands at six bells
in first night watch and took in foresail. Liv-
ing gale. Under lower topsails and fore top-
mast staysail.

July 29th. We hove to at daybreak. Got
her around in the smooth and used a lot of oil
to windward. Under fore and main lower
topsails. We took in the mizzen lower as soon
as she came around and set the mizzen storm
sail. Fore lower topsail blown out of bolt
ropes at noon. All hands on deck, aft on poop.
Everything streaming to leeward. Captain
rates wind at 11. Hail and sleet all night.
Very cold.

July 30th. Still blowing hard. Sent down
remains of fore lower topsail and bent new one.
Set this at four bells in afternoon. Wind mod-
erating. Warmer.

July 31st. Sunday. Gale dropped, day broke
fine. Set all sail to royals. Warm. Had plum
duff. Drying clothes. Are making ten knots
and going faster as sea goes down. Deck wet,
rigging forward full of clothes.

CHAPTER XXX

HEADED NORTH

WELL, for one I am damn glad we are
through with it," said Brenden during a
discussion of Cape Horn weather that went on
forward as we cleared out the damp fo'c'sle that
wonderful Sunday following the gales. "This
makes five times around for me and I hope to
God the last."

"How far to Pilladelpia?" chirped up Kahe-
muku, his face again approaching its natural
brown, though lean and worn beyond all resem-
blance of his Honolulu poi-fed chubbiness.

"Ha! The Kanaka is coming to life!" kidded
Australia. "Well, me brown brother and fellow
shipmate, if I do call you that, even though you
are not white, Pillerdelpia is a long way off yet.
The walking is bad and if I was you I would stay
aboard a while longer. In fact you will have to
ride all the way with nothing to do but work, me
hearty, work."

All hands were feeling good. Black Joe hung
366

HEADED NORTH 367

around the galley all Sunday helping Chow and
for supper that night he was rewarded by a large
sea pie, one of the bright-red confections made of
the mysterious "pie fruit." A chemist might an-
alyze it as a composition of apple peelings, glu-
cose, acetic acid and aniline dye. My, but how
good it did taste! The human system demands
its poison. Folks ashore prefer theirs in the
most expensive form, while we .poor sailors on
the ship Fuller j on that memorable voyage in the
year of the great war with Spain, took our wee-
vils, which are no worse than Roquefort, only
larger, and relished them. We ate many cock-
roaches browned in the cracker hash and dandy
funk, and drank their extract in the tea and cof-
fee, beverages, so called, for want of other
names. As for the sea pie, it acted as a correc-
tive to the gingerbread. When Shakespeare
asked, "What's in a name?" he had certainly
never experienced such a voyage as ours.

Following our dose of weather we entered
upon a spell of work that carried us well up to
the latitude of Cape Frio. The gear had to be
overhauled in all of its details; whips of braces
shifted end for end, new chafing mats and bat-
tens seized on to the stays taking the place of

068 UNDER SAIL

those worn through, and the slack standing rig-
ging set up.

Our own gear, the clothing of the crew, was
sadly in need of attention and every dog watch
found the fo'c'sle busy with thread and needle.
Frenchy was our top notch sailor man at sewing.
He could ply a needle with the best housewife
that ever swapped a bit of scandal at a sewing
bee. He did not use a thimble, but handled a
long coarse needle, pushing it through with the
calloused end of his thumb, a simple and effective
method for those gifted with the necessary tough-
ness of cuticle. I had always wanted a pair of
real seagoing canvas pants such as Robinson Cru-
soe must have worn, before he skinned the historic
goat, pants wide in the legs, and fashioned of well
weathered stuff, soft and comfortable. My good
shipmate constructed them for me. They were
not beautiful, but being what was left of an old
skysail, a veteran of many voyages, a romantic
piece of canvas that had swept the starry paths
on many a balmy night, dew-bleached and mel-
low, they meant much to me. These pants were
very homelike, and I never was able to wear them
out.

In patching and sewing we managed to do
wonders with old rags that at first seemed beyond

HEADED NORTH 369

all hope of redemption. Also, owing to the near
approach of the payday, we begrudged the slop
chest any further inroads upon the accumulated
wealth that was to belong to us; the sailor's pot
of gold, sitting so brightly, way beyond to the
north, where our dream rainbow ended in cynical
old New York.

About this time Peter came in for a lot of
joshing by the men of his watch. He had an old
long-tailed oilskin coat given him by Chips. Such
a garment is never worn by sailor men who have
to go aloft, it being the sole prerogative of offi-
cers and idlers who never venture above the sheer
pole. However, with Second Mate Tom on deck,
many strange things happened in the starboard
watch, and Peter, the stiff tails of his long coat
sticking out in the wind, would go up the rigging
as unconcerned as if it was the recognized and
proper thing for a sailor man to wear.

It happened that during a rain squall at the
latter part of his watch on deck, he was sent up
to furl the main sky sail, and we tumbled out just
in time to see him going up the weather rigging
with his long yellow tail sticking out above his
legs for all the world like a huge pale cockroach.
At the same time First Mate Zerk stood aghast
at the unusual spectacle.

370 UNDER SAIL

"Come down out of that! Hey you! Lay
down!" Peter heard and obeyed. "Lay aft!"
"Yes, sir!" "Hey, Chips!" "Aye, aye, sir!"
from Chips. "Bring a knife aft. Cut the tail off
of this. Now!" Chips had trimmed a good two
feet off of Peter. "That looks fine. Now take
off another foot, we want to have this fine fellow
in style."

When Chips got through, after a lot of sarcas-
tic criticism by the mate, and laughter by all
hands mustered in the waist, Peter looked like a
well trimmed bird. His jacket was so short that
the drip from its end went into the top of his trou-
sers. He made a move to pick up the discarded
tail, no doubt thinking it would do to sew on as
an extension. "No, you don't!" shouted the
mate. "Throw that overboard, Chips! Now, go
forward, watch below. No, you don't," to Peter;
"you lay aloft and furl that sail, my fine fellow,
and show us what a starboard watch hand can
do."

Poor Peter lay up in a dismal manner and af-
ter a lot of shouting from the deck, he came down
and went below with a good half hour of his watch
gone, all on account of the offending garment,
showing that even at sea the correct thing in dress

HEADED NORTH 371

is essential; at least it was so in those strict old
days.

Officers in the old ships were very precise as a
rule in matters of this kind. A number of years
after the coat incident, I was serving under Cap-
tain Geo. D. Morrison, one of the old-time sail-
ing-ship masters. We were on the bridge of a
fine steamer. Eight bells had just been made
and a quartermaster, an important little man,
came up out of the fo'c'sle where he had his quar-
ters, and as he walked aft along the forward well
deck he drew a huge silver watch out of his pocket
as though to verify the correctness of the bells on
the bridge.

"Great Scott!" exclaimed the skipper. "What
in thunder are we coming to with sailors carry-
ing watches? I suppose they will carry walking
sticks next. But, sir," turning to me, "not on my
ship! Send that man down to the chart room!"

When Erricson, the quartermaster, arrived on
the bridge, I sent him down to the skipper. The
old man closed the chart room door, he was a
very religious man, and after a short session, the
quartermaster came out looking much scared.
When we got to San Francisco, he was paid off,
and Captain Morrison handed me an envelope
to give to the man; this contained a heavy turnip-

370 UNDER SAIL

"Come down out of that! Hey you! Lay
down!" Peter heard and obeyed. "Lay aft!"
"Yes, sir!" "Hey, Chips!" "Aye, aye, sir!"
from Chips. "Bring a knife aft. Cut the tail off
of this. Now!" Chips had trimmed a good two
feet off of Peter. "That looks fine. Now take
off another foot, we want to have this fine fellow
in style."

When Chips got through, after a lot of sarcas-
tic criticism by the mate, and laughter by all
hands mustered in the waist, Peter looked like a
well trimmed bird. His jacket was so short that
the drip from its end went into the top of his trou-
sers. He made a move to pick up the discarded
tail, no doubt thinking it would do to sew on as
an extension. "No, you don't!" shouted the
mate. "Throw that overboard, Chips! Now, go
forward, watch below. No, you don't," to Peter;
"you lay aloft and furl that sail, my fine fellow,
and show us what a starboard watch hand can
do."

Poor Peter lay up in a dismal manner and af-
ter a lot of shouting from the deck, he came down
and went below with a good half hour of his watch
gone, all on account of the offending garment,
showing that even at sea the correct thing in dress

HEADED NORTH 371

is essential; at least it was so in those strict old
days.

Officers in the old ships were very precise as a
rule in matters of this kind. A number of years
after the coat incident, I was serving under Cap-
tain Geo. D. Morrison, one of the old-time sail-
ing-ship masters. We were on the bridge of a
fine steamer. Eight bells had just been made
and a quartermaster, an important little man,
came up out of the fo'c'sle where he had his quar-
ters, and as he walked aft along the forward well
deck he drew a huge silver watch out of his pocket
as though to verify the correctness of the bells on
the bridge.

"Great Scott!" exclaimed the skipper. "What
in thunder are we coming to with sailors carry-
ing watches? I suppose they will carry walking
sticks next. But, sir," turning to me, "not on my
ship! Send that man down to the chart room!"

When Erricson, the quartermaster, arrived on
the bridge, I sent him down to the skipper. The
old man closed the chart room door, he was a
very religious man, and after a short session, the
quartermaster came out looking much scared.
When we got to San Francisco, he was paid off,
and Captain Morrison handed me an envelope
to give to the man; this contained a heavy turnip-

374 UNDER SAIL

so we could lay our hands on things in the
darkest night. Great snatch blocks for carry-
ing a tack or sheet to the main or fo'c'sle head
capstan, or for taking the fore or main
tops'l halyards to the same; secret blocks
for bunt jiggers, a small round block
about the size of a soup plate, with the sheave
completely covered, the whip, for it is a single
block, reeving through small holes in the edge of
the shell to prevent the canvas fouling between
the rope and the sheave as is possible in an or-
dinary block. Clump blocks, small and "clumpy"
like a roly-poly baker's loaf. These are very
strong blocks and are used at the ends of the stay-
sail and jib sheets for the reeving of the whips.
These sheets, as sailors know, are always in two
branches and the clump block makes it easy to
haul the weather sheet, block and whip over the
stay without catching, as the lee sheet is hauled
aft. There are others called sister blocks, double
and treble blocks, fiddle blocks, great jeer blocks
for sending up and down heavy spars, stepping
masts, etc. Many of the blocks aboard ship take
their names from the particular use to which they
may be put, such as quarter blocks, brace blocks,
hanging blocks, clewline blocks.

When we were cleaned up forward, and ready

HEADED NORTH 375

for the last long spell of fine weather, with its
round of marling-spike work, chipping, painting,
tarring and holystoning, we were treated to a few
hours of excitement that was different from the
usual thing of that kind aboard the Fuller,, as we
had a chance to enjoy the show like spectators at
the rail, and not, as on most occasions, when we
saw the circus in the same way that the perform-
ers see it, namely, dangling from the flying tra-
peze near the top of the tent.

It was on a wet Friday morning; we were
scrubbing deck paintwork when the "wheel" sang
out, "Steamer ahoy!"

This was unusual, and all hands were aston-
ished at the closeness of a cloud of smoke that
was tearing toward us from somewhere to wind-
ward. Captain Nichols came out on deck and
got the long telescope to bear. He pronounced
her a cruiser.

She was coming for as fast; suddenly she al-
tered her course fully four points and came in
under our stern. She was a dirty white, streaked
with rust, a fair-sized armored cruiser, two fun-
nels with a military mast between them.

"Break out the ensign, Mr. Zerk. Might as
well show her who we are." Indeed, the cruiser

376 UNDER SAIL

was reading our name and hailing-port on the
broad transom in letters of shining gold.

"She's a Spaniard, one of them has a mast be-
tween two funnels," someone said. I remem-
bered this, having in mind the pictures of the
Spanish ships in West Indian waters, published
in the magazines while we were in Honolulu.

"All out for Barcelona!" shouted the mate.
The ensign went up, and we dipped. The crui-
ser ran up the Argentine colors, answered our
salute and resumed her course.

"Hey, you loafers, get back on that paint
work; this ain't no Spanish prison!"

Of course we all grinned at the great humor
of the joke, and began to rub with our brick
dust rags; the starboard watch went below at
once, for it was unhealthy to be seen standing
around on deck during a watch below. We all
knew that the afternoon below would soon be
gone and hoped to stall off the day of doom as
long as possible.

CHAPTER XXXI

FO'c'SLE DISCUSSIONS

FRENCHY, Brenden, Australia, and my-
self were told off as a special gang, in the
port watch, to set up the topmast and topgallant
shrouds, worked slack by the heavy weather we
had just encountered. We were in the tops most
of the watch, as the wind held fairly steady, and
passed the time pleasantly, yarning as we
worked ; talking in sotto voce of course, and busy
as monkeys in a jungle. The tops, as some lands-
men may not know, are not exactly at the top of
things, but they are the platforms about a fourth
of the distance up the masts where the heel of
the topmast rests on the trestle trees of the lower
mast.

The top consists of a platform, semicircular
in shape, the curved side forward. The topmast
shrouds are led to the edges of the top, giving
them a certain "spread." The historic "lubber's
hole" is to be found in this piece of ship's fur-
nishing, and one can hardly pick up an old-time

377

378 UNDER SAIL

volume of sea adventure without some reference
to it, or I should say "them," for there are two
lubber's holes in each top platform. The lower
rigging runs up through the lubber's hole, passes
around the lower mast head resting on the "bol-
sters/' which in turn rest on the trestle trees,
which in turn rest partly on the Iwunds and on
the bibbs. The hounds are formed on the mast
where it is squared at the point where the doub-
ling begins. Just below this the bibbs are bolted
on on each side, — now, I suppose we all know
how it is done. It is certainly as clear as crystal
to a sailor, who knows all about it already but
merely likes to read over the familiar names, no
doubt recalling many hours spent in the tops
of old-time ships. The pull on the topmast
shrouds is taken by the futtock shrouds, iron rods
running down from the lower dead eyes of the
topmast rigging, through the rim of the top, to an
iron band around the lower mast fitted with eye
bolts, some six feet below the top platform; this
is the futtock band.

In an interesting book called "The Sailor," the
hero, Henry Harper, "slides" down the futtock
shrouds to the deck. As he is still going strong
on page 450 and the "slide" occurs on page 48, we
conclude that Henry was a pretty tough lad.

FO'C'SLE DISCUSSIONS 379

The futtock shrouds run up from the mast and
out board to the rim of the top. A sailor going
aloft must go out on the futtock ratlines hanging
like a fly. This is easy enough and the quickest
way up. The lubber's hole provides a safer way,
but as its name implies, it is considered an unwor-
thy method of going aloft. At least such was the
opinion in those good old days.

Where these futtock shrouds pass down be-
tween the lower mast shrouds is a stout oaken or
hickory batten seized to the lower rigging. This
is the futtock staff.

The tops have been getting smaller as the art
of rigging has progressed. At one time they
were very large, affording room for a numerous
company, the topmen, and in the old days they
served as fighting platforms for the small-arm
men. On the old schoolship St. Mary's, the tops
were very commodious ; a top chest was provided
abaft the mast for the small gear and spikes, tar
and slush pots, etc., that might be required aloft.
I remember a tired boy going aloft in the fore
top on his way to the fore tops'l lookout, and ly-
ing down behind the top chest for a nap. A half
hour afterward, when he was missed on the yard,
a general alarm failed to find him, and the ship
was mustered and every crook and corner

380 UNDER SAIL

searched. Finally another hand was sent aloft,
and spied the culprit. What happened to him
the next morning when he was brought to the
mast can be imagined.

In the top we were very comfortable, the
shadow of the lower topsail, and the pleasant
back draft of the canvas, making it ideal for
work. We set up the topmast rigging, the bur-
tons being led to the deck, where the men at work
chipping iron deck fittings, or scraping the bright
work, would tail onto the falls when we sang
out, the mate telling them when to "come up,"
as we clapped on our rackings and seizings
in shipshape style.

Aloft with these men I picked up a lot of the
fine points of rigging. Discussions between
Frenchy and Brenden were frequent, and not
often they differed beyond all hope of agreement
on matters that might seem trivial. Brenden had
sailed in the Rickmer's ships, the great German
drivers that hold so many of the present day sail-
ing records for iron ships. His seamanship was
of a more modern type. He was the best wire
splicer in the crew, and gave us many pointers.
Frenchy, though, was far better on the old-time
seamanship brought to such a high state of per-
fection in the sailing craft of the French navy;

FO'C'SLE DISCUSSIONS 381

vessels used for the purpose of training their na-
val seamen.

Often when being relieved by Kitchen, Old
Smith, and Axel, the starboard watchers, who
carried on the work while we were below, we
would stay aloft with them during the first dog
watch until our supper was ready, spending the
time yarning. The second mate never said any-
thing and we were always careful not to let the
mate catch us. Hitchen had sailed in the large
ship rigged yacht Valhalla when she came out.
She was the finest yacht afloat manned by a com-
plement of ex-naval men. Hitchen, however,
claimed he had never been in the navy. We
often deferred to Hitchen, who was a student of
seamanship, and carried a dog-eared copy of
"Tinmouth's Inquiry Into Points on Seaman-
ship," a learned book going into the intricacies of
throat seizings, or the advantages and disadvan-
tages of turning in cutter stay fashion with ref-
erence to the attachment of dead eyes.

But most of our knowledge was not to be
found within the covers of books. An enthusiast
even then, I retain some of it, still what would I
not give to have at hand a stenographic record of
our "gamming" in the broad tops of the good
ship A. J. Fuller?

382

UNDER SAIL

FO'C'SLE DISCUSSIONS 383

Of the merits and demerits of various ships
and rigs we had plenty of tales on this part of the
passage by men who had served in them through
long, hard voyages. "The average British sailing
ship is a disgrace to the red ensign," was the way
Kitchen put it when speaking of the ships of his
native island. "She feeds poor, very little is spent
to maintain her, the running gear is one mess of
splices before it is picked into oakum, and very
little work is done. The British Monarch was a
fair sample of this class of vessel, I wouldn't say
anything if we did not know how to do
things better. Take Lord Brassey's ships; the
old sailers of the White Star Line, in which they
trained their officers for the liners; these vessels
are a credit to the flag. But too many of our
ships are run on the cheap. I don't say that they
are hard on the crew, in fact they are easy, but
it's rotten poor grub and no pride. You hate
them at sea and are ashamed of them in port."

"The bounty ships are good; they carry a good
crew, and do a lot of sailing. Not much laying
in port. You see they must cover miles to get
their subsidy from the government. Sailors is
what the French people want. The pay is too
little for me. Anyhow, I'm going to quit," was
Frenchy's contribution.

384 UNDER SAIL

"For hard work and hell, give me the Rick-
mer's ships out of Bremen. Next to the Amer-
ican ships, they are the worst; regular German
army discipline on the water. They feed and pay
better than most Dutchmen, but they don't care
how many men they kill on a passage.'* Bren-
den's opinion was authoritative.

We all, however, agreed, that the Yankee sail-
ing ship was driven as hard as any ship afloat,
and that the grub, in port at least, was the best
fed to sailors on any sea.

"Say, if our grub is good, what in thunder do
you call bad grub?" I asked one day, after one
of our learned discussions.

"My boy, bad grub," and Kitchen, to whom I
had put the question, dwelt lovingly on the words,
"bad grub" ! "Bad grub is Act of Parliament ra-
tions of so much, or I should say, so little, meat,
either salt pork or beef taken from the pickle
in the harness casks and weighed on a rusty scales
by the second greaser each day, and given out to
the crew. So much flour, so much pease, and so
much hard tack. All rationed out with the whack
of water, and carried to a filthy galley where the
unappetizing slops is cooked up in some tropic
region, and served to the British merchant sailor

FO'C'SLE DISCUSSIONS 385

with a regulation dram of lime juice, just cal-
culated to keep the scurvy out of his knuckle
joints. That is bad grub. Yes, we have about
the same scale here, but you don't see them follow
it so close. The American shipowner knows bet-
ter, he wants to get a lot of work out of his crew,
to keep his ship up and to make fast passages ; he
knows he must feed the gang to make them do
it without chucking overboard a lot of corpses.
I tell you, lad, bad grub is a rotten dish, but not
a rare one. When your meat sours, and the filthy
flour is full of blue mold, say, you are getting it
rich then. Did you ever drink sour goat's milk?
No? Well, bad grub is as bad as that."

"That sounds bad, but how about the weevils?"
I asked, thinking he had forgotten our white
worms.

"Weevils! Why, weevils are a sign of good
grub. Grub fit to feed weevils is tip-top fodder.
See how nice and fat they get. A mess of fresh
weevils is simply another way of getting your
game with the taste of white plump meat."

"You make me sick, Hitchen," I burst out, as
I dropped over the edge of the top and down onto
the futtock shrouds. I gained the deck fairly
nauseated — a near seasickness, a malady that oth-

386 UNDER SAIL

erwise never troubled me. My stomach was as
empty as the famous cupboard, and with the keen
sea air and the healthy appetite of a boy of eigh-
teen, I was famished as I went forward to supper,
but Kitchen's philosophy of food values so up-
set me that I could eat nothing but a piece of se-
lected tack, one free from holes that I was for-
tunate enough to find in the bread barge.

After that I steered clear of food discussions,
and tried to forget the whole subject; it was
hardly worth while talking about anyhow. We
confined ourselves to talk about timenocles, cath-
arpins, and of the best way to tJwroughfoot a
rope. Frenchy, who had sailed in the Mediter-
ranean a good deal, told us of the strange craft
called a ybeck, her mainsail having a large button
in the belly of it, to hold in the bulge of the sail,
somewhat after the manner of our midship tack.

We talked of bonnets, and of Jimmy Greens,
and of the ancient curse of stunsails. These men
had sailed in the East, and knew the queer rigs
of the great junks and seagoing sampans of the
Yellow Sea and the Inland Sea of Japan, places
I was later on to visit, and to verify the stories
told me on the Fuller. There were tales of paper
flareups, and on the part of Frenchy, who had
chased them in a frigate, of Chinese pirate junks

FO'C'SLE DISCUSSIONS 387

armed with stink-pots, and smooth-bore carron-
ades.

Of our own rigging, and of what went before
it, we were of course amply reminded by our
work. In the older ships, when tophamper was
not as refined as on the Fuller, the royal yards,
and higher, if crossed, would be sent down on the
approach of heavy weather. In some ships, men-
o'-war especially, the sending down of royal
yards at night was a regular custom. In some of
the old Dutch East Indiamen, it was also the
custom to shorten down for the night, and make
all snug; a comfortable way of doing things in
keeping with large well-fed crews, Edam cheese,
and waistlines of ample proportions.

On the later ships, the Yankee sailers of the
day whereof we write, nothing was ever sent
down. Yards might blow down, but they never
came down by the free will of the master. The
extensive use of wire in rigging, and the more se-
cure type of metal fittings, bands, etc., made the
old precautions unnecessary. Besides, time had
to be considered as an important element in the
profits of the voyage. As freight rates became
lower, the rate of driving increased, and speed
was more and more necessary to success.

CHAPTER XXXII

THROUGH THE TRADES

WHILE still in the S.E. trades we started
our last long drill of all hands on deck in
the afternoon; the final clean-up for port was to
be a thorough one. Paintwork was scrubbed and,
when clean as new ivory, it was given a coat of
fresh white paint, stroked on with the greatest
care. This done, the decks were again holystoned
fore and aft; a most thorough job. We then
knocked about in the doldrums for a week or ten
days, and on Sunday, August 21st, we crossed
the line for the last time on that voyage.

Ordinarily one might suppose that this last leg
of the long passage home would be the most
pleasant of all and that as port loomed ahead we
would once more feel the genial glow of good fel-
lowship that blossomed so warm upon our ap-
proach to Honolulu. But we were apparently
nearing a bleak coast; a hard material country
where the sailor man was on a strictly commer-
cial basis of so little per month, and more men

THROUGH THE TRADES 389

than billets ; the crew would go, of course, and no
one cared how much they cursed the ship, for
they would do that anyway. The grub was worse
because it was older; weevils were more in evi-
dence than before, not to mention other pests
such as rats and cockroaches, and we were feeling
the effect of too close associations, a period of
discontent, soon to change, but at that time most
trying. Also, it was hot, as hot as it ever gets on
the sea; our irritation became worse with every
delay of head wind or of calm.

Mr. Zerk, for reasons unknown to us, became
exceedingly brash; he went about looking for
trouble, and always found it, working us without
mercy in the heat of the day, and horsing us about
at night. His relations with the second mate
were strained more than ever, and some of the men
of the starboard watch came forward with a tale
of a big row between the skipper and the mate,
the sounds having come up from the after com-
panion ; of course, anything like that would never
take place upon those well-disciplined decks.

This succession of troubles had its climax one
morning when the mate set upon Chips, that
most gloomy and industrious of all carpenters.
The lanky one, in returning from the poop with
the running lights, had through some carelessness

390 UNDER SAIL

allowed several drops of oil to smirch the spot-
less planks.

"You dirty low-down bum ! What do you mean
by spilling that grease all over the deck?"

"Ay spill nothing!" shouted Chips, his slow
soul riled to the point of protest at this latest
insult.

"You didn't, hey? Well, I'll spill something!"
The mate jumped down the ladder from the poop
and made after Chips, who was in the waist.
Chips saw him coming, and as he had a heavy
brass side light in each hand, he was helpless.
Realizing this, he started to run and reached the
door of the lamp locker as the mate came up to
him. Chips turned, dropping the lights, and as
he faced the furious first officer, that gentleman
let drive a terrific crack with his right, fetching
Chips just below the ear, and lifting him clean
over the sill into the lamp locker. The mate
went in after Chips and for a few minutes the
place was in an uproar. The mate stepped out,
his hands covered with blood.

We were taking down the gear from the pins,
after the washdown, and a number of us stood
horrified in the waist, a feeling of deep repulsion
coming over us. A big splotch of blood on the

THROUGH THE TRADES 391

shirt front of the mate must have come from
Chips' nose.

The mate looked at us. He opened his mouth
as if to bawl some order, or hurl some epithet at
the men of his watch who had witnessed the bru-
tal assault. Suddenly he turned round, and
looked into the door of the lamp locker, a small
room in the after end of the forward house.

"Get a bucket of water and clean up this mess.
It's a lucky thing you didn't bust them lights
when you dropped them." He was addressing
Chips, who came out of the door a moment later,
hobbling to his room. The mate went aft, wash-
ing off his hands in a bucket of water that stood
on the main hatch.

No one said anything, even in a whisper, but
when we went below at eight bells and were as-
sembled around the kids, one of the boys spoke
up.

"Chips is cleaning up the lamp locker."

"I hope he reports Mr. Zerk to the Shipping
Commissioner," I said. "If he does enter a com-
plaint he has plenty of witnesses. It will mean
jail for that bully, and he deserves it."

"Sure, he deserves to be hung," said Bren-
den. "But Chips will keep his mouth shut."

"Why?" I asked.

392 UNDER SAIL

"If he makes a squeal, this will be his last ship.
Chips has seen worse than he got, and should
have kept his mouth shut. He gets forty dollars
a month, ten more than the second mate. The
Squarehead's no fool."

"Well, I call it a dirty piece of work."

"Right-o!" agreed Australia. "That rotten
bull ought to be hung by his thumbs."

While little was said about this particularly
raw piece of brutality, it made a great difference
to us in so far as we seemed to realize, of a sud-
den, that the fo'c'sle was apart from things aft,
and that it was just as well that we felt a little
more agreeable toward each other.

The constant rubbing noses over the stinking
grub, and the continued driving, with no rest in
the afternoons, made life anything but pleasant
while we lingered in the tropics. But the blood
spilled by the mate, as I have said, clarified our
atmosphere forward.

Talk of the days to come again waxed plenty,
and plans were gone over and over in the night
watches. In calm, we fretted and fumed, watch-
ing and whistling for a breeze as though our very
lives depended upon the blowing of a gale.
Hitchen, one calm Sunday afternoon, cut a cross
in the mainmast in order to bring on a wind; as

THROUGH THE TRADES 393

this piece of vandalism was done in the second
mate's watch, and in a place where it could not be
seen without a search, no evil consequences en-
sued.

As on Sunday we got our watch below in
the afternoon, word was passed to us of the port
watch, about the cross on the main mast, and in
the first dog watch I went aft and inspected it,
pretending to hitch up a coil of rope that hung
inside of the fife rail. We lay with our head
yards sharp up to starboard, and the after yards
back against the starboard rigging, on the other
tack, the courses were guyed out by slap lines,
and as the ship yielded to the gentle roll of the
swell, the reef points would ripple against the
canvas in a way that sounds different from any-
thing else in the world.

We were speculating upon the efficacy of the
cross.

"We will have a wind before midnight," de-
clared Frenchy with positive conviction, and dur-
ing the dog watches we talked of nothing else.

Charlie Horse came out on deck in the second
dog watch carrying his Bible, with a quotation
about the wind. "Thou hearest the sound, but
canst not tell whence it cometh," he read, "for
the wind bloweth where it listeth." Charlie

394 UNDER SAIL

Horse placed a deep significance upon the cut-
ting of the cross in the mast. The faithful be-
came more and more perturbed as the sun set and
no sign of wind rewarded their belief in the cross.

We came on deck for the first night watch, and
it was still dead calm, the sky clear and the stars
shining with extraordinary brilliancy. A slight
dew began to settle as the watch wore on and
presently a sound aloft of the flapping of a sky-
sail started us to attention. Wind! But where
from?

Aft the mate and Captain Nichols were hold-
ing up wetted fingers trying to feel the direction
of the airs, that were undoubtedly stirring from
somewhere.

Frenchy used a different method, one I prefer
to the wetted finger, as it gives a more accurate
sense of direction. He held his hand, palm down,
and with fingers slightly spread. By pointing
the fingers around the horizon, the slightest
breeze will make itself felt against the sensitive
skin between the bases of the fingers.

"There!" cried Frenchy, his hand pointing
broad abeam to starboard. I tried it, and sure
enough, I felt the slightest coolness between my
fingers. Indeed our paws were none too sensi-
tive, being calloused and hardened by many

THROUGH THE TRADES 395

moons of hauling at gear, and from much anoint-
ing in slush and tar pots. Presently things were
moving aft.

"Port main; starboard crojik braces!" sung out
the mate, and we walked the yards around lively.
The canvas began to belly out, and in a few min-
utes our hot faces were fanned by a refreshing
breeze. This was the first touch of the N.E.
trades, and by midnight we had our yards
trimmed with the wind close hauled on the star-
board tack and the Fuller heading well on her
course toward home.

When the starboard watch came on deck,
Hitchen was all smiles, and the wise prognostica-
tors of both watches were well pleased with them-
selves. They had got away with it by a narrow
margin.

"I predicts that it's colder tomorrow," chipped
in Australia.

"We got bean soup tomorrow, I bets," Scouse
ventured, for in spite of the vindication of
Frenchy, Hitchen and the others, we let it be
known that luck was given the credit — luck and
the cross. Most sailors of those days believed
certain things, and a cross in the mainmast was
as sure to bring wind, as a ring around the moon
was a sign of rain.

396 UNDER SAIL

During our last spell in the tropics, with our
clear nights of calm, Australia astonished us by
his remarkable familiarity with the names and
constellations of the brightest stars. As I had a
fair knowledge of these from my studies on the
schoolship, and also had my Lecky, with the won-
derfully simple star charts prepared by that mas-
ter mariner, we passed some profitable and in-
teresting hours. Even today I never miss a
chance to glance at the clear sky at night and
renew acquaintance with the great stars of the
heavens.

Australia had picked up his knowledge from
a sheepherder in that far country and knew the
southern constellations better than I did. We
all know the Southern Cross, or at least have
heard of it, and by the way it is not much of a
cross, though one of the two large stars pointing
toward it, Alpha Centauri, is said to be the near-
est to the earth of all the fixed stars. This is also
a double star, but a powerful telescope is needed
to distinguish the separate bodies.

Canopus, another whopper of the southern
heavens, ranks next to the Dog Star, Sinus, and
we never tired looking at these magnificent gems
of the night as they shone with living fire in the
clear deep blue of the tropic heavens. As I gaze

THROUGH THE TRADES 397

from time to time at the constellations, at Cas-
siopeia's Chair, the Great and Little Bear, the
Swan, and the giant Vega, at Orion, Leo, or the
Sickle, and The Cutters' Mainsail, I think of
those days on the Fuller when we conned them in
mute wonder, as sailors have in countless ages
gone before, and listened to the names by one
more learned than the rest. Altair! Regulust
Aldebaran! Arcturus! Capetta! Procyon! Sirius!
Spica! Antares! Fomolhaut! Achernar and
Adara! what do these names mean to the modern
human calling himself educated? Since those days
I have spent four years at a university, and have
drilled through the technical course in astronomy,
given to civil engineers, but I don't recall what
was taught about the great stars of the heavens
that we learned to know by their first names on
that far off voyage. Of the present rank and file,
who discuss anything and everything smart folk
busy themselves about, how many can identify
this company of noble names of the great blazing
suns that swing across the heavens?

And black nothingness is also to be found in
the heavens, in the Coal Sack, a blank space of
the night sky, near the Southern Cross, in the
black depth of which no telescope has yet re-
vealed a star.

CHAPTER XXXIII

APPROACHING HOME

ONCE well in the trades we sailed along with
great regularity, running up our latitude
with the precision of a steamer. While still with-
in the belt of thunder showers I had an experi-
ence that cured me of a habit of long standing.
I would, whenever possible, if on lookout, strip
on the approach of a shower while in mild
weather, and enjoy a fresh water bath. I usu-
ally pulled off my shirt and trousers, and balling
them in a knot would tuck them around the
clapper of the great bell on the foremast, this kept
them dry, and left me to enjoy the refreshing
rain. Of course lookouts were only stood at
night. This last time, a beautiful black cloud
came down with the wind, we were close hauled
under all plain sail, and it did not look like a job
that would need me down from my station. Ac-
cordingly, I stripped and going to the bowsprit,
caught hold of the fore stay and started some
gymnastics in anticipation of a real douse from

APPROACHING HOME 399

aloft. It was not long in coming, and with the
coldness of it, and the look of the white caps
lashed up under the cloud as it bore down on the
ship, I felt that I had made a mistake. It was
hail and not rain that came and while I was drag-
ging my clothes out from under the bell and get-
ting into them, I underwent a pummelling that
left me sore from head to foot.

Of course we always went barefoot, except in
real cold weather, and on the clean decks of a
ship, this has much to recommend it. On the St.
Mary's the order to go barefoot was always given
when at sea during warm weather, and on the
Fuller I found that all hands forward did this as
a rule. How beautifully simple it makes things
cannot be imagined, except by those who are
lucky enough to be able to look back at barefoot
boyhood days.

While working up in the trades, we again
shifted to better canvas, and also got our cables
up and shackled to the anchors, these being sent
off the fo'c'sle head and hung under the catheads,
the flukes, of course, gripped into the bill boards.

We had a lot of rain at this stage of the voy-
age, and as the wind was strong the rigging
would dry out rapidly after each wetting. Ma-
nila rope shrinks very much when wet, and this

400 UNDER SAIL

sort of weather always kept us on the go "check-
ing" ropes to prevent damage to gear aloft, and
then as the stuff dried out we would have to take
in the slack all round. The remarkable strength
of this shrinking process is shown in the grip of
lashings put on dry, and then wet just before tak-
ing up their work. Rafts put together on deck
and hove overboard are a good example of this
sort of thing.

September 10th, found us one hundred days
out from Honolulu. This was on a Saturday,
and that afternoon we were permitted to have a
last field day. Also we sighted a steamer, a wel-
come indication of approaching shore lines.

"Here, Felix, take this." Australia handed
me a sheath knife that I had always admired.
"Remember me by it," he said. We were digging
among our personal belongings, and as Austra-
lia passed around a number of things among the
watch, the crowd all looked over their gear and
there was a general exchange of remembrances.
Scouse gave me a tintype he had taken in Hono-
lulu, and Frenchy gave me a handsome pair of
beckets with turks heads, that he had worked for
my sea chest. Pipes, and even tobacco, changed
hands.

The weather was much cooler, though far from

APPROACHING HOME 401

uncomfortable, and as we neared port, talk about
the future again came to the fore, there having
been a lapse of several weeks, almost a month,
following the great revival of interest when we
had put the Horn safely behind us. Work kept
up incessantly, and as a final splurge, we
scrubbed the ship over the side down to her cop-
per composition, and painted her fore and aft,
finishing off with a white stripe in the line of her
sheer. As the scroll work forward, under the bow-
sprit, that did duty in place of a figurehead,
and the scroll work aft, had been gilded only the
voyage before, the Fuller presented a very neat
appearance.

The brass work lining the pin rails, and aft on
the poop, was polished to perfection, and every
last turn and corner was done to the final satis-
faction of the mate. Aloft we were as trim as a
ship ever got. No loose ends, all mats and cha-
fing gear neatly stopped in position, masts
scraped clean and rubbed with just enough
grease to keep the parrals from sticking, yards
scrubbed and painted, and the tops and doublings
bright as a new pin. We were to go into port
with the old girl reflecting a well spent voyage,
for the critical eye of Captain Burnham would
appraise her, and rate his captain and mate ac-

402 UNDER SAIL

cordingly, for he was a most knowing old ship
manager.

A week of rains and blows with fair wind was
followed by a day of calm, a heavy fog settling
down. We had been sighting vessels constantly,
schooners and steamers, and knew we were close
to our port. The old mechanical fog horn, an
ancient device worked by hand, was set croaking
on the fo'c'sle head, a job as bad as the bilge
pumps, and we lay flapping our idle wings in the
mist. Several casts were taken with the deep sea
lead; we were in soundings.

The following day, Sunday, it cleared a bit,
with a warm sun on the waters, but the wind was
still up and down and a rim of mist shut us in,
for our horizon was very dim.

"Keep that horn barking!" shouted the mate
after the washdown. I was on the fo'c'sle head
breaking my back over the ancient contraption,
when an echo seemed to come in over the bow.
The fog had shut down again.

"Steamer off port bow!" I shouted, for I rec-
ognized the deep tones of a whistle.

"Aye, aye ! Give her the horn !"

I pumped down hard, and a moment later a
tug shoved her nose through the mist, a stumpy

APPROACHING HOME 403

craft with the typical high pilot house of the
American tug boat; we were home at last!

" Where bound, Captain?" came the hail.

"Delaware Breakwater!"

"Want a tow?"

"How far are we?"

"About three miles!"

"All right, give us your line !"

As the tug ranged ahead and took our heaving
line, we read her name; she was the Atkins
Hughes, of Philadelphia.

Droughing slowly through the heavy fog, we
furled sail and toward noon were at anchor be-
hind the Delaware Breakwater. A launch came
out and we found the war with Spain was over,
the date of our land-fall being September 18th,
1898.

We heard of the great battle off Santiago, and
that the Hawaiian Islands had been annexed.
Peter and I got the surviving Kanakas, Kahe-
muku and Joe, up on the fo'c'sle head and made
them give three cheers for their new country.
After several starts they did this very well, much
to our amusement.

"Where is Pilladelpia ?" Kahemuku wanted to
know.

"Right up there, Kahee," said Peter, pointing

404 UNDER SAIL

up the Delaware. "Now that you are an Ameri-
can citizen you will have a fine time when you
get there."

That Sunday afternoon we sat about yarning;
anchor watches were chosen, and a full night in
was before us. We were tired and sea worn and
a trifle sad. Back of us the hard days of the
voyage, ahead of us, what? We were soon to
part and no one mentioned this important fact.
We were glad, of course, happy to so soon col-
lect that long looked forward to payday, and
to carry out the great plans so long in the mak-
ing. I felt a hollow homesickness that had to
be suppressed with a firm hold and, as we rested,
smoking and yarning, I have no doubt many won-
dered if they were really to act upon the good res-
olutions so bravely determined.

Axel and Frenchy joined me on the fo'c'sle
head and we talked of many things. I was going
home, but they wanted me to surely write them.
Both were to ship as soon as possible for their
native shores. Old Smith was as quiet as it is
possible for a sailor of the old school to be. He
sat on the fore hatch smoking. "What are you
going to do?" I asked Smith.

"Well, if what I have done before is any cri-
terion," he said grandly, "I guess I am going to

APPROACHING HOME 405

sea again as soon as my pay is spent and I get
a ship. China for me next, I am through with
the Horn."

The light on Cape May, the twinkle of lights

WATCHING SHORE AT DELAWARE BREAKWATER

ashore, and the clear autumn night following the
day of fog, came as a welcome relief. We needed
sleep ; we were tired and we were on the eve of
parting. I remember during my anchor watch,
from two to four in the mid watch, I stumped the
deck in a highly reminiscent mood. Several times

406 UNDER SAIL

I went to the fo'c'sle doors and looked in; bad
as the drill had been, I hated to leave it.

On Monday, Captain Nichols went ashore and
sent out fresh provisions, but there was no mail
for us forward. Orders were to come soon and
we spent the time polishing and cleaning as if our
salvation depended upon the brilliance of the
ship. The day passed without word, and we kept
at our brass and paint work until Wednesday,
when orders were received for New York. The
Hughes was notified, and on Thursday noon, a
break in her engine having delayed her, the tug
took us in tow for Sandy Hook. We found the
wind favorable off the Five Fathom Bank light-
ship and set all plain sail to top-gallant-sails. At
midnight it started to rain, and the wind freshen-
ing, we were startled by a commotion under our
bows and found we were bearing down on the
Atkim Hughes, her smoke pipe sheering off to
one side of our flying jibboom, and her steam
whistle protesting in strident blasts.

We at once shortened down to lower tops'ls
and topmast stays'ls, and as we gathered in her
wings the old ship lay back on the hawser; for
the last time that voyage she had felt the inde-
pendent urge of her canvas.

CHAPTER XXXIV

THE END OF THE VOYAGE

A GRAY dawn broke to seaward, and as the
flash of the Navesink Light dimmed, and
the bulk of the land defined itself in the lifting
haze to the west, we picked up our pilot. In past
the low spit of the Hook, up through the main
ship channel and past the Narrows, we labored
aloft, furling sail, giving it a harbor stow, while
Mr. Zerk watched us with critical eyes.

The day was fine, warm sunshine welcoming
us, and a strange unnatural brightness seeming
to radiate from every nook and corner of the
Fuller — she was groomed, polished, and triple
polished for this very day. We brought up near
Bedloe's Island, under the lee of the great sta-
tue, anchoring shortly after noon. The glitter
of the tall buildings on Manhattan, and the busy
harbor scenes, constantly called to our sea weary
eyes. All hands went forward to a dinner of
cracker hash, and a pale looking duff to which
Chow had added an extra ration of molasses,

407

408 UNDER SAIL

black like tar, and a huge can of coffee; all of
tke tack in the bread barge was broken and mealy
as if it had been searched for weevils before com-
ing forward.

"To hell with this grub," growled Old Smith,
as he filled his pannikin with coffee and lit his
pipe. "I'm eating white man's tucker tonight.
To hell with this, I can wait."

However, most of us were too hungry to wait ;
but the near approach of human victuals made
our mouths water. All about the fo'c'sle bags
and chests were hauled out from under bunks and
benches and were being stowed.

"That looks like them 1" Australia at the star-
board fore channels was scanning several small
boats coming out toward the ship. "I bet old
pedlar O'Brien is coming out to make me a pres-
ent of a watch," he said, at which we all laughed.

"Where are they?" a half dozen got up to
watch the boats coming out from the Battery
with interest.

"Are you going to stay by?" asked Frenchy.
"If you've got any place to go to, don't leave,
but stay by."

"Guess I'll stick," I said, "as I am going to
my uncle's house. Why don't you stay by?"

"They make it tough for you if you do," said

THE END OF THE VOYAGE 409

Frenchy, nodding at the boats which were now
coming alongside with a spurt, the runners, for
it was they, racing to see who would get over the
side first.

At that time there was a gentlemen's agree-
ment— if we may call it such — between the board-
ing house keepers, in the business of fleecing sail-
ors in the port of New York, whereby all victims
were parcelled out according to an impartial
schedule, so many sailors to each house. When a
rich deep waterman came in, the boarding houses
in the combine would each get two or three men,
stripping them of the greater part of their pay-
day. When a crew was wanted for a vessel out-
ward bound, they would supply the men in the
same manner, taking the advance notes in pay-
ment for board, clothes, and what not. Some-
times a sailor beat a boarding master but not
often, for Jack generally came in fat and went
out under bare poles, with nothing but a kit of
second hand slops, as the sole increment from his
previous voyage.

As the runners bumped alongside, with a great
show of rivalry and cheery greetings, for they all
knew just who was on board, we were treated to
an exhibition of rapid fire generosity and open-
handed welcome, by gentlemen of the waterfront,

410 UNDER SAIL

men wearing derby hats and stiff shiny collars,
watch chains, and flashy pins stuck into bright
neckties. These worthies scrambled up the fore
channels like monkeys and onto the deck. The
game was to get a sailor to accept a card. As
soon as one of the boarding house cards was in the
horny fist, that man was marked and belonged to
that particular house. This rushing at first con-
sisted in a scramble for the most desirable vic-
tims, that is the weakest and most easily fleeced.
An evil-looking, pimply-faced runner backed
me against the forward house and thrust a card
into my hand. He insisted, and I protested. He
had a breath that was strong, and told me how
well his house could take care of me. Good grub,
a good crowd there, and he even mentioned other
advantages. He tried to put a five dollar bill into
my hands. He was most insistent ; finally he saw
that he was wasting precious time, and darted
after an easier victim. The runners swarmed
about the decks, two and three men from each
house. In the two sides of the foVsle the crimps
were assisting the men in the final roping of
their dunnage, bottles of whisky were being sam-
pled. Some of the men proudly handled showy
watches, Australia surely got his watch, a big
gilt turnip which he showed me with pride.

THE END OF THE VOYAGE 411

"See, I got it."

"How much?" I asked.

"Only ten dollars — take it off my pay day.
This watch is worth half of that," and Australia
winked at me. He had a bottle of whisky in his
jacket pocket.

All hands were becoming hilarious. The run-
ners seemed uneasy, for the Fuller was known as
a bit of a rough ship, and it was strictly against
the law for them to be on board. But a pay-off
of close to three thousand dollars forward was too
tempting to allow around loose in the harbor.

"No more of this work wagon for me," shout-
ed Australia. Snatches of song were inter-
rupted by an order of unmistakable force.

"Lay aft, all hands!" It was Mr. Zerk who
came forward and bellowed at the gang about the
fore fife rail.

We mustered aft, the shore harpies watching
us from the sides of the forward house.

"All here?"

"All aft, sir," Old Smith answered.

Captain Nichols stepped out on the break of
the poop.

"Men," he began, "the voyage is over, but we
will lay in the bay and strike t'gallant masts be-
fore we go under the bridge. You can do this if

412 UNDER SAIL

you want to, or you can go ashore now. I have
found you a good crew, ready, and sober. Those
who want to go ashore step over to port." All
hands did, including Second Mate Tom, who now
stood with his old messmates, after a brief four
months as an officer aft.

"Peter, come back, and you, Felix. You two
stay aboard till we dock. The rest of you can
go. I want to say 'good-bye' and wish you good
luck. Be careful where you go and what you
do."

As the skipper finished the longest speech we
had ever heard him make, he turned sharply and
walked aft to the companion. We felt like giv-
ing a cheer, but the cold eye of the mate was on
us. There was a shuffle and hesitation as to what
was next.

"Lay forward and get your dunnage, mind
that paint work when you go over the side." Mr.
Zerk had given his last order to our crowd.

With discipline a thing of the past, with the
hasty donning of wrinkled shore clothes, and the
ever present tempters, plying them with whisky,
the crew became a strange, wild-eyed crowd.
Old Smith, Kitchen, and Axel seemed to know
what they were about. Scouse was belligerent,
half tipsy, and wild with the knowledge that he

THE END OF THE VOYAGE 413

was at last to step from those hated decks.
Frenchy, of all the gang, showed the most sense.
"I am saving all I can out of this," he said. "I
will ship across to England or France, as soon
as possible."

"Come on, stay aboard," I urged.

"If I do, I'll never get a ship out of New
York," and he knew what he was talking about.

Brenden was frankly drunk, soused was his
condition, and as fine a sailor-man as there was.
I had a lump in my throat when the boats pulled
away. There was much hand shaking and wav-
ing. Peter and I stood on the fo'c'sle head watch-
ing them row ashore. Scouse got up in his boat
time and again and shook his fist at the ship.

Among the departed ones, Kahemuku and
Black Joe were in tow of a colored mission that
had sent a boat for them. These poor Kanakas
had very little coming to them, and they offered
no temptation to the greedy runners. On the
other hand, Tommy, for a brief term second
mate, at thirty dollars per month, presented the
juiciest picking, and strangely enough fell to the
lot of the most inexperienced of the crimps who
picked him up by accident after the struggle was
supposed to be over as he emerged from his ex-
alted cabin under the poop. Tom also departed

414 UNDER SAIL

•

from the immaculate decks with a feeling of gen-
uine relief.

"Well, they're gone," said Peter.

"I wish they were back," I said.

"Me too," was his reply.

When the last boat had vanished beyond the
South Ferry slip, we entered the deserted fo'c'sle.
The disorder incident to such hurried departure
was everywhere evident. Small personal belong-
ings of no intrinsic value, but speaking elo-
quently of their owners on the long voyage past,
were scattered about. Brenden's calendar over
his bunk attracted my eye, and I saw that he had
carried it along to the last day and had evidently
made a calculation of his payday on the beam
over his bunk. Names were scratched over most
of the bunks. Frenchy, always neat, had left be-
hind a small canvas pouch in which he kept his
tobacco and pipe, this was empty, however ; a few
old burnt pipes, easily identified, were abandoned
in favor of the more effluvious five cent cigars so
liberally passed around by the runners. In the
starboard fo'c'sle, Charlie Horse and Tony had
cleaned up their bunks before leaving, but Old
Smith left his a sight. Odd playing cards were
scattered about, and the smell of whisky, from re-
cent spillings, gave this austere den the air of a

THE END OF THE VOYAGE 415

blind pig. Old oilskins that had been cast off,
by the advice of some of the crimps, were all miss-
ing. Peter remembered seeing one of the shore
gang bundle these up and take them, no doubt to
help outfit the poor fellows again in exchange
for their advance; not an item seemed to have
escaped the plundering crowd from the beach.
The fo'c'sle on my side was populated with
ghosts; I was glad when the mate called us aft
and ordered the decks swept down.

"Cabin grub for supper tonight," announced
Peter, coming from the galley. Sure enough, we
were given two plates of corned beef hash, made
with real potatoes, while some letters that had
come aboard were sent forward. I was happy to
learn that my folks were well and knew of our
arrival, having received the report from Dela-
ware Breakwater. We were particularly happy
in all this, but in spite of good news, of good food,
and our approaching liberty, we were sad. The
Fuller was peopled with the spirits of those so
recently departed. Somewhere on shore among
the twinkling lights that began to flicker as the
dusk crept over the bay, our shipmates were ca-
rousing in the wicked city, laying the foundation
for another voyage of endless hardship and pri-
vation.

416 UNDER SAIL

Peter and I, with Chips, who remained on
board, were told off as anchor watch during the
night, each taking a three-hour shift ; three hours
that to me passed very quickly as I tramped the
decks of memory on that haunted ship, and
thought of that first night watch when Frenchy
and I paired off to stump from the pin rail to
the forward house, and spin our yarns, and lay
the foundation for a friendship that I have never
forgotten.

In the morning the shore riggers came on
board, taking complete charge. Mr. Zerk walked
the deck but never gave an order, and those rough
and ready men struck the topgallant masts in jig
time, lowering the skysail masts so the tall trucks
of the Fuller would clear the span of the Brook-
lyn Bridge. How they went rough-shod over the
decks with their spiked boots, while we had to
submit all of our shoes to the mate for inspection
before wearing them so he could satisfy himself
that no nails remained in the soles.

By two that afternoon, the topgallant masts
were lowered and a tug came alongside, making
fast to our quarter; we slowly headed up the East
River, past the South Ferry, and our starting
berth at the foot of Maiden Lane, then under the
Brooklyn Bridge. The rattle of the trains, the

THE END OF THE VOYAGE 417

near approach of the life and hum of the great
city filled me with a strange wonder. As we
came alongside at Williamsburgh, Mr. Zerk said
we might pack up and go when we pleased. Cap-
tain Nichols called Peter and me aft and handed
us each a letter ; mine was to serve me two years
later — when I was twenty-one — as part of the re-
quired service testimonials for admission to the
examination for second mate in sail and steam
vessels. The letter read:

NEW YORK, Sept. 24th, 1898.
This is to certify that Felix Riesenberg has
made the voyage in the Ship A. J. Fuller
from New York to Honolulu and back to New
York, and I have found him to be a smart,
steady, and faithful young man.

C. M. NICHOLS,
Master, Ship A. J. Fuller.

I am as proud of this letter now as I was on
the day it was given me, and with this precious
paper in pocket, our chests trundling along be-
hind on an express wagon, Peter and I walked
up the wharf, two sea-tanned, hard-fisted young-
sters in a land of strange activity, noise, cobble-
stones, and freedom. We parted at the Brooklyn

418 UNDER SAIL

Bridge, he going to friends in Brooklyn, and I
to the home of my uncle in Manhattan. Behind
us lay one of life's great experiences — a voyage
around Cape Horn in an American three skysail
yarder, a last proud example of the fine sailing
ships that once carried the starry ensign to the
four quarters of the globe.

CHAPTER XXXV

THE LONG-LOOKED-FOR PAYDAY

ON Monday, Sept. 26th, 1898, three days
after our arrival in the bay, we were paid
off before the United States Shipping Commis-
sioner, the short interval having worked a de-
plorable change in the crew. Whoever was re-
sponsible for a condition so well calculated to
cause the downfall of the returning deepwater-
man, has a great weight of iniquity resting
against his eternal soul; no doubt this respon-
sibility was so well divided that each and every
one of those guilty felt that his individual part
in the great scheme of debauchery would go un-
noticed.

I like to believe that all of them, boarding mas-
ters, crimps, runners, politicians, shipping offi-
cials, owners, managers, and masters who were
parties to the fate that befell the men of the
Fuller, have long since received their due reward
in full consciousness of its meaning. Nowadays
things are managed better, thanks to the greater

419

420 UNDER SAIL

influence of such noble establishments as the
American Seamen's Friend Society, the Sea-
men's Christian Association in West Street, and
the Seamen's Church Institute, on South Street,
clubs where sailors are given room and board, are
outfitted, and are able to bank their payday.
Healthful amusements and recreation are pro-
vided, without that sanctimonious atmosphere
that seems to curdle many well-meaning at-
tempts of this sort and most of the shipping com-
panies secure their crews through the Institute.

But in 1898, the deep water sailor was at the
mercy of the hungry sharks who had full sway
in the vile business of ruining the souls and health
of sailors in order to rob them of the few dollars
earned during a year or more of cruel labor on
the sea.

I have forgotten just where the shipping office
was located, but it was somewhere near Beaver
Street and the waterfront. I was on hand bright
and early, anxious to see the crowd. The three
days of rest and good food, and wholesome
amusement, those happy days at the home of my
uncle, had put me in fine condition; I never felt
better in my life, and I was looking forward to
a visit with the old gang. I wanted to take a
trip around the waterfront with Frenchy and

LONG-LOOKED-FOR PAYDAY 421

Australia, as we had often planned, and have a
good dinner ashore, such as Frenchy and Tommy
and I enjoyed in Honolulu.

The shipping office, as I remember it, had a
dingy outer room in which the crew to be paid
off awaited the pleasure of the haughty officials.
One must be a sailor about to receive the scant
reward for a year of toil, to fully appreciate the
high and mighty character of such minor public
officers as waited upon us on that bluest of all
blue Mondays.

A gruff understrapper told me where to wait,
and in the course of a half hour the crew, in tow
of the crimps, appeared on the scene; I would
like to draw a veil over this part of the story and
leave the reader the simple picture of the men
rowing toward the Battery, with Scouse shaking
his fist at the ship, but realism, which in itself
constitutes the highest romance, bids me tell
things as I saw them, and the final tragedy is a
part of the old days under sail that none of us
wish to see return.

I looked for Frenchy, but hardly knew him.
His beard was trimmed close to his chin, he wore
his old cap but had on a cheap new suit of clothes,
wrinkled as though he had slept in them, and his
eyes were bloodshot. He seemed to avoid me, as

422 UNDER SAIL

he hung in the rear of the crowd. For every man
to be paid off, at least two crimps were on hand.

All were more or less under the weather, the
smell of cheap whisky permeated the room, and
the ribald jests of the crimps, the constant whoop-
ing up of an ill-sustained merriment, gave the
gathering a ghastly character that drove home to
me with peculiar force. No doubt the close ap-
proach to the money caused the robbers more
than a passing thrill. A couple of special bounc-
ers from the inner office appeared when the gath-
ering became too obstreperous, and I had a
chance to say "hello" to the gang. Peter was
there, sober, and wide-eyed with astonishment,
having come from the house of Mrs. Burdick, the
good angel of the waterfront. Australia, in a
new rig, derby, watch, and soiled linen, kept
bursting into song; not the songs of the sea, but
some cheap new airs picked up along the Bow-
ery.

"I owe them half of what's coming to me," he
whispered, as if this was something to be proud
of; a crimp slid up, and he at once ceased his
confidences ; all hands acted as though they were
in charge of jailers, which in fact they were.

Brenden, Charlie Horse, and Tommy sat in
a corner, sullen, and I judge partly sober.

LONG-LOOKED-FOR PAYDAY 423

Their attendants were anything but friendly.
Martin, Fred, Tony, and Old Smith had given
themselves over body and soul. Smith was al-
ready promised a ship, to sail in a week, so he
had seven more days of hilarious living to look
forward to, and then another drill, around the
Horn or the Cape of Good Hope; another such
voyage as we had just passed through.

Axel and Kitchen were in their old clothes;
they had seen the sights, but seemed far steadier
than the rest.

I cornered Frenchy. "What are you going to
do when you get your pay?" I asked.

"I will pay up what I owe and ship for Eng-
land or France."

"Better buy a steerage passage for Havre,'7
I reminded him, when the crimp who owned him
closed in, and a bull voice from the back room
ordered us to line up for our pay.

My name was one of the last to be called, and
as I got my pay, something over one hundred
and twenty-five dollars, with slops and allowance
given in Honolulu deducted, I returned to the
outer room and found most of the men gone. As
fast as they had got their money, the crimps
had hurried them off to their respective board-
ing houses. The Kanakas came in, still in charge

424 UNDER SAIL

of the colored mission, or whatever it was, that
had them in tow, apparently the only honest peo-
ple there, and I bid those simple fellows good-
by; whether Kahemuku ever got to "Pilladel-
pia," I don't know; I hope he did.

Presently I was on the street. The crew of
the Fuller had vanished. I looked for Peter; he
was gone. I stood alone and strangers passed,
bumping into me, no doubt thinking me a sun-
burned country yokel, stranded in those busy,
narrow streets.

That afternoon I saw Captain Shackford, of
the American Line, and was promised a billet
as cadet on the St. Louis,, just returned to the
passenger service after her brief career as an
auxiliary cruiser during the war with Spain. My
service in sail was completed, and I was to ex-
perience eighteen months, as quartermaster, for
I was soon promoted, on the St. Louis, during
her golden age, when for a brief period it looked
as though the Stars and Stripes were again to
come into their own upon the Western Ocean.

THE END

Printed in the United States of America.

rT^HE following pages contain advertisements of a
few of the Macmillan books on kindred subjects

The Adventure Library

EDITED BY HORACE KEPHART

Uniformly bound in cloth, each $1.

THE GOLD HUNTER

BY J. D. BORTHWICK

HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE
BY THE EARL OF DUNRAVEN

THE LION HUNTER

BY RONALYN GORDON-GUMMING

ADRIFT IN THE ARCTIC ICE PACK
BY ELISHA KENT KANE

FIRST THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON
BY MAJOR JOHN WESLEY POWELL

ADVENTURES IN MEXICO
IN THE OLD WEST

WILD LIFE IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS
BY GEORGE FREDERICK RUXTON

CAPTIVES AMONG THE INDIANS
CASTAWAYS AND CRUSOES

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY

Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York

Salt Water Poems and Ballads.

Twelve full-page illustrations in color, and twenty in black and white,
By Charles Pears. Price, $2.00

A book of permanent value by the foremost living poet, illus-
trated in colors by a widely known artist, selling at a reasonable
price.

"The salt of the sea is in these jingles; not the mystic sea of the
older poets who had an art, but the hard sea that men fight, even
in these days of leviathan liners, in stout- timbered hulls with
blocks to rattle and hemp for the gale to whistle through and give
the salt-lipped chantey man his rugged meters." — New York Sun.

"His verse has the accent of old chanties, the rudeness and the
mysticism, simple and matter-of-fact, of the deep-sea mariner." -
New York Times.

"They have the roar and dash and swing of crashing breakers,
the sharp tang of the salt sea air, and at times they creak and
strain like a stout clipper ship in the roaring forties." — Philadel-
phia North American.

"They have the tang of salt spray, and the blue light of corpse
candles. Wassail and song echo through the lines, and the spirit of
youth that finds interest and excitement in bad and good alike.
Their lyric quality is true. Reckless and daring they are in spirit."
— Baltimore Sun.

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY

Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York

Our Hawaii

BY CHARMIAN K. LONDON
(MRS. JACK LONDON)

This is a book which breathes the soul of Hawaii. Any-
one lured by the Pacific island as a playground will revel
in its pages.

"Come tread with me a little space of Paradise," writes
Mrs. London of her Elysium in the Pacific. "Many pleas-
ant acres have I trod hitherto, but never an acre like this.
With blue-depthed shadows imposed from green-depthed
foliage of great trees upon deep lawns that cushion under-
foot."

"In this journal I have tried to limn a picture of the
charm of the Hawaiian Islander as he was, and of his be-
coming, together with the enchantment of his lofty isles and
their abundant hospitality."

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY

Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York

The Cruise of the Snark

BY JACK LONDON

Decorated cloth, 8vo, $2.50

One of the most adventurous voyages ever planned was
that of Mr. London's famous Snark, the little craft in which
he and Mrs. London set forth to sail around the world. Mr.
London has told the story in a fashion to bring out all the
excitement of the cruise.

Those who have read Mrs. London's sparkling Log of the
Snark will enjoy Mr. London's Cruise of the Snark as well.

"Deserves an honourable place in the literature of travel
and adventure." — Outlook.

The Log of the Snark

BY MRS. CHARMIAN K. LONDON

Illustrated, $2.50

"The daily pages written on shipboard or in the harbors
of the Cannibal islands sparkle with their adventures, for a
woman's point of view of native women is vastly more en-
tertaining than a man's, and Mrs. London writes with
frankness that is both startling and picturesque. Anyone
lured by the South seas as a playground, or through devo-
tion to Stevenson's Samoa, will revel in this book, illus-
trated with photographs made by the Londons and uncen-
sored." — Cleveland Leader.

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY

Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York

'9/8