Sea life in Nelson's time

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Title: Sea life in Nelson's time
Author: Masefield, John
Language: English
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SEA LIFE IN NELSON’S TIME

[Illustration: A FRIGATE UNDER SAIL]

SEA LIFE
IN NELSON’S TIME

JOHN MASEFIELD

WITH SIXTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS

METHUEN & CO.
36 ESSEX STREET W.C.
LONDON

_First Published in 1905_

CAPTAIN HENRY BAYNHAM, R.N.

I thank Mr W. BARCLAY SQUIRE and Mr F. KIDSON, for their versions of
the tune, “Drops of Brandy”; and Mr MARTIN SHAW for permission to use
his arrangement of the tune of “Spanish Ladies.” I also wish to thank
Mr LAURENCE BINYON for his help in the selection of the illustrations
here reproduced.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I
PAGE

Ship designing, building, sheathing, and rigging—The external
decorations and appearance—The internal arrangements, deck
by deck—The orlop and hold 1

CHAPTER II

The guns in use in our navy—Their nature—How loaded and
fired—Varieties—Carronades—Shot—Small-arms—Gun-ports. 31

CHAPTER III

The quarter-deck officers—The captain—The lieutenants—The
master, second master, and master’s mates—The midshipmen—The
midshipman’s berth 51

CHAPTER IV

The civilian and warrant or standing officers—The surgeon—The
surgeon’s assistants—The chaplain—The boatswain—The
purser—The gunner—The carpenter—Mates and yeomen—The
sailmaker—The ship’s police—The ship’s cook 85

CHAPTER V

The people—The boys—Manning—The divisions—The messes—The
dress—The King’s allowance—Grog—Marines 119

CHAPTER VI

Sea punishments—The cat—Flogging at the gangway—Flogging
through the fleet—Running the gauntlet—Keel-hauling—Hanging 157

CHAPTER VII

In action 170

CHAPTER VIII

The daily routine—Sunday—Ship visiting 185

CHAPTER IX

In port—Jews—Lovely Nan—Mutinies—Their punishment—Sailor
songs—“Drops of Brandy”—“Spanish Ladies,” etc.—Flags—Salutes 199

EPILOGUE 216

APPENDIX 219

INDEX 223

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

A FRIGATE UNDER SAIL _Frontispiece_

TO FACE PAGE

A FIRST-RATE SHIP OF WAR, _circa_ 1760 9

SECTION OF A FIRST-RATE SHIP OF WAR, LATE
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY 25

THE GUNS IN USE IN THE NAVY 35

A THREE-DECKER 50

A MIDSHIPMAN’S FIRST INTRODUCTION TO THE BERTH 75

A FRIGATE IN CHASE—GOING FREE 100

THE HEAD OF A 74-GUN SHIP, WITH DRAWING OF
SPRITSAIL YARD 112

TWO OF NELSON’S SAILORS 120

TWO OF NELSON’S SAILORS 126

A HORSE MARINE 138

A FRIGATE IN CHASE, BEFORE THE WIND 140

THE LEE ROLL 150

A FLOGGING AT THE GANGWAY 160

LIEUTENANT BLOCKHEAD KEEPING THE MORNING
WATCH 186

H.M.S. “VENERABLE” AT ANCHOR 200

SEA LIFE IN NELSON’S TIME

CHAPTER I

Ship designing, building, sheathing, and rigging—The external
decorations and appearance—The internal arrangements, deck by
deck—The orlop and hold

The ships in which Nelson went to sea were designed by
master-shipwrights, in large sheds or studios known as “mould-lofts.”
There was a mould-loft in all the royal dockyards, near the
dry docks or building slips. On the floor of a mould-loft the
master-shipwrights drew the plans of their ships, at the full size of
the intended vessel. On the walls, which were of great height, they
chalked out their side elevations, from the keel to the prospective
water-line, and from the water-line to the top of the poop-railings
or hammock nettings, the parts farthest from the sea when the ship
was afloat. Having chalked out their plans, and “laid down” their
ships to their satisfaction, they gave orders for the timber to be
cut in accordance with their designs. The work of building was then
begun at that royal yard to which the mould-loft was attached. The
chief yards were those at Chatham, Deptford, Plymouth, and Woolwich.
The smaller ships were built on slips or launches, which sloped down
to the water’s edge. Large ships, or first-rates, designed to carry
100 guns, were generally built in dry dock, and floated out when
completed by the admission of water.

The keel or backbone of the ship, the first wood to be placed in
position, was “laid down” upon oak blocks distant some four or five
feet from each other. The keel was generally of thick elm timbers,
placed lengthways, which were “scarfed together,” bolted and clinched
at the sides. Under this keel, and to each side of it, in some ships,
was placed a false keel of elm, lightly secured by copper staples.
This false keel protected the main keel if the ship grounded. On this
backbone or groundwork the hull of the ship was built.

Much of the oak used in the building of the ships was grown
in England in the royal forests—such as the Forest of Dean in
Gloucestershire, and the New Forest in Hampshire. The oak was very
costly, for the service required the very best wood. It could not be,
or should not have been, used for a year after cutting, for it needed
to be seasoned before being handled by the shipwrights. On coming
to the yards it was stacked for some months in sheds, in various
positions, according to its future use, to allow it to season. Much
of it was pickled, or boiled in a kiln for many hours, to allow the
workmen to bend it to the frame of the ship. In times of stress much
of it was used green—not properly seasoned.

The ships were built in the open air, and it was the custom to allow
the frame or skeleton of every ship to stand exposed to all the
airts “for a twelvemonth or a little more,” before any timbers were
placed across her ribs. It was thought that this exposure seasoned
the oak of the frame. As a matter of fact, the constant wettings and
warpings, from rain and sun, set up decay in the exposed wood, so
that many ships had begun to rot “before a plank was put on.” Some,
indeed, were as green as grass with mildew and fungus before the
timbers were fitted. The general life of a ship in those days, built
under these conditions, was only eight or nine years. Few lasted
so long “without great repairs equal almost to their first cost.”
Many rotted to pieces after a few months at sea. In 1812 a fine
three-decker, which had seen no hard sea service, was condemned as
rotten a year after she was launched.

The timbers of these ships were secured to the uprights of the frames
by long wooden pins, of oak or pitch-pine, known as tree-nails. The
use of tree-nails was reckoned “a great cause of decay,” but custom
and thrift prescribed them. They were most insecure, as fastenings,
for they were liable to shrink, so as to admit water to the middle of
the plank. The plank when once wetted began to rot, and the shrunken
tree-nail rotted with it, till at last the wooden bolt dropped from
its hole, and the water obtained free admission. In those ships in
which American oak had been used the decay set in more quickly than
in other cases. These ships used to strain their seams or timbers
open, ever so slightly, in heavy weather, admitting water to the
cracks. The wood so wetted began to develop dry-rot or fungus from
the moment the water penetrated its fibres. Both fungus and dry-rot
spread with strange rapidity when once it had established itself, and
a ship so attacked had either to be pulled to pieces, so that the
rotting oak could be removed, or broken up as useless.

To build a 74-gun ship, or third-rate (the most general rate employed
in our navy), of about 1700 tons, nearly 2000 oak-trees were needed.
Half of this number—perhaps a little more than half—were English
grown. The other moiety was foreign oak, “very good for the ship
bottoms, under water,” but less lasting than the English kind. The
foreign oak was sometimes American—and very subject to dry-rot—and
sometimes from Silesia and Dantzic. An attempt was made to introduce
cedar and scarlet logwood from Honduras, but the project failed,
through the bankruptcy of the contractor. Fir was tried, at one time,
for small ships of war, but it was too weak, and too little lasting,
to be used for great ships. It was reckoned that a ship could be
built for from £25 to £30 per ton, the actual cost of the oak being,
on an average, about £7 per ton—a price much exceeded in the years
subsequent to the death of Nelson.

When the ship was planked over and caulked she was sheathed below her
water-line, to protect her timber from the teredo worm. Oak was very
subject to the teredo, and many ships were practically eaten through,
year after year, until 1758. In that year, a 32-gun frigate, H.M.S.
_Alarm_, was sheathed with thin sheets of copper, against which
the teredo worm was powerless. It was found that the copper also
prevented the formation of barnacles and other filth which used to
accumulate, many inches thick, on the bottoms of ships not coppered,
impeding their way through the sea by several knots an hour. The
first experiments with copper were not wholly satisfactory, for the
copper corroded the heads of all the iron bolts with which it came
in contact. This was remedied to some extent by the use of a thin
sheath of fir wood, which kept the copper from direct contact with
the oak and the iron bolts. In 1783 iron bolts were abolished, and
copper bolts, or bolts with copper heads, were substituted. After
this, copper-sheathing became general throughout the navy and the
merchant-service. The copper of condemned ships was stripped from the
hulks at Portsmouth, and melted in a furnace, to clean it. It was
then hammered out into sheets and used again. As a rule, brown paper
was inserted between the oak of the ship’s bottom and the sheets of
copper.

Before the introduction of copper many experiments had been tried
to keep out the teredo worm. Sheet-lead had been found too heavy,
and not very efficacious. A layer of pitch, covered with successive
layers of brown paper, tar, short hair, and thin deal plank, had
been found effectual, if costly. A thin sheath of deal over the oak
was better than nothing, for it took the worms some little while to
get through to the oak, as they cared less for deal than for any
other wood they attacked. A packing of lime, or a thorough washing
with lime, was found to keep them away. There were also preparations
of tar and tallow, and arrangements of hides and chemicals, which
had their merits and demerits. Copper replaced all of these, though
there was some little grumbling at the cost at the time of its first
introduction.

As soon as a ship was built, sheathed, and launched, she was brought
alongside a sheer-hulk, an old man-of-war cut down to her lower
gun-deck. A sheer-hulk was fitted with a single mast in midships,
to which was attached “an apparatus consisting of sheers, tackles,
etc., to heave out or in the lower masts of His Majesty’s ships.”
The “Establishment,” or Admiralty scale, gave minute instructions as
to the length and size of every spar to be supplied to each rate. A
stock of masts was kept at each dockyard in a vat of pickle known as
a mast-pond. For great ships, and indeed for nearly all the rates in
the navy, the lower masts were “built,” or “made,” of two or more
pieces of fir strongly hooped together with iron hoops. When a ship
came alongside a sheer-hulk her lower masts and bowsprit were hoisted
into her and stepped. The fore-mast was stepped at a distance of
one-ninth the length of the lower gun-deck from the stem of the ship.
The main-mast was stepped in the centre of the ship, or a little
abaft the centre. The mizzen-mast was distant from the bow about
seventeen-twentieths of the length of the lower gun-deck. The heels
of all three masts were stepped or fixed in strong wooden sockets, or
mortises, known as tenons, at the bottom of the ship’s hold. These
mortises or tenons were of oak, and the timbers which formed them lay
across the keelson, or inner part of the keel. The bowsprit “steeved”
or raked upwards at an angle of about thirty-six degrees with the
horizon. The masts, as a rule, raked or inclined slightly aft, but
the rake of a ship’s mast was sometimes altered to suit her sailing.
Some ships sailed better with their masts stayed forward, or stayed
plumb, without rake.

When the lower masts and bowsprit were stepped and secured the ship
received her rigging from the rigging-loft. Her lower rigging was
then set up by master-riggers, helped by the marines and standing
officers. The shrouds and stays which secured the masts were made
of hempen rope, “three-strand shroud laid,” tarred on the outside,
but not within the lay of the rope. Wire rope, which is now used
for nearly all standing rigging, was then unknown. When the lower
rigging was all set up, and the rigging of the bowsprit finished, the
jibboom and top-masts were sent aloft and rigged. When these were
finished the flying jibboom and topgallant and royal masts were sent
up and rigged, after which the ship’s standing rigging was complete.
The stays, the strong ropes which supported the masts forward, were
always doubled.

When the standing rigging was complete, the yards, on which the
square-sails set, were crossed on their respective masts. The yards
were of fir, the lower yards being “made,” or built, of more than one
piece of timber. The upper yards were fashioned from single trees.
Some captains of Nelson’s time slung their lower yards with chain, a
custom which in time became general. As a rule, however, the lower
yards were slung with stout rope. The rig was practically that in
use at the time of the abolition of sailing ships in the Royal Navy
in the early sixties. There were, however, various differences.
The sprit-sail, a square-sail on the bowsprit, setting from a yard
underneath that spar, was still in use. The sail was not abolished
until about 1810, while the yard, or a relic of it, remained for
many years later, though no sail was set upon it. On the mizzen-mast
the spanker or driver was not set upon a gaff and boom, but on a
great lateen yard, pointing fore and aft, its lower and forward arm
reaching down to a little above the wheel. Ships with these lateen
“cross-jacks” were to be seen almost at the end of the eighteenth
century. No ships carried sails above their royals, the fourth
square-sail from the deck. Stay-sails were set between the masts,
and studding-sails at the extremities of the yards. Perhaps the last
change in rigging which Nelson saw was the introduction of the flying
jib, and its boom, at the extremity of the bowsprit.

[Illustration: A FIRST RATE SHIP OF WAR, CIRCA 1760]

Masts, spars, sails, and rigging for ships of every rate were always
kept in stock at the royal yards. The ships of the navy were built
according to the “Establishment,” or Admiralty regulations, each ship
of each rate being as like as possible, so that the gear of one 74
would fit every 74 in the service. The theory was excellent, but in
practice it failed, because many of the ships in our navy in Nelson’s
time were not built according to the “Establishment” but were
captured from the French and Spanish. Indeed, the only good ships
in our fleets were built by French and Spanish hands. The French
treated shipbuilding as an imaginative art. The very finest brains in
the kingdom were exercised in the planning and creation of ships of
beautiful model. Admirable workmen, and the best talents of France,
produced, in the latter half of the eighteenth century, a number of
sailing men-of-war which were more beautifully proportioned, faster
on every point of sailing, stronger, and with larger batteries,
than the ships built in this country at that time. A French 80-gun
ship at the close of the eighteenth century was bigger, more roomy,
faster, and a finer ship in every way, than our 98-gun ships. Our own
men-of-war were so badly designed and proportioned that they were
said to have been built by the mile, and cut off as required. They
were very cramped between-decks, yet they were nearly always pierced
for more guns than they could conveniently fight. They were very
crank ships, and so “weak” that they could not fight their lower-deck
guns in anything like weather. They were slow at all points of
sailing, and slack in stays. In heavy weather they sometimes rolled
their masts out, or sprung them by violent pitching. Had the French
been able to improve their guns as they improved their ships our navy
would have been destroyed. As it was, their superior sailing was to
some extent neutralised by the fact that decisive naval engagements
had to be fought at close range, within, say, a quarter of a mile
of the enemy. The Spanish ships were but a little inferior to the
French. A queer Irish genius named Mullins, who had settled in Spain,
was the master-shipwright responsible for them. They were used
(as some of our French prizes were used) as models by our English
designers, but the English ships were not markedly improved till
after the death of Nelson. The following table may help the readers
to an understanding of the different rates in use. The figures are
approximate.

+———————————+——————————+——————————+————+——————————+—————————+—————————+
| | |Weight of | No.| |Length of| Cost |
| | No. of |Broadsides| of |Tonnage |Lower Gun|(without |
| | Guns | | Men| | Deck | Guns) |
| +——————————+——————————+————+——————————+—————————+—————————+
| | | | | From | | |
|First-Rate | 100, |2500- |850-|2000-2600 |180 ft. |£70,000- |
| | or more |2550 lbs. |950 |tons. | |100,000 |
|Second-Rate| 98 or 90 |2050- |750 |2000 tons |170-180 |£60,000 |
| | |2300 lbs. | | |ft. | |
|Third-Rate | 80, 74, |1970, |720,|2000-1700,|170-160 |£54,000- |
| | or 64 |1764 or |640,|1300 |ft. |36,000 |
| | |1200 lbs. |490 |tons | | |
|Fourth-Rate| 50 |800 lbs. |350 |1100 tons |150 ft. |£26,000 |
|Fifth-Rate | 44, 40, |636- |320,|900-700 |150-130 |£21,500- |
| | 38, 36, |350 lbs. |300,|tons |ft. |15,000 |
| | or 32 | |250,| | | |
| | | |215 | | | |
|Sixth-Rate | 28, 24, |250- |200-|650-550 |130-120 |£13,000- |
| | 20 |180 lbs. |160 |tons |ft. |10,000 |
+———————————+——————————+——————————+————+——————————+—————————+—————————+

Beside these there were many small, unrated ships, such as gun-brigs,
sloops, ketches, schooners, cutters, etc., and some foreign prizes
so armed that they could not be rated by the English scale. It
must be noted that our official rating reckoned only the regular
armament—_i.e._ the guns of the regulation patterns. After 1779 our
ships carried carronades in addition to their other guns, but these
were never reckoned in the Admiralty ratings.

Viewed from without, a first, second, or third-rate wooden man-of-war
appeared ponderous and cumbersome. A modern sailor, accustomed to the
keen iron-ships of the present day, would have called such a ship a
sea-waggon, qualified or otherwise, before spitting and passing by.
But when the great sails were set, and the hull began to move through
the sea, the cumbrous hulk took on attributes of beauty and nobility.
There has been, perhaps, no such beautiful thing on earth, the work
of man’s hands, as an old 74 under sail.

If one had taken a boat and rowed out to such a ship as she lay
at anchor, fitted for the sea, towards the end of the eighteenth
century, one would have been struck, first of all, by her bulk.
The ships had bulging wooden sides, vast stern-works, and cumbrous
wooden beakheads. They set one wondering how oak of such thickness
could have been wrought to such curves. Till Nelson’s time there was
no uniformity in the painting of the exteriors of the ships. The
captains used their own discretion, and followed their own tastes,
in the selection and application of the colours. The most general
colour-scheme was as follows:—Along the water-line, just above
the ruddy gleam of the copper-sheathing, was a wide black streak,
running right round the ship, and reaching as high as the level of
the lower gun-deck. Above this the sides were yellow, of a yellow
sometimes inclining to brown, like the colour of certain varnishes,
and sometimes of a brighter tint, like the colour of lemon peel.
The after upper-works above the gun-decks, and the outer sides of
the poops above the quarter-deck guns, were painted a vivid red or
blue. This band of bright colour gradually faded, till by the time of
Trafalgar it had become a very deep and dull blue, of a dingy tint
that was very nearly black. A band of scarlet or pale blue, edged
with gold, ran round the forecastle, and continued down the beak to
the figurehead. The outsides of the port-lids were of the same colour
as the sides—that is, of a brownish yellow. The stern-works were
generally elaborate with gilded carving, gilt cherubs, and the like,
and with red, blue, green and gold devices, such as cornucopias,
drums and banners, royal arms, wreaths, etc. Round the stern of
each ship, outside the glazed cabin windows (we are talking of a
third-rate or 74-gun ship), ran a quarter gallery or stern walk, on
which the captain could take his pleasure. The supports and rails of
this walk were heavy with gold-leaf. First and second-rate ships had
three and two stern walks respectively. At the bows, at the extremity
of the great beakhead, was the ship’s figurehead, either a ramping
red lion or a plain white bust, or a shield, or some allegorical
figure suggested by the name of the ship. The allegorical figure was,
perhaps, the most popular among the sailors. They took great pride in
keeping it in good repair, with bright gilt on its spear or helmet,
red paint upon its cheeks, and pretty blue sashes wherever such
appeared necessary.

The ships of Lord Howe’s fleet, in 1794, appear to have been painted
(externally) as follows:—The side of the ships above the line of the
copper a dull brown tint; the tiers of ports a pale lemon yellow,
chequered by the port-lids, the outsides of which were brown, like
the sides of the ship. The gilded scroll-work, at bow and stern,
was as usual. Lord Nelson is said to have painted the ships of his
fleets after much the same pattern, only substituting black for the
dull brown of the sides and outer port-lids. The arrangement used
by him became popular. It was known as the “Nelson chequer”: black
sides and port-lids, and yellow streaks to mark each deck of guns. It
was at first used only by those ships which had fought at Trafalgar
or the Nile. In time it became the system adopted throughout the
Navy. The captains of some ships preferred their own colour-schemes,
and painted their vessels with red or orange streaks to mark the
gun tiers. The “Nelson chequer” was, however, to become the colour
arrangement generally employed. Some years after Trafalgar the
lemon-yellow ribands gave place to white, which continued in use till
wooden men-of-war became obsolete. Those which remain afloat are
painted black and white in the manner in use in the early sixties,
when such ships ceased to be built.

Internally, the sides of the ships were painted blood-red, in order
that the blood, which so often and so liberally spattered them, might
not appear. The inner sides of the port-lids were painted of this
colour, so that when the port-lids were opened, the brown or black
of the ship’s sides was diversified agreeably with scarlet squares.
After Trafalgar the interiors of the ships of war were sometimes
painted in other colours, according to the whims of their commanders.
Green was the most common variant, but the interior of some ships
was painted yellow or brown. A favourite arrangement was the white
and green—white for the ship’s sides and beams, and green for the
waterways and coamings. White became the rule about the year 1840.
Many internal fittings, such as gun-carriages, and, in some cases,
the guns themselves, were painted red or chocolate. Lower masts were
sometimes painted a dull brownish yellow. Top-masts and upper spars
were covered with a dark brown preserving varnish. Yards and gaffs
were painted black. Blocks, chains, dead-eyes, and wooden and iron
fittings for the rigging, were tarred black to match the yards. The
projecting platforms known as the chains or channels at the side
of the ships, to which the lower rigging was secured, were painted
to match the sides of the ships. As the masts of French ships were
generally painted black, the ships in our fleets painted their masts
white before any general engagement, so that the ships might be
distinguished in the smoke and confusion.

The visitor going aboard one of these ships, and entering her, not
by the entry port to the main-deck, with its little brass rail and
carved porch, but by the gangway to the upper-deck, would have
climbed from his boat by a ladder of battens nailed to the timbers.
At each side of this ladder was a side rope, extended by iron
stanchions. The rope, as a rule, was a piece of ordinary 3-inch hemp,
worn smooth and shiny by many hands. For important visitors, such
as a captain or flag-officer, special side ropes were rove, either
of white cord or of the ordinary rope covered with green or scarlet
cloth. Both the gangway and the entry port were guarded by a marine
sentry, in a red coat, pipeclayed belts, and white knee-breeches. A
midshipman kept watch about the gangway to report to the lieutenant
the arrival of all boats coming to the ship before they drew
alongside.

On gaining the deck of an old 74 the visitor would have found himself
upon the spar-deck, just abaft the main-mast, fronting the great
timber bitts, with their coils of running rigging. Close beside him
was the quarter-deck ladder, leading up to the quarter-deck.[1]
Above this again was the poop, a second raised platform or deck,
reached by short, small ladders from the quarter-deck. Right at the
stern of the ship, inclining outboard over the sea, was a flagstaff
on which flew an ensign as large as a mizzen-topgallant-sail. If
the visitor had clambered up the sloping deck to this point he
would have been able to overlook the whole of the upper surface
of the ship. Just beneath him, at his back, below the step of the
flagstaff, he would have seen a heavy lantern, or stern light, with
a ponderous and decorated case. To each side of the flagstaff were
lifebuoys, by which a marine with a hatchet was always stationed
when the ship was at sea. At the alarm of “man overboard” the marine
hacked through the lanyard supporting one of the lifebuoys and let
it drop into the water. At each side of the ship, along the poop
and quarter-deck, were the after-guns, which, till 1779, when the
carronade was adopted, were generally 9-pounders, in red wooden
trucks or carriages, secured to the ship’s side in the usual way.
These guns pointed through square port-holes which were cut, without
lids, through the thick wooden bulwarks. Forward of the mizzen-mast,
under the break of the poop,[2] or, in the later times, on the
quarter-deck itself, was the great double steering wheel, placed in
midships, abaft the binnacle which held the compass. The tiller ropes
were made of raw-hide thongs, raw-hide being tougher than rope, and
less dangerous to the crew when struck by a shot than chain would
have been. Over the wheel hung the forward arm of the great lateen
mizzen-yard,[3] a relic of Drake’s time, which was not abolished in
favour of the spanker gaff and boom until the end of the eighteenth
century. Along the sides of the quarter-deck, and along the ship’s
bulwarks as far forward as the beakhead, were the hammock nettings,
or hammock cloths, within which the hammocks of the ship’s company
were stowed.

Forward of the quarter-deck, between that deck and the forecastle,
was the waist, or, as a modern sailor would call it, the well. It was
not decked over, nor were the wooden bulwarks of the quarter-deck
continued along it, but to each side, in the place of bulwarks, were
iron standards, supporting two thick canvas breastworks or stout
nettings of rope about two feet apart, between which the hammocks of
the crew were stowed. Directly within these breastworks were broad
plank gangways, for the convenience of the sail-trimmers, small-arm
parties, and marines. Between the main and fore masts, in midships,
parallel with the decked-over gangways, were the booms, or spare
spars, tightly lashed in position. On the top of these spars, or
to each side of them, were the ship’s boats, long-boat, barge and
cutter, with their oars and sails inside them. Farther forward was
the forecastle, upon which were more carronades, or 9-pounder cannon,
and one or two heavy bow-chasers, or guns made to fire forward. On
the forecastle was the great ship’s bell, hanging from a heavy wooden
or iron belfry, with a plaited lanyard on the clapper to help the
timekeeper to strike it. In the centre of the forecastle was the
galley-funnel, the chimney of the ship’s kitchen. At the forward
end were ladders leading into the beakhead, from which the sailors
reached the bowsprit when occasion sent them thither.

Under the poop was the captain’s cabin, extending from its forward
limit to the gilded stern gallery. This part of the ship, extending
outboard as it did, like a great gilt excrescence, was sometimes
known as the coach or round house. Very frequently this cabin
contained no guns. If it contained guns they were seldom or never
fired. The ports of the cabin were glazed, and there was a couch or
settee running under them for the ease of the captain. These settees
were hollow, and formed convenient cupboards for the captain’s gear.
As the floor or deck of the cabin was laid upon the beams of the main
or upper gun-deck, it followed that the cabin was loftier and roomier
than any other place in the ship. The poop, the deck above it, was
raised some feet above the quarter-deck, as we have seen, so that
the captain’s state apartment may have been some eight or nine feet
high. A door from it opened into the stern walk, which opened by two
little doors, one on each side, to the quarter galleries. The cabins
were usually very bare. They were furnished with a large fixed table,
a few heavy chairs, a fixed or swinging sleeping cot, and a wooden
washhand stand containing a basin. It was shut off from the forward
portion of the ship by a simple wooden bulkhead, made of elm, so
fitted that it could be lifted from its place and shifted out of its
way when the ship went into action. In early times, in the days of
the Stuarts, this bulkhead and the interior of the cabin were made
gay with carved work, or, as it was then called “gingerbread work.”
Great ships of the first and second rates then carried joiners, to
repair and keep beautiful these decorations. In the latter half of
the eighteenth century the cabins were without decorations of any
kind. The only breaks to the bareness of the wood were the captain’s
foul-weather clothes, dangling from pegs, and his lamp swinging in
its gimbals or hinges, his telescope in his bracket, and, perhaps, a
trophy of swords and pistols, or a stand of the ship’s arms, such as
muskets and cutlasses, in a rack about the mizzen-mast. There were,
of course, captains like Captain Whiffle in the novel, or the scented
Captain Mizen in the play, who lived in great splendour, in carpeted
cabins hung with Italian pictures. These worthies kept perfumes
burning in silver censers to destroy the odour of the bilge. Such
captains were, however, the exception, not the rule. A captain with a
case of books and a pair of curtains to his windows was regarded as
a sybarite. Any decorations beyond these were looked upon as Persian
and soul-destroying.

The forward bulkhead of the cabin was pierced with a door in
midships, which opened on to the half-deck, the space covered by the
quarter-deck. The half-deck was also known as the steerage, from
the fact that the steering wheels and binnacle were placed there,
under the roof or shelter of the quarter-deck planks. The sides of
the half-deck were pierced for guns, generally carronades. It must
be remembered that the half-deck was, as its name implies, decked
over, so that one could walk from side to side of the ship on a floor
of planks. The waist, or space between the fore and main-masts, on
the same plane, was not so decked. The forecastle was decked across,
and the sides of the forecastle were pierced for carronades. But
there were no guns on the plank gangways along the sides of the
waist, partly because the position was exposed, and partly because
the space was needed in action by the sail-trimmers and small-arm
parties. The raised forecastle and high poop and quarter-deck, were
survivals from old time. In the old ships of war, of the reign of
Elizabeth, these superstructures had been built of great strength
and height, “the more for their majesty to astonish the enemy.” No
ship could be carried by boarding until the men defending these
castles had been overcome. No boarding party could enter such a
ship without great danger, for the bulkheads of these castles were
pierced for quick-firing guns, mounted so as to sweep the waist.
Any troop of boarders clambering into the waist could be shot down
by the gunners in the castles. The superstructures were excellent
inventions for that time, when naval engagements were decided by
hand-to-hand fighting, or by ramming. They were less useful when the
improvements in ordnance made it possible to decide a sea-fight by
the firing of guns at a distance. They lingered in our Navy until the
third or fourth decade of the nineteenth century, when the raised
or topgallant forecastle was abolished. Some twenty or thirty years
before this happened the quarter-deck and poop were merged together,
so that there was then but one deck above the spar-deck.

Passing forward from the steerage one came to the main hatchway in
the open space of the waist, just forward of the main-mast. The
ladders of this hatchway led from the waist to the deck below. This
deck below the spar-deck was known in first and second rates as the
main-deck. In third-rates, such as a 74-gun ship, it was called the
second or upper deck. Right aft, on this deck, was the ward-room
or officers’ mess, where the lieutenants had their meals. The room
was large and well-lit, for the stern of the ship was pierced with
five or six windows, which were all glazed, like the windows of the
captain’s cabin. Part of the ward-room was used as an officer’s
store-room, and this part seems to have been shut away from the rest
by means of wooden bulkheads, made of elm, as being less liable to
splinter if struck by a shot than any other sort of wood. There was
no stern walk outside the after windows on this deck, but there were
quarter galleries to each side. These were generally fitted up as
lavatories for the lieutenants. Forward of the ward-room, on each
side of the deck, were the state-rooms of the lieutenants—little
fenced-off cupboards, walled with elm wood, each of them just
large enough to hold a cot, a writing-desk, a chest of clothes, and
a few instruments. In some ships—as in fifth and sixth rates—the
lieutenants slung their hammocks in the ward-room, there being no
space for private cabins. Beyond the ward-room bulkhead was the open
deck, clear of obstruction save for the capstans and the openings
of the hatchways, almost as far forward as the fore-mast.[4] Abaft
the fore-mast, in midships, was the cook-room or galley, where the
cook perspired over his coppers. The galley floor was paved with
brick, to lessen the risk of fire. At each side of the deck, at their
respective port-holes, were the lines of cannon. The general calibre
for this deck, aboard a 74, was the 24-pounder. Of these there were
usually some fifteen or sixteen at each side of the ship on this, the
second or upper deck.

As a large portion of this deck was not decked over, but open to
the sky, save for the boats and spare spars, the fighting space
was comparatively light. In fine weather, and in moderately breezy
weather, the gun ports on this tier could be kept open, at anyrate
to leeward. In bad weather, when they were closed, when tarpaulins
covered the hatchways and open spaces, the deck was lit by the
bull’s-eyes—the round and oval plates of thick glass, which were let
into the centre of the port-lids. At night the only lights allowed
were cased in the battle-lanterns of thick horn. If the ship went
into action at night the sailors fought their guns by the light these
lanterns afforded, one lantern being placed beside each gun.

[Illustration: SECTION OF A FIRST RATE SHIP OF WAR, LATE 18TH CENTURY]

Beneath the second or upper deck was the first or lower gun-deck, the
principal deck of the ship. It was the broadest of the decks, and by
far the strongest, and the most roomy. Here the heaviest cannon, the
two long batteries of 32-pounder guns, were mounted; and here, in
action, was the fiercest of the fighting. Right aft, on this deck,
was the gun-room, in which the gunner and his mess lived. It was also
the ship’s armoury, where the muskets, cutlasses and pistols were
stored. The younger midshipmen sometimes slung their hammocks in the
gun-room,[5] under the fatherly eye of the gunner. In some ships the
gunner acted as caterer to the youngest of the midshipmen, and saw
to it that their clothes were duly washed during the cruise. Forward
of the gun-room bulkhead (or of the stand of arms mentioned below)
there was the open deck, with the lines of guns in their blood-red
carriages. The heavy rope cables stretched along this deck, in
midships, nearly as far aft as the main-mast. Right forward, in
midships, stretching across the bows, was the manger, a sort of pen,
some four feet high, over which the cables passed to the hawse-holes.
The manger was designed as a breakwater to keep the water which
splashed through the hawse-holes from pouring aft along the deck.
The hawse-holes were firmly plugged with oakum and wooden shutters
when the ship was at sea, but no contrivance that could be devised
would keep the water from coming in in heavy weather. The manger also
served as a sheep-pen or pigsty or cattle byre, if the ship carried
live stock. This lower-deck was the berth or sleeping deck, where
the men slung their hammocks at night. It was also the mess-deck,
where they ate their meals. The place was very dark and noisome in
foul weather, for a very moderate sea made it necessary to close the
port-lids, so that, at times, the crew messed in semi-darkness for
days together. It was also very wet on that deck in bad weather,
for no matter how tightly the ports were closed, and no matter how
much oakum was driven all round the edges of their lids, a certain
amount of water would leak through, and accumulate, and slop about
as the ship rolled, to the discomfort of all hands. In hot climates
the discomfort was aggravated by the opening of the seams of the
deck above, so that any water coming on to that deck would drip
down upon the deck below. Often in its passage it dripped into the
sailors’ hammocks, and added yet another misery to their miserable
lives. In midships on this deck, round the hatchway coamings,[6] were
shot racks, containing 32-lb round shot for the heavy batteries.
The pump-dale, or pipe for conveying the water pumped from the
hold, ran across the deck to the ship’s side from “the well” by the
main-mast. This was the sole obstruction to the run of the deck, from
the gun-room to the manger, between the midship stanchions and the
guns. There was a clear passage fore and aft, for the lieutenants in
command of the batteries. In midships were the hatch-coamings, the
capstans, the bitts and cables, and the stanchions supporting the
beams. Between these obstructions and the breaches of the guns was
a fairly spacious gangway, along which the officers could pass to
control the fire.

Below the lower or first deck was a sort of “temporary deck,” not
wholly planked over, called the orlop or overlap-deck. It was
practically below the water-line when the ship’s guns and stores
were aboard. It was therefore very dark and gloomy, being only lit
by a few small scuttles, in the ship’s sides, and by lanterns and
candles (or “purser’s glims”) in tin sconces. Right aft on this
deck was the after cockpit, where the senior midshipmen, master’s
mates, and surgeon’s mates, were berthed. This cockpit was of
considerable size, for here, after an action, the wounded were
brought, to suffer amputation and to have their wounds dressed. The
mess table, at which the reefers and mates made merry, was fixed in
the middle of the berth. After an action it was used as an operation
table by the surgeons. Adjoining the after cockpit were cabins for
the junior lieutenants; state-rooms for the surgeon, purser, and
captain’s steward; the ship’s dispensary; a little cupboard for
bottles and splints, and the purser’s store-room. In small ships of
the fifth and sixth rates the marines berthed on this deck, abreast
of the main-mast, hanging the beams with their pipeclayed belts and
cartridge boxes. The spirit-room, about which the imaginative writer
has written so imaginatively, was sometimes placed on this deck, near
the after cockpit. More generally it was below, in the after hold.

Further forward, on the orlop-deck, the line of battleships had racks
for the bags of the men and the chests of the marines, to which
access could be had at stated times. In midships was the sail-room,
or sail-locker, where the spare suits of sails were stowed. Here,
also, were the cable-tiers, or dark, capacious racks, in which the
cables were coiled, by candlelight, when the ship weighed her anchor.
It was the duty of the midshipmen to hold the candles while this
stowing of the cables was performed by the quarter-masters. After
a battle, when the after cockpit was filled with wounded men, the
midshipmen and mates slung their hammocks in the cable tiers. To the
sides of the cable tiers were other tiers for the stowage of spare
rigging and hawsers. Beyond these again, stretching across the deck,
was the fore cockpit, where the boatswain and carpenter had their
cabins and store-rooms. The carpenter’s store-room was filled with
tools, and with the implements for stopping shot holes. Most of the
actual carpentering was done above, in daylight, on the upper-deck.
The boatswain’s store-room contained blocks, fids, marline-spikes,
rope yarn, etc., for the fitting and repairing of the rigging. In
peace time, for some reason, the boatswain and carpenter slept on
the lower-deck in cots or double hammocks slung in the most favoured
places. In war time they kept their cabins.

Near the two cockpits were the entrances to the fore and after powder
magazines, where the ship’s ammunition lay. The hatches leading to
the magazines were covered over by copper lids, secured by strong
iron bars and padlocks. The magazines were only opened on very
special occasions by the captain’s order. A marine sentry stood at
the hatch of each magazine with a loaded musket, to prevent any
unauthorised person from tampering with the padlocks or trying to
enter. In battle this sentry was reinforced by a corporal’s guard
with fixed bayonets, or by midshipmen with loaded pistols.

The magazines were situated in the fore and after parts of the ship’s
hold. They were far below water, and situated in midships, so that no
shot could penetrate to them. They were lit by ingenious contrivances
called light-rooms, small chambers built just forward of them, and
separated from them by double windows of glass. Lanterns were lit
in these light-rooms and placed behind the windows, so that their
light should illuminate the magazines. The floors or decks of the
magazines were covered with felt, or with a rough kind of frieze
known as fearnought. The walls or sides were similarly covered. No
man was allowed to enter them until he had covered his shoes with
thick felt slippers, and emptied his pockets of any steel or other
metal, the striking of which might make a spark. The after-magazine
was the smaller of the two. It contained no powder casks, but only
a store of filled cartridges for the supply of the upper-deck 18-
and 24-pounders, and the forecastle and quarter-deck carronades.
In the fore-magazine were the tiers of powder casks, one above the
other, the lowest tier having copper hoops about them. This place
was protected even more carefully than the after-magazine, for here
the loose powder was handled and placed in cartridge; and here the
hand grenades and musket cartridges were stored. Here, too, were the
cartridges ready filled for the batteries of 32-pounders on the lower
or first gun-deck. This magazine was not reached by direct descent
from a ladder. To reach it one had to pass along a little passage
protected by a copper door and guarded by a marine. The cartridges
for the cannon were stored in cylindrical wooden tubs or boxes,
arranged in racks and covered with movable wooden lids. Forward of
the fore-magazine was a lift or hoist, by which the cartridges could
be passed from the magazine to the orlop, so that the boys employed
in passing powder should not have to descend into the magazine. In
some ships there was no such hoist, but a thick, wet, woollen screen
with a hole in it, through which the cartridges were handed. The
boys employed in carrying powder had to cover the cartridges with
their jackets as they ran from the magazine to the gun they supplied.
All magazines were fitted with a water tank and pipes, by which the
chamber could be swamped in the event of fire.

Between the magazines was the vast round belly of the ship, known as
the hold. Here the ballast, provision casks, and water casks were
stowed. In the space forward of the after-magazine was a chamber
known as the fish-room, for the storage of the ship’s salt fish.
Beside it was the spirit-room, full of wine, brandy, and rum casks.
Farther forward was the bread-room, a large apartment lined with tin,
and artificially dried by hanging stoves. It contained an incredible
quantity of ship’s biscuit, of which a pound a day was allowed to
each man on board. The water and beer casks, and the casks containing
peas, oatmeal, and salt flesh were stowed forward of the bread-room,
according to the rules of the service.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The quarter-decks of many ships were raised above the upper deck.
In small ships of war, such as frigates, the quarter-deck was the
after part of the upper-deck, below the break of the poop.

[2] Or under the break of the quarter-deck.

[3] Or “cross-jack.”

[4] In some ships the space under the booms on this deck was fitted
with a cattle-pen, in which the officers kept their live stock, if
they had any. In fine weather the deck about the cattle-pen was used
by the various craftsmen of the ship. The armourer and blacksmith
worked at their anvils about the galley. The carpenters sawed and
planed at their tables. The sailmakers spread their canvas, and
stitched, and put in patches. In fine weather the sick were placed
here for the benefit of the air and the sun.

[5] The youngest midshipmen sometimes slung their hammocks just
outside the gun-room, in a space cut off from the rest of the lower
deck by a stand of muskets and cutlasses extending across the deck. A
marine stood guard at the entrance to the railed-off portion. He was
generally a recruit, good for nothing else. He seems to have beguiled
his hours of sentry-go by blacking the boots of the ward-room
officers (Vide _The Navy at Home_).

[6] Coamings are raised ridges round the hatchway openings, designed
to keep the water from falling below in any quantity during foul
weather. They also prevent the unwary from falling down the ladders.

CHAPTER II

The guns in use in our Navy—Their nature—How loaded and
fired—Varieties—Carronades—Shot—Small-arms—Gun-ports

The cannon with which Nelson’s ships were armed were made of brass or
iron. The iron guns were cast in a mould, and then bored, or tubed by
the insertion of a powerful cylindrical gouge. They do not appear to
have been cast round a core. The brass guns were made of a proportion
of “metal fit for casting” (generally about five-sevenths of the
whole), to which was added a seventh part of copper, a rather smaller
quantity of brass, and a few pounds of tin. The exact proportions
were kept secret by the founders. German founders used more tin than
brass, while the French used two formulæ, in both of which more tin
than brass was employed.

The guns in use in our service were distinguished and named by
the weight of the balls they threw. The old names of demi-cannon,
saker, curtal, cannon-perier, etc., had fallen out of use. The guns
were spoken of as 6-, 12-, 18-, 24-, or 32-pounders. The 32-pounder
was the largest gun in use. Until 1790 a ponderous gun, throwing
a 42-pound round shot, had been mounted on ships of the line, but
the gun was too unwieldy, and the shock of the discharge was too
great to allow of its continued use. There were, however, 42-, and
even 68-pounder carronade or “smasher” guns. These were mounted on
improved carriages, the invention of Admiral Bertie.

The principal parts of a 32-pounder gun were the breech, which
ended in a rounded iron ball called the pomelion, or cascabel; the
trunnions or extended arms, which supported the cannon (in almost
perfect balance) in its carriage; and the bore or calibre, the
“concave cylinder” down which the charge was rammed. The trunnions
were placed, not in the centre of the piece, but rather towards
the breech, as the metal at the breech was thicker and heavier
than at the mouth, to withstand the shock of the explosion, and
to prevent the gun “from starting up behind” when fired. The bore
was, of course, of the same size throughout. “Taper-bored” guns had
fallen out of favour. All guns in use were mounted on strong wooden
trucks or carriages. The carriages were composed of two “cheeks” or
side pieces, held together by thick wooden cross pieces and iron
axle-trees. The wheels on which the carriages rested were circular
discs of strong wood, held to the axle by iron linch-pins. The
trunnions of the guns rested on the top of the two cheeks, directly
above the front wheels. They were placed in hollows cut to receive
them, over which hinged iron clamps or cap-squares passed, to keep
them from jolting out at the shock of the discharge. When placed on a
carriage, and resting on its trunnions, the gun inclined to sag down
towards its breech. It was kept from falling out of the horizontal
position by a wedge of wood, called a coin (or quoin) which rested
on the bed of the carriage. The withdrawal of the wedge caused the
gun to elevate its muzzle. By means of graduated scales, cut upon the
coins and upon the base-rings of the guns, the gunners could elevate
or depress their piece with considerable accuracy, by the insertion
and withdrawal of the supporting wedges.

At sea, where the ship was in continual motion, either rolling or
pitching, the guns had to be secured with great care by means of
tackles and breechings. These ropes enabled the gun’s crews to work
their guns in action. A breeching was made of stout hemp rope of
the finest quality. It passed through a ring or “thimble,” which
was strapped to the round iron ball or pomelion of the gun.[7] The
ends of it were secured or “clinched” to strong iron ring-bolts in
the ship’s side, one at each side of the gun port. This breeching
secured the gun from rolling backwards towards the inner part of
the deck, while it checked the recoil of the piece when fired. A
breeching was of such a length that, when the piece was fired, it
checked the recoil directly the gun muzzle was immediately within
the gun port. In this position the piece could be reloaded without
difficulty. The gun or side-tackles were pulleys hooked to the sides
of the carriages, and to ring-bolts in the ship’s side, to enable the
gun’s crews to run the piece out when they had loaded it. The gun
was kept from running out of itself with the roll of the ship by a
tackle, called a train or preventer tackle, which was hooked to an
iron ring-bolt in midships, and to a hook directly below the breech
of the gun.[8] When not in action the guns were hauled close up to
the ship’s side by means of the side-tackles. The two parts of the
breeching were then lashed together, to allow no possible play to the
piece. The coins were taken out, so that the muzzle of the gun just
touched the upper part of the gun port, to which it was lashed with a
length of cord. In very bad weather, when the ship’s rolling caused
the guns to strain their fastenings, the tackles and breechings were
doubled, and small wooden wedges were screwed under their wheels. A
gun broken loose was a very terrible engine of destruction, for the
two tons of iron, flying across the deck with the roll of the ship,
would strike with fearful force against the opposite side. Such a
force was more than likely to tear through the timbers, carrying with
it any other gun it happened to strike. If a gun broke loose it was
“tripped” or upset by hammocks or spare sails flung in its path; but
the task of tripping a loose gun on a deck awash with the sea, and
foul with all manner of floating gear, such as rammers and buckets,
was by no means an easy one. It was like playing leap-frog on a
see-saw under a shower bath, with the certainty of a horrible death
if you missed your leap.

[Illustration: THE GUNS IN USE IN THE NAVY]

When secured to the ship’s side, and at all times when not in action,
the muzzle of a gun was stopped with a circular plug of wood or cork,
known as a tompion.[9] This plug was carefully tallowed round its
outer rim so that no water should pass by it into the bore of the
piece. Over the touch-hole of the gun, when not in action, a thin
sheet of lead was fixed. This sheet was about a foot square, and was
known as the “apron,” because it was tied to its place by two white
cords. It kept the vent or touch-hole dry, and defended the priming
from chance ignition.[10]

Above the guns, hooked to the beams, so as to be out of the way when
not in use, were the implements for loading and cleaning. A gun was
loaded in the following manner:—The powder was inserted by means of
a ladle—a sort of copper shovel—with a long wooden handle. The head
of this shovel resembled a “cylindrical spoon.” Into its cavity the
cartridge fitted, so that the loader had but to thrust the ladle
down and turn it over to deposit the cartridge in its place at the
extremity of the bore. A wad of rope yarn was then driven home upon
the charge by an implement known as the rammer. The shot was then
rammed home, with a wad on top of it.[11] The tightness or looseness
of this, the containing wad, did not affect the velocity of the
cannon ball. As a rule, therefore, the upper wad was driven in with
force just sufficient to keep the shot in the gun while aim was
taken. Tight wads were seldom used, as they took too long to drive
down the muzzle.

When the piece was loaded the captain of the gun took out his
priming-iron, an implement like a knitting-needle, with a few spirals
(as in a corkscrew) at the end. This he thrust down the touch-hole
into the cartridge, so that the iron not only cleared the vent, but
also cut through the cartridge. He then opened his priming-box and
took out a priming-tube, which was either of tin or of quill, and,
in either case, of less than one-fifth of an inch in diameter. This
he placed in the touch-hole, so that the sharp end of it entered
into the cartridge. Priming-tubes were filled with the very best
mealed powder, “mixed up stiff with spirits of wine.” Their upper
ends were frayed, so that the fire might reach them the more readily.
If there were no priming-tubes the captain of the gun primed his
piece from a powder-horn, by merely pouring good mealed powder down
the touch-hole, and then laying a little train of the same along a
channel cut in the gun for the purpose. This little groove led from
the vent towards the breech of the piece. The powder placed in this
groove was always slightly bruised with the end of the powder-horn.
When the gun was primed and aimed, the captain of the piece watched
his opportunity to fire, taking care to fire as his side of the ship
rose slowly[12] from a roll, so that his shot, if it missed the ship
he aimed at, might yet cut her rigging. The piece was fired, as a
rule, by means of a match, or length, of twisted cotton wicks soaked
in lye, which burned very slowly, and remained alight when once lit
for several hours. Matches in actual use were twisted about a forked
staff some three feet long, which was known as the linstock.[13]
Immediately before a battle matches ready for use were placed between
the guns in tubs, known as match tubs, which were half filled with
sand or water. The matches were fixed in notches in the rim of each
tub, so that their burning ends overhung the water or sand. Their
loose ends lay upon the deck. When a man gave fire to a piece he
held the burning match below the level of the vent, and blew on the
lighted end to make it burn clearly. At the favourable instant he
applied the red end to the train of powder leading to the touch-hole,
and then smartly drew back the linstock to avoid the “huff” or spit
of fire from the vent at the moment of explosion. The spirt of flame
was sufficiently violent to blow the linstock out of a man’s hand
if he applied it carelessly. It also burnt pockmarks on the beams
directly above the gun, so that in many old wooden men-of-war the
beams were deeply pitted all along the deck. After 1780 the guns of
some ships were fitted with flint-locks, by means of which a spark
struck from a flint was thrown on to the pan or tube containing
the priming powder. The triggers of these locks were released by a
smart pull upon a lanyard. These flint-locks were safer than the old
arrangement of match and powder train. They were also more certain
and more easily managed. Their use enabled the gunners to fire more
rapidly, but the sailors disliked them, and the captains looked upon
them as dangerous innovations, opposed to the old traditions of the
service. They were not generally adopted until after the battle
of the Nile. A ship employing them in that engagement made such
excellent and such rapid practice that the seamen were convinced
of their merit. A flint-lock was, however, always liable to lose
its flint, either by fracture or by being stricken from its place.
Many guns were fitted with double or even treble flints so that the
breaking or slipping of a single stone should not stop the fire.
Until long after Nelson’s death it was the rule for ships going into
action to carry lighted matches in match tubs between the guns, for
use if the flint-locks missed fire.

The gun when fired recoiled with great violence to the limit of
the breeching. When a gun had become hot from continuous firing the
violence of its recoil became so great that the carriage would be
lifted from the deck, and the whole contrivance would leap to the
beams above at each shot. The breechings used to snap like twine
under the tremendous strain of such recoils, particularly on the
lower-deck, where the ropes were frequently wetted and subject to
rot. In general actions the guns were fitted with double-breechings
to prevent such ruptures.

The recoil of the gun was very dangerous to the gun’s crews, for no
man, however experienced, could predict, from the direction in which
the gun pointed and the motion of the ship, in what way the gun
would run back. Numbers of men were killed or wounded by the recoil
of guns, and no device checked the evil altogether, though several
inventions modified it. The breeching always kept it within certain
bounds, while it was checked naturally by the slope of the deck, from
in midships, towards the ship’s sides.

When a gun had been fired successfully[14] it recoiled into the
position for reloading. Before a fresh cartridge was thrust down the
muzzle, an instrument called a worm, a sort of large edged corkscrew,
was sometimes inserted to scrape out any burning scraps which might
remain in the gun. With some kinds of cartridges this was necessary
after each discharge. When the worm had been passed, a sponge was
thrust down, and twisted round once or twice as soon as its head had
reached the end of the bore. By the time the gun had been sponged,
and the sponge tapped out, a fresh cartridge was ready for insertion.
The head of a sponge was usually of rough sheepskin wool affixed to
a stout piece of rope, stiffened with spun yarn, at the other end of
which was a wooden butt, studded with copper, for use as a rammer.
A rope handle was found far safer than one of wood, for it allowed
the sailor to bend it, so that he could pass it down the gun without
leaning out of the port, as a mark for the enemy’s sharpshooters. In
sponging and ramming the sailor showed himself as little as possible.
If he had to expose himself at the port as he sponged, he always held
the sponge away from the ship’s side, with his body between it and
the timbers, so that if a shot struck the handle it might not force
the implement through his body.

The guns were trained aft and forward by means of handspikes or
wooden levers, which were sometimes fitted with iron claws. With
these the carriage of a gun could be shifted, little by little, in
the required direction. The handspikes were also used to raise the
breech of the gun, when the gun captain adjusted the piece to the
required height by means of the coins. In raising the breech, the
sailor used as his fulcrum one of the steps cut in the cheek or side
of the gun-carriage. The work of shifting one of these heavy guns by
such a clumsy contrivance was very hard. In action the men stripped
to their waists, yet a very few minutes of the work sufficed to make
them hot. The exercise was so violent that in hot engagements the men
sometimes fell exhausted beside their guns, and slept there in all
the uproar of the fight.

The guns generally in use were cast in two lengths, “long” and
“short,” both varieties having about the same range, but with this
difference. The long gun was more accurate, and could be laid
point blank—that is, level or horizontal—to fire at an object at a
distance, say, of 300 yards. To hit the same object at that distance
a short gun had to be slightly elevated, and the more the gun was
elevated the less accurate it became. The short gun was the more
popular in the years of which we write, for it was more destructive
at close quarters, and commanders preferred to come to close quarters
before engaging. In the American War of 1812 this preference for
the short gun lost us several frigates. The American frigates which
captured them were armed with long guns. With these they were able
to remain aloof, plying our ships with shot at long range; while the
short guns aboard our ships replied inaccurately, their shot falling
short or missing, owing to the great elevation necessary to make
them carry the distance. The following table may help the reader to
understand the sizes and qualifications of the guns in use:—

+——————+——————+———————+———————+——————+———————+——————————————————+
|Cali- |Length|Length |Weight |Charge|Point- | Extreme Range at |
|bre | of | of | of | of |Blank | 10° Elevation |
| |Piece |Bore | Gun |Powder|Range | |
+——————+——————+———————+———————+——————+———————+——————————————————+
|32-pr.|9 ft. |8 ft. |55 cwt.|10-11 |350 | 2900 yards |
| long |6 ins.|11 ins.| 2 qrs.|lbs. |yards | |
|32-pr.|8 ft. |7 ft. |49 ” | ” | ” | ” |
|short | |6 ins. | 3 ” | | | |
|24-pr.|9 ft. |8 ft. |50 ” |8-4 |297-265| 2870-2513 yards |
| long |6 ins.|11 ins.| |lbs. |yards | |
| ” |9 ft. |8 ft. |47 ” | ” | ” | ” |
| | |5½ ins.| 2 ” | | | |
| ” |8 ft. |7 ft. |43 ” | ” | ” | ” |
| | |5½ ins.| 2 ” | | | |
|24-pr.|7 ft. |6 ft. |40 ” |6-4 |221-288| 2562-2668 yards |
|short |6 ins.|11 ins.| |lbs. |yards | |
| ” |6 ft. |6 ft. |33 ” | ” | ” | ” |
| |6 ins.|11 ins.| | | | |
| ” |6 ft. |5 ft. |31 ” | ” | ” | ” |
| | |11 ins.| | | | |
|18-pr.|9 ft. |8 ft. |42 ” |8-4 |297-265| 2870-2513 yards |
| long | |6 ins. | |lbs. |yards | |
| ” |8 ft. |7 ft. |37 ” | ” | ” | ” |
| | |6 ins. | | | | |
|18-pr.|6 ft. |5 ft. |27 ” |6-4 |221-288| 2562-2668 yards |
|short | |6 ins. | |lbs. |yards | |
|12-pr.|9 ft. |8 ft. |34 ” |3½ |300 |1800 yards at most|
| long | |6¼ ins.| |lbs. |yards | |
| | | | | | | at 6° elevation|
| ” |8 ft. |8 ft. |33 ” | ” | ” | ” |
| |6 ins.| | | | | |
|12-pr.|7 ft. |7 ft. |29 ” | ” | ” | ” |
| |6 ins.| | | | | |
|short | | | | | | |
| 9-pr.|9 ft. |8 ft. |31 ” | ” | ” | ” |
| long | |6 ins. | | | | |
| ” |8 ft. |8 ft. |28 ” |3 | ” | ” |
| |6 ins.|6 ins. | |lbs. | | |
| 9-pr.|7 ft. |7 ft. |26 ” | ” | ” | ” |
| |6 ins.| | | | | |
|short | | | | | | |
| ” |7 ft. |6 ft. |25 ” | ” | ” | ” |
| | |6 ins. | | | | |
+——————+——————+———————+———————+——————+———————+——————————————————+

The guns at sea were invariably kept loaded, but the charges were
frequently drawn, as the powder deteriorated if left too long in the
gun. In action, when not in use, the crows, handspikes, rammers,
etc., were laid on the deck near the ship’s side. After an engagement
the sponges and rammers were hooked to the ship’s beams, above the
gun. The other implements were stowed under the gun. In action, the
priming-horn was hung to the beams between shots. After action it was
returned to the gunner and stored away in one of the magazines. Each
gun was fought by a gun’s crew of from eight to four men according to
the size of the piece.

The guns were generally painted a sort of grey-blue steel colour,
with a scarlet band round the muzzle.[15] Some captains merely
blackened their guns. Others blackened them, and kept the brass
sights and steel cap-squares polished. These were, however, in the
minority until 1811. One or two captains painted their guns a pure
white. After 1811 the custom of “spit and polish” began, to the great
misery of the sailors. Until that time the bright work of the guns
was generally painted over.

The carronade guns, which were mounted on all ships in addition to
their regulation iron ordnance, were the invention of a Mr Gascoine.
They were named after the town in Scotland where they were first
cast. They first came into use in 1779. They were short, squat
guns, ranging from about five to two feet in length, and flinging
balls of from 6 to 12 lbs. in weight. They were lighter than the
ordinary guns, and were therefore useful for the quarter-deck, and
spar-deck batteries. They were easily managed, and a crew of four
men could work the heaviest of them. They were mounted on sliding
wooden carriages traversing on a wheel, while the gun was so fixed
upon the carriage that it would slide in or out as desired. They were
not elevated by handspikes, like the iron main-batteries, for a screw
which passed through the iron pomelion gave them their elevation or
depression. The coins could be used to give extraordinary depression
if such were needed.

Being very short, the point-blank range of a carronade was small,
varying from 450 to 230 yards, according to the size of the gun. At
an elevation of 4°, at which a 32-pounder gun would carry nearly a
mile, the 32-pounder carronade carried less than 1000 yards. But at
close quarters the carronade was a much more terrible weapon than
any gun mounted on the lower-deck. At a short distance it made such
fearful havoc of a ship’s side that it was called the “smasher” or
“devil-gun.” It had several very serious defects. It was so short a
piece that, when run out, it barely cleared the sill of its port.
To fire it in that position endangered the rigging and ship’s side,
though no case has been reported of a ship having been set on fire
by the discharge of a carronade. Another serious defect was the
violence of the recoil, which sometimes split the carriage and
dismounted the gun. Admiral Bertie’s invention modified this evil,
but never overcame it. Carronades were loaded and fired in precisely
the same way as iron guns of the lower batteries.

The shot fired by guns and carronades was usually spherical or
“round-shot,” made of cast iron. Leaden round-shot was sometimes
used, apparently with great effect, but the cost was too great to
admit of its general use. A store of round-shot, scraped very clean,
was always carried in the shot racks on the gun-decks. These shot
were kept free from rust by paint or grease. Shot were sometimes
so thickly coated with rust, when brought from the hold, that they
would not enter the muzzles of the guns for which they were cast.
The officers generally endeavoured to keep fifteen or twenty rounds
of shot scraped clean in order to avoid the use of rusty balls until
the brunt of the fight was over. In close action another kind of
shot was used as a scourer or murderer. This was grape shot, “a
combination of balls,” weighing each 2 lbs., which were packed up in
cylindrical canvas bags, of the size of the cannon ball generally
used for the gun. A bag of 16 iron balls was used for a 32-pounder,
of 12 for a 24-pounder, and of 9 for an 18-pounder. The bags were
strongly corded into their cylindrical shape. These 2-lb. iron balls
could cut through chain, so that a discharge of them often helped
to bring down an enemy’s mast, by cutting the stays and standing
rigging. In hot actions, when the ships lay “yard-arm to yard-arm,”
close alongside each other, every second gun was loaded with bags
of grape-shot, because “in any close action they are capable of
committing infinite ravages against both men and material.” To
clear an enemy’s decks at close range, a kind of shot called case
or canister was sometimes used. This was made of leaden musket and
pistol bullets, or of shot of half-a-pound weight, packed up tightly
in tin cylinders. At very close range this sort of shot committed
most ghastly massacre, but it could not be used at a distance of
more than 200 yards, as the shot scattered over a wide area, and
so lost its effect. Chain shot, or two balls linked together by an
iron chain, was used to bring down masts and spars. Bar shot, or two
half-round shot joined by a bar was sometimes used, particularly by
the French. Bar shot were often frapped about with combustibles,
which ignited when the gun was fired, and so set fire to the sails or
hull of the opposing ship. Langrel, or langridge, was a collection
of old iron, nuts, bolts, bars, and scraps of chain, tied by rope
yarns into “a sort of a cylinder,” and so fired at masts and rigging.
Dismantling shot or shot made of half-a-dozen iron bars, “each about
two feet long, fastened by ring-heads to a strong ring,” was most
efficacious in tearing off sails, and bringing down masts and spars.
In close action, and when the guns grew hot, the charges of powder
were always reduced by at least a third. When the ships lay close
together, the charges were made very small, because shot which barely
penetrated a ship’s timber occasioned “the greatest shake,” and tore
off “the greatest number of, and largest, splinters.” As splinters
were nearly always more terrible (and more feared) than shot, the
gunners did their best to produce them. In some ships the opening
broadsides were fired with light charges in order that the bullets
might shatter the enemy’s timber and send the splinters flying.

The small-arms in general use in the Navy were the musket, the
musketoon, the pistol, the cutlass, the boarding-pike, the axe or
tomahawk, the bayonet, the sailor’s knife, and the midshipman’s
dirk. The musket was the weapon of the marines. It was a flint-lock,
muzzle-loading, smooth-bore, firing a ball of from 1 to 2 ounces,
with a charge of 4½ drachms of powder. It could be fired with
comparative certainty at any object within 100 yards. Its extreme
range may have been a quarter of a mile. It sometimes killed at
200 yards. Its barrel was ¾ of an inch in diameter. Its length,
from muzzle to pan, was 3 feet 6 inches. The musketeer carried
his cartridges in a box. In loading he had to bite off the bullet
from the top of the cartridge, so as to expose the powder. He then
sprinkled a little of the powder into the pan of the gun, snapped the
pan to, dropped the cartridge down the muzzle, rammed it home, with
the bullet on top, and then took aim and fired. The sailors were
drilled in the use of the musket whenever opportunity offered.

The musketoon was a short heavy musket with a big bore. It threw
a ball weighing from 5 to 7½ ounces. It was only used at close
quarters. Some musketoons had bell mouths, like blunderbusses.
They kicked very dangerously, but were most effective in repelling
boarders.

There were various kinds of pistols in use, some of them of more
than one barrel. The boarders, or men told off from each gun to
board an enemy’s ship, if occasion served, were always supplied with
at least two pistols for use at close-quarters. They were loaded
with cartridges, which had to be bitten like the cartridges of
the muskets. A boarder, in the rush and hurry of the hand-to-hand
fighting, had never time to reload after he had emptied his pistol
barrels. He flung the weapons away immediately he had burned his
cartridges, and laid about him with his cutlass, boarding-axe, or
boarding-pike. As a last resource he had always his sailor’s knife.
The cutlass was a curved heavy cutting sword, about 3 feet long,
with a black japanned hilt and basket-guard. The axe was a small
heavy axe, with a short steel head and a projecting spike. It was
used less as a weapon than as a tool for cutting the lanyards of
stays and shrouds, the running rigging, etc. etc. The boarding-pike
or half-pike was a spike of steel fixed on a staff of ash. It was
a very useful tool for the driving back of boarders. Rows of them,
diversified with tomahawks, were sometimes placed along the poop and
forecastle, with the hafts scraped clean, and the steels blackened.
The other small-arms, such as pistols and cutlasses, were stored in
arm-chests in different parts of the ship, and in stands about the
masts below decks. Sergeants of marines still carried halberds or
whole pikes, about 8 feet long, with heads which combined the spear
and axe, “so that they serve equally to cut down or push withal.”
With these instruments the sergeants aligned their files at muster or
inspection. As supplementary weapons some ships carried small swivel
guns in the tops aloft, to scour the upper-decks and tops of the
enemy at close range. A gun of this kind threw a shot of half-a-pound
weight. It mounted on an iron crotch, and had a long iron handle in
place of a cascabel, by which it could be turned and pointed.

Before closing this description of the naval armaments in use we must
give some short account of the gun ports. A gun port was a square
opening in the ship’s side, fitted with a heavy, hinged wooden lid,
opening outward. When closed, this lid was hooked to an iron bar to
keep it from swinging outward as the ship rolled. To open a port one
had to haul upon a rope, called a port-tackle, which led from the
inside of the ship through a round hole above the port, and thence
down to a ring on the outside of the lid. When the ports were open
to admit the air the guns were sometimes fitted with “half-ports” or
wooden screens, through which their muzzles pointed, but which kept
out most of the spray which dashed against the sides. The hinges of
the port-lids were protected from wet by little semicircular slips of
wood arched just above them. These slips were known as port-riggles.
The carpenters were expected to attend to the opening and lowering
of the ports, so that the lids, when opened, might all make the same
angle from the ship’s side.

In some ships the centres of the port-lids were fitted with thick
glass bull’s-eyes, which admitted light when the ports were battened
in.

[Illustration: A THREE-DECKER]

FOOTNOTES:

[7] This ring or thimble was sometimes cast on the piece above the
pomelion.

[8] As the natural roll of the ship was more marked on the lee side,
the lee guns were always fitted with strong train tackles, which were
strained taut by one of the crew of each gun.

[9] The tompion was secured to the gun muzzle by a lanyard. It was
generally painted red, with a gilt cross.

[10] In 1812 one of the main-deck guns of H.M.S. _Bacchante_
discharged itself suddenly, without apparent cause. The leaden apron
was in its place, no fire had been near the gun, and no violent
concussion had shaken the ship. The ball killed a midshipman, and
narrowly missed the captain of a flagship. The cause of the explosion
was never discovered. _See_ “Donat O’Brien’s Adventures,” p. 321. Ed.
1902.

[11] When the gun fired red-hot shot, as in many general actions, the
wad driven down upon the powder was a disc of green wood, wrapped
about with yarns.

[12] The French invariably fired as the ship rose from a roll. Some
English Admirals preferred to fire as the ship began to roll, so that
the shot might strike the hull of the enemy either above or below the
water-line.

[13] More frequently they were held in the hand.

[14] Misfires were not infrequent. The priming powder sometimes
fizzled and smoked, without setting fire to the charge. On these
occasions the gun’s crew stood aloof till all appearance of smoke
had faded from the touch-hole, when the captain crept up cautiously,
cleaned out the vent, and reprimed the gun.

[15] Guns were often painted red to match the carriages and ship’s
sides.

CHAPTER III

The quarter-deck officers—The captain—The lieutenants—The master,
second master, and master’s mates—The midshipmen—The midshipman’s
berth

The captain[16] of a man-of-war, on receiving his appointment to a
ship, at once repaired on board her, wherever she then lay, first
obtaining from the master-attendant of the dockyard a new narrow
pendant, a swallow-tailed piece of red-and-white bunting to hoist
at her masthead. Having repaired on board, and hoisted his pendant,
the captain read his commission, or “read himself in,” before the
caretakers and old seamen aboard the ship. He then set about fitting
her for the sea (if she were a new ship) with all possible dispatch;
and an Admiralty Order forbade his sleeping ashore, without express
permission from his superiors, until his ship was paid off. He had to
examine all guns, gun-carriages, muskets, cutlasses, and small-arms
when they were hoisted on board, and to reject any faulty weapon. He
had to keep inventories of all stores sent aboard, and counterparts
of the inventories of his warrant officers—such as those of the
boatswain and gunner. He kept an account of the ship’s provisions,
showing the daily expenditure of junk and spirits. He had “to use his
best endeavours to get the ship manned,” by the dispersal of alluring
placards all over the town near which he lay, promising “quick
promotion, heaps of prize-money, free rations,” etc. etc. to all who
would enter. He was also expected to open a rendezvous at a sailor’s
tavern, where the master-at-arms and coxswain could blarney sailors
into joining. Sometimes he was able to offer a bounty or money-reward
to every seaman who entered. If neither sugary announcements nor
the offer of a piece of gold could lure men to the living death of
a gun-deck he had to have recourse to the press. He would send his
boats ashore after dark, in command of lieutenants or master’s mates,
to search the dockside brothels and sailors’ taverns. Any sailors or
seafaring folk discovered in these haunts were dragged from the arms
of their trulls and taken aboard. Often the press-gangs had to fight
to bring off their men, for the women and bullies sometimes rallied
to the rescue. Many a bold lieutenant had his cheeks scratched or his
hair pulled out, and many a bold tarrybreeks got his head broken in
these encounters. The gangs never took firearms on these excursions,
but contented themselves with stretchers and cudgels (such as wooden
belaying pins). They generally carried cutlasses, but “more for
their majesty to astonish the enemy,” than for actual use.

Press-gangs made great havoc among watermen and dockside labourers.
They were expected primarily to capture sailors and seafaring people,
but “a man-of-war, like a gallows, refused nothing,” and any landsmen
served their turn. They were, at least, “mortal men,” and did as well
as any others to stop a bullet or to feed powder. Marryat mentions
a ship which was manned by the men of nineteen nations, professing
among them, some fifty-seven different trades. Tailors, little
tradesmen, street loafers, all were fair game. They were taken to the
boats and sent aboard, and cracked across the heads with a cudgel if
they protested. When once on board they were shoved down below-decks,
under a marine sentry who had orders to shoot them if they attempted
to escape. When convenient the captain examined these wretches, as
to their fitness for the sea-service. He had them examined by the
surgeon, to make sure that they were not infested nor infected. Any
man who appeared to be too sickly for the work was discharged. A
dirty man was cleaned, and his clothes fumigated. Apprentices who
could produce their indentures, or merchant-sailors who could claim
exemption, were dismissed. All the others were carefully retained.
Many pressed men made the best of a very hard bargain by offering to
ship within a fortnight of their impressment. Those who acted thus
were allowed the King’s bounty, and won for themselves (to some
extent) the good opinion of the officers.

This way of impressing folk was but one of the ways by which a
captain could get his fleet manned. Men condemned at the sessions
were sometimes offered the hard alternative of the gallows or
service afloat. Often they chose the greater of the two evils.
Absconding debtors, and those pursued by the redbreasts, or Bow
Street Runners, were frequently eager to ship to avoid capture. A
number of men shipped because they had had their heads turned by
sea-songs or similar cant, describing the beauty of life afloat,
etc. Large numbers were sent from London by the Lord Mayor. These
were generally young bloods or bucks, who had been found drunk in
the streets or bawdy houses, and feared to see their names in the
police-magistrates’ lists, and police-court reports. They were known
as “my Lord Mayor’s men,” and very bad bargains they generally were.
It was reckoned that one-third of each ship’s company was composed of
landsmen, and that one-eighth of the entire number of men serving in
His Majesty’s ships were foreigners.

Having got a crew together by these gentle means, the captain had
to see to it that each man’s name was entered in the ship’s books,
particularly the muster book, in which a sort of prison record was
kept to enable the officers to identify deserters. The colours of a
man’s hair and eyes were noted. His chest measurement was taken. His
tattoo marks were described. If the man deserted, these particulars
were sent to the Admiralty, with an account of the escape. The
muster books were kept with great care, and submitted every month or
two months to the Admiralty. They contained among other matter the
records of any deductions to be made from the pay of the members of
the crew.

At sea the captain was responsible for the ship, and for all on
board her. He had to see that the lieutenant made out his quarter
bills allotting the hands to their stations. He kept the keys of
the magazines, and saw to it that sentries guarded those places, to
prevent the entry of unauthorised persons. He had to be vigilant to
prevent all possibility of fire, by forbidding candles in the cable
tiers or at the breaking out of spirits from the spirit-room. He
was to order all lights out at 8 P.M. each night. He was to forbid
smoking “in any other place than the galley.” He was to see the men
exercised at the great guns, and with their small-arms. He had to see
that the colours were “not kept abroad in windy weather.” He had to
keep a journal in duplicate, for the benefit of the Admiralty; and at
the end of a cruise he had to send an account “of the qualities of
his ship” to the commissioners. He had charge of the sea-stores known
as slops, such as bedding and clothing, which he sold to those of the
crew who needed them. He had to keep his ship clean, dry, and well
ventilated, by having the decks swept and scrubbed, the ports opened,
the wells and bilges pumped, and windsails (or ventilators) fitted
to expel the foul air from the hold. He was to punish transgressors,
discourage vice and immorality, defend his country’s honour, keep
secret the private signals, and “burn, sink, and destroy” as much of
the enemy as he could. These are but a few of the forty-eight duties
required of him.

The captain’s share of prize-money was “three-eighth parts” of the
value of the prize. His pay varied from about 6s. to 25s. a day,
in accordance with the importance of his command. The captain of
a 74 received 13s. 6d. a day. Until 1794, he was allowed to have
four servants for every 100 men aboard his ship, a regulation which
afforded him an opportunity to provide for his friends and poor
relations. A captain in the old time frequently put to sea with a
little band of parasites about him. They stuck to him as jackals
stick to the provident lion, following him from ship to ship, living
on his bounty, and thriving on his recommendations. When one reads
of a distinguished naval officer having been “a captain’s servant,”
it does not mean that he blacked the captain’s boots, mixed his
grog, and emptied his slops, but that he entered the service under
a captain’s protection. Nelson was a “captain’s servant” to Captain
Maurice Suckling on the guard ship at Chatham, but he was very far
from being Captain Suckling’s flunkey. The system was bad, and much
abused, but it lingered until 1794, when it was abolished, and a
money compensation paid to the captains. It had been attended with a
curious privilege. A captain removing from one ship to another was
allowed to carry with him not only his servants, but his boat’s crew,
his coxswain, some of his warrant officers, his clerk and purser, and
a number of able seamen. From a first-rate ship he could take, in
all, 80 men; from a second-rate, 65; from a third-rate, 50; from a
fourth-rate, 40; from a fifth-rate, 20; and from a sixth-rate, 10.

Those who have trembled under the command of a sea captain will not
need to be told of his powers and dignities. A captain of a ship at
sea is not only a commander, but a judge of the supreme court, and
a kind of human parallel to Deity. “He is a Leviathan,” says the
scurrilous Ward, “or rather a kind of Sea-God, whom the poor tars
worship as the _Indians_ do the Devil.” There was no appeal from a
sentence pronounced by such an one. His word was absolute. He had
power over his subjects almost to the life. That he could not touch,
without the consent of his equals, but he had the power to flog a man
senseless, and authority to break some of his officers and send them
forward. He had power to loose and to bind, and perhaps no single man
has ever held such authority over the fortunes of his subordinates
as that held by a sea captain over his company at sea during the
Napoleonic wars. He lived alone, like a little god in a heaven,
shrouded from view by the cabin bulkheads, and guarded always by a
red-coated sentry, armed with a drawn sword. If he came on deck the
lieutenants at once shifted over to the lee side, out of respect to
the great man. No man on board dared to address him, save on some
question relating to the duty of the day. No sailor could speak to
him with his hat upon his head. One uncovered to one’s captain as
to one’s God. When he came aboard, after a visit to the shore, he
was received with honour. The “side-boys,” dressed in white, rigged
the green or red side-ropes to the gangway, and stood there, at
attention, to await his arrival. The boatswain, in his uniform, went
to the gangway to “pipe the side”—that is, to blow a solemn salute
upon his whistle—as the august foot came on to the deck. The marine
sentry stood to attention. A number of midshipmen and other officers
and men fell in upon the quarter-deck. As the captain stepped on
board, all hands uncovered. The ship became as silent as the tomb,
save for the slow solemn piping of the boatswain. The captain saluted
the quarter-deck, and passed aft to his cabin, generally paying not
the very least attention to the assembled worshippers. The same
ceremony was performed when the captain left the ship.

The captain stood no watch, and did not interfere with the ordinary
working of the ship until something went wrong. He lived alone in his
cabin, eating in solitude, save when he desired his lieutenants and
midshipmen to dine with him. On these occasions he graciously unbent.
Smollett has painted for us a brutal captain, and Marryat and Mitford
have shown us a type which was, we trust, more common in the service.
Some captains were, perhaps, the most cruel and tyrannical fiends
ever permitted on the earth. There were never very many of this kind,
but there were enough to make a number of our ships mere floating
hells. They could single out and break the heart of any man whom they
disliked. They could make life a misery to every man under them.
They could goad a crew to mutiny, and then see them hanged at the
yard-arm. It was a little thing to captains of this stamp to cut the
flesh off a man’s back with the cat-o’-nine-tails, swearing placidly,
as the poor fellow writhed at the gratings, that, “by God, he would
show them who was captain, that he would see the man’s backbone, by
God.” We know that other captains were respected and loved, and we
read of ship’s companies putting their shillings together to purchase
silver plates, as keepsakes for such commanders, at the conclusion
of a cruise. It must, however, be borne in mind that the sailors
really preferred a man who was, in their terms, “a bit of a Tartar.”
They liked to sail with a smart and strict seaman who knew his duty,
and made his men do theirs. They disliked slack captains as much as
they disliked what they called “rogues,” or tyrants. When a mild
and forgiving captain came aboard a ship, either on a visit or to
command her, there was little interest displayed. But when a “rogue”
or a “taut hand” came alongside there was a general rush to the ports
to see the man.

The state of the ship, the happiness of her crew, and the success of
her voyage depended on the captain. In those days “every ship was a
separate navy.” Each captain had his own theories, and to some extent
his own routine. He had also his own whims and fancies, with power
sufficient to enforce them. Some captains took a delight in causing
their crews to dress uniformly, in the slops supplied by the purser.
Others took a great delight in inventing fancy uniforms for their
coxswains and gigs’ crews. A smart captain liked to dress his gig’s
crew in some distinctive dress—such as scarlet frocks, white hats,
blue trousers, and black handkerchiefs; or white-and-blue guernseys,
with white jackets and small-clothes. Some captains went to strange
lengths to gratify their tastes. We read that the gig’s crew of
H.M.S. _Harlequin_ were dressed up as harlequins, in parti-coloured
clothes, to the great delight of the rest of the ship’s company. We
are also told of a gig’s crew in kilts, with Scottish bonnets on
their heads and worsted thistles on their jackets.

The captain’s uniform varied a good deal during the forty-seven
years of Nelson’s life. At first it was a blue coat, with lace at
the neck, blue lapels, white cuffs, and small flat gold buttons.
A white-sleeved waistcoat, white knee-breeches, and white silk
stockings completed the dress. The hat was a three-cornered black
hat edged with gold lace, and bearing a cockade. At the time of
Trafalgar, the lapels were white, the cuffs were striped with gold,
the collar was stiff instead of drooping, and the waistcoat was
no longer sleeved. A black cravat was worn about the throat. A
straight dress-sword was worn, but its form was not prescribed by the
regulations. The hat was the ordinary cocked hat worn athwartships.
The hair was worn long, in a queue, tied with black silk ribbon.
Powder or flour was used to dress this queue. It must be borne in
mind that many captains wore pretty much what uniforms they pleased.
Epaulettes came into use towards the end of the eighteenth century.
They were of heavy gold stuff, hanging down in tassels from a central
gold pad. Captains of over three years’ rank wore them on both
shoulders.

The lieutenant, “the officer next in power and rank to the captain,”
commanded in the captain’s absence. A ship of the line carried
from three to eight lieutenants, who took precedence according to
the dates of their commissions. The first lieutenant was a sort of
captain’s proxy, who did all the work, in order that the captain
might have the glory. He was responsible to the captain for the
working of the ship, for the preservation of discipline, and for
the navigation of the vessel from point to point, according to the
captain’s orders. He stood no watch at night when the ship was at
sea, but he was expected to pass his days about the decks, and to
come up in times of danger during the night watches. A lieutenant of
the watch had to see that the helmsmen kept the ship to her course,
that the log was duly hove every hour, and that the rate of sailing
was marked on the board. He had to see that the men were alert and
smart, at their proper stations, and ready for any sudden order. He
had to keep the midshipmen and master’s mates to their duty. He had
to muster the watch, to keep the ship in her station, and to report
strange sails and shifts of wind. He was to see that the look-out men
at the mast-heads and elsewhere were awake, and were not kept too
long at their stations. If at night, in war time, a strange sail was
sighted, he had orders to send a midshipman to the captain with the
news. While the captain dressed he got the ship ready for action,
keeping her out of gunshot of the stranger till all was ready. In
the night he had to take particular care that the master-at-arms
and corporals made their regular half-hourly rounds of all parts of
the ship “to see that there is no disturbance among the men; that
no candles nor lamps are burning, except those which are expressly
allowed; and that no man is smoking tobacco in any other place than
the galley.” Twice in each watch a lieutenant had to send one of
the carpenter’s mates to sound the ship’s well, and to see that
the lower gun-deck ports were securely closed and barred. At the
same time he had to send the gunner’s mates to examine the lashings
of each gun and to reeve double tackles or breechings if the guns
were straining. In the morning he had to receive reports, from the
boatswain as to the state of the rigging, and from the carpenter as
to the state of the masts and yards. Any defects had to be reported
to the captain. In addition to all these duties he had to keep an
eye on the admiral’s signals, to answer them directly his signalman
reported them, and to record them carefully in the ship’s log. At
night he had to see that lanterns were lit, and unshotted guns
loaded, in case night signals had to be made. He had also to see that
the cabin windows and other ports were closed so that the ship’s
lights might not be seen from a distance. In foggy weather he had to
order the fog-signals, such as the firing of guns, beating on the
drum, or striking of the ship’s bell. He had to keep a log-book in
the prescribed form, which volume he had to sign, and submit to the
Navy Board, when he wished to receive his pay.

In action he commanded a battery of guns, and saw to it that the men
kept at their quarters, and fought their guns with spirit. He had to
take especial care that no loose powder was strewn about among the
guns, and that the gun-captains took good aim at the enemy before
firing. At all other times he had to “prevent all profane Swearing
and abusive Language; all Disturbance, Noise, and Confusion.”[17] He
was to see that the men kept themselves clean “by washing themselves
frequently,” that the hammocks were often scrubbed, and the frocks
and trousers washed. Junior lieutenants had charge of the ship’s
muskets, and exercised the seamen in musketry; for about 80 out of
every 100 sailors had to be instructed in the use of the musket,
to fit them for fighting ashore, should the service require it. In
the absence of the captain, the lieutenant commanding might put
an officer under arrest, or confine a man in irons, but he might
not release nor punish any officer or man so confined, unless the
captain were absent “with leave from the Admiralty”—_i.e._ for some
considerable period, during which the lieutenant held his power.
Lastly, the lieutenant had to keep all boats from coming alongside or
leaving the ship without his express directions.

A lieutenant was often despatched on a press-gang to rout out the
watermen and the sailors in the merchant vessels. “When the Ship has
been sufficiently depopulated by ill-Usage,” says Edward Ward, “my
Spark is detached ashore, with some choice Hounds, to go hunt out a
fresh Stock ... he and his Bandogs together make a woeful Noise in
all the Sea Port Towns round the Kingdom; he beats up all Quarters,
and rummages all the Wapping Ale-houses, as narrowly as he would a
Prize for the Indies. In fine, he’s a perfect Hurricane in a little
Town, and drives the laggard Dog along the Streets with as much Noise
and Bustle, as Butchers do Swine at Smithfield.”

The uniform of a lieutenant at the time of Trafalgar was as
follows:—A coat of a rather bright blue, with white cuffs, white
lapels, gold anchor-buttons, and long tails, was worn over a white
cloth waistcoat, white knee-breeches, and white stockings. The
sword was slung in a belt worn over the shoulder. The hat was a
three-cornered black hat, with a cockade. It was generally worn
athwartships.

Though this was the prescribed costume it was often departed from.
Lord Dundonald mentions a first lieutenant, who received him on his
joining the navy. He “was dressed in the garb of a seaman, with
marline-spike slung round his neck, and a lump of grease in his hand,
and was busily employed in setting up the rigging.” Captain Glascock
mentions another who “was dressed in a blue white-edged coat, which
displayed here and there a few straggling anchor-buttons of different
dies; to which was added a buff, soup-spotted vest, a pair of
tarred nankeen trousers, and an old battered broad-brimmed leathern
hat.” This “homely habit” was splashed with pitch and whitewash.
Michael Scott mentions another, as wearing “a curious _wee_ hat
with scarcely any brim,” a worn old coat, “a dingy white Kerseymere
waistcoat” and a pair of “ancient duck trousers.”

Next in rank to the lieutenant, and in early days his superior, was
the master. His chief duty was to “conduct the ship from port to
port” under the direction of the captain. He controlled the sailing
of the ship, the trimming and setting of her sails, and the guidance
of her movements during a battle. He had, moreover, the charge of
the stowage of the hold. He had to repair aboard his ship before she
shipped her “iron and shingle” ballast, for it was one of his duties
to see that the ballast put aboard was sweet and clean, and properly
stowed. He had to superintend the shipping of the coals and firewood,
and to note that a sufficient quantity was shipped to last the vessel
for the period for which she was victualled. When provisions came
on board he had to examine them to prove their soundness. He had to
stow old provisions on the top, so that they might be eaten first.
He had the care of the cable-tiers and spirit-room, and had strict
orders not to allow a naked light to be carried into the latter
place, lest the fumes of the rum and brandy should take fire. On no
account whatsoever was he to quit the after hold while it was open.
He had charge of the water-casks, but he was not allowed to pump out
fresh water, for the use of the crew, without the captain’s express
commands. Every evening he had to examine all beer and water-casks,
in order to report to the captain the quantity of water and beer
remaining. He had to examine the cables to see that they were dry
and clean, and clear for running. He had to keep the anchor clear
when the ship rode to single anchor. He had to see that the standing
rigging was well set up, and in good condition. He had to check the
boatswain’s and carpenter’s accounts. He had to overhaul the sails in
the sail-rooms to see that they were dry, in good order, not damaged
by rats, etc.

Every day he had to find the ship’s position, both by dead reckoning
and by the altitude of celestial objects. When in foreign waters,
near a coast, it was his duty to survey the inlets, from one of the
ship’s boats, keeping a most careful record of all soundings and
bearings taken. He was to compare his own observations with those
marked on the printed charts supplied to him. At noon, when he took
the height of the sun, he had to call up his mates, with a proportion
of midshipmen, with their quadrants, both to assist him and to teach
them their business. He had to superintend the writing of the log
book by his mates, who entered up all details of the weather, ship’s
position, expenditure of stores, and daily happenings, etc. etc.,
from the reports and records of the ship’s officers. When the ship
was in need of rope it was his duty to attend at the rope-walk to
see the rope made, in order that the rope-maker should not waste his
rope-yarns. Many masters sought to improve their pay by qualifying as
pilots for some of the home and foreign ports.

First, second, and third rate ships carried what were known as second
masters; while ships of all rates carried “master’s mates” to assist
the master in the dirtier parts of his business. These master’s mates
had to write up the log book, keep the fore yards trimmed, heave the
log each hour, or half-hour, and keep the rates of the chronometers.
They had also to attend in the hold when casks were being shifted.
They were responsible for the discharge of various minor duties
during their night-watches. In port they sent the midshipmen on
periodical tours round the ship, “to attend to the hause,” and to
keep the men from lounging along the gun-decks. At night, at sea,
they generally called the relieving lieutenant at the end of a watch.
During the daytime a master’s mate took charge of the lower-deck,
and forbade “wrangling in the galley,” or disorderly bawling about
the waist, and the washing of clothes on days not set apart for that
duty. He had to see that the cables and cable gear were in good
order; that the wash-deck buckets were in their places; and that
sand-boxes or tin spittoons were always placed in the galley for the
convenience of smokers. Another master’s mate kept watch upon the
main-deck to keep the deck as clear as possible, and to superintend
all duty done in the waist. He had to keep the top-sail sheets clear
for running, to attend the serving out of the beef, and the mixing of
the wine and spirits.

A master’s mate kept a record of the messes, for the assistance
of the first lieutenant. He had to see to the numbering of the
hammocks, the fixing of the hammock battens, the lashing and slinging
of the hammocks, and the carrying of the scrubbed hammocks to the
clothes lines on deck. He had to attend the “early dinner” at
half-past eleven in the forenoon, when the helmsmen, sentries, and
look-out men, who came on duty at twelve, had their food served out
to them half-an-hour before the rest of the crew. Lastly, he was
in command of the port-lids, and had to see them properly sloped,
closed, or opened, according to the state of the weather; with the
port-sills clear of sailor’s property, such as hats or handkerchiefs.

A master’s uniform was practically the same as the captain’s, save
that the lapels and cuffs were blue, instead of white. A master’s
mate wore a plain blue frock, with gold anchor buttons. The white
knee-breeches, and white kerseymere waistcoats, were supposed to be
worn by both ranks. Master’s mates were often too poor to obey the
strict letter of the regulation. They wore what clothes they had, and
were not ashamed to purchase seamen’s gear from the slop-chest.

Midshipmen, who were a step lower in the ship than master’s mates,
were generally taken aboard ships of war by the captains commanding.
They owed their appointments to interest. The captains took them
to oblige their relations, or in return for the cancelling of a
tradesman’s bill, or to curry favour with an influential family.
As a rule, a midshipman was entered directly aboard the ship, as
a “first-class volunteer,” in which case he had to serve two years
before he became full midshipman. But by passing two years at the
Naval Academy at Gosport, the young man was enabled to ship as a
midshipman on his first going to sea. In Nelson’s time midshipmen
sometimes began their sea-service at the age of eleven, or even
younger. After 1812, no boy was borne on a ship’s books until he
was thirteen. An exception was admitted in favour of the sons of
officers, who were allowed to be entered at the age of eleven.
A first-rate ship carried 24 midshipmen; a second-rate, 18; a
third-rate, 12; and fourth and fifth rates a proportionate number.
The midshipmen of sixth-rates, and unrated vessels, were despised,
and looked down upon, as a low lot, not to be recognised by those in
crack ships.

Until the age of fifteen, the first-class volunteers, or midshipmen,
were called “youngsters.” They slung their hammocks in the gun-room,
and messed, as a rule, by themselves, under the supervision of the
gunner, who kept their clothes in order, and catered for them. In
frigates it would seem as though they went at once to the steerage,
to mess with their seniors. Those of them who were not perfect
in their navigation, nautical astronomy, and trigonometry, were
taught, every forenoon from nine till twelve, by a duly certificated
schoolmaster, who drilled them very carefully in the sea-arts and
sciences. The schoolmaster was expected to reprove and repress
the slightest immoral tendency his pupils displayed. He had also
strict orders to report the idle and vicious to the captain. The
schoolmaster was nearly always the ship’s chaplain, who received £5
from every midshipman he instructed. In those ships which carried
neither schoolmaster nor chaplain the captain himself taught the
youngsters, and made them bring up their quadrants to take the sun
at each noon; and refused to let them sup until they had worked out
“the ship’s position” by dead reckoning or the altitude of the sun.
When the school hours were over, and the ship’s position found,
the youngsters were sent on deck, in their respective watches, to
learn their duty. They were looked upon as the slaves of the first
lieutenant, who generally used them as messengers. They were usually
employed on boat service, and sent to and fro in the ship’s boats
when the ship was in port. When at sea they had to mix much with the
men in order to learn their duty. They were expected to keep order
when the men were at the braces or aloft, or at general quarters,
and to report those who were idle, noisy, or absent. They had to
stand their watch at night like the lieutenant, but as the officers
were divided into three watches, which had eight hours below to
every four hours on deck, this was not a very terrible hardship.
They had to see the hammocks stowed in the morning, and to report
those sailors whose hammocks were badly lashed. They had strict
orders not to lounge against the guns or ship’s sides. They were
not allowed to walk the deck with their hands in their pockets.
Some captains made the midshipmen responsible for the working of
the mizzen-mast, and sent them aloft to furl the mizen-royal and
mizzen-topgallant-sail whenever sail was shortened. The midshipmen
were expected to go aloft with the men to learn how to furl or reef
a sail, how to bend and unbend canvas, how to set up rigging, and
all the other arts of seamanship. Midshipmen were always stationed
in each top when sails were being furled, in order to cheer up the
men to a lively performance of their duty. Other duties given to them
were the supervision of the hoisting in of stores; the command of
watering parties; mustering the men at night; watching the stowing
or cleaning of the hammocks—and generally fetching and carrying for
their commander and tyrant the first lieutenant. In the night-watches
they had to keep awake upon the quarter-deck, “to heave the log and
mark the board,” and to be ready to run any errand for the officer of
the watch.

When they had reached the age of fifteen, and had been duly rated
as midshipmen, they became “oldsters,” with increased pay, freedom
from the schoolmaster, and an allowance of grog. At this stage
they shifted from the gun-room into the midshipmen’s berth on the
orlop deck, in the after cockpit, where they messed with the past
midshipmen (who had qualified as lieutenants and awaited promotion)
and with the master’s mates. After another two years they were
qualified to take the examination for master’s mates, provided they
had perfected themselves in navigation and in seamanship. At the
age of nineteen, if they could prove that they had had six years
of sea service, they were allowed to go before the Navy Office
examiners (or a quorum of three sea-captains) to be examined as to
their fitness for the post of lieutenant. It was not essential that
they should first have passed the examination for master’s mate, but
many midshipmen took this preliminary step, as it qualified them to
navigate prizes into port.

The pay of a midshipman varied in the different rates. Aboard a
first-rate, he received £2, 15s. 6d. a month; aboard a third-rate,
£2, 8s.; and aboard a sixth-rate, a bare £2. A first-class volunteer
received £9 a year, from which £5 were deducted for the schoolmaster.
It was essential that a first-class volunteer or midshipman should
have private means. For a volunteer some £30 or £40 per annum was
considered sufficient. For a midshipman the necessary annual sum
ranged from £70 to £100 according to the station on which his ship
served. Foreign stations, owing to the ruinous exchange, were more
expensive than the Channel or the Mediterranean. The sum, whatever
it was, was paid in advance to the captain’s agent, particularly
in the case of the youngsters, so that the captain was able to
check extravagance among the boys, and to keep them from “vice and
idleness” when the ship was in port.

A midshipman wore a dirk or hanger, when in uniform. His working
coat was cut short, like the round blue jacket of a man-of-war’s
man. His uniform was a blue tail-coat lined with white silk. It was
of good blue cloth, ornamented with small gold anchor-buttons, and
with a white patch on the collar, known as a turn back, or a “weekly
account.” His breeches and waistcoats were of thin jean or white
nankeen. His hat was three-cornered, high and smart, with a gold
loop and a cockade. For foul weather he had a glazed hat. Round his
neck he wore a black silk handkerchief. His shoes were black. His
shirts were of frilled white linen. In heavy weather he wore a frieze
overall, known as a watch-coat, and waistcoats of scarlet kerseymere.
This was the ideal, or prospectus, midshipman, of the sort the poor
child imagined before he came up a ship’s side. There were other
kinds.

After a long absence from port, when the lad’s clothes were worn
out or stolen, or “borrowed,” he had to purchase clothes from the
slop-chest or go in rags. The boys seem to have been treated with
the utmost laxity. In many ships they were allowed to be slovenly.
We read of a midshipman coming on to the quarter-deck with only one
stocking, with a dirty shirt, torn coat, and wisps of straw in his
shoes. For the rough sea service this attire was quite fine enough,
and a down-at-heel appearance was not reckoned disgraceful. When
asked to dine with his captain, the mid. took greater pains with
his appearance, and borrowed from all who would lend, in order
to appear neat. In battle, and when at sea, he wore his oldest and
dirtiest rags. For boat service he was required to dress with greater
nicety, in order that the honour of the ship might be maintained
among the shore-goers.

[Illustration: A MIDSHIPMAN’S FIRST INTRODUCTION TO THE BERTH]

A midshipman’s mess was not a pleasant place. It was generally below
the water, in the after cockpit, in a dingy den, lit partly by a
lantern, and partly by a thick glass scuttle, crusted with filth,
let into the ship’s side. From deck to beam it measured, perhaps,
5 feet 6 inches, so that its inhabitants had to uncover as they
entered it to avoid crushing their hats against the ceiling. Twelve
feet square was reckoned fairly large for a berth. Any berth big
enough for a fight when the chests had been cleared away was looked
upon as roomy. The atmosphere so far below water and the upper air
was foul and noisome. The bilges reeked beneath the orlop in a
continual pestilential stench, unlike any other smell in the world.
Near the berth, as a sort of pendant to the bilges, was the purser’s
store-room where the rancid butter and putrid cheese were served out
once or twice a week to the ship’s company. Farther forward were the
cable-tiers, with the tarry, musty smell of old rope always lingering
over them. In many ships a windsail or ventilator led from the deck
to the berth to relieve the midshipmen with a little fresh air.

There was not much furniture in the midshipmen’s mess. Nearly all had
a table, not from any generosity of the Government, but because the
table was wanted for the surgeons in their operations after battle.
This table, at meal-times, was covered with a cloth or old hammock,
which had to last a week. The cloth was used at meal-times as a
dish-cloth and knife-and-fork cleaner. At meals the table was lit by
tallow dips or purser’s glims, stuck in beer or blacking bottles.
After meals, and for state occasions, “the green cloth,” a strip of
dirty baize, was substituted. For seats the “young gentlemen” used
their chests. There was no decoration on the walls or bulkheads
of a berth. Nails hung with clothing, quadrants, boxing gloves,
single-sticks, hangers, etc. etc., were the only decorations ever
known there. Some berths may have had lockers to contain their gear,
bread-barge, table utensils, and sea-stores. Some may have had a
tank to hold the allowance of fresh water. The berth was kept clean
by a mess-boy, a dirty, greasy lad, unfit for anything else. This
worthy washed the weekly table-cloth, and saw to the cooking. All
midshipmen were blessed with other servants, known as “hammock men.”
These were either old sailors or marines, who compounded to lash and
stow, and carry down and unlash, the “young gentleman’s” hammock for
the sum of a glass of grog, payable each Saturday night. For further
considerations of grog or tobacco the hammock man sometimes washed
the young gentleman’s shirts while the ship was at sea. In port, the
linen went ashore to some reputable, or disreputable, washerwoman,
who was lucky indeed if she saw the colour of her money.

The berth was the home of the elder midshipmen, the master’s mates,
the captain’s clerk, and, at times, the assistant surgeons. As some
of the midshipmen, in nearly all ships, were nearer forty than
twenty, and as many of the master’s mates were grey-headed men, the
berth was not the place for little boys, especially when the rum
was flowing towards 8 P.M. The elders seem to have understood as
much, for they had a custom of sticking a fork in the table, or in
the beams above it, directly the first watch was set. As soon as
the fork was in its place every youngster and youth at once retired
to his hammock, so that the old grizzled veterans had the board to
themselves. Probably they were good-hearted fellows in the main, if
a little rough from the life, and a little soured by their long and
unrewarded service. But, if one or two writers may be trusted, their
conversation was not well calculated to improve the mind. Indeed, in
one or two ships, the veterans had a rule that no one should join
their nightly rum-drinkings till he had passed an examination in
vice. Youngsters who disregarded the signal of the fork were given
a few minutes’ grace, after which the signal was repeated. If “the
geese” remained “in the berth” after the second signal, they were
colted (or whipped with a knotted cord) and flicked with twisted
handkerchiefs till they scattered out to their hammocks.

The food served out to the young gentlemen was the same as that
issued to the men. The King’s provisions were generally supplemented
by little niceties, purchased in port by the caterer of the mess.
This worthy was usually a master’s mate of some authority in the
berth. Each member of the mess paid him from £3 to £5 on joining
the ship, and about £1 a month while the ship was in commission.
The caterer expended this money as he thought fit. Before leaving
England he used to lay in a great supply of potatoes and onions,
which he stowed in the lockers, or under the table, or in strings
dangling from the beams. Dutch cheeses, for the manufacture of a
midshipman’s luxury called “crab,” were also purchased, together
with tea and coffee and small stores, such as pepper and sugar. In
port the caterer purchased “soft Tommy” (or shore bread) and boxes
of red-herrings. The ship’s allowance of spirits was so very liberal
that it was not necessary to add to it. A pint of navy rum a day was
sufficient, or should have been sufficient, for any man.

Captain Chamier, Captain Marryat, Jack Mitford, Captain Sinclair,
Captain Glascock, Augustus Broadhead, and the author of “The Navy
at Home,” have all painted vivid pictures of the life in the
midshipmen’s berth. It was rough and ready, and sufficiently brutal.
There was a good deal of noisy horseplay, a good deal of vice and
cruelty, and a little fun and sea philosophy, to allay its many
miseries. A midshipman lived on “monkey’s allowance—more kicks than
halfpence,” and had to put up with bullying and injustice unless
he was strong enough to hold his own. A weakling was robbed of his
fair allowance of food, and imposed upon in other ways, as by tardy
relief at night, after keeping his watch on deck, etc. A thin-skinned
or sensitive boy was out of his element in such a place. There was
no privacy aboard a man-of-war. A student or scholar had little
opportunity for reading. Down in the berth, during the daytime, there
was a continual Dover Court (“all talkers and no hearers”) so that
study there was out of the question. A midshipman was continually
fighting, quarrelling, or playing the fool. The berth was a sort of
bear-garden, a kind of “sea-Alsatia,” which not even the captain
would control or keep in order. From the central darkness of the
steerage many cutting-out expeditions were organised against the
captain’s steward or the purser, or anyone with anything eatable or
drinkable. The berth was always the noisiest and most lawless place
aboard. With fiddling, singing, shouting, and fighting[18] the mid.
passed his leisure. He was careless of all things save his dinner
and his sleep. As for his duty one has but to consult the authorities
to see how he regarded that.

According to Lord Cochrane’s lieutenant there was no “such a thing
as a faultless midshipman.” According to others the breed thought of
nothing but gormandising, and were so greedy that “though God might
turn their hearts, the very devil could not turn their stomachs.” The
young gentlemen were seldom out of hot water. The usual punishment
inflicted on them was mast-heading, by which a lad was sent to the
top-mast, or topgallant cross-trees, for several hours at a time.
This punishment was often the cause of the loss of a meal, for no
member of the berth thought of the absent one at the division of the
meat or soup at dinner. In some cases a mid was mast-headed for a
full twenty-four hours, during which time he had to depend on the
topmen for his meat and drink, if he failed to steal down privily to
lay in a stock. The punishment of mast-heading in sunny latitudes
was not very severe. Most midshipmen used to look upon it as a
pleasant relaxation. They could lash themselves to the cross-trees
and fall asleep there during daylight in fine weather, while at night
they could creep down unobserved to the top, to take a nap on the
studding-sails, after telling the topmen to answer for them if hailed
from the deck. Some lieutenants took a shorter way with midshipmen.
They would lash or “spread-eagle” the offender in the weather
rigging, some half-a-dozen ratlines above the hammock nettings.
In this position, with his face to windward, and his arms and legs
widely stretched, the midshipman cooled in the wind for an hour
at a time, with the spray sprinkling him at brief intervals. This
was severe punishment, usually given for sleeping while on watch.
Another punishment for the same offence was dowsing, or drenching
the offender with a bucketful of water poured from a height. This
was known as “grampussing,” or “making him a soused gurnet.” Some
captains even went so far as to order the boatswain’s mate to rig
a grating in the cabin, and to lay the offending midshipman either
on that grating or on a convenient gun, and to give him a dozen
with a colt, or knotted rope’s end. Jack Mitford mentions a case
of this sort, and a case occurred on the Australian station in
the early forties. In the latter case the offending captain was
court-martialled, and severely reprimanded, “which was nuts to every
midshipman in the service.”

The midshipmen’s berth was governed partly by the strong arm and
partly by certain laws designed to give an air of justice to the
cruelty they recommended. Any member of the mess caught eating, or
drinking rum, in the berth, on the day on which he dined in the cabin
or ward-room, was sentenced to be firked or cobbed with a stockingful
of sand, a knotted rope, or a cask’s bung stave. In extreme cases
“faulty relief,” by which a lad was kept on deck after his watch was
out, was punished in the same way. Anyone caught taking an unfair
share of the rum was firked or cobbed, provided that he was not too
big a man to tackle.

As for amusements, one did not come to sea for pleasure. It
is significant that the chief amusement or game in use in the
midshipmen’s berth, was “able whackets,” a pastime in which cards,
blasphemy, and hard knocks were agreeably mingled. Other amusements
they had none, save that old one, mentioned by Cervantes, of laughing
at sea-sick persons. A green hand, or Johnny Newcome, was fair sport
for his first few days aboard, but tying knots in a lad’s sheets, or
putting a slippery hitch upon his hammock lanyard, or stowing round
shot and swabs under his blankets, soon failed to amuse the jokers.
Cutting a man down as he slept; hiding his trousers in the oven in
the galley; sending him to the top to gather gooseberries or to hear
the dog-fish bark, or to get the key of the keelson, or to find
Cheeks the marine—all of these little tricks were jests of the sea
humourist, designed to sharpen the wits of the greenhorn. Borrowing a
new chum’s clothes was a more questionable piece of humour, for the
lender seldom saw his gear again, unless he had sufficient strength
to back his claim. Making a newcomer drunk on navy rum and sending
him on deck, with a message to the officer of the watch, was yet
another jest. There were one or two others, which we will forbear to
mention.

A midshipman was expected to “turn out” of his hammock at half-past
seven every morning. If he hesitated, and lingered on the order, and
turned, like the sluggard, instead of showing a leg, he was very
promptly cut down and hauled from his blankets by main force. When
he had turned out he washed himself in a little tin basin, balanced
on the lid of his chest. He was allowed to wash every day, unless
the supply of fresh water was running short. He then dressed, and
blacked his boots, and cleared up his sleeping quarters, so that the
breakfast table should not be littered with blacking brushes, soap,
or wet towels. At eight he took his breakfast of tea and biscuit, or
cocoa and porridge. At nine he went to the schoolmaster.

Although many midshipmen were mere children they had “extraordinary
privileges, which they abused extraordinarily.” They were officers,
and therefore powerful. A midshipman had power to bully and
maltreat all those beneath him. Aboard H.M.S. _Revenge_, just
before Trafalgar, under a captain so strict and just as Robert
Moorsom, there was a midshipman who amused himself by climbing on to
gun-carriages, and calling to him the strongest and finest of the
sailors. It was this little devil’s pleasure to kick and beat the
poor fellows without cause. He was an officer, and to resent his
cruelty would have been mutiny. A midshipman had but to complain to
a lieutenant to get a man a flogging at the gangway. He had full
leave and licence to curse and misname any seaman who displeased
him. It was in his power to follow a man day after day, visiting him
with every oppression that malice could suggest. The seaman had no
remedy. Appealing to Cæsar, the captain, was worse than useless. The
man had to grin and bear it, and count himself lucky if he escaped
the cat-o’-nine-tails. “By the god of war,” said Sir Peter Parker to
his seamen, “by the god of war, I’ll make you touch your hats to a
midshipman’s coat, if it’s only hung on a broomstick to dry.” There
was no redress to be gained from men holding opinions of that kind.

FOOTNOTES:

[16] It is hardly necessary to say that a captain was junior to a
commodore, or senior captain, and to an admiral, or flag officer.
The admiral commanded squadrons of ships; the commodore, detachments
from those squadrons. The present work is of too narrow a scope
to allow of any consideration of their respective duties. We must
confine ourselves to an account of the usual officers aboard a ship
of war. Those curious to learn about commodore and admiral will find
plenty of information in Burney’s “Falconer,” and the various Naval
Histories.

[17] The lieutenant had perhaps improved in manners since Edward
Thompson’s time, when “a chaw of Tobacco, a ratan, and a rope of
Oaths,” were counted sufficient qualifications for a lieutenancy.
Still, as many lieutenants were mates pressed out of merchant ships,
there were many in H.M. ships who encouraged the chief faults
mentioned in this article.

[18]

“’Twas folly trying
To read i’ th’ _Berth_—for what with shying
Hats about—and playing flutes,
Backgammon—Boxing—Cleaning Boots,
And other such polite pursuits.
Skylarking—Eating—Singing—Swigging,
And Arguments about the Rigging,
‘This Mast how taut!’ ‘That sail how square’
All Study had been fruitless there.”

_Thus Jack Mitford from his gravel pit in Battersea._

CHAPTER IV

The civilian and warrant or standing officers—The surgeon—The
surgeon’s assistants—The chaplain—The boatswain—The purser—The
gunner—The carpenter—Mates and yeomen—The sailmaker—The ship’s
police—The ship’s cook

The surgeon, who messed with the ward-room officer, and slept in a
cabin near the ward-room, had to pass an examination at the Transport
Board, in addition to that imposed by Surgeons’ Hall, before he could
receive his warrant. He was “generally the most independent officer
in the ship,” as his duties were essentially different to those of
the executive. He had charge of the sick and hurt seamen, of the
medicines and medical comforts, and of the ship’s hygiene generally.
On coming aboard a ship commissioning he had to examine the doctor’s
stores, and to see them duly stowed away in the medicine-chests or
sea-dispensary below-decks. When the newly raised or pressed men
were brought aboard he had to sound them and examine them, not only
for their fitness for the service, but for any trace of infectious
or contagious disease. When the “quota men,” or my Lord Mayor’s men,
came before him he caused hot water to be prepared, so that the men
could have their heads shaved, and their bodies scrubbed “from clue
to earring,” and their clothes very jealously boiled before they
mixed with the crew. At sea he had charge of the sick-berth, or
sick-bay, a small sea-hospital shut away from the rest of the ship by
wooden screens covered with canvas. As a rule this sick-bay was in
the forecastle, on the starboard side, but sometimes circumstances
made it necessary to pitch it on the orlop-deck, out of the way of
the enemy’s shot. Any sailor who felt sick reported himself to the
surgeon, or his assistants, in the forenoon. If he was found to be
ill he was removed from duty, and sent into the sick-bay, where a
certain number of the “waisters,” or least necessary of the crew,
acted as nurses to him. These sick-bay attendants kept the place
scrupulously clean, well fumigated, and sprinkled with vinegar.

A surgeon’s most common duty at sea was the dressing of ulcers,
to which the seamen were very subject. In Smollett’s time the
assistant-surgeon had to repair daily, in the forenoon, to the space
about the fore-mast, where his loblolly-boy, or dresser, banged
a mortar with a pestle, as a signal to the men to repair on deck
to have their sores dressed. In ships newly commissioned, typhus,
gaol, or ship fever was very common. The surgeons, as we have seen,
did all they could to prevent it, by disinfecting the quota men,
and by boiling or burning all “cloathes” brought from “Newgate, or
other suspected Prisons.” In spite of all they could do the gaol
fever destroyed large numbers of sailors every year. At sea the
most dreaded complaint was the scurvy. Surgeons had standing orders
to examine all those seamen who appeared in the least dejected or
sickly. The sailors disliked the sick-berth, and always hesitated
to report themselves when ill, because those in the sick-bay had to
go without their grog and tobacco. The lieutenants sometimes helped
the surgeons to pick out a sickly man before his ailment had fully
declared itself. By these means the epidemical complaints were kept
under. If a surgeon detected the least trace of scurvy in a man he
had to see that the fellow received a daily dosing with lime-juice,
a drink then newly instituted as an anti-scorbutic. Some ships which
had no lime juice used essence of malt, or molasses, or raw potatoes,
for this purpose.

A surgeon was expected to have a number of dressings always prepared,
in case the ship should “be suddenly brought to action.” He was
also expected to instruct the crew in the use of the tourniquet,
so that men with shattered stumps might have some chance of living
until the surgeon could take up their arteries. He was to visit
sick and wounded men twice daily, to see that the sick-bay stove,
of “clear-burning cinders,” was kept alight, and to make a careful
record not only of the sick men treated, but of the means taken to
prevent infection. A wooden ship, built of wood improperly seasoned,
was always damp and foul, “tending to produce disease and generate
infection.” The ballast was often dirty; the water in the bilges
was always putrid; the hold and orlop were badly ventilated; and the
gun-deck was packed like a sardine tin with several hundreds of men,
not all of whom were even tolerably cleanly in their habits. It was
a surgeon’s duty to ask the captain to fix a general washing-day
once in each week, whenever there was plenty of rain water, so that
the men’s clothes might be washed and then dried in the sun. At
intervals he was to ask that all the hammocks should be aired on
the forecastle, the lashings taken off, the blankets shaken, and
the mattresses hung in the sun. Now and then he had to fumigate
the ship. The most common means of doing this was by burning a
preparation of gunpowder, soaked in vinegar, in iron pans about the
decks. The powder sputtered for a long time, sending out a quantity
of acrid smoke, which was reckoned a powerful disinfectant. Burning
flowers of sulphur gave good results, and many found fires of fir
wood satisfactory. In dock, when a ship was very badly infected,
they seem to have used tobacco, burning it in great pans about the
gun-decks, with the ports and hatches closed, and the men standing at
their quarters “as long as they can bear it.” Sometimes the seamen’s
kit bags were hung up over “pots of burning brimstone.” Sometimes
pots of burning brimstone were placed between the guns and sprinkled
with vinegar. A very wholesome practice was the immersion of red-hot
irons, called loggerheads, into buckets of tar. This last method was
generally used to disinfect the sick-berth, when there were many sick. A
surgeon was expected to ask the captain from time to time to cause
iron fire buckets, containing burning charcoal, to be lowered into
the hold. The red embers were sprinkled with vinegar and brimstone
as soon as the buckets were in position. The well, the bilges, and
the recesses of the hold, were thus both dried and disinfected at the
same time. Another way of fumigation was by pouring sulphuric acid
and the powder of nitre upon heated sand. After Nelson’s death this
was the plan generally adopted.

In spite of all the fumigations the ships were never free from
unpleasant smells: the dank fusty smell of dry-rot, the acrid and
awful smell of bilge water, and the smells of decaying stores and
long defunct rats. Windsails and canvas ventilators were always
fitted, in fine weather, to drive pure air into the recesses; but
fine weather is the exception, not the rule, to the north of the
fortieth parallel. The ships were sometimes battened down for days
together, till every inch of timber dripped with salt water and the
condensation of the breaths of many men. One who knew these old ships
has testified that “there was always more or less stench” aboard the
best regulated ship, but that the stench was less penetrating, and
the danger of infection always slighter, in those ships which were
frequently dried by portable fires. A diligent surgeon, if he had the
fortune to sail with a sensible captain, could do much to better the
condition of the entire ship’s company.

The sick and wounded men were treated with comparative humanity.
They were given nightcaps, hair mattresses, free vaccination, and
sheets of real linen. The cook was sometimes bidden to boil up some
“sowens,” or “flummery,” from the ship’s oatmeal for them. The very
sick were given soft bread and “portable soup.” When fish were
“caught for the ship’s company,” they got the first helping. When
the officers had any fowls or similar delicacies in the ward-room,
they often sent portions forward for the sick-bay, with any wine they
had. But there were, nevertheless, certain cruel regulations in force
which made the lot of some of the sick men sufficiently terrible.
Lint was reckoned too expensive to be used for the washing of wounds.
Sponges were used instead, but the supply of sponges was limited,
and, in action, one sponge was often used to dress the wounds of a
dozen men. This practice naturally favoured the spreading of various
common forms of blood-poisoning. A man with a slight cut or abrasion
ran a very good chance of losing a limb by the poison of an infected
sponge. Another most barbarous restriction limited the supply of
mercury, as “being requisite only for complaints that might be
avoided.” A man attacked by one of those complaints was not allowed
to leave his duty, he was mulcted more than two weeks’ pay for the
medicines he drew, and no care was taken to separate him from his
uninfected shipmates.

At the beating of the drum to quarters, the surgeon and his
assistants were expected to repair to the after cockpit, to fit it
for the reception of the wounded. Some of the non-combatants, such
as the purser, the stewards, the chaplain, and the captain’s clerk,
accompanied them, to help the wounded men according to their power.
The midshipmen’s chests were drawn together, into a kind of platform.
A sail was strewn over the top of them in several folds, as a sort
of couch for the maimed men. In those ships in which the midshipmen
were without a table the chests were used for the operation-table,
though they were too low for comfortable surgery. When the operating
table had been cleared, some large candles were placed upon it, in
tin sconces, to give light to the surgeons. Other candles, in heavy
ship’s lanterns, were arranged about the bulkheads. A portable stove
was lighted, for the heating of oils, etc., during the operations.
A kid of water was generally heated there, in which the surgeons
could warm their saws and knives before commencing amputations. They
did this, not as a modern surgeon would do it, to sterilise the
steel, but in order to prevent the torture caused by the coldness
of the metal against the raw flesh and bone. At the sides of the
table were ranged several kids or half-tubs, some of them empty, to
receive amputated limbs, some of them full of water for the washing
of the surgeon’s arms, or for the cleansing of wounds. Close to
the operating table were some opened bottles of spirits for the
refreshment of those very weak from pain and loss of blood. There
were also full supplies of styptics, bandages, sponges, tourniquets,
saws, knives, etc. etc., all ready to hand, under a good light.

Before the firing began, the surgeon and his assistants stripped to
their shirts, rolled up their sleeves to the shoulders, and braced
themselves for a very ghastly experience. A few minutes after the
fighting commenced, the wounded came down, supported or carried by
their shipmates, who laid them on the operating table, and on the
platform prepared for them. A few minutes firing at close range would
generally send a dozen or twenty wounded men to the surgeons. It
was the strict, inviolable rule, that a wounded man should take his
turn. The first brought down was the first dressed. No favour was
shown to any man, were he officer or swabber. The rule was equitable,
but not without its disadvantages. Many men were so torn with shot
or splinter that they bled to death upon the sail long before the
surgeon worked his way round to them. The sailors were indeed taught
the use of the tourniquet, but it is one thing to adjust a tourniquet
on a mate’s arm, at the word of command in a quiet drill hour, and
quite another to fix it upon a stump of raw flesh that is pumping
blood, in all the fury and confusion of a sea-fight. Not many of the
men brought down to the surgeons were properly bandaged.

A ship’s cockpit during a battle must have presented a lively
picture of hell. There was the long narrow space shut in and
cramped by the overhead beams and lit by the evilly smelling
tallow candles. Up and down the deck in rows were the wounded, on
their bloodstained sail. Every now and then some heavy feet padded
down the hatchway, announcing the advent of another sufferer. Up
above was the thundering of the leaping and banging cannon, which
roared irregularly, shaking the ship in every timber. Nearer at
hand were the poor wounded men, some of them stunned, and chewing
placidly; others whimpering and moaning, some screaming and damning.
Up and down the rows went the chaplain and civilians, with weak
wine-and-water, lime juice, etc., for those in need of drink. In the
centre of the piece, bent over the table, were the operators, hard at
work. There was no time for lengthy diagnosis. The wound was always
self-evident, red, and horrible. Its extent and seriousness had to
be guessed from a glance. The surgeon’s first act was to rip off the
bloody clothes with his scissors, to bare the wound. A single hurried
look had to suffice. From that look he had to determine whether
to amputate or to save the limb, whether the wound were mortal or
worth dressing, etc. etc. If he decided to amputate, he passed his
ligatures as a man would take turns with a hammock-lashing. The
assistant gave the patient a gulp of rum, and thrust a leather gag
into his mouth, for him to bite upon in the agony of the operation.
After that, it took but a moment to make the two cuts, and to apply
the saw, while one assistant held the patient’s body, and another the
limb or fragment of limb which was coming off. There was really no
time for delay. Men were perhaps bleeding to death at every second
and it behoved the surgeons to hurry with each case.

The assistant-surgeon was generally a young man fresh from Surgeons’
Hall. He was expected to keep a record of all cases brought before
him, to visit the sick in the sick-bay, and to do his best to
cheer them. He dressed the men’s ulcers every forenoon, and had
control of the slighter general cases. A first-rate ship carried
three assistants; other large ships, two: and the smallest, one. An
assistant surgeon sometimes accompanied wooding and watering parties,
particularly in those places where the men were likely to be long
ashore. It was his duty on these expeditions to look after the health
of the men, to keep them from drinking putrid water, and eating acid
fruits in the heat of the day. In tropical climates he dosed them
religiously, twice every day, with a heavy dose of “bark” in a glass
of wine.

Neither the surgeon, nor his assistants, wore uniform until the
beginning of 1805. The pay varied with the length of service. A
surgeon who had served twenty years, received 18s. a day. One who had
served six years received 11s. a day. The assistants had to serve
three years before they ranked as full surgeons. There were three
grades of assistant surgeons, and the regulations enforced a year of
service in each grade. The pay of the lowest grade was 4s. a day. The
other two grades received 5 s. a day. Both surgeon and assistants
were expected to supply their own instruments.[19] Their medicine and
other gear were supplied by the Government. When not employed aboard
the King’s ships, or in the King’s naval hospitals, the surgeons and
assistants drew half-pay.

The chaplain of a ship of war (he was generally known as the rook,
the psalm-singer, or the sky-pilot) had to be a clergyman of the
Established Church. Many ships carried a chaplain, for the Admiralty
instructions compelled them to accept any properly recommended
clergyman “of good moral character,” who cared to offer himself
for the berth. It is not certain what position chaplains held in
the ships of Nelson’s time, but they probably had cabins “in the
ward-room or gun-room,” and ranked and messed with the ward-room
officers. They received a stipend of about £150 per annum, with an
extra allowance for a servant, and a bounty of £20 a year to all who
qualified as schoolmasters at the Trinity House. The captain had
orders to see that the chaplain received “every proper attention
and respect, due to his sacred office.” He had also to order the
ship’s company to hear divine service and a sermon every Sunday
morning, “if the duties of the ship, or the state of the weather do
not absolutely prevent it.” He had, moreover, to use his influence
to support the chaplain, by preventing “all profane cursing and
swearing, all drunkenness, gaming, rioting and quarrelling, and in
general everything which may tend to the disparagement of religion,
or to the promoting of vice and immorality.” The chaplain, for his
part, was expected to take care of the midshipmen, and to teach
the ship’s boys (or cause them to be taught) their catechisms and
the Holy Scriptures. The boys who said their catechism well were
rewarded with sixpences. Those who were idle or stupid were punished.
The chaplain had to attend the sick and wounded in the sick-bay or
cockpit, “to prepare them for death, and to comfort or admonish
them.” Those who died at sea were buried by him at the gangway in the
presence of all hands. Those who were killed in action were generally
thrown overboard without service of any kind. In some ships, even
as late as the battle of the Nile, it was the custom for the ship’s
company to muster to prayers before going in to battle. In times of
stress, in storm, when the ship was on fire, or sinking, etc. etc.,
the chaplain was to set an example of Christian fortitude, and to
cheer the men to their duty while the danger lasted. Captain Glascock
tells a tale of a chaplain aboard the _Mæander_, who took his spell
at the pumps to encourage the seamen. Marryat tells of another, who
helped to put out a fire.

Some ships carried a schoolmaster in addition to the chaplain. It was
the duty of the schoolmaster to teach the young gentlemen the art
of navigation for two or three hours each morning. A schoolmaster
received from £2, 8s. to £2 a month, with a bounty of £5 for each
midshipman in his class. He messed with the ward-room or gun-room
men, wore plain or civilian clothes, and slept in a cabin near
the ward-room, or in the steerage. To receive an appointment as
schoolmaster one had to pass an examination in navigation before the
authorities at Trinity House.

Next in importance to the second masters, and ranking above the
master’s mates and midshipmen, was the boatswain, an officer, indeed,
but a warrant or standing officer, not “on the quarter-deck,” like
the gentlemen we have been describing. A boatswain had charge of the
“boats, sails, rigging, colours, anchors, cables and cordage.” He was
generally an old sailor, grizzled and tanned, who knew his business
as well as it could be known. No man could be appointed boatswain
until he had served a year as a petty officer, to the satisfaction
of his captain. On receiving his warrant he was expected to get his
stores on board, and to examine every inch of rigging in the ship, in
order to test its soundness, before the ship sailed. When at sea he
was expected to make such an examination daily. On going into action
he had to see that the chains, etc., for repairing the rigging,
were in their places. He had to keep an eye upon the sailmaker, and
to see that the sails in the sail locker were properly stowed, and
kept dry. He was one of those officers honoured with “all night in.”
He worked on deck at the discharge of his duty, from sunrise to
sunset. He slept at night either in his cabin in the fore cockpit
or in a favoured place upon the lower-deck, where double the usual
swinging space was allowed for his hammock. He had a distinctive
uniform, of blue cloth, with blue lapels and collar, white or blue
trousers, according to taste, and gold anchor-buttons on the coat,
cuffs, and pockets. His hat was the usual glazed, low top-hat, with
a cockade on one side. He wore linen shirts or woollen jerseys just
as he pleased. About his neck hung a thin silver chain, supporting
a silver whistle—the badge of his office. When an officer gave an
order the boatswain sounded the call peculiar to that order, and
shouted the order down the hatchway, while the boatswain’s mates,
his assistants, repeated it, till the ship rang with the noise.
Directly the order had been given, the boatswain and his mates
slipped down the hatchways, and hurried the crew to their duty with
their colts and rattans. A boatswain always carried a cane, the end
of which was waxed and “tip’d with simple twine-thread.” He had the
power to thrash the laggards, and to cut at those who did not haul
with sufficient fervour when the men were at the ropes. “This small
stick of his,” says Edward Ward, “has wonderful virtue in it, and
seems little inferior to the rod of Moses, of miraculous Memory; it
has cured more of the Scurvy than the Doctor, and made many a poor
Cripple take up his Bed, and walk; sometimes it makes the Lame to
skip, and run up the Shrouds like a Monkey.” The boatswain’s cane and
the colts of his mates continued to do execution till after 1815,
when they were gradually laid aside. The privilege of the cane was
very much abused. It encouraged the warrant officer to treat his
subordinates cruelly, and the lives of those subordinates were made
sufficiently miserable as it was.

In action the boatswain was stationed on the forecastle, which he
commanded. At all times the boatswain had to see that clothes,
etc., were not hung up to dry in the rigging. He had to take care
that the ship’s fresh water was not diverted for the washing of the
seamen’s clothes or hammocks. He had to keep the yards square when in
port, and at all times he had orders to prevent ropes or lines from
trailing overboard. Once a day, in fine weather, he was expected to
lower a boat and row round the ship, to see that her outward trim
was satisfactory, and that nothing needed to be repaired. In the
mornings, when the hands were turned up, he had to go below with
his mates to see the berth-deck cleared of hammocks. Laggards and
sluggards who did not turn out, or hurry their hammocks away, were
then enlivened by the colt or the cane. Those whose hammocks were
not lashed up and stowed by eight bells, or 8 A.M., were reported to
the officer of the watch. Their hammocks were taken from them, and
locked up for a month in the boatswain’s store-room. The sluggard
had to pass that month without a hammock as best he could, sleeping
under the guns, or on deck, or in the tops, in considerable misery.
Slighter punishments were meted out to those who did not number their
hammocks so that they could be readily identified. The boatswain took
his meals in his cabin in the fore cockpit. He had a ship’s boy to
wait upon him, or, at least, shared a boy with the carpenter. In a
home port, when the ship was laid up “in ordinary” (_i.e._ not in
commission), the boatswain remained on board, with his mates and
yeomen, and a few other standing officers, to help the dockyard men
in their dismantling or rerigging of the vessel. While “in ordinary”
the boatswain stood watch at night, to prevent desertion, or fire,
etc., and to keep away shore boats bringing contraband (such as
drink) to the men on board. His pay varied from about £4, 16s. a
month in a first-rate to about £3 a month in a sixth-rate. His
assistants—the rope-maker, yeomen, and boatswain’s mates—received
from two guineas to two guineas and a half a month. One of the last
of the boatswain’s privileges or duties was that of “piping the side”
when a captain came aboard. Lastly, he had charge of the boats when
they lay in-board on the booms. One of the boats, either the yawl or
the long boat, was under his care at all times, just as the captain’s
gig or dinghy was always in charge of the coxswain.

[Illustration: A FRIGATE IN CHASE, GOING FREE]

The boatswain’s mates, his immediate subordinates, were chosen from
the very best seamen on board. They were the leaders or drivers
of the crew, and generally the finest men in the fleet. They wore
no uniform, but the pay they received, being £2, 5s. 6d. a month,
enabled them to wear neater clothes than the seamen. They had the
unpleasant duty of flogging misdemeanants at the gangway. They slept
in favoured places on the lower-decks, with rather more space for
their hammocks than was allowed for a seaman. The boatswain’s yeomen,
who kept the boatswain’s stores in order, generally slept in the
wings, near their post on the orlop-deck.

Ranking with the boatswain as a standing or warrant officer, and
drawing exactly the same pay, was the purser—the officer in charge
of the ship’s provisions. A purser, like a boatswain, received his
warrant direct from the Admiralty, but the fore-mast man had no
chance of becoming purser without friends and influence. A purser was
not usually promoted to his post for merit. He was generally a friend
of the captain, one of the captain’s “followers” or servants, going
with him from ship to ship, and feathering his nest very handsomely
from every cruise. A purser could not receive his warrant till he
had served a year or eighteen months as a captain’s clerk, or keeper
of the ship’s books. The captain usually appointed his own clerk,
or at anyrate recommended his own choice for the appointment. He
had therefore considerable power over his purser, and often shared
the plunder that worthy gathered. Before a man could commence duty
as a purser he had to sign a bond, giving “two proper and competent
persons as his securities.” The “penal sum” mentioned in this bond
varied considerably, according to the size of the ship. The purser
of a first-rate had to find securities for £1200; for a third-rate,
£800; and for a sixth-rate, £400. This regulation made it impossible
for a man without influence to obtain a purser’s place. Very often it
led to grave abuses, for it frequently happened that the guarantors
came forward with their securities merely to get the purser into
their clutches. As a purser’s sureties were generally merchants, it
followed that the purser was frequently squeezed into buying their
goods, at their prices, to the prejudice of the poor sailors. In many
cases the purser bought his place as captain’s clerk, by bribing both
the captain and the Admiralty officials to give him the appointment.
When he had qualified himself he bought his warrant as purser in the
same way, trusting to his own dishonesty to recoup himself.

A purser had to see that the ship received her full quantity of
water, spirits, and provisions. He was expected to examine the meat
and bread, to make sure that all was sound, and stowed in sound
casks. He was to have the key of the purser’s store or steward-room,
on the orlop-deck. Twice a day, if the captain gave the order, he
had to open this room, to serve out provisions to the cooks of the
messes, weighing every atom with scrupulous care. The times of
serving out were generally from seven to nine in the morning, and
from six to eight in the evening. To encourage him to be careful and
thrifty he received a bonus on the provisions remaining with him at
the end of a cruise, when the ship was paid off. He also received 10
per cent. on all sums paid to the crew “for savings of provisions.”
He was allowed a certain sum for the waste of casks, sacks, and iron
hoops, but he was expected to pay for all deficiencies in excess
of that sum. He had to provide the ship with “coals, firewood,
turnery-ware, candles, lanterns, etc.,” out of a sum known as
Necessary Money, which the Government allowed to him. He received, in
addition to the Necessary Money, an annual allowance “upon passing
his account”—a sort of Government reward for probity. This reward in
a first-rate ship amounted to £25.

A purser was expected to exert himself to save the public money as
much as he could. Old and bad meat, which had been in salt for a few
years, was often issued to him in new casks, with new marks upon
them. A purser had to see that this old meat was issued before the
new salt meat was broken open. “The purser,” says the regulation,
“is to issue out first such part thereof as he shall have perceived
most liable to decay.” His most important duty was the keeping
of the ship’s muster book, a lengthy folio, in which the name of
every person “belonging to, or borne on the books of, the ship,”
was carefully entered, with some short description of the man, to
enable the runners to trace him if he deserted. The entire crew were
mustered from this book every tenth day while at sea, and immediately
after every action. Any man who was absent without leave for three
successive musters was marked with an R, for run—_i.e._ deserted. A
man so marked lost all the pay due to him. The book marked the date
of all discharges from the service, with the cause of such discharge,
“whether it be death, desertion, or otherwise.” In addition to the
muster book a purser had to keep very careful and minute accounts
of the expenditure of the provisions. If the supplies ran short he
had to superintend the purchase of a fresh stock, if there were no
“instrument of the Victualling Office” at the port where the ship
refitted.

A most important duty allotted to the purser was the keeping of
the slop books. “Slops” were the sailor’s clothes and sea-bedding,
supplied by the naval storekeeper to every ship in commission. The
slops were placed in the slop-room on the orlop-deck in the care of
the purser. Seamen and pressed men who came aboard destitute were
allowed to purchase from the slop-room to the amount of two months’
pay. After this first purchase they were allowed to spend 7s. a month
in slops if they could show that they really needed them. No man
was allowed to buy slops until he had received a written permission
from his lieutenant. Seamen in rags, or in want of bedding, could be
forced to purchase slops, to the amounts just mentioned, so that
no man appeared disreputable as long as the slops held out. As the
gear supplied from the slop-room was of uniform pattern, the crews
of the ships were generally dressed alike. The slops usually carried
were white canvas kit-bags, scarlet marine tunics, blue coats,
waistcoats, and trousers, checkered blue-and-white shirts, black silk
wrappers, Dutch, fur and worsted caps, straw mattresses, blue or
brown blankets, thick woollen stockings, heavy weather trousers, and
the usual seaman’s frocks and shoes. As the shoes usually worn were
low, the slop-room generally contained a supply of silver buckles for
those seamen who liked to be neat. The purser who had charge of the
slops at sea received a shilling in the pound on all sales, from the
contractor who sent the goods to the navy storekeeper. A similar sum
was paid to him on the sales of dead men’s effects, which were sold
publicly by auction on deck directly the man had died. No man was
allowed to bid at these auctions unless he could prove that he was in
real need.

The dishonesty of pursers has long been proverbial. There may have
been honest pursers, but they were in the minority. They were usually
rapacious sharks, who bought their places, and made hay while the sun
shone. Their robberies and knaveries affected the sailors more than
the Government. The sailors had no redress, and the Government system
was so faulty that the frauds were never brought to light. A purser
had many ways of making himself rich at the expense of the poor tar.
At the time of which we write he was probably a less open thief than
his forerunners in peculation—the pursers of Queen Anne and the later
Stuarts—but he was no less clever in turning a dishonest penny. A
very favourite way of making money was the old way of adulterating
the ship’s wine, or giving vinegar in lieu of wine.[20] “He oft-times
turns Water into Wine, and Wine into Water, with one mere Fiat to his
Steward.” Another most lucrative way was that of getting a man “lent”
to another ship, or sent ashore, thereby forfeiting his wages. When a
man had been sent out of a ship in this way the purser neglected to
strike his name off the books. When the ship was paid off the purser
would forge a pay-ticket for the amount due to the poor fellow, and
draw the whole sum. The slops were always sold at more than their
value, so that the amount of the commission might be more handsome.
Slops were also sold to dead men, and charged upon the dead men’s
wages. The purser drew his commission on the sale, and kept the
slops so sold. It was often said that a purser could make a dead man
chew tobacco. He could also make a corpse buy clothes, and drink
his allowance of grog. By restricting the supplies of firewood, and
of the vile tallow dips or candles, a purser was often able to make
something out of his Necessary Money. In those ships in which he was
in league with the captain he found it possible to keep live stock,
such as hogs or cattle, on the oatmeal charged to dead sailors.

A purser’s uniform was exactly the same as that of a boatswain.
Being usually of more gentle breeding than a boatswain, he wore a
three-cornered cocked hat, instead of the glazed, sailor’s top-hat.
He also wore white knee-breeches and white stockings, instead of
trousers. In action, he either retired to his berth below the
water-line, out of danger of the shot, or went to the cockpit to
moisten the lips of the wounded with weak rum-and-water or lime
juice. In some ships he was placed in command of the powder passers,
a line of men engaged in handing cartridge boxes from the magazines
to the gun-deck. In those ships to which the naval storekeepers sent
Bibles and prayer-books it was the duty of the purser to distribute
the books to the ship’s company, under the direction of the chaplain.
After December 1798 the ships were supplied with tobacco by the
Victualling Board. The purser had charge of the tobacco during the
cruise, and received a commission on all he sold, with a small
“allowance for wastage.” He was not allowed to sell more than 2lbs.
of tobacco in the month to any man, nor might he charge more than
1s. 7d. a pound for the commodity. A purser’s steward (the creature
appointed to assist a purser) seems to have received about 35s. a
month for his services, with the privileges of standing no watch and
sleeping on the orlop-deck.

Ranking with the boatswain and purser, as a standing or warrant
officer, was the gunner, the officer appointed to take charge of the
ordnance and ammunition. He was generally appointed after twelve
months’ service as a petty officer, if he could pass a _vivâ voce_
examination in the art of gunnery. His first duty on getting aboard
a ship fitting for the sea was to place the gun carriages at their
respective ports, and to superintend the reeving of the breechings
and side-tackles. He was assisted in this duty by a little gang of
men placed under his orders, and known as the gunner’s mates and
gunner’s crew. When the guns came on board from the storekeeper he
had to examine them, and see them mounted in their carriages. He
had next to examine the magazines, to test them for damp, to clean
them, and to see them hung with felt. He was to prove the locks on
the magazine padlocks, and to make sure that a set of felt or soft
leather slippers was always hanging near the hatch, for use by all
folk entering the magazine. When the ship took aboard her powder it
was his duty to see all lights extinguished throughout the ship, save
the lanterns in the light-rooms which lit the powder-magazines. He
had to lock the magazines when the powder was shipped, and deliver
the keys to the captain. At sea he had to examine the ship’s guns,
and to see that they were ready for action. He had to take care
that each gun was fitted with crows, sponges, etc., and that the
“cheeses,” or nets of gun wads, were ready beside each gun carriage.
He had also to see that the shot racks running down the ship’s
sides along the waterways and round the coamings of all the hatches
were filled with scraped and hammered shot. He had also to prepare a
quantity of “match,” and to keep it ready for use in the match tubs,
and to see that none of it was burnt during the day, and that “two
lengths” of it were kept alight at night over tubs of water. He had
to see the tops supplied with powder and hand-grenades. He had to
keep his canvas grape-shot bags exposed to the sun and wind, so that
the canvas might not moulder. He had to receive the stores issued
for the use of the armourer, and to superintend that official in his
cleaning and scouring of the muskets and small-arms. He had to keep
the gun-tackle blocks well greased, so that they might work easily.
He had to turn his powder barrels end for end from time to time,
to prevent the separation of the nitre from the other ingredients.
He was to fill a supply of cartridges for immediate use. In battle
he was to make use of any lull in the firing to keep this supply
undiminished. Before an action he had to hang up wetted frieze
blankets round the hatchways leading to the magazines. He had also to
go the round of the gun-decks, to make sure that every gun was ready
for action. From time to time, in fine weather, the gunner was to air
his stores, under a marine sentry, on the upper-deck. At all times he
was to examine the guns and their fittings at least once a day, and
to report their condition to the lieutenant. He was also expected
to instruct the “people”—_i.e._ the ship’s company—in gunnery, a
duty which he sometimes neglected. He slept and messed with the
junior midshipmen in the gun-room. He had one servant, or ship’s
boy, allotted to him, to wait upon him, while his store-rooms, etc.,
were kept clean by his mates or crew or “yeomen.” He stood no watch
at night, but worked all day from “turn out” till the setting of the
watch. His uniform was the same as that of the purser and boatswain,
a white-lined blue coat, with blue lapels and cuffs, white kerseymere
breeches or trousers, and gold anchor-buttons on the pocket flaps.
His pay was the same as that given to the boatswain and purser, but
he received in addition a small perquisite, the sum of one shilling
being paid to him for every powder tub returned in good condition
to the storehouse. The pay of his subordinates—the gunner’s mates,
yeomen of the powder-room, and quarter-gunners (_i.e._ men in charge
of four guns each)—varied from about £2, 2s. to £1, 16s. a month.
These lesser dignitaries wore no distinctive uniform, but they had
various little privileges—such as snug corners for their sleeping
quarters on the berth-deck, or in the cable-tiers, etc.

Of greater importance than the gunner and boatswain, and sometimes
drawing more money for his services, was the carpenter, or “wooden
artist.” No man could aspire to be a ship’s carpenter till he had
faithfully served his indentures with a shipwright, and been a voyage
to sea as a carpenter’s mate. To get an appointment a carpenter
had to pass an examination at Shipwrights’ Hall before a quorum of
master-shipwrights. A ship’s carpenter had to know his trade. He
could not get his place by jobbery or influence. On getting aboard a
ship he was expected to examine her with great care and to report any
defective timbers, and to have them removed. He had to keep the pumps
in good order, and the boats ready for launching. He was to go aloft
every day, to examine the state of the masts and yards, particularly
after heavy weather. He was to keep the ventilator rigged whenever
the weather was sufficiently fair. He was to sound the well each
day, and to take care that it never contained more than 15 inches,
and that those 15 inches were frequently changed, lest the water
should putrify. He was to have a variety of shot plugs prepared, of
different sizes and varying material—as lead, oakum, felt, rolled
rope, canvas, etc. In battle he was to walk along the orlop-deck with
his mates to repair any shot holes as they were made. At sunset each
night he had to report to the first lieutenant that his stores, such
as shot, plugs, axes, etc., were ready for action, and that the masts
and spars were in good order. He had to take especial care that the
decks and topsides were kept well caulked, lest water should leak in
and drip from deck to deck, to the misery of all hands. To enable
him to do all these duties properly he was granted an assistant, in
large ships two assistants, known as the carpenter’s mate or mates.
These men received two and a half guineas a month, and slung their
hammocks in favourable places on the lower gun-deck. In addition to
the mates, all ships above the fourth-rate carried an officer called
the caulker, who likewise drew two guineas and a half a month. This
officer was directly under the carpenter, and had standing orders to
search out and caulk all defective seams in the deck and topsides. In
addition to the duties indicated above, a carpenter was always to see
that the port-lids were in good trim. In foul weather it was his duty
to close those on the lower-deck, and to make them watertight with
oakum. While at sea he had the power to discharge, or cause to be
discharged, any caulker or carpenter’s mate not worth his salt. His
subordinates were always stationed on the main-yard in furling sails.
As a rule, they stood no night watch, but were expected to come on
deck for any important duty, such as tacking ship, shortening sail,
sending down spars, etc.

A carpenter’s pay aboard a first-rate ship was £5, 16s. a month.
Aboard a third-rate he drew about £1 a month less. In fourth, fifth,
and sixth rates, he drew exactly the same pay as the boatswain,
gunner, and purser. He slept in his cabin in the fore cockpit, or in
some den in the steerage. He had a boy to wait on him, or shared one
with the boatswain. In fine weather he rigged his carpenter’s shop on
the second or upper gun-deck, in the clear, well-lit space between
the tiers of guns. In foul weather his work was done below, in his
workshop in the fore cockpit.

[Illustration: THE HEAD OF A 74 GUN SHIP, WITH DRAWING OF SPRITSAIL
YARD]

Ranking with the boatswain’s mates, in first and second rates, were
the quarter-masters, the assistants of the master, and master’s
mates. The quartermaster was a petty officer, drawing £2, 5s. 6d. a
month for his services. He was generally an old and trusty seaman,
who was not sufficiently active to be employed as a boatswain’s mate.
His duties were to superintend the helmsman; to assist in the stowage
of provisions or ballast; to coil away the cables in the cable-tiers;
to keep the time, and to cause the ship’s bell to be struck at each
half-hour. When the purser served out provisions in the morning and
evening a quartermaster always attended, to watch the weighing, etc.
He wore no distinctive uniform, but he had the privilege of sleeping
below the berth-deck, in the cable-tiers, on the orlop-deck.

The sailmaker, who drew the same pay as the quartermaster, received
his appointment by warrant from the Navy Office. He was helped by
a mate or assistant, drawing some 7s. a month less money, and by a
“crew” of two men, who were clever with needle and palm. His duty was
to keep the sails in good repair, and in order, so that they could
be readily brought on deck from the sail-room in the orlop or hold.
In fine weather he worked on the second or upper gun-deck, repairing
old sails, putting in patches or new roping, etc. He stood no watch,
and slept in a favoured place, abreast of the fore hatchway on the
lower-deck.

The chief of the ship’s police, the man responsible, under the first
lieutenant, for the preservation of peace and quietness below-decks,
was the master-at-arms. At the end of the eighteenth century he had
lost much of his old authority, and his ancient duty of instructing
the seamen in the use of the musket was usually performed by the
junior lieutenant. A master-at-arms was appointed by a warrant
from the Board of Admiralty. His pay varied from £2, 15s. 6d. in a
first-rate to £2, 0s. 6d. in a sixth-rate. When at sea he sometimes
drilled the sailors in the use of the musket, and had special orders
to see that they took good aim before firing. His chief duty was to
keep a strict lookout for unauthorised lights or fires, extinguishing
all lights and fires at the setting of the watch, and reporting all
those who presumed to re-light them. He had to walk round the ship
at intervals, to make sure that no purser’s glim was burning in any
of the store-rooms, or in the cable-tiers. He had to prevent any
smoking outside the galley, and he had to report any person found
using a naked candle below-decks. These duties were comparatively
harmless. They saved the ship from being burnt, while at no time did
they interfere much with the comfort of the ship’s company. Even the
restriction of the smokers to the narrow space of the galley, where
but few bluejackets could take tobacco at a time, was not reckoned
a hardship. Smoking was not so popular at that time. Comparatively
few men smoked. Nearly all of those who used tobacco chewed it, “like
Christians.” But the master-at-arms made himself very objectionable
in another way. He was the head of the ship’s police, continually on
the lookout for the petty criminal. He passed his days ferreting out
the privy drunkards, the quarrelsome, riotous, gambling, and sportive
persons, so that the captain might punish them at the gangway with
a couple of dozen. When a man or woman came on board from the shore
it was the duty of the master-at-arms to examine him (or her), to
annex any spirits which might be concealed in the person’s clothes.
When a boat came alongside he had to report that she contained no
intoxicants, before her lading was allowed to be hoisted in-board.
Any man found drunk, or fighting, or playing at cards, or dicing,
or using a candle, or otherwise transgressing the iron laws of the
fleet, was promptly arrested by the master-at-arms, and placed in
irons, and chained to an iron bar by the main-mast, till the captain
could judge and sentence him. At evening muster, the master-at-arms
stood in a prominent position, to spy out any man who walked a shade
unsteadily or answered to his name with a thick intonation. He was
armed with a cane, with which he was entitled to deal out punishment
to those whom he suspected of playing the spy upon him. Those who
wanted a little quiet fuddle in between the guns, or wished to play a
game of cards, or to dice each other for their tots of grog, would
send out spies, and post sentinels, to warn them of this officer’s
approach. To checkmate these outposts the master-at-arms encouraged
the meaner sort to act as his “narkers” or informers, to let him know
when, and by whom, and where, unlawful pleasures were being enjoyed.
These police spies, or ship’s traitors, were known as white mice.
They lived uneasy lives aboard a man-of-war. Sometimes the crew fell
upon them privily, and man-handled them. A master-at-arms was not
altogether safe. In the dark night-watches, as he made the round
of the lower-deck, with his lantern in his hand, those whom he had
caused to be flogged would sometimes get revenged.

In all those ships which did not carry marines a master-at-arms was
expected to post the sentinels, and to instruct them in their duty.
He was assisted in his work by two or more satellites, known as
ship’s corporals, who received about two guineas a month a-piece.
One or more of these officers was continually walking about the ship
after the setting of the watch at 8 P.M. They stood their watches,
like the rest of the crew, but they had the privilege of sleeping
near the ship’s side, with rather more space than their shipmates.
In the daytime they pried up and down in search of delinquents, whom
they might thrash with their rattans or drag to the bilboes. They
were appointed to their positions for merit, but he who made the
appointment saw to it that the men promoted to these particular
posts were naturally fitted for them. The job was not popular among
the sailors, for the increase of pay was slight, the responsibility
heavy, and the duty unpleasant.

An important member of the ship’s crew was the cook. This warrant
officer was appointed by the Commissioners of the Navy, who
invariably chose him from the Greenwich pensioners. He was seldom
blessed with all his limbs, and never rose beyond the making of
pea-soup and the boiling of junk. “The composing of a minc’d Pye,”
says Edward Ward, “is metaphysics to him.” He did not cook for the
captain. His art was of the popular kind. Anyone could understand it.
There was nothing intense or mysterious about it. His duty was very
simple. He had to steep the salt junk served out to him in a barrel
of salt water, known as a steep tub. When the meat had become a
little soft and pliable, through the dissolution of the salt, he took
it and boiled it for several hours, or until the boatswain piped to
dinner. It was then served out to the different messes. Directly the
last piece had been handed out the coppers were skimmed. The salt fat
or slush, the cook’s perquisite,[21] was scraped out and placed in
the slush tub. The coppers were then scoured, and made ready for the
cooking of the next meal. A cook was not allowed to give his slush
or melted fat to the men, as they used it in making their private
duffs or puddings, and “scarcely anything more unwholesome, or more
likely to produce the scurvy, can be eaten.” A cook was expected
to be frugal with his firewood, except after a battle, when he had
generally a stack of splinters to eke out his store. He was expected
to keep his galley clean, and usually had a mate or assistant, with
the full complement of limbs, to help him in this work. His pay was
very small, being only about thirty-five shillings a month, but
as he was always a Greenwich pensioner, in receipt of 11s. 8d. a
month relief, and as he generally cleared a handsome sum from his
slush, the pay was sufficient. He wore no uniform, kept no watch,
seldom strayed very far from his galley, and slept at nights on the
lower gun-deck, in a favoured place, with a ship’s corporal for his
neighbour. The marines kept guard at the galley door while he cooked
the dinner, lest the ship’s thieves should privily convey away his
delicacies while his back was turned. He was expected to extinguish
his fire after the meal of the day had been cooked, and at all times
when the ship prepared to go into action. In port he was expected to
keep a poker heated for the firing of salutes, etc. At sea he was
allowed to cook little messes for those of the hands who were his
cronies. In some ships he was also allowed to dry the clothes of
those wetted by the sea in heavy weather. His coppers were examined
every morning, by the mate of the watch, before the “cocoa,” or
“oatmeal,” was put into them.

FOOTNOTES:

[19] We believe that this was not always properly done. We read
of the wounded in one ship being operated upon by a saw from the
carpenter’s stock. A stiff upper lip was very necessary aboard a ship
of that kind.

[20] Money was advanced to the purser for the purchase of wine. He
generally bought weak, or adulterated wine, at a low price, and
pocketed the money saved.

[21] Half of all the slush went to the cook. The other half went to
the ship, for the greasing of the bottom and running rigging.

CHAPTER V

The people—The boys—Manning—The divisions—The messes—The dress—The
King’s allowance—Grog—Marines

There were various ways of entering the Royal Navy, “through the
hawse-holes.” The greater number of our seamen were pressed into the
fleets from merchant-ships, or sent aboard by my Lord Mayor, or by
the sheriffs of the different counties. A large number volunteered in
order to get the bounty. But a certain percentage joined the fleet as
boys, either through the Marine Society, or from love of adventure.
The Marine Society sent a number of lads to sea in each year. Their
boys were generally between thirteen and fifteen years of age.
Some of them were “recommended” by magistrates for petty crime or
vagrancy. Some were beggars, or street Arabs, snatching their living
from the gutters. Some were errand-boys, horse-holders, shop-lads,
etc. Most of them were poor children, whose parents could not clothe
nor feed them. Some were apprentices, or charity boys, who were more
“inclined to hazard their necks than to live a sedentary life.” The
Marine Society gave these lads a brief preliminary training aboard a
ship in the Thames, under a boatswain and boatswain’s mate. They then
sent them to sea, in men-of-war, as ship’s boys or volunteers of
the second and third classes. As ship’s boys, they received £7 or £8
a year, which kept them in clothing till they were strong enough to
rank as seamen. A ship’s boy was generally put to all the dirty and
trivial work of the ship, such as cleansing the pigstys, hen-coops,
head, etc. A number of them were rated as servants to the midshipmen,
boatswains, warrant, gun-room and ward-room officers. These wretched
creatures lived the lives of dogs, particularly those allotted to the
midshipmen. Those who were not made servants were hunted about and
bullied by the sailors, who loved “to find the opportunity to act the
superior over someone.” Those who survived the brutality of their
shipmates, and failed to desert from the service, in time became
ordinary seamen, drawing 25s. a month.

[Illustration: TWO OF NELSON’S SAILORS]

A boy was allowed half the usual ship’s allowance of rum and wine. He
received pay for the half he did not draw. With the ration allowed to
him—half-a-gill of rum, and a quarter of a pint of wine a day—he was
able to get blind drunk, or to purchase little luxuries, just as he
pleased. If he got drunk, or in any other way transgressed the rules
of the navy, he was flogged, but with the boatswain’s cane instead of
with the cat. In action, he was stationed at a gun, with orders to
supply that gun with cartridges from the magazine. He was not allowed
to supply more than one gun with powder until the boys of some of
the guns were killed or wounded. In a hot engagement he was kept
running to and fro, over the bloody and splinter-scattered deck,
carrying the cartridges from the magazine. He was warned to carry
his cartridges under his coat, so as to avoid the flying sparks from
the touch-holes. If he tried to bolt away from the magazine into the
shelter of the orlop-deck the midshipman stationed at the hatchway
promptly shot him, or beat him back with the pistol butt. The boys
(with good reason) were generally berthed apart from the men. They
seem to have slung their hammocks in the sheet-anchor cable-tiers, or
on one of the upper gun-decks, according to the size of the ship in
which they sailed.

* * * * *

The true man-of-war’s man, or bluejacket, was said to have been
“begotten in the galley and born under a gun.” He was a prodigy,
“with every hair a rope-yarn, every tooth a marline-spike, every
finger a fishhook, and his blood right good Stockhollum tar.”
This kind of man-of-war’s man was rare. When he sailed aboard our
men-of-war he generally held some position of authority, as captain
of a top, or boatswain’s mate. We had never a ship’s crew of his
like, even at the beginning of the French wars, when our ships were
manned by the pick of the merchant-service. There were other kinds
of sailor, for the King was always in want of men, and a man-of-war
refused nothing.

The royal fleets were manned, as we have seen, by various expedients.
A certain proportion of the man-of-war’s men came to sea as boys,
and remained in the service all their lives, partly because they
were too strictly kept to escape, and partly because “once a sailor
always a sailor”—the life unfitted them for anything else. A large
number joined the navy because their heads had been turned by
patriotic cant; and very bitterly they repented their folly after a
week aboard. A number came willingly, from merchant-ships, attracted
by the high bounties or premiums, offered for seamen volunteering.
Some came willingly, deceived by those placards in the seaports,
which promised abundance of grog and plenty of prize-money to all
who entered. But the greater number came unwillingly, by the imprest
or quota, or from my Lord Mayor. The press-gang was especially
active in securing sailors from merchant-vessels. Very frequently
they stripped such ships of their crews and officers, leaving their
captains without enough hands to work the ships home. It was a
cruel hardship to the poor merchant-sailors; for often, on coming
to a home port, after a long voyage, they would be snatched away
before they had drawn their wages. Instead of enjoying a pleasant
spell ashore they would be hurried aboard a King’s ship, to all the
miseries of a gun-deck. It was the custom to say that a sailor was
better situated on a man-of-war than on a merchant-vessel; that he
had better food, better treatment, and better money. As a matter
of fact the merchant-seamen regarded the Royal Navy with dread
and loathing. There can be little doubt that the thought of the
press-gangs, and the fear of service in the navy, drove many of our
best merchant-seamen into American ships, where they were rather less
subject to impressment. In the war of 1812 a number of them fought
against, and often helped to defeat, the English frigates and small
men-of-war.

We live at a convenient distance from those times, and regard them as
glorious.—“The iniquity of oblivion blindly scattereth her poppy.”
Man is always ready to ignore the pounds of misery and squalor which
go to make each pennyweight of glory. Our naval glory was built
up by the blood and agony of thousands of barbarously maltreated
men. It cannot be too strongly insisted on that sea life, in the
late eighteenth century, in our navy, was brutalising, cruel, and
horrible; a kind of life now happily gone for ever; a kind of life
which no man to-day would think good enough for a criminal. There
was barbarous discipline, bad pay, bad food, bad hours of work,
bad company,[22] bad prospects. There was no going ashore till the
ship was paid off, or till a peace was declared. The pay was small
at the best of times, but by the time it reached the sailor it had
often shrunken to a half or third of the original sum. The sailor
was bled by the purser for slops and tobacco; by the surgeon for
ointment and pills; and by the Jew who cashed his pay-ticket. The
service might have been made more popular by the granting of a little
leave, so that the sailors could go ashore to spend their money. It
was the long, monotonous imprisonment aboard which made the hateful
life so intolerable. When the long-suffering sailors rose in revolt
at Spithead, they asked, not that the cat might be abolished, but
that they might go ashore after a cruise to sea, and that they might
receive a little more consideration from those whose existence they
guaranteed.

Having secured a number of reliable sailors from the merchant-ships
and sailor’s taverns, the captains of men-of-war commissioning
filled up their complements by taking any men they could get. The
press-gangs brought in a number of wretches found in the streets
after dusk. It did not matter whether they were married men with
families, tradesmen with businesses, or young men studying for
professions: all was fish that came into the press-gang’s net. The
men were roughly seized—often, indeed, they were torn from their
wives by main force, and knocked on the head for resisting—and so
conveyed on board, whether subject to impressment or not. They could
count themselves lucky if their neighbours came to the rescue before
the press-gang carried them off. When once they were aboard they were
little likely to get away again, for though they had permission to
“state the case,” if they thought themselves illegally seized, the
letters of appeal were very seldom successful. The press-gangs were
sometimes rewarded with head money to make them zealous in their duty.

We have already described the Lord Mayor’s men. We will now describe
the “quota,” or “quota-bounty” men, such as manned our fleets from
1795-1797. It was found that neither the press nor the bounty
attracted men in sufficient numbers. Laws were passed by which the
English counties were compelled to furnish a quota of men according
to an established scale. The English seaports were put under a
similar contribution. The sheriffs of the counties, and the mayors
of the sea-port towns, at first found the arrangement by no means
a bad one. They were able to ship off their rogues, criminals,
poachers, gipsies, etc., without difficulty. After a time, when
the rogues had grown wary, they found it difficult to make up the
quotas. They had to offer bounties to induce men to come forward;
bounties in some cases amounting to more than £70. It was said of
the “most filthy creatures” who took advantage of the bounties that
“they cost the King a guinea a pound.” They came aboard coated with
filth, crawling with parasites, “so truly wretched, and unlike men,”
that the lieutenants must have been disgusted to receive them.
Criminals sentenced at the sessions were offered the alternative of
going to sea. The direct consequences were that our ships of war were
frequently manned by criminals and petty thieves, who stole from each
other, and skulked their work, and deserted when they could. The
lower gun-decks became the scene of nearly every vice and crime in
the calendar. Theft aboard ship was punished with cruel severity, but
these shore-going gentry robbed right and left, in gangs or singly,
as though their fingers were indeed fish-hooks. Dr Johnson was right
in wondering why folk came to sea while there were gaols ashore.
Perhaps no place has contained more vice, wickedness, and misery,
within such a narrow compass, than a ship of the line at the end of
the eighteenth century.

When a ship’s crew[23] had been brought aboard they were examined by
the first lieutenant, who lost no time in allotting them to their
stations. Elderly, reliable seamen, who knew their duty and could be
rated as able, were stationed on the forecastle to do duty about the
anchors, bowsprit, and fore yard. They were called sheet-anchor or
forecastle men, and next to the gunner’s crew and boatswain’s mates
they were the finest men in the ship. They took great pride in making
the forecastle the cleanest and trimmest place aboard. A visitor
anxious to learn the state of the discipline of a vessel had but to
go forward to her forecastle. If the forecastle were spotless, the
hammocks well stowed, the paint work and bright work brilliant, and
the ropes pointed and beautifully flemished, then the ship (he might
be quite sure) was in pretty taut order. A forecastle or sheet-anchor
man slept on the lower deck, far forward.

[Illustration: TWO OF NELSON’S SAILORS]

Having picked his forecastle men, a lieutenant had to select his
“topmen.” There were three divisions of topmen, one for each
mast—fore, main, and mizzen. The topmen had to work the three masts
above the lower yards. The lieutenant chose for the topmen all the
young, active seamen who had been to sea for three or four years.
Their work was very arduous, and very exacting. It was the hardest
work of the ship, and demanded the smartest men, yet no men were
more bullied than those to whom the duty fell. A topman lived in
continual terror. He was at all times under the eye of the officer
of the watch. His days were passed in an agony of apprehension
lest something should go wrong aloft to bring him to the gangway.
Smartness aloft was, to many captains, the one thing essential aboard
a man-of-war. A topman had to be smart, and more than smart. He had
to fly up aloft at the order, lay out on the yard, reef or furl, lay
in, and be down on deck again, before a boatswain’s mate could draw
his colt. The sailors raced “mast against mast” whenever sail was
made or shortened, and whenever a spar was struck or sent aloft.
They were not only smart, they were acrobatic. They were known to
run aloft and to run along the yards to the yard-arms, and this in
blowing weather, and with the ship rolling. But, no matter how swift
they were, the captain and lieutenant, who watched from the deck,
wished them to be swifter. It did not matter to these two flinty ones
whether the men were doing their best, and breaking their hearts
to do better. All _they_ cared for was the honour of the ship, and
perhaps a word from the admiral. Then it was:

“What are you doing on the yard, there? Are you all asleep there,
mizzentop? The main-topmen are nearly off the yard. Stow that bunt,
you crawling caterpillars, or I’ll stop the grog of the lot of you.”

Then the curses and blaspheming followed, with threats of the cat and
disrating. The poor fellows on the yard would redouble their efforts,
dripping with sweat as they pounded the heavy canvas into the skin.
That was the heart-breaking part of the business: doing one’s level
best and getting damned for one’s pains. Then, directly the job was
done, a wild rush from the yard took place. Many captains had the
savagery to flog the last man down, so that every man risked his
neck to get down quickly. In reefing top-sails this rule invariably
punished the best man—_i.e._ the man at the yard-arm or post of
honour. The captains do not seem to have considered that the last man
down was generally the first man up. Their cruelty caused the death
of many poor seamen, who fell from aloft while racing up or down, or
while working recklessly on the yard. An old sailor has told us of
a captain of a top who deliberately threw himself overboard rather
than suffer punishment for some slight irregularity aloft. “These men
are frequently punished,” says Jack Nastyface, “and are always in
dread when aloft lest they should be found fault with for not being
quick enough, for punishment is sure to follow, and sure enough their
conjectures are too true: for they are not only flogged, but their
grog is stopped.”

Next in importance to the topmen were the men of the after-guard,
a company composed of poor seamen and landsmen, despised by all
the real sailors. The duties of the after guard were easy, if
dishonourable. They worked the after braces, the spanker, main-sail,
and lower stay-sails. It was their duty to keep the after parts
of the ship clean. At quarters they were stationed at guns on the
gun-deck, or as sail-trimmers, or as small-arm men, as the lieutenant
directed. The after-guard in a first-rate ship numbered about 90 men,
while the forecastle, fore and main tops were manned by from 60 to
70 each. A mizzentop needed fewer men, from 25 to 30 being the usual
number. The after-guards, marines, and waisters invariably manned the
capstans when anchor was weighed.

The largest division of a ship’s company, and the most ignoble,
was that of the waisters, the men stationed in the waist, the men
“without art or judgment,” who hauled aft the fore and main sheets,
and kept the decks white. They were the scavengers, swabbers,
pumpers, the doers of the ship’s dirty work, the pigsty keepers, and
ship’s sewer men. They were sometimes ordinary seamen who were strong
enough but too stupid to be stationed aloft. Generally they were
landsmen, unfit for other duties. They had charge of all the live
stock, if the ship carried any, and he that was “good for nothing
else” was “good enough for a waister.” Large ships generally carried
about twice as many waisters as after-guard men. In small ships the
proportion was more nearly equal.

Lastly, there were the idlers, or men with day duty, who stood no
watch at sea. Among these were the holders, who lived in the hold, in
perpetual semi-darkness, creeping about, on their queer occasions,
among the casks and stinks. Then there were the poulterers, who
fed the captain’s geese in the boats on the booms, or crammed the
chickens in the hen-coops. Then there were painters, in charge of the
port-red, yard-blacking, side-yellow, and white, with the oil for
mixing them and the brushes for laying them on. There were tailors,
who made fine clothes for the crew of the captain’s jolly-boat, and
did odd jobs, for payment, for the other members of the crew. There
were the mast men, one to each mast, to keep the ropes beautifully
coiled, and the brass on the fife-rails polished. There were butchers
to kill the live stock and fatten the pigs; barbers to clip and
shave; and hairdressers to dress the men’s queues, and comb out the
wigs of the officers. There was the lady of the gun-room—an old man,
who kept the gun-room clean. There were the ward-room cooks, and the
captain of the sweepers; the captain of the head, and the writer to
the first lieutenant; the loblolly-boys, and the sick-bay sentinels.
All of these had “all night in,” with the reservation that, if all
hands were wanted during the night, they should turn out with the
rest to the pressing duty on deck.

The topmen, forecastle men, after-guards, and waisters were divided
into two watches, larboard and starboard. They slept at night in
hammocks on the lower-deck, packed like sardines, row after row,
stretching across the ship from side to side. The hammocks during
most of Lord Nelson’s career were of a dull, brown colour, not
unlike the colour of a tanned sail. Afterwards they were made of
white canvas, or “twilled sacking,” which was kept white by frequent
washing. The hammocks were slung by cords to wooden battens or
cleats, nailed to the beams above the gun-decks. The rule was
“fourteen inches to a man,” but some ships afforded sixteen inches,
and one or two as much as eighteen. The petty officers, who slept
by the ship’s side, had each about two feet of space, as “they are
not to be pinched.” In practice, the rule was not so severe as it
sounds. In most ships the watches were berthed alternately, a man
of the larboard watch alternating with a man of the starboard watch
in each row of hammocks, so that at night every other hammock in
each row was vacant, and the pressure made more tolerable. In those
ships in which this rule was not observed the watches slept on their
respective sides, jammed together in great discomfort. The berthing
of the men on their respective sides of the ship had the further
disadvantage of putting the vessel out of trim, by bringing a great
weight to one side, instead of spreading it equably.

Each man had two hammocks, one in use and the other clean. Hammocks
were shifted and scrubbed once a week, and hung up to dry between the
masts. In the morning of each day, at half past seven, the sleepers
were roused from their blankets by the boatswain’s pipe, the pipes
of his mates, and the “All hands. Turn out and save a clue. Out or
down here. Rise and shine. Out or down here. Lash and carry.” Those
who snuggled into their hammocks for an extra minute were promptly
cut down, and beaten about the shoulders with colts or cobs. One was
expected to turn out at the first sound of the pipe. The sailors
generally slept “all standing, like a trooper’s horse”—that is,
without taking off many of their clothes. The clothes they did
take off they generally laid carefully under their pillows, lest
the thieves should get them during the night. On turning out, they
slung their clothes about them with all speed, and at once set about
lashing their hammocks into tight sausage-like rolls. This they
performed by a cord, called a hammock lasher. A correctly-lashed
hammock was secured by “seven turns.” Directly the seven turns were
passed the hammock was lowered on deck, the clues, or head and foot
supports, were carefully twisted under the lashing, and the sailor
slung the roll over his shoulder, and ran on deck to stow it. The
hammock nettings, where the hammocks were stowed, ran all round the
upper part of the ship, making a sort of bulwark, six or seven feet
high, for the protection of the marines and small-arm parties. The
quarter-masters, master’s mates, and midshipmen superintended the
stowing of the hammocks, and rejected every hammock too loosely
lashed to pass through a regulation hoop. Each division of the ship
stowed their hammocks in certain well-defined parts of the nettings,
as the forecastle men on the forecastle, the foretop men under the
fore-rigging, and the marines on the poop. Each hammock was numbered
on a white painted patch, with a few plain blue letters indicating
the station of its owner. During the daytime, in fine weather, the
hammocks were left in the nettings, exposed to the sun and wind. In
wet or foul weather they were covered with canvas covers, painted
white or yellow, and known as hammock cloths. At night, at about
7 or 7.30 P.M., they were piped down—_i.e._ removed from their
places in the nettings, and slung at their respective battens on
the berth-deck. The berthings, the places where the men slept, were
indicated by custom. The forecastle men slept forward; the foretop
men next to the forecastle men; then the main-top men, waisters,
and after-guard. The marines either slept aft, just forward of the
gun-room, or in the recesses of the orlop, forward of the after
cockpit. The idlers stowed themselves away among the men, towards the
ship’s sides, or in their little nooks below the gun-decks, in the
wings and tiers.

For meals, the sailors divided themselves into messes, of from four
to eight members apiece. They always messed apart from the marines,
for the “guffies,” or “jollies,” were not very popular among them.
Each mess had a narrow mess table, which could be hooked up, out
of the way, to the beams above, when not in use. At meal times the
mess tables were fixed between the guns, so as to swing with the
pitch of the ship. Each sailor had a knife, spoon, and hook-pot, an
earthenware bowl, and a platter. The knife he always wore about his
person, in a belt or lanyard. The other crockery he kept in a wooden
tub, called a mess kid, which was secured to the ship’s side. When
the ship went into action these tubs were hurried below, out of the
way, or flung bodily overboard. The crockery had to be supplied at
the sailor’s own cost. If “a sudden lurch,” during meal times, sent
the crockery flying he was forced to purchase tin or wooden ware
from the purser, to use till he could buy new china. The messes were
very friendly and cheery little parties. They liked to be trim and
neat, and to make a brave show with their gear. They hated to be
seen using the purser’s crockery. Each was presided over by that
member of the mess who acted as mess cook for the week. The mess
cook had to receive the provisions for the mess from the purser, at
the daily issuing of victuals. He had to deliver the meat, peas and
oatmeal to the cook in good time. On duff-days he mixed the duff in
a handkerchief, whistling a tune while he stoned the raisins (if any
were issued), so that none should suspect him of eating them. At tea
or supper time he drew the grog for the mess, from the sacred tub
under the care of the master’s mate. What was more, he drew a “cook’s
portion,” or double allowance, for himself, with which he could buy
himself all manner of little luxuries. This extra tot of grog made
the post of mess cook to be much desired by all hands. It amply
compensated them for the trouble and anxieties of the office.

In some ships the berths, messes, or spaces between the guns were
separated and shut off by small screens of canvas for the greater
privacy. At night they would be let down to form little shut-off
apartments for the privileged petty officers who slept there. The
members of each mess were expected to keep their berth scrupulously
clean, free from grease spots, biscuit crumbs, and any mess of
oatmeal or soup. One of the men of each mess cleaned up after a meal,
to remove any disorder of the kind. A man who found himself among
uncongenial messmates had permission to change his mess on the first
Sunday in each month. This regulation was very wise and humane, and
was much esteemed by the sailors. It was customary to speak to the
first lieutenant before making the change, giving some reason for
the proposed alteration. Some men, who could not agree with their
comrades through some fault of temperament, went from mess to mess,
till they had disgusted all hands. They then messed alone, as best
they could, in out-of-the-way nooks. Quarrelsome and loose-tongued
persons, and all those suspected of being white mice, were ostracised
in this way. The mess was the one pleasant place aboard where a man
could talk freely and cheerily. A man who violated the sanctity of
such a place, by quarrelling, privy gambling, political talk, or
incitement to mutiny, was not fit to remain in the community. His
presence was a danger to all concerned. The petty officers generally
messed in those parts of the lower-deck where they slung their
hammocks. The sailors were free to make chums where they would, and
to mess where they pleased. They availed themselves of the liberty to
some extent, but it must be remembered that party spirit always ran
very high aboard these ships. A forecastle man affected to despise
a topman; a topman despised an after-guard man, and called him a
“silk stocking gentleman,” or a “gentleman’s son,” while a member of
the after-guard looked down upon a waister, and called him a “Jimmy
Dux,” or farmer. All four grades united in despising the marines,
calling them “the pipeclays,” the “guffies,” the “jollies,” “the
johnny-toe-the-liners.” Sailors pretended to have a strong dislike
for the members of the sea regiment. They affected to hate them so
heartily that they could hardly be induced to use pipeclay, or to
learn the platoon.

The “berth” was not only the place where the seaman ate his meals;
it was in many ships the place where he kept his belongings. In
frigates, the seamen and marines were allowed to carry small sea
chests to sea, one chest to every two men, each chest to lie in its
owners’ berth, but the permission was cancelled if the chests were
insecurely fastened to the side of the ship. In action, of course,
these chests were struck down into the hold, out of the way. In
line-of-battle ships the decks were kept too strictly to allow of sea
chests being carried. The sailor kept his gear in a painted black
canvas bag, big enough to hold his very limited wardrobe. In some
line-of-battle ships he was allowed to keep his bag in the berth. In
others he had to keep it in a rack in the wings on the orlop-deck,
to which access might be had at certain times. In these ships a
sailor generally kept a change of clothes in his hammock, so that if
he were drenched during the night-watch he might put on dry things
when he came below, without waiting till the racks were opened. Some
captains were very careful to see that the bags were dried in the sun
after heavy weather. Others were needlessly careful to have them all
properly numbered, and painted (or even pipeclayed) alike. It was
necessary to keep a very strict watch upon the bags, for all the
ships swarmed with thieves, and a bag left about the decks, or left
unguarded, was swiftly emptied. Any article left loose upon the deck,
and found by a ship’s corporal or boatswain’s mate, was taken to the
quarter-deck, and exposed to the ship’s company. If the owner claimed
it he had his grog stopped, or weakened. If the owner did not claim
it it was sold at the next sale of dead men’s effects.

[Illustration: A HORSE MARINE]

The sailor’s kit was a very simple affair. He had a hammock, with or
without a “donkey’s breakfast,” or straw mattress, covered by two
thick blankets. Pillow and hammock stretcher were merely matters of
personal taste. Sheets were unknown, save in some of the sick-bays.
For foul weather he had a short wrap-rascal coat of “rug” or frieze,
and a leathern or thick felt or tarred canvas apron, reaching below
the knee. Sea boots, coming to the knee or thigh, were never worn
by the seamen. In foul weather they wore their ordinary low shoes,
with extra thick woollen stockings and knee-breeches, a rig no more
uncomfortable than the sea boot, and fully as effective in keeping
the legs dry. In fine weather, when ashore, the sailor usually wore
a short, round, very smart blue jacket, with a row of flat gold
or bright brass buttons down the right side and on the cuffs. His
trousers were either of blue cloth, or of white duck, cut extremely
loose, and a shade too long, so that they nearly covered the feet.
These garments were kept in position by a sheath-knife belt, or
by a black silk handkerchief knotted round the waist. The stockings
were frequently of good white silk, for a sailor loved to have fine
silk stockings. The shoes were not unlike our modern black dancing
pumps, save that big silver buckles took the place of silk bows.
The shirt was the least stereotyped article of dress. A shirt or
jersey of blue and white horizontal stripes was popular. A white
shirt with large red or blue spots had many admirers. Some wore plain
red or plain blue, and some may even have worn white. The throat
of the shirt had a loose, unstarched collar, which was worn open,
in the Byronic manner. Round the throat, very loosely knotted, was
a fine black silk handkerchief, the ends of which dangled over the
lapels of the waistcoat. The waistcoat was generally of scarlet
kerseymere, cut very low and very long. Canary-yellow waistcoats
were common, and some wore spotted or striped ones. It depended
mostly on the stock committed to the purser for his slop-room. The
sailors were very fond of decorating both jacket and waistcoat with
coloured ribbons, which they sewed down the seams, to give a more gay
effect. For the ordinary work about decks they wore white duck or
blue cloth trousers, and blue, green or red serge, duck, or flannel
frocks. A jacket of a coarse yellow stuff appears in some pictures,
in conjunction with striped trousers (blue and white). For hat, the
usual wear ashore was a little low tarpaulin hat, kept black and
glossy with tar and oil, and cut in a shape dimly resembling the
top-hats worn by our bishops and busmen, but with a more knowing
rake. This hat had often a broad black ribbon dangling from it,
bearing the name of the ship in white letters. When at work aboard
the sailor sometimes wore a painted straw hat, with black silk
ribbons flung rakishly “over the left eye.” More often he wore a fur
cap, or a battered, soft, shore beaver, or a low-crowned felt hat,
with the brim curled up. Woollen tam-o’-shanters were sometimes worn,
but the fur cap was the most popular headgear during working hours.
The fur cap had flaps, which could be unbuttoned and let down so as
to protect the ears. Some sailors wore a sort of turban, made of a
red or yellow handkerchief, twisted about the head. Others wore a
sort of woollen nightcap or jacobin cap. The headgear, whatever it
was, was nearly always worn well to the back of the head, as though
it balanced “on three hairs.” The narrow-minded have judged that this
fashion sprang from the natural levity and savagery of the mariners.
As a matter of fact, a sailor found it difficult to wear his hat in
any other way. He was continually looking aloft or running aloft or
working aloft, and it would have been impossible for him to wear his
headgear in any other position. One cannot run up rigging with a hat
jammed down over one’s eyes.

[Illustration: A FRIGATE IN CHASE, BEFORE THE WIND]

It must be remembered that this outfit varied with the individual.
Only those who bought from the slop chest wore “uniform.” Those who
brought decent shore-going clothes aboard were generally free to
wear them, though some captains insisted that their men should all
wear frocks or shirts of the same colours. The shore-going dress we
have indicated was certainly worn by the smartest of our sailors, for
Captain Brenton describes some poor fellows coming up for trial, as
“tall and athletic, well dressed, in blue jackets, red waistcoats,
and trousers white as driven snow,” with “their hair like the tail
of a lion,” hanging “in a cue down their back ... the distinguishing
mark of a thoroughbred seaman.”

The days of which we write were the days of clean-shaving. Officers
and men alike shaved their cheeks and upper lips. A hairy man was
not to be tolerated. But though the men shaved themselves daily they
liked to wear their hair long, either falling down the shoulders in
a mass, or braided into a queue, with some grease and black silk
ribbon. It is not known when the use of the pigtail became general,
it seems to have been borrowed from the French. It may possibly
have been borrowed from the marines, who wore pomatum-stiffened
pigtails, or pigtails stiff with grease and flour, during this
period. From 1800 to 1815 the pigtail seems to have been popular,
after that time it gradually fell into disuse. The sailors dressed
each other’s queues, turn and turn about. It took an hour “to dress
and be dressed.” It is not known whether the sailors ever used flour
to whiten the queues when plaited, but probably they wore them plain.
Those who had but little hair made false queues of teased-out
oakum, which was a sufficiently good imitation to pass muster. Many
sailors, who did not care for pigtails, wore most ravishing curls
or love-locks over their ears, like the ladies in a book of beauty.
A number of them wore earrings, “of the most pure gold,” which
they bought from the Jews at Portsmouth. They wore them less for
decoration than for a belief they held that their use improved the
sight. Some captains forbade the use of earrings on the ground that
they were un-English.

The food issued to the sailors was nearly always bad, and sometimes
villainous. The following table gives the scale of provisions
generally issued:—

+—————————+———————+————+————+—————+—————+———————+—————+——————+——————+
| |Biscuit|Beer|Beef| Pork|Pease|Oatmeal|Sugar|Butter|Cheese|
| | lbs. |gal-|lbs.| lbs.|pints| pints | oz.| oz. | oz. |
| | avoir.|lons| | | | | | | |
| +———————+————+————+—————+—————+———————+—————+——————+——————+
|Sunday | 1 | 1 | .. | 1 | ½ | ... | ... | ... | ... |
|Monday | 1 | 1 | .. | ... | ... | ½ | 2 | 2 | 4 |
|Tuesday | 1 | 1 | 2 | ... | ... | ... | ... | ... | ... |
|Wednesday| 1 | 1 | .. | ... | ½ | ½ | 2 | 2 | 4 |
|Thursday | 1 | 1 | .. | 1 | ½ | ... | ... | ... | ... |
|Friday | 1 | 1 | .. | ... | ½ | ½ | 2 | 2 | 4 |
|Saturday | 1 | 1 | 2 | ... | ... | ... | ... | ... | ... |
| +———————+————+————+—————+—————+———————+—————+——————+——————+
| | 7 | 7 | 4 | 2 | 2 | 1½ | 6 | 6 | 12 |
+—————————+———————+————+————+—————+—————+———————+—————+——————+——————+

The provisions were nearly always issued on a reduced scale. It was
the general custom to mess the men “six upon four,” an arrangement
by which six men received, and lived upon, the allowance of four
men. The sailors were allowed certain moneys for the food withheld
from them; this allowance was called “savings money.” The food was
of bad quality, and by no means liberally given. The sailor’s chief
standby was the sea air, which somehow never fails, even aboard
modern merchant-men. The biscuit was the most liberal ration, for
few sailors ate the whole of the allowance, even on the reduced
proportion. That which they could not eat they either returned to
the purser, in exchange for savings money, or held as an asset, to
exchange for fruit and the like when the ship arrived in a foreign
port. The biscuit was cooked in the royal bakeries, attached to the
dockyards—70 biscuits, weighing 4 oz. apiece, were made each minute
in these works. They were round, thick, well-browned biscuits,
stamped with a perforator in the centre, so that the centre was
much more compressed, and therefore tougher, than the remainder.
The centre was generally the last piece eaten. It was known as a
“reefer’s nut.” Often enough it was hove overboard. Most biscuits
were made of mixed wheat and pea-flour, with sometimes a base
addition of bone-dust. The pea-flour generally worked itself into
yellow lumps and veins, of an incredible hardness, which could not
be bitten through until the biscuit had become soft through long
keeping. When the biscuit did become soft, it took to itself an
unpleasant, musty, sourish taste, and began to attract, or to breed,
weevils. On a long passage, in a hot climate, the “bread” became
unspeakably bad, and as full of maggots as it could hold. Re-baking,
in the ship’s ovens, sometimes remedied the evil, but the most common
custom was to leave the creatures to their quiet, and to eat the
biscuit at night, when the eye saw not, and the tender heart was
spared. Now and then the mess cooks made savoury dishes out of the
ship’s biscuit, by soaking it in water, and frying it with little
strips, or gobbets, of pork fat. Or they enclosed it in a canvas
bag, and pounded it, with crows or marline-spikes, till it was as
fine as coarse flour. They then mixed it with chopped-up meat, and
bribed the cook to bake it. Sometimes they mixed the pounded biscuit
with pork-fat and sugar, and made a delectable cake. The cook would
always consent to bake these little delicacies, for some small
consideration, such as a little grog from the mess he obliged, or a
little piece of the dainty.

The badness of the meat may be guessed from the fact that the sailors
spoke of it as junk, or old condemned hemp rope. It may not have
been bad when cut up and put in cask, but there was an invariable
rule in the navy that “the old meat should be eaten first.” A ship’s
company had to start a cruise upon the old meat returned from various
ships and routed out from the obscure cellars of the victualling
yards. Frequently it had been several years in salt before it came
to the cook, by which time it needed rather a magician than a cook
to make it eatable. It was of a stony hardness, fibrous, shrunken,
dark, gristly, and glistening with salt crystals. It was “believed to
be salt horse, resembling very much a piece of mahogany, and often
quite as sapless.” It looked as unwholesome as meat could look.
Strange tales were told about it. Old pigtailed seamen would tell of
horseshoes found in the meat casks; of curious barkings and neighings
heard in the slaughterhouses; and of negroes who disappeared near
the victualling yards, to be seen no more. Whatever meat it may have
been, the salt beef was certainly abominable. It could, perhaps, have
been made eatable by long soaking in the steep tub, but no meat for
the messes was ever soaked for more than twenty-four hours. The salt
pork was generally rather better than the beef, but the sailors could
carve fancy articles, such as boxes, out of either meat. The flesh
is said to have taken a good polish, like some close-grained wood.
The beef was sometimes chopped up fine, and used for the flavouring
in “sea pies,” or “dry hashes”—two dishes the sailors sometimes made
for themselves, and persuaded the cook to dress. The meat ration was
not only bad, but extremely small. The 4-lb. pieces with which the
casks were filled were not by any means pure meat. They were mostly
bone, fat, and gristle. The pound of flesh, as issued to the sailor,
was often seven-tenths uneatable. The fat was dirty, and provocative
of scurvy. The bone and the gristle could only be thrown overboard.
At best, a sailor could but hope to find a few salt fibres of meat,
hidden away snugly—like good deeds in a naughty world—under layers
of evil-looking fat. They were not enough to give the poor mariner
a feeling that he had had meat for dinner. But if he wished to have
meat for supper, “to make him taste his wine well,” he had to save
some from his midday meal. Some were even so provident as to remember
the starvation breakfast, and to stint themselves at tea and dinner
in order to have a feast the next morning. Those who did not care
for grog were the lucky ones, for these had always half-a-pint of
rum with which to buy the meat of the drinkers. Many were the little
bargains made about the mess tables, at the blessed supper time, when
the roll of the drum had sent aft the mess cooks to the tub. “Bill,
I’ll swop my whack of beef to-morrow for half yours.” “Joe, I’ll give
you my pea-soup for your grog.” “Tom, I’ll mix your duff for you if
you’ll give me just a nip,” etc. etc.

The mess cook, who acted as carver and parter of the food, was at
all times most equitable in his duty. While he cut up the meat, or
divided the allowance, whatever it was, he ordered one of the mess to
turn his back, and shut his eyes. When a whack or portion had been
cut or placed on a plate he called out: “Who shall have this?” The
blindfolded man then pronounced the name of one of the messmates,
and the portion, whether too big or too small, was at once allotted
to the man thus named. The system was as fair as any that could be
devised.

The pea-soup, which was issued on salt pork days, was “somehow
always good.” It was generally eaten hot, but some preferred to save
it till the evening, when they took it cold, as a relish to the
grog and biscuit. The “burgoo,” “skillagolee,” or oatmeal gruel,
issued to the men for breakfast, was invariably bad. The greatest
proportion of it went to the pigstys, as uneatable by mortal man.
It was issued by the Government at the instance of some medical
adviser, who thought that it would act as a “corrective” to “acid and
costive humours.” The oatmeal was of a pretty bad quality to begin
with, but by the time the cook had wreaked his wicked will upon it,
by boiling it in his coppers with the unspeakable ship’s water, the
mess had become disgusting beyond words. Few of the sailors could
eat it in its penetrating, undisguised nastiness, and, according to
a naval surgeon, it was “cruel to expect them to do so.” In later
years, after Trafalgar, a small proportion of molasses, or butter,
was issued with the oatmeal, to be eaten with it, to render it less
nauseous. Without the butter and molasses it was fitter for the
pigstys than for men. Many messes would not draw the ration, but
preferred to have the money for it at the end of the cruise. Another
favourite breakfast dish was Scotch coffee, or burnt ship’s biscuit
boiled in water, to a thick blackish paste, and sweetened with sugar.
There was also a ration of very villainous cocoa, with which the
sailors received a little brown sugar. On one of these dishes the
jolly sailor had to make his breakfast. He seldom received anything
else at that meal, save the biscuit in the mess’s bread barge, unless
he had deprived himself of dinner and supper the day before in order
to have a bite of meat. At the beginning of each cruise in home
waters he received a very small allowance of ship’s butter. This was
kept in a mess tin, and equally shared. It was of poor quality, as
butter, and grew a great deal worse as the days passed. After a month
or two at sea it was at its very worst. It was then solemnly routed
out and inspected, condemned as putrid, and given to the boatswain
for the anointment of shrouds and running rigging. For dinner the
men received their salt beef and pork, their pea-soup, and their
occasional duffs. On two days a week (if not more frequently) they
held a fast, receiving no meat. These days were known as “banyan”
days—a “banyan” being a thin kind of duck frock, suitable for the
tropics, but uncomfortable elsewhere. For supper they sometimes
received a ration of strong ship’s cheese, the most abominable stuff
imaginable. It would not keep at sea. It smelt very horribly, and,
what was worse, it bred long, thin, red worms before it had been a
month in the ship’s hold.

Though the solids were not very choice the liquids were sometimes
really good. The water was bad—so bad that few could drink it without
disgust—but one drank no water aboard ship so long as the beer held
out. The water was generally river water. We note that the river
water “about London” was reckoned especially good. It was carried
to sea, not in iron tanks, as it is carried nowadays, but in wooden
casks, not over clean. Sometimes the casks were found to be old oil
casks. The water invariably became putrid after standing in cask for
a few days. It then grew sweet again, and fit to drink, but after
standing and working for several weeks in the hold it became thick
and slimy, full of “green grassy things,” besides being stagnant and
flat. At this stage in its development it was generally tapped for
the ship’s company. At the beginning of a voyage the company drank
beer—small beer, of poor quality, not at all the sort of stuff to put
the souls of three butchers into one weaver. It was bad beer, but it
was perhaps better than the water. At anyrate it gave a new taste to
the mouths of the poor seamen, who got very tired of the perpetual
salt food and biscuit. The beer generally lasted for a month, during
which time no wine or spirits was issued. In port the sailors used
to fortify the ship’s beer with rum or brandy, making a very potent
drench called flip, which was popular among their lady friends, who
used to smuggle aboard the necessary spirits. If the sailors wanted a
drink at any time during the night-watch they used to go to a small
cask called a scuttle butt, in which fresh water was kept. A tin cup
was secured to the cask, so that the men might drink in comfort. No
one was allowed to draw fresh water from this cask for the purpose of
washing his clothes.

[Illustration: THE LEE ROLL]

When all the beer had been expended, the captains allowed the issue
of wines or spirits. A pint of wine, or half-a-pint of rum or brandy,
was considered the just equivalent of a gallon of beer. The wine in
use was of very ordinary vintage. It was often purchased abroad,
and varied with the port of purchase. The sailors seem to have
preferred white wine. They disliked the red wines issued to them in
the Mediterranean. They called them “Black Strap.” To be stationed
in the Mediterranean was “to be black-strapped.” Their favourite
wines were two cheap Spanish wines: “rosolio” and “mistela,” the
latter a fiery white wine, affectionately known as “Miss Taylor.”
But when the beer had gone, and the wine had been drunken, there was
yet “the sailor’s sheet anchor”—grog. At noon each day, when spirits
were being served, “the fifer was called to play ‘Nancy Dawson,’
or some other lively tune,” to give notice that the tub was ready.
The cook of each mess attended with a flagon, in which to fetch the
precious fluid to his mates. The noon allowance was one gill of pure
navy rum mixed with three gills of water, a little lemon acid, as
an anti-scorbutic, and a dash of sugar. The supper allowance was
issued in the same proportions, though without the sugar and lemon
juice. Grog time was the pleasantest part of the day. With a gill
of good spirits beside, or inside, him a sailor thought foul scorn
of the boatswain’s mate, and looked upon the world with charity.
He was not allowed to drink, or to receive, his beloved liquid in a
dram (_i.e._ neat), but by the exercise of a little patience he was
able to obtain a most decided feeling from its imbibition. A gill was
not enough to turn an old seaman’s head, but by saving up the gill
till supper, and adding to it the second gill, with any third gill
purchased or acquired from a shipmate, the oldest sailor found it
possible to believe himself an admiral. Often enough at this stage
he found it difficult to lie on the deck without holding on. It is
not wonderful that so many men got drunk aboard the King’s ships at
this time. For about a month before Christmas day, which was always
held as a general holiday and feast of Bacchus, the sailors saved up
their grog, half-a-gill a day, till they had enough to paralyse every
sentient thing below-decks. The officers kept clear on Christmas day,
for “a wet Christmas” was a very lively experience. Nearly every man
aboard got into “a state of beastly intoxication.” Drunken men lay in
heaps under the hatches, where they had fallen. The lower-deck became
a picture of hell. It was no unusual thing to find two or three men
dead when the decks were cleared the next morning. The allowance of
grog was certainly too large. The sailors were ashamed to allow any
of the ration to remain undrunken. They preferred to be flogged at
the gangway rather than to waste the good liquor. “In hot climates,”
says Captain Hall, “I really do not think it an exaggeration to say
that one-third of every ship’s company were more or less intoxicated,
or at least muddled and half stupefied, every evening.” It seems
curiously hard that men so eager to get drunk should have been so
urgently encouraged to drink, and so brutally punished for drinking
the drink allowed to them.

The sailors who did not care for grog were generally able to purchase
tea or cocoa from those who were less squeamish. Tea and cocoa
were not regular rations, but most ships carried them, to issue to
the sailors in lieu of the bad cheese sometimes given for supper.
A tea drinker could count on getting a quarter of a pound of tea
a week when the cheese had become uneatable. All sailors received
a weekly half-pint of vinegar, and the temperance man used to buy
up the allowance of the mess, and brew a cool drink for himself by
mixing the vinegar with water. This brew, tea, and cocoa, were the
usual temperance drinks. Few men cared to drink the ship’s water
undisguised.

It must be remembered that the scale of provisions was often modified
by substitutes. Once a week, at least, the beef ration was reduced
to one pound, and an equal weight of flour issued with it, to enable
the men to make a duff, doughboy, or pudding. Sometimes raisins and
currants were given with the flour, but more often the flour was
merely mixed with fat, and boiled till it looked like pipeclay,
when it was considered cooked. Beans were sometimes given instead
of pease. Rice was often given instead of oatmeal, cheese, pease,
or ship’s biscuit. Sugar was sometimes given instead of butter;
barley instead of oatmeal, and oil instead of cheese. In port, fresh
beef, mutton, and vegetables were always given to the company, if
such articles were readily obtainable. A captain generally tried to
vary the provisions issued, as far as he could, for the monotony of
alternating pork and beef, both salt and dry, is very unpleasant.
The sailors get to crave for a fresh taste, a violent taste, strong
enough to clear the mouth of the unpleasant taste with which one
wakes in one’s hammock. A landsman can hardly imagine the pleasure
of sucking a lump of sugar after a month on salt victuals. It was,
perhaps, as much the sameness of the ship’s provisions as the
emptiness of the life which sent the sailors to the grog jack for
solace. In port they turned at once to the most strongly-flavoured
articles their money could buy. They bought red herrings and onions,
good honest stuff, which one could really taste. They drank any
villainous compound they could find, from Riga balsam and eau de
Cologne to mixed vitriol and cider. Perhaps it was to obtain a fresh
taste that they chewed so much strong plug tobacco. They would
sometimes chew oakum when the supply of tobacco failed. Some of the
sailors had a craving for slush, the melted salt fat from the beef
and pork. When a ship’s copper was tallowed, or when the topmen were
greasing down the rigging, the men had to be watched, and prevented
from swallowing the stuff, which was very deleterious, and highly
productive of scurvy.

The mess cooks, who did the cooking and carving, also did the
washing-up. On Sundays they cleaned the mess tables, and laid out
the crockery for inspection. If a mess cook spoiled the duff, or
failed to keep the gear clean, he was tried by a jury of mess
cooks, gathered “by hoisting a mess swab, or beating a tin dish
between-decks forward.” The punishments these juries inflicted were
of the usual brutal kind.

In addition to the complements of sailors, all ships of war carried a
proportion of marines, under their proper officers. The sea regiment
was founded at the end of the seventeenth century, not as a permanent
force, but as a force in which the King’s seamen could be trained.
In the first years of the marines they were really young sailors,
who went aloft, did the musketry exercise, and joined in the working
of the ship. Gradually they lost their sailor craft, and became more
and more a military body. They came to be employed less as sailors
than as ship’s police, a sort of armed guard, ready to repress any
mutiny among the tarry-breeks. They were then messed and berthed
apart from the sailors, who began to despise them, as an inferior
and useless race. In the war years of the late eighteenth and early
nineteenth centuries the marines were employed as checks upon the
seamen. All ships of war carried them, the proportion varying from
about 170 officers and men, in a first-rate, to 140 or 130, in a
third-rate, and a dozen, in command of a sergeant, in a 10-gun brig.
The proportion of marines was therefore about one to every four
sailors and idlers. They were usually on friendly terms with the
sailors, in spite of the sailors’ contempt for pipeclay. Many marines
were so eager to learn the sailors’ duty that they were allowed to go
aloft. In some ships they were allowed to furl the main-sail. When
at sea they helped the after-guard in various light duties. They
stood sentry-go outside the captain’s cabin, magazine hatchways, and
in various other parts of the ship, such as the galley door while
dinner was cooking. In action they fell in with their muskets on the
poop, quarter-deck, and gangways, to gall the enemy’s sail-trimmers
and topmen, and to give a hand at the braces, if occasion arose. A
marine private was dressed in the scarlet tunic of a soldier, with
white tight breeches and black Hessian boots. His hat was a sort of
top-hat, made of black felt, with gold lace round the brim, a narrow
gold band round the crown, and a smart cockade on the left side. A
black japanned cartridge box was slung behind him, on two pipeclayed,
crossed shoulder-straps. The marine officer wore a smart scarlet
tail-coat, with elaborate cuffs and lapels, tight white breeches,
low shoes, and silk stockings. In peace time, when not attached to a
ship, the marines were not disbanded, but sent to barracks. They were
a standing force. When a ship was commissioned they were usually
the first part of the crew to come aboard. It was generally their
fortune to do all the dirty work connected with the fitting out of
the ship. They were at all times subject to the same discipline as
the sailors. If they transgressed the rules of the service they were
flogged at the gangway like the sailors. They stood no watch at sea,
save the occasional sentry-go at the magazines and cabins. They were
always berthed far aft on the berth-deck,[24] where they would not
be disturbed by the changing watches. Their officers messed in the
ward-room, and had little cabins on the lower or orlop deck.

FOOTNOTES:

[22] “In a man-of-war,” says Edward Thompson, “you have the collected
filths of jails: condemned criminals have the alternative of hanging
or entering on board.... There’s not a vice committed on shore that
is not practised here; the scenes of horror and infamy on board a
man-of-war are so many and so great that I think they must rather
disgust a good mind than allure it.”

[23] The pay of an able seaman, such as a topman or forecastle hand,
was 33s. a month. An ordinary seaman received 25s. 6d. The landsman
2s. 6d. or 3s. a month less. Until 1797 the pay given was about a
third of that quoted above.

[24] Or on the orlop.

CHAPTER VI

Sea punishments—The cat—Flogging at the gangway—Flogging through
the fleet—Running the gauntlet—Keel-hauling—Hanging

The punishment most in use in the fleet was flogging on the bare
back with the cat-o’-nine-tails. The cat was a short, wooden stick,
covered with red baize. The tails were of tough knotted cord, about
two feet long. The thieves’ cat, with which thieves were flogged, had
longer and heavier tails, knotted throughout their length. Flogging
was inflicted at the discretion of the captain. It was considered
the only punishment likely to be effective with such men as manned
the royal ships. It is now pretty certain that it was as useless as
it was degrading. Lord Charles Beresford has said that, “in those
days we had the cat and no discipline; now we have discipline and
no cat.” Another skilled observer has said that “it made a bad
man worse, and broke a good man’s heart.” It was perhaps the most
cruel and ineffectual punishment ever inflicted. The system was
radically bad, for many captains inflicted flogging for all manner of
offences, without distinction. The thief was flogged, the drunkard
was flogged, the laggard was flogged. The poor, wretched topman who
got a rope-yarn into a buntline block was flogged. The very slightest
transgression was visited with flogging. Those seamen who had any
pride remaining in them went in daily fear of being flogged. Those
who had been flogged were generally callous, careless whether they
were flogged again, and indifferent to all that might happen to
them. It was a terrible weapon in the hands of the officers. In many
cases the officers abused the power, by the infliction of excessive
punishment for trifling offences. The sailors liked a smart captain.
They liked to be brought up to the mark, and if a captain showed
himself a brave man, a good seaman, and a glutton for hard knocks,
they would stand any punishment he chose to inflict, knowing that
such a one would not be unjust. They hated a slack captain, for a
slack captain left them at the mercy of the underlings, and that,
they said, was “hell afloat.” But worse than anything they hated
a tyrant, a man who flogged his whole ship’s company for little
or no reason, or for the infringement of his own arbitrary rules.
Such a man, who kept his crew in an agony of fear, hardly knowing
whether to kill themselves or their tyrant, was dreaded by all. He
was not uncommon in the service until the conclusion of the Great
War. It was his kind who drove so many of our men into the American
navy. It was his kind who did so much to cause the mutinies at the
Nore and Spithead, the loss of the _Hermione_ frigate, and (to some
extent) the losses we sustained in the American War. Lastly, it
was his kind who caused so many men to desert, in defiance of the
stern laws against desertion. That kind of captain was the terror
of the fleet. We do not know what percentage of captains gave the
lash unmercifully. Jack Nastyface tells us that of the nine ships of
the line he sailed aboard only two had humane commanders. These two
received services of plate from the sailors under their command at
the paying-off of their ships; the other seven, we are to presume,
ranged from the severe to the brutal.

After all, the cat was not essential to discipline. This was proved
time and time again while it was most in use. There were, of course,
stubborn, brutal, and mutinous sailors. A fleet so manned could not
lack such men. When such men were brought before Lord Nelson, he
would say: “Send them to Collingwood. He will tame them, if no one
else can.” Lord Collingwood was the man who swore, by the god of war,
that his men should salute a reefer’s coat, even when it were merely
hung to dry. Yet he didn’t tame his men by cutting their backs into
strips. He would have his whole ship’s company in perfect order,
working like machines, with absolute, unquestioning fidelity. But he
seldom flogged more than one man a month, and punished really serious
offences, such as drunkenness, inciting to mutiny, and theft, with
six, nine, or at most a dozen, lashes. His system tamed the hardest
cases in the fleet—good men, whom Lord St Vincent would have flogged
to death, or sent to the yard-arm. In conclusion we may quote one of
those who saw the last days of flogging: “My firm conviction is that
the bad man was very little the better; the good man very much the
worse. The good man felt the disgrace, and was branded for life. His
self-esteem was permanently maimed, and he rarely held up his head or
did his best again.” Such was the effect of the favourite punishment
in the time of the consulship of Plancus.

[Illustration: A FLOGGING AT THE GANGWAY]

Those who transgressed the rules of the ship or of the service during
the day were put upon the report of the master-at-arms. The names
were submitted by that officer to the first lieutenant, who passed
them to the captain every forenoon. Drunkards and mutinous subjects
generally passed a night in irons under the half-deck, in the care
of an armed marine, before coming up for sentence. Every forenoon,
at about half-past ten, those who were on the report went below for
their smartest clothes, in the hope that a neat appearance might
mollify the captain. Those who were in irons got their messmates to
bring them their clothes. At six bells, or eleven o’clock in the
forenoon, the captain came on deck, with a paper bearing the names of
all delinquents. He bade the lieutenant turn the hands aft to witness
punishment. The lieutenant sent a midshipman to the boatswain’s
mates, and the order was piped and shouted. The marines fell in upon
the poop, with their muskets and side-arms. The junior officers
gathered to windward under the break of the poop. The captain and
lieutenants stood on the weather quarter-deck. The ship’s company
fell in anyhow, on the booms, boats, and lee-side of the ship,
directly forward of the main-mast. The doctor and purser fell in
to leeward, under the break of the poop, with the boatswain and
boatswain’s mates in a little gang in front of them. The captain’s
first order was “rig the gratings.” The carpenter and carpenter’s
mates at once dragged aft two of the wooden gratings which covered
the hatches. One of these was placed flat upon the deck. The other
was placed upright, and secured in that position against the ship’s
side or poop railings. When the gratings had been reported rigged
the captain called forward the first offender on his list, and told
him that he had transgressed the rules of the service, knowing the
penalty. He asked the man if he had anything to say in extenuation.
If he had nothing to say the order was “Strip.” The man flung off his
shirt, and advanced bare-shouldered to the gratings, and extended his
arms upon the upright. The captain then gave the order “Seize him
up.” The quarter-masters advanced, with lengths of spun-yarn, with
which they tied the man’s hands to the grating. They then reported
“Seized up, sir.” At this point the captain produced a copy of
the Articles of War, and read that Article which the offender had
infringed. As he read he took off his hat, to show his respect for
the King’s commandments. Every man present did the same. While the
Article was being read one of the boatswain’s mates undid a red baize
bag, and produced the red-handled cat, with which he was to execute
punishment. At the order “Do your duty,” he advanced to the man at
the grating, drew the cat tails through his fingers, flung his arm
back, and commenced to flog, with his full strength, at the full
sweep of his arm. He was generally a powerful seaman, and he knew
very well that any sign of favouritism would infallibly cause his
disrating, if it did not subject him to the same torture. Some seamen
could take a dozen, or, as they expressed it, “get a red checked
shirt at the gangway,” without crying aloud. But the force of each
blow was such that the recipient had the breath knocked clean out of
him, “with an involuntary Ugh.” One blow was sufficient to take off
the skin, and to draw blood wherever the knots fell. Six blows were
enough to make the back positively raw. Twelve blows cut deeply into
it, and left it a horrible red slough, sickening to look upon. Yet
three dozen was a common punishment. Six dozen lashes were counted as
nothing. Three hundred lashes were very frequently given.

Before a severe punishment the sufferer’s messmates used to bring
him their tots of grog, saved up from supper the night before, so
that he might at least begin his torture in blessed stupefaction.
After a severe punishment they took the poor mangled body down to the
sick-bay, and left it there in the care of the surgeon. A body that
had been severely lashed looked something like raw veal. It generally
healed up, but for weeks after the punishment the sufferer’s life was
a misery to him, for reasons which may be read in the proper place,
but which need not be quoted here.

It may interest some people to know what the punishment felt like. A
ruffian has left it on record that it was “nothing but an O, and a
few O my Gods, and then you can put on your shirt.” It was more than
that. A very hardy fellow may have found a dozen or so comparatively
easy to bear. But when the lashes ran into the scores it became a
different matter. We will quote a poor soldier who was flogged in
1832 with a cat precisely similar to that used in the King’s fleet.

“I felt an astounding sensation between the shoulders, under my neck,
which went to my toe-nails in one direction, and my finger-nails in
another, and stung me to the heart, as if a knife had gone through
my body.... He came on a second time a few inches lower, and then I
thought the former stroke was sweet and agreeable compared with that
one.... I felt my flesh quiver in every nerve, from the scalp of my
head to my toe-nails. The time between each stroke seemed so long
as to be agonising, and yet the next came too soon.... The pain in
my lungs was more severe, I thought, than on my back. I felt as if
I would burst in the internal parts of my body.... I put my tongue
between my teeth, held it there, and bit it almost in two pieces.
What with the blood from my tongue, and my lips, which I had also
bitten, and the blood from my lungs, or some other internal part,
ruptured by the writhing agony, I was almost choked, and became black
in the face.... Only fifty had been inflicted, and the time since
they began was like a long period of life; I felt as if I had lived
all the time of my real life in pain and torture, and that the time
when existence had pleasure in it was a dream, long, long gone by.”

Another man, who saw a good deal of flogging in his time, has told
us that, after the infliction of two dozen lashes, “the lacerated
back looks inhuman; it resembles roasted meat burnt nearly black
before a scorching fire.” The later blows were not laid on less
heartily than the first. The striker cleaned the tails of the cat
after each blow, so that they should not clog together with flesh
and blood, and thus deaden the effect. A fresh boatswain’s mate was
put on to flog after each two dozen. Some captains boasted of having
left-handed boatswain’s mates, who could “cross the cuts” made by the
right-handed men.

For striking “an admiral, a commodore, captain, or lieutenant,” or
“for attempting to escape,” no matter what provocation may have been
given, the most lenient punishment inflicted was flogging through
the fleet. The man was put into the ship’s long-boat, and lashed by
his wrists to a capstan bar. Stockings were inserted between the
wrists and the lashing “to prevent him from tearing the flesh off
in his agonies.” The other boats of the ship were lowered, and each
ship in the harbour sent a boat manned with marines to attend the
punishment. The master-at-arms and the ship’s surgeon accompanied
the victim. Before the boat cast off from the ship the captain read
the sentence from the gangway. A boatswain’s mate then came down
the ladder, and inflicted a certain number of lashes on the man. The
boat then rowed away from the ship, to the sound of the half-minute
bell, the oars keeping time to the drummer, who beat the rogue’s
march beside the victim. The attendant boats followed, in a doleful
procession, rowing slowly to the same music. On coming to the next
ship the ceremony was repeated, after which the poor man was cast
off and covered with a blanket, and allowed to compose himself. He
received a portion of his torture near each ship in the port, “until
the sentence was completed.” If he fainted he was plied with wine or
rum, or, in some cases, taken back to the sick-bay of his ship to
recover. In the latter case he stayed till his back had healed, when
he was again led out to receive the rest of the sentence. “After he
has been alongside of several ships,” says Jack Nastyface, who often
saw these punishments, “his back resembles so much putrified liver.”
Those who lived through the whole of the punishment were washed
with brine, cured, and sent back to their duty. But the punishment
was so terrible that very few lived through it all. Joshua Davis
tells us of a corpse being brought alongside, with the head hanging
down and the bones laid bare from the neck to the waist. There
were still fifty lashes due to the man, so they were given to the
corpse, at the captain’s order. Those who died during the infliction
of the punishment were rowed ashore, and buried in the mud below
the tidemark, without religious rites. Those who survived such
fearful ordeals were broken men when they came out of the sick-bay.
They lived but a little while afterwards, in a nervous and pitiful
condition, suffering acutely in many ways. It is said that those who
were flogged through the fleet were offered the alternative of the
gallows.

A man caught thieving was generally set to run the gauntlet. The
members of the ship’s crew formed into a double line right round
the main or spar deck. Each man armed himself with three tarry rope
yarns, which he twisted up into what was called a knittle or nettle,
knotted at the end, and about three feet long. The thief was stripped
to the waist, and brought to one end of the line. The master-at-arms
stood in front of him, with a drawn sword pointing to his breast. Two
ship’s corporals stood close behind him, with drawn swords pointing
to his back. If he went too quickly or too slowly the sword points
pricked him. When he was placed in position at the end of a line a
boatswain’s mate gave him a dozen lashes with the thieves’ cat. He
was then slowly walked (or dragged on a grating) through the double
line of men, who flogged him with their nettles as he walked past
them. When he arrived at the end of a line a boatswain’s mate gave
him another taste of the thieves’ cat, and either started him down
another line or turned him back by the way he had come. It was very
cruel punishment, for it flayed the whole of the upper part of a
man’s body, not omitting his head. After running the gauntlet the
man went into hospital, to be rubbed with brine and healed. He was
then sent back to his duty, “without a stain upon his character.” He
had purged his offence. It was never again mentioned by his shipmates.

Those who contradicted an officer—or appeared to contradict him, by
answering back, however respectfully—were punished by gagging. The
lieutenants had no power to flog, but they had power to inflict minor
punishments. Gagging was one of those they inflicted on their own
initiative. The offender was brought to the rigging, or to the bitts,
with his hands tied behind him. An iron marline spike was placed
across his mouth, between his teeth, like a bit. The ends were fitted
with spun-yarn, which was passed round the head, and knotted there
to keep the iron in position. With this heavy piece of iron in his
mouth the man had to stand till his mouth was bloody, or till the
officer relented. If a man displeased an officer at any time, he was
often punished on the spot, by a boatswain’s mate. The officer would
call a boatswain’s mate and say: “Start that man.” The boatswain’s
mate at once produced a hard knotted cord, called a starter, with
which he beat the man unmercifully about the head and shoulders,
till the officer bade him to desist. The sailors found the starting
even harder to bear than the cat, for it generally fell upon their
arms as they raised them to protect their heads. It was very severe
punishment, and frequently caused such swollen and bruised arms that
the sailors could not bear to wear their jackets. It was inflicted
with very little cause. Whenever an order was given the boatswain’s
mates drew out their colts or starters and thrashed the men to their
duty with indiscriminating cruelty. It was not lawful punishment,
being wholly unauthorised by regulation. But there was no appeal;
the sailors had to grin and bear it. After 1811 it was very strictly
suppressed.

The boatswain, master-at-arms, and ship’s corporals, with their
rattans, or supplejacks, were every whit as ready to thrash the
seamen as the boatswain’s mates. They, too, carried colts, or
starters, made of 3-inch rope, so unlaid that the strands made three
knotted tails. With these they beat the seamen for any slight, or
fancied slight, until their arms were tired. The sergeant of marines
was similarly provided, but his attentions were confined to his own
department. He had no power over the bluejackets, except in fifth and
sixth rates. Besides all these petty tyrants there were the lesser
bullies, the midshipmen, who took delight in torturing the seamen in
many ways.

The old-fashioned punishments of ducking from the yard-arm, and
keel-hauling, were not practised in our fleet. They had fallen out of
use during the eighteenth century, though the French still practised
them. Captain Glascock saw a Frenchman keel-hauled early in the last
century. Instead of them, there were other punishments, such as a
disciplinarian could invent on the spot. Spitting on the decks was
discouraged by fastening buckets round the offender’s neck, and
causing the man to walk the lower deck, as a sort of peripatetic
cuspidor. Minor offences were punished by stoppage of grog, or of
some part of it; by the infliction of dirty or harassing duty; or by
riding a man on a gun with his feet tied together beneath the piece.

Capital offences were expiated at the yard-arm. The man was taken
to the cathead, a yellow flag was flown at the masthead, a gun was
fired, and all the bad characters of the ship manned the yard-rope,
and ran the victim up to the end of the yard.

CHAPTER VII

In Action

At the first sight of a suspicious ship, all hands were called, and
the drummer of the marines beat to quarters. The roll to quarters was
short, quick, and determined, being the tune of the song “Hearts of
Oak.” Directly the drumming ceased the sailors sprang to their tasks.
They knew their posts, and the work allotted to them. The ship was
cleared quickly and quietly, each man of the hundreds aboard going at
once to his place to fit it for battle. The carpenter with his mates,
and a number of allotted assistants, repaired aft to the officers’
cabins, to unship the wooden bulkheads. The light wooden screens were
easily knocked from their grooves, and hurried down into the hold.
The captain’s furniture, generally no more than a table, settee, and
a few chairs, was handed down to the same place, and secured by a
rope or two. If the ship had to be cleared in a hurry these things
were tossed overboard. The French seem to have left them standing,
trusting to fortune to keep the splinters from doing any hurt. Men
from each mess went to the lower-deck, to the berth, to clear away
the crockery, kit-bags, sea chests, etc., and to run them down out of
the way into the wings. The topmen securely “stopped” the top-sail
sheets, rove preventer-lifts, slung their lower-yards with chain,
prepared their muskets, swivel-guns, pistols and hand-grenades,
and got up a few coils of rope and some spare blocks ready for
emergencies. If it were dark, or likely to be dark before the fight
had been brought to a conclusion, the purser issued “purser’s glims,”
in heavy battle lanterns, one of which was secured to the ship’s
side by each gun. As the lanterns were liable to be shaken from
their places by the concussion of the firing they were secured very
tightly. They gave little light; but by the help of the moon, if any
shone, and by instinct, and the knowledge of what was to be done, the
sailors managed very well. Few actions were fought in the dark, as
the risk was too great. It was always well to have a good look at the
enemy before engaging.

The hammocks, which ran all round the upper or spar deck, made a good
protection to the men engaged upon the gangways. Before going into
action, a number of hammocks were taken from the nettings and lashed
to the lower rigging, over the dead-eyes and lanyards. A few hammocks
were sometimes whipped into the tops, to protect the topmast-rigging
in the same way. Strong rope nettings were hung over the upper-deck
under the masts, to catch any wreck or men falling from above.
Some buckets of water were sent aloft and poured over the sails.
Sometimes the engine was rigged, and placed upon the poop, so that
the hose played upon the courses. The booms and boats were liberally
drenched. The buckets hanging on the quarter-deck were filled, and
fire hoses were laid along each deck. Buckets of water were placed in
the chains and head. The pumps were rigged in case the ship started
a leak. Wet swabs were laid by all the hatchways, ready for use. A
bucket of fresh water, a tub of salt water, and a swab, were placed
behind each gun, for the refreshment of the men, and in case of fire.
Wet sand was sprinkled over every deck, to make the planking moist,
so as to lessen the risk of fire, and to give surety to the footing
of the men. The match tubs were half filled with water. Wet canvas
cloths were rolled along the orlop to the mouths of the magazines.
Wet frieze screens were then nailed round the magazine hatches, so
that no spark could possibly penetrate to them. Wetted blankets were
hung round each hatchway.

While the appointed men were doing these things, the captains of the
guns went to the gunner’s store-rooms to get their cartouche boxes,
or square leather cases, filled with the powder tubes or quills,
for insertion in the touch-holes of the guns. They also received
the flinted gun-locks with which to fire the guns. The men told off
to the cannon cast their guns loose from their lashings, struck
their ports open, cleared away the side-tackles, preventer-tackles,
and breechings, took out the tompions, cast off the leaden aprons,
made ready the crows and handspikes, and laid the sponge ready for
use. They got the cheeses of wads ready, and placed “garlands,” or
rope-rings containing round shot, between the guns. Those of the
gun’s crews who were told off as boarders put a couple of loaded
pistols, and a ship’s cutlass in their belts. The gun-captains hung
up their powder horns, full of priming powder, above their pieces,
and stuck their priming-irons into their belts ready for use. The
powder-boys brought up their “salt-boxes” full of cartridges for the
first broadsides. The marines, or at anyrate some of their number,
fell in upon the poop quarter-deck and forecastle, with their muskets
and side-arms. They were expected to shoot the enemy’s topmen,
and to pick off the musketeers and sail-trimmers on the poop and
quarter-deck of the opposing ship. Some of their number helped to
work the heavy carronades of the upper after-batteries. The drummers
and fifers of the company, who were generally little fellows, younger
than the ship’s boys, were employed to keep them supplied with powder
and ball-cartridge.

Any animals below decks were generally hoisted up and slung
overboard, so that the pens in which they lived might be demolished.
Hen-coops generally went over the side in the same way. If they were
stowed in the boats on the booms, they were allowed to remain. We
read of a cock which was liberated by a round shot in time to cheer
the ship’s company by crowing from the stump of a mast. If there
were pigs in the manger, which was a very powerful barricade, little
likely to be destroyed, they were suffered to stay there.

It took but a few minutes to clear a ship for action. The guns were
cast loose, the lumber cleared away, yards slung, sheets stopped,
and the galley-fire extinguished in much less time than a landsman
would think possible. As soon as the men had taken their places the
lieutenants walked round the gun-decks, to see that all was ready,
at the same time giving orders that the guns should be loaded and
run out. All this work was done silently: there was no singing out
or loud talking. Down below the gun-decks the gunner was busy in his
magazines, handing out cartridges to the powder-boys, who put them
in the wooden or leathern cases, and carried them to the guns. His
mates were kept employed filling fresh cartridges to replace those
discharged. The surgeon, with his assistants, prepared the cockpit
for the wounded, making ready a number of tourniquets and pledgets
for first intentions. A number of tourniquets were distributed about
the gun-decks for use by the men who carried down the wounded. As a
final preparation, the ship’s hatches were tripped up, so that the
men could not run below to the security of the orlop-deck. The small
fore and after hatches were left standing, to allow the powder-boys
and messengers to pass down. They were, however, guarded by marines,
who had orders to allow no one save powder-boys and midshipmen to go
down by them. Those hatches which led from the gun-deck to the orlop
were guarded by midshipmen with pistols, who had orders to shoot
any man trying to escape his duty. To prevent anyone from trying
to impose upon these hatchway sentries, it was the rule that all
powder-boys going for powder should display their cartridge cases as
they reached the ladder. The gunner, also, had orders to refuse to
give powder to anyone without a proper case.

When all was ready, the lieutenant, and sometimes the captain, made
the tour of the decks to cheer the men, and to give their final
orders. At the same time the carpenter and his mates took up their
stations on the orlop-deck and in the hold, with their shot plugs
ready for immediate insertion.

Many of the sailors delighted in battle, not because they were fond
of fighting, but because discipline was relaxed during the fight,
and, in spite of the extra duty, for a day or two afterwards; and
because a victory meant prize-money and a jolly time in port. A
fight broke the monotony of a cruise. It made the officers rather
more humane in their treatment. Lastly, it was exciting in itself.
It was, however, less popular among the men than among the officers.
If an officer was badly hurt he got promotion and half pay. If a
man was maimed he had nothing but Greenwich Hospital to look for.
If he could not get into the hospital he was free to starve, saying
with Goldsmith’s sailor, that those who got both legs shot off, and
a consequent pension, were born with golden spoons in their mouths.
Nevertheless, they always went into action cheerily. Their motto
was “The hotter the war the sooner the peace,” and they knew that
they would not be discharged till peace had been declared. Even
those who were stationed in the waist or midship guns were merry as
they went to quarters. “The very idea of going into action” was “a
source of joy to them.” They were as brave as they were careless. A
hot engagement was meat and drink to them. The thought of a general
action kept them from their beds.

It was their custom, when going into action, to strip to the waist.
They took their black silk handkerchiefs, and bound them very tightly
round their heads over their ears, so that the roar of the guns might
not deafen them for life. It was remarked that men going into action
always wore a sullen frown, however merry they were in their talk.
Before the firing began they used to settle among themselves what
amount of prize-money they would win, and how they would spend it.
They also made their wills, not in writing, but verbally: “If they
get me, Jack, you can have my kit. Tom, you can have my trousers
to buy you a mourning ring,” etc., always merrily, as though the
prospect of death was very remote. They would also whisper to each
other, as they came down to the enemy, as to her strength, size, and
appearance, guessing her nationality, length of absence from home,
etc., from the cut and shape of her masts and sails, and the colour
of the bunt patches in her top-sails.

It is not known how a gun-deck looked during the heat of an
engagement; for those who saw most of the fighting have left us but
a poor account of their experiences. We may take Smollett’s word for
it, that it was “a most infernal scene of slaughter, fire, smoke
and uproar.” We can imagine fifteen or sixteen cannon in a row, all
thundering and recoiling and flashing fire; on the other side of the
ship a similar row, nearly certain to be thundering and flashing
fire, if the action were general, instead of a duel between ships.
Up above, immediately overhead, not more than a foot from one’s hat
crown, was a similar double row of cannon, with heavy carriages
which banged and leaped at each recoil. Up above those, perhaps,
if the ship were a first or second rate, was yet another gun-deck,
with its thundering great guns and banging gun-trucks. And above
that, as a sort of pendant, was the upper battery of carronades,
making a terrible roaring at each shot; and marines firing their
muskets, and topmen firing their swivels, and blocks and spars and
heavy ropes coming down from aloft with a clatter. And every now and
again, if not every minute, the awful ear-splitting crash, “like the
smashing of a door with, crowbars,” as a shot struck home, and sent
the splinters scattering. Then, continually, the peculiar hissing
and screaming of the passing round shot made a lighter music, “like
the tearing of sails,” to the bass of the cannon. One heard, too,
the yells of perhaps five or six hundred men, as they tugged at the
tackling, or hove the guns round with the handspikes. Then there were
wounded men screaming, and port-lids coming down with a bang, and
perhaps a gun bursting, or thudding clean out of its carriage, as a
shot struck a trunnion; and every now and then a horrible noise, as a
ball exploded a cartridge on the deck.

So much for the racket. The noise was the clearest impression one
could gather. One could see little enough when once the firing had
begun. A large ship, fighting only one broadside at a time, burned
from 500 to 1100 lbs. of powder every minute, according to the heat
of the battle and the distance of the target. It was black powder,
and the decks were black with smoke after the first broadside, if
they were engaging to windward, for the smoke blew back at the
ports, and poured up the hatches like the reek of factory chimneys.
In the murk and stench one might see the flash from the spouting
touch-holes, as the “huff” leaped out, to burn a hole in the beams
above. One could mark the little light of the slow matches at those
guns where the flints of the locks had broken. One could see a
sailor’s face in the glow, as he blew at the red end to clear away
the ashes.

The least pleasant part of a ship of war in action was the waist or
midship part, near the main rigging. It was the custom in these sea
engagements to converge a broadside fire upon some central point in
the opposing ship’s side. The men stationed in the waist or main
battery always suffered more in proportion than the men at the after
or forward guns. That part of a ship’s lower-deck between the fore
and after hatchways, was known as “the slaughter-house,” on account
of the massacre which generally took place at that part. In the midst
of the fury and confusion, with the ship shaking like a tautened rope
from the concussion, and the blood “flowing like bilge water,” there
was yet a certain order and human purpose. The lieutenants walked to
and fro about the batteries, regulating the fire, and keeping the
men to their guns. The powder-boys skipped here and there on their
errands for powder. The half-dozen men told off for cockpit duty came
and went with the wounded, or paused at the gun-ports to heave a dead
or dying man overboard, “with no other ceremony than shoving him
through the port.” Now and then some men left their guns and ran on
deck to do any sail-trimming which might be necessary. Others broke
away to bring up shot from the hold. If the ship carried any women or
sailors’ wives they, too, were employed about the deck in carrying
water or powder. The master-at-arms went his rounds slowly, passing
from deck to deck, asking for complaints, and noting how things
were going. He had to make a note of the losses at the guns, of the
expenditure of powder, and of the shot-holes between wind and water.
His visits were godsends to the men working below the gun-deck in
the magazines. The work there was mechanical, not feverish, like the
work of the men at the guns. They had time to think, and found the
situation “not one of danger, but most wounding to the feelings, and
trying to the patience.” One of the gunner’s crew of H.M.S. _Goliah_,
a 74-gun ship engaged at the battle of St Vincent, has told us that—

“I was stationed in the after-magazine serving powder from the
screen, and could see nothing; but I could feel every shot that
struck the _Goliah_: and the cries and groans of the wounded were
most distressing, as there was only the thickness of the blankets of
the screen between me and them. Busy as I was, the time hung upon me
with a dreary weight. Not a soul spoke to me but the master-at-arms,
as he went his rounds to inquire if all was safe. No sick person
ever longed more for his physician than I for the voice of the
master-at-arms. I would, if I had had my choice, have been on the
deck; there I would have seen what was passing, and the time would
not have hung so heavy.”

If, during the engagement, the ships came grinding together, with
a crash which knocked the lower-deck ports in, the matter was
settled by boarding. The two or three men of each gun’s crew who
were told off as boarders were then “called away.” They dropped
their gun-tackles, drew their cutlasses and pistols, and skipped
up on deck, into the enemy’s rigging, and down on to her decks, to
carry her by hand-to-hand fighting. More generally the action was
determined by superior gunnery. The ship which lost her rudder or
her fore-mast, or caught fire either aloft or below, was the one to
strike. If one of the combatants became unmanageable her opponent
took up a position on her bow or quarter, and raked her into
submission, at a safe distance. When a ship struck a boat was sent to
take possession of her. Her officers were sent aboard the captor as
the guests of the ward-room and cabin. The men were hunted down into
the hold under a guard of marines. If they showed signs of rising,
or if they were too numerous for safety, they were put in irons. In
extreme cases they were battened down below, with cannon, loaded with
grape, pointing down the hatchways at them.

We quote part of the account of a boy who fought in one of the
hottest of our frigate actions. The action belongs to a period
half-a-dozen years after that of Trafalgar, but, nevertheless, as the
author says, “it will reveal the horrors of war, and show at what a
fearful price a victory is won or lost.”

“The whole scene grew indescribably confused and horrible. I was
busily supplying my gun with powder, when I saw blood suddenly fly
from the arm of a man stationed at our gun. I saw nothing strike
him; the effect alone was visible: ... the third lieutenant tied his
handkerchief round the wounded arm, and sent the groaning wretch
below to the surgeon. The cries of the wounded rang through all parts
of the ship ... those more fortunate men who were killed outright
were immediately thrown overboard.... Two of the boys stationed on
the quarter-deck were killed. A man, who saw one of them killed,
afterwards told me that his powder caught fire and burnt the flesh
almost off his face. In this pitiable situation, the agonised boy
lifted up both hands, as if imploring relief, when a passing shot
instantly cut him in two.... A man named Aldrich had one of his
hands cut off by a shot, and almost at the some moment he received
another shot, which tore open his bowels in a terrible manner. As he
fell, two or three men caught him in their arms and, as he could not
live, threw him overboard.... Our men kept cheering with all their
might. I cheered with them, though I confess I scarcely knew for
what. Certainly there was nothing very inspiriting in the aspect of
things where I was stationed. Not only had we several boys and men
killed and wounded, but several of the guns were disabled. The one
I belonged to had a piece of the muzzle knocked out.... The brave
boatswain, who came from the sick-bay to the din of battle, was
fastening a stopper on a backstay, which had been shot away, when
his head was smashed to pieces by a cannon-ball; another man, going
to complete the unfinished task, was also struck down.... A fellow
named John, who for some petty offence had been sent on board as a
punishment, was carried past me wounded. I distinctly heard the large
blood drops fall pat, pat, pat on the deck. Even a poor goat kept by
the officers for her milk did not escape the general carnage; her
hind legs were shot off, and poor Nan was thrown overboard. Such was
the terrible scene, amid which we kept on our shouting and firing.
I felt pretty much as I suppose everyone does at such a time. We
all appeared cheerful, but I know that many a serious thought ran
through my mind.... I thought a great deal of the other world ... but
being without any particular knowledge of religious truth I satisfied
myself by repeating again and again the Lord’s Prayer.”

The poor little boy was barely fourteen years old.

After an action a supply of vinegar was heated for the sprinkling
of the ship, to drive away the smell of blood from decks and beams.
The last of the dead were thrown overboard, the wounded were made as
comfortable as the circumstance allowed, and as many men as could be
spared were sent on deck to knot and splice the rigging. Before the
repairs were begun the cannon were secured, and a gill of rum served
out to every man and boy. Then the heaviest work of the action began.
“It is after the action the disagreeable part commences.” There was
then no excitement to support the worker. The tired men had to turn
to with a will, to unbend sails and bend new ones, to send up new
spars, or new yards, to reeve new running-rigging, and set up new
stays and shrouds. “For days they have no remission of their toil,
repairing the rigging and other parts injured in the action.” The
work of a prize-crew, in charge of a prize, was especially arduous,
for they were generally a mere handful of men, barely sufficient to
sail the vessel, let alone to repair her. A prize-crew were sometimes
too busy to clean the prize’s decks. The _Chesapeake_ came into
Halifax six days after her capture by the _Shannon_ with her decks
still horrible with blood, and with human fingers sticking in her
sides, “as though they had been thrust through from without.” In any
case a ship which had been in a hot engagement needed to be cleansed
in every part with vinegar, and disinfected with brimstone, before
the shambles smell was removed from her.

The sailors were often inconvenienced indirectly during a hot
engagement by the destruction of the hammocks. The hammock nettings
stopped a great number of cannon balls, and the gangways were
frequently littered with hammocks thrown out by the shot, torn in
pieces, or shot clean through. As a 32lb. round shot made a very big
hole in a purser’s blanket, and as the sailors paid for their own
bedding, this was a real hardship. However, “everything is a joke at
sea.” The thought of prize-money atoned for the discomfort.

CHAPTER VIII

The daily routine—Sunday—Ship visiting

The day of a man-of-war’s man began at midnight, or at four in the
morning, according to the alternation of the watches. If he had the
middle-watch, from 12 P.M. till 4 A.M., he came on deck at midnight
and remained there till 4 A.M., doing any duty which appeared
necessary. The work at night in fine weather was easy. The men had
but to trim the sails, and be ready for a call. The boatswain’s
mates, with a midshipman or two, kept watch on the forecastle.
Lookouts were placed in the tops and cross-trees. The sentries,
helmsmen, officer of the watch, midshipmen, and master’s mates, went
to their posts on the poop and quarter-deck. The remainder of the
watch were supposed by the Articles of War to keep awake on pain of
death. Some captains and lieutenants allowed those not actually on
watch as look-out men to sleep during their night-watches, if the
weather was very fine. The act of sleeping during a night-watch in
the tropics was known as “taking a caulk,” because by lying on the
plank-seams the sailors’ jackets were marked with lines of tar. In
those ships aboard which the sailors were expected to keep awake, the
boatswain’s mates walked round with their starters, or kept buckets
of water ready to wake anyone who fell asleep. In wet weather there
was no sleeping in any ship during the night-watch on deck, because
the men were put to collecting rain water for washing clothes. In
foul weather they were too busily employed in other ways.

A few minutes before eight bells, or 4 A.M., the quarter-masters
stole down the after-ladders to call the midshipmen, mates, and
lieutenant of the other watch. The boatswain’s mates took their pipes
to the fore and main hatchways, and blew the prolonged, shrill call
“All Hands,” following it up by a shout of “Starboard (or Larboard)
Watch Ahoy. Rouse out there, you sleepers. Hey. Out or down here.”
At this order, the watch below, who were snugly sleeping in their
hammocks, turned out at once without waiting till they were properly
awake. When they had turned out they put on their clothes (if they
had taken them off) and bustled up on deck with the starters after
them. At eight bells they were mustered, and sent to their stations.
The wheel and look-outs were relieved. The log was hove, and the rate
of sailing marked on the board. The men of the other watch, who had
kept the deck since midnight, were then allowed to go below to their
hammocks.

[Illustration: LIEUTENANT BLOCKHEAD KEEPING THE MORNING WATCH]

Shortly after four o’clock the idlers were called up. The cook lit
his fires in the galley, and began to boil the abominable burgoo
for breakfast. The carpenter and carpenter’s mates came on deck and
began their work. The boatswain came up, and the watch on deck
began active duty. Before 5 A.M. the watch took off their shoes and
stockings, rolled up their trousers to the thigh, rigged the pumps,
got out the scrubbers and buckets, and began to wash her down. First
of all the decks were wetted by means of the head-pump and buckets.
After the bucket men came a couple of hands sprinkling sand on the
wetted planks. When the sand had been sprinkled the main body of the
seamen took their holystones, and went upon their hands and knees
to whiten the deck to its usual spotless whiteness. The gangways
and main-deck could be holystoned by a large stone, a block of
holystone weighing many pounds, with rings at each end. The sailors
rove ropes through the rings, and ran the block to and fro on the
wet and sanded planking. All the out-of-the-way places, under guns,
carronade slides, bitts, etc. etc., were scrubbed by the handstones,
or “prayer-books.” It was hard, and often unpleasant, work, scrubbing
the decks in all weathers, some fourteen hours after the last meal.
The upper and main decks were thus whitened every morning. It was a
real hardship to kneel for an hour or two on sanded planks, in frosty
Channel weather. Many sailors developed sore knees from the practice.

After the holystoners came the broom and bucket men, who swilled
and swept the dirty sand into the waterways, and so overboard
through the scuppers. After these came the swabbers, who flogged
the damp decks with swabs till they had dried them. The little
brasswork about the rails and bitts was then brightened. The ropes
were coiled, flaked, or flemished down, and the wash-deck gear, of
holystones, buckets, and brooms, was returned to the lockers and
hooks. By seven o’clock the work was practically finished, and the
decks nearly dry. The first lieutenant came on deck at about this
time to begin his long day’s supervision. At about half-past seven
the boatswain’s mates went below to the berth-deck and piped “All
hands. Up hammocks,” a pipe which brought up the sleepers and filled
the decks with scurrying figures carrying their lashed-up hammocks to
the nettings, where they were stowed in order by the quarter-masters
and midshipmen. By 8 A.M. the captain had come on deck, the last
of the hammocks had been stowed, the mess tables had been lowered
into position between the guns, and the cook had wreaked his worst
upon the burgoo, or Scotch coffee. At a word from the captain the
boatswain piped to breakfast, eight bells was struck upon the
ship’s bell, and nearly every man except the helmsman, lookout men,
and officers on duty, slipped down to breakfast. Half-an-hour was
allowed for this meal on weekdays. At half-past eight the watch was
called, and those who had slept from 4 till 7.30 A.M. came upon deck,
bringing with them the bags and chests from the berths. These were
stowed on the booms, while the lower deck was cleaned (by the watch
below) with the dry holystone and sand. The lower-deck was never
washed down with water save in fine, dry weather, when the ports
could be opened, and port-fires burned to dry the wet planking. At
other times it was sanded, scraped and holystoned, then swept with
dry brooms, and perhaps swabbed over. The lower-deck beams were often
sponged over with vinegar as a disinfectant.

The cooks of the different messes passed the forenoon watch in
cooking in the galley, cleaning up the mess utensils, and getting
dinner ready. Those who had the watch below were often free to
do as they wished.[25] They could sleep, or yarn, or mend their
clothes. Their hammocks were stowed in the nettings, but if lucky
they could sleep in between the guns, on the bare deck, provided
the space was not wanted by one of the ship’s artificers, such as
the carpenter. Those who had the watch on deck were employed in
the work of the ship, in the rigging, or about the guns, doing the
never-finished duties of sailormen. Some captains preferred to send
their watch below to exercise at the guns directly they had cleaned
the lower-deck. At six bells, or eleven o’clock, the captain, who
had finished breakfast, seen the young gentlemen’s logs, examined
the boatswain’s, purser’s, and carpenter’s accounts, and had a
talk with the first lieutenant, came on deck with the black list,
and called all hands to witness punishment. The master-at-arms
brought up his men in irons from the bilboes under the half-deck.
The gratings were rigged, the hands mustered, and the poor fellows
flogged according to the captain’s pleasure and the Articles of War.
By the time the execution had been done and the blood swabbed up it
was time to take the sun’s altitude. The master, master’s mates,
and midshipmen brought out their sextants and quadrants. Noon was
reported when the sun reached the meridian. The clock was put back or
put forward; eight bells was struck; the boatswain’s mate piped his
long, cheery “pipe to dinner,” all hands ran below with a song, and
then began “the pleasantest part of the day.” Dinner generally took
about half-an-hour, from twelve till half-past. It was a merry meal,
eaten cheerily, with a great buzz of talk all along the gun-deck.
At half-past twelve there came a great clink of cans and banging of
tin plates on the tables. The fifer took his flute to the main or
upper deck, where the master’s mate stood by the tub to dispense sea
ambrosia to the ship’s company. At the sound of one bell the fifer
struck up “Nancy Dawson,” or some other lively tune, such as “Drops
of Brandy,” and immediately the ship’s company took up the tune. The
mess cooks seized their black-jacks and hurried to the tub where
the grog was served out. They then carried it below to the messes,
where it was drunken down, with many songs and toasts. The debts
were discharged, bets settled, and purchases effected. Grog time was
the one happy hour of the day. With grog and an occasional battle a
sailor was often almost contented.

At half-past one o’clock, when the last oozings of the black jack
had been drained, the watch on deck was called to duty. The watch
below were sometimes allowed to keep below, to sleep if they could,
or to amuse themselves as they pleased, as soon as they had swept
away the crumbs of dinner. More frequently they were called on
deck with the rest, to be drilled into smartness. Top-sails were
reefed, and upper spars sent down, the ship was tacked and wore,
the fire bell was rung, the men were sent to stations for letting
go anchor. Landsmen and raw hands were taken below by the gunner’s
mates, and trained at the heavy guns. Other squads were drilled in
the use of the musket or cutlass. Boarding parties were stationed
at their respective guns and suddenly called away, when they were
expected to snatch up pistols, cutlasses, and boarding pikes, and to
run on deck to hack the air furiously beside the hammock nettings.
Some captains who drilled the crew thus allowed their complements
to take an occasional afternoon watch below, especially in heavy
weather. Once or twice on each cruise they turned them up in the
afternoon “to dance and skylark,” with the ship’s fiddler to play
their dance tunes. At 4 P.M. the boatswain piped to supper, which
lasted half-an-hour, and was made pleasant by the second serving
out of grog. Shortly after supper, but before sunset, the drummer
beat to quarters. All hands had to repair to their stations. The
guns were cast loose. The midshipmen and lieutenants had to make a
minute inspection of the men and gun gear. The pumps were rigged,
the lifebuoys were placed in position, and the ship reported to the
captain as being in good order. It was at this evening muster that
the master-at-arms made most of his arrests. Many poor fellows,
who had saved up their dinner grog and taken a “long swig at the
halliards” before quarters, were then put in irons for the next
day’s black list. A little thickness or gaiety in the voice, or a
little unsteadiness in the walk, was always inquired into. He was a
happy sailor who had the first watch below and a head so strong that
nothing showed till a couple of hours after taking.

When the company had finished their exercise and secured the guns for
the night it was time for the hammocks to be piped down. The men ran
on deck, received their hammocks from the nettings, slung them in
their places, and then stood by till eight bells. At eight o’clock
the first night-watch was called and set, and the watch below went
down to their hammocks until midnight. The lights were extinguished,
or covered over, so that they would not show from a distance. The
master-at-arms, or ship’s corporals, began their policeman’s rounds.
The first lieutenant turned in for the night. Quiet settled down upon
the ship to be broken only by the creaking of the tiller-ropes, the
patting of the reef-points, and the occasional “All’s Well” cry of
the sentries, showing that they had not fallen asleep.

The watch and watch system, four hours on and four hours off, with
the four hours off constantly broken in upon by the ship’s routine,
was severe and harassing. It meant that the sailor had but four hours
of sleep one night, and a bare seven hours’ the night following. The
little naps they managed to take in the forenoons and afternoons
were hardly worth mentioning; they were too uncertain, too liable to
interruption. Even in their watches below at night they were liable
to be called on deck to tack, to wear, to shorten sail, or to go
to their stations. Once a month, at least, they were drummed up to
general quarters in the middle of their dreams. Every Thursday the
hammocks were called up at 4 A.M., and the morning-watch was passed
by the men in washing clothes. Every Monday the day-watches were
fully occupied by gun drill, target practice, and musket exercise.
Every Thursday afternoon all hands were sent to mend their clothes.
They were at all times liable to be called upon for works of
supererogation, such as sweeping or coiling down.

On Saturdays the men slung clean hammocks. They passed the afternoon
in holystoning the decks, ready for Sunday, as the daily routine on
Sunday was always rather lighter than on week-days. The Saturday
cleaning made it unnecessary to holystone the decks on Sunday
morning. The men merely sprinkled the planks and swabbed them down,
instead of scrubbing them. The hammocks were piped up half-an-hour
earlier than usual, and stowed with more than usual care, “numbers
out,” so that the clean white cloths made a brave show all down
the nettings. Breakfast was piped half-an-hour earlier than usual,
so that the forenoon-watch should be long enough both for divisions
and Divine Service. While breakfast was in progress, the boatswain’s
mates passed the word for the company to shave and put on clean
shirts, before coming on deck for morning muster. After breakfast
the bags were carried on deck, and the gun-decks were swiftly
dry-holystoned, and carefully swept by the ship’s sweepers. Every
scrap of dust and dirt was removed. The rags and brick-dust for the
polishing of the little bright work in the ships were brought out,
and used till the brass and steel were shining like gold. The cook
polished his coppers. The armourer put a shine upon his cutlasses,
muskets, and pistols. The cooper got his casks in order. The
boatswain, sailmaker, carpenter, and purser saw to the ordering of
their respective store-rooms. The quarter-gunners made the round of
their guns, and in fine weather traversed them, in order to clean the
plank covered by the carriages, and to remove any shakings or mess
clouts stowed beneath them by idle sweepers. The gunner down in the
magazine saw that the sea cocks which flooded the magazine in case
of fire were ready for use, that the right proportion of cartridges
was filled, and that the bands of the copper-bound powder casks were
polished, with a little soft rag. Every petty officer and man aboard
was busy polishing, cleaning, and arranging. The time for preparation
was limited. Much had to be done, yet two hours and a half, at
most, was the time allowed for the duty. Before half-past ten the
men contrived to “shave and shift” themselves, using the head and
forecastle and the berths between the guns for their toilet-rooms.
The barbers plied their business in the head, while all about the
forward parts of the ship one might have seen the old sailors,
sitting on inverted mess kids, having their queues dressed by their
mates. Others feverishly mended their shirts and trousers, curled
their ringlets, cleaned their shoes, or shaved their three-day beards.

A few minutes before half-past ten the sweepers again took their
brooms over the speckless decks, while the first lieutenant made a
hurried examination of the whole ship, to see that nothing was amiss.
Then, at half-past ten, the bell struck, and the drummer took his
drum and beat to muster. The men, in their clean blue trousers and
white shirts, or clean white trousers and blue shirts, fell in on
the gangways, main-deck, and quarter-deck. The ship’s boys fell in
on the forecastle. When they had all fallen in, with their toes on
an indicated seam or line of tar, the midshipmen called them over.
The lieutenants then inspected them, to send down any man improperly
or dirtily dressed. The surgeon took the opportunity to examine the
men for traces of scurvy. After these preliminary examinations the
captain came round to inspect the men, and to receive the reports
of the junior officers. The captain then examined every part of the
ship, from the forecastle to the lower hold. He was accompanied on
his rounds by the first lieutenant, to whom he made any necessary
complaint. The lower parts of the ship were lighted up during the
inspection by the petty and warrant officers in charge of them. It
was the custom of many officers to wear a white glove while going
round the ship, so that a light touch inside a cook’s copper, or on a
beam, would betray the presence of any dirt or dust.

As soon as the inspection had come to an end the sailors were
released from the misery of toeing the deck seam, and driven aft
to Divine Service,[26] which was held on the quarter-deck, in the
open air. They sat on buckets and mess kids, and on inverted match
tubs, or on the slides of the after-carronades. A bell was tolled
to call them aft, and a “church pendant” was hoisted at the peak as
soon as they were in their places. The chaplain then came forward to
the after-hatchway gratings, and read the prayers prescribed by the
Liturgy, afterwards giving a short address. If there were no chaplain
the captain was expected to officiate, but the captains generally got
out of the difficulty by reading the Articles of War. After church
the men were piped to dinner. They were then free (as far as the work
of the ship allowed it) to do as they wished till supper time, at
four or four-thirty. The free Sunday afternoons were passed in rest
and quietness on the various decks. The watch on deck slept on the
forecastle, or walked to and fro on the gangways, or spun their yarns
between the forward-carronades. The watch below generally kept on the
lower-deck, or on one side of the main-deck (the other being reserved
for a promenade for the lieutenants). They formed into little parties
between the guns, at the mess tables, where they yarned, or read,
or played chequers (draughts) for the entire afternoon. Some slept
on the deck, with a rolled-up coat for a pillow. Others stole away
to some quiet nook, where they could “rattle the bones,” using
their tarry fists for dice-boxes. Cards and dice were forbidden,
but the ships were manned so indiscriminately that every complement
contained card-sharpers, gamblers, and professional rooks. These men
indulged in their favourite games, keeping a smart look-out for the
master-at-arms and ship’s corporal.

In port and in the fleets at sea it was the custom to allow “ship
visiting” on Sunday afternoons if the weather were fine. The sailors
were not allowed to go ashore, save in exceptional circumstances;
but to make amends for this restriction they were allowed to visit
the other ships of war in company. The boats were kept busy all the
afternoon conveying the “liberty men” from one ship to the other. It
seems that the ships vied with each other in hospitality; many of
the men being well content to give up half their Sunday grog if,
by doing so, they might make their visitors drunk. “Ship visiting”
was subversive of all good discipline, though in conception it was
humane, and kindly meant. The men often got very drunk, and often
quarrelled with their hosts. If they agreed with their hosts they
returned to their own ships discontented, and eager to find fault
with their officers and shipmates.

After supper on Sundays the weekly muster was held, at which the men
had to pass one by one before the captain to answer to their names.
After muster, when the drunken men had been secured, the drummer
beat to quarters; the guns were examined and pronounced to be fit
for action; the hammocks were piped down, and the first watch was
set. After the setting of the watch the day was accounted over. The
lights were extinguished, and the watch below turned in. The ordinary
routine of the ship was again imposed upon all hands.

FOOTNOTES:

[25] As soon as the lower deck had been cleaned.

[26] Edward Thompson says: “You will find some little outward
appearance of religion and Sunday prayers, but the congregation is
generally driven together by the boatswain, who neither spares oaths
nor blows.”

CHAPTER IX

In port—Jews—Lovely Nan—Mutinies—Their punishment—Sailor
songs—“Drops of Brandy”—“Spanish Ladies,” etc.—Flags—Salutes

When a ship came into port after a long absence at sea or on a
foreign station, with several years of pay due to her crew, she was
surrounded by boats from the shore containing “Girls and Jews.”
During the wars the sailors were given hardly any shore leave, lest
they should run away. Those who did get ashore were so watched by the
land folk eager to earn a little head or blood money—the reward for
capturing a deserter—that they had little pleasure in their jaunts on
land. They never touched their pay till the ship was about to sail
again, so that they had small chance of enjoying themselves, or of
buying necessaries if they did succeed in getting out of the ship.
The Jews knew this very well, and therefore plied a very thriving
business with the sailors at every great sea-port. When the ship
came to an anchor they came off in their wherries with all manner of
fancy articles such as the sailors cared for. “Gold” watches, which
ticked very loudly, and went for a week, made a very profitable line.
Gold seals, of the same quality; bright brass telescopes, which put
an edge of brilliant colours round everything one saw through them;
scarlet and blue silk handkerchiefs, fancy shoes, shoe-buckles,
suspenders, watch-chains, diamond rings, etc.—all of these things
were laid out, with a great deal of glitter, on the pedlars’ trays
amidships. For all this trash they asked enormous prices, about
five times more than the things were worth. Others brought sailors’
clothes, of cuts and colours more beautiful than those sold by
the purser, such as blue-and-white striped trousers, as baggy as
the mouths of wind-sails, waistcoats like tropical sunsets, and
neckerchiefs like blood and broken eggs. Others brought little natty
straw hats, with ribbons neatly painted with the name of the ship;
or glazed tarpaulin hats with linings of some violently-coloured
cloth. Some brought sailors’ necessaries, such as gaudy crockery,
clay pipes, “silver” tobacco stoppers, clasp and sheath knives,
real silver spoons, hammock stretchers, tin pots and pans, boxes of
sugar, red-herrings, eggs, Dutch cheeses, butter, apples, onions,
etc. Nearly all of them had skins and bladders full of red-eye,
gin, or similar “sailor’s joy,” such as would give a waister the
action of a port-admiral. Towards the end of the long French wars
the captains grew more strict in their admission of these creatures.
They allowed them aboard only under certain conditions, generally
restricting them to the quarter-deck and gangways, where they did
business under the eyes of the officers and the marine sentries. This
kept them from smuggling drink aboard in any quantity, though they
generally contrived to smuggle in a little, despite the searching
of the master-at-arms. It also kept them from cheating the sailors
unduly, and from being cheated or man-handled by the sailors’ ladies.
Another regulation adopted towards the end of the war kept the Jews
out of the ship till pay-day, a day or two before the ship sailed
again. In the eighteenth century they came aboard directly the ship
was anchored, for in addition to the slop and bumboat trade they
carried on the profitable business of money-lending, advancing ready
money, at a ruinous rate of interest, on the sailors’ pay-tickets.
The sailors knew very well that the Jews cheated them, but they had
no alternative but to submit. In the matter of slops and trinkets
they were cheated less badly than over the pay, for when they came to
hand over the money for the gear they had bought they were generally
drunk with “the parting cans.” In this condition they argued and
wrangled, and blacked the Jews’ eyes, and flung the pedlars’ trays
down the hatches, and often enough refused to pay a red cent of the
money claimed. However, as Marryat says, “the Jews’ charges were so
extravagant that if one-third of their bills were paid there still
remained a profit.” When the strangers were turned out of the ship
on pay-day nights there were some lively scenes between the sergeant
of marines, or the master-at-arms, and the sailors and Jews who felt
themselves cheated.

[Illustration: H.M.S. _VENERABLE_ AT ANCHOR]

In the old days, when a man-of-war came into a home port, the
boatmen on the along-shore made their bargains with the women of the
town. They charged each woman several shillings for the trip out
to the ship, the women stipulating that if they failed to please
the sailors the fare should not be paid. This stipulation made the
boatmen very careful what women they took with them. They rowed out
only the prettiest and the best dressed, for if the women were not
chosen by the sailors they lost their fare, and had all their trouble
for nothing. Besides, the lieutenants were very jealous of the
reputations of their ships. It was not unusual for a lieutenant to
overlook the boatloads as they came alongside, and to refuse to admit
any ugly women, or any woman not smartly attired or freshly painted.
When the boats came alongside, each man slipped down the gangway,
made his choice, and carried her down to the berth. We would add
that most of the sailors were young men, that they sometimes stayed
several years away from England without so much as seeing a woman,
and that a lower-deck, at that time, was neither refined nor prudish.

A woman so chosen remained aboard with her chooser, or with any
other man whom she preferred. The protector, or fancy-man, kept her
with him while the ship remained in port, sharing his allowance with
her, and buying her little delicacies from the bumboats which came
alongside. A man-of-war of the first-rate had frequently 500 women
aboard at the same time, each woman being ready to swear that she
was the lawful wife of her protector. With the women came drink,
and what with the drink and the women the ship’s discipline came to
a stop. The master-at-arms searched every woman who came aboard,
for bladders full of spirits, scent-bottles, etc. etc. Marines kept
guard on the chains overlooking the ship’s sides, so that no drink
should be conveyed through the ports from shore boats. The head ports
were barred in. The sentries guarded the forecastle, so that no man
might lower a bucket privily over the bows. Every boat which came
alongside was searched by the ship’s corporals. Every boatman who
came aboard was examined and felt. But, with all these precautions,
the red-eye came aboard. Nothing kept it out very long. It came
aboard a little at a time, inside cocoa-nuts, balls of lard, oranges,
or anything with tolerable cubic capacity. When it had come aboard
the lower-deck became a pandemonium. The men and women drank and
quarrelled between the guns. The decks were allowed to become dirty.
Drunken sailors could be found lying under each hatchway. Drunken
women were continually coming aft to insult the officers, or to lodge
some complaint outside a lieutenant’s province. Sometimes the women
ran aloft to wave their petticoats to the flagship. Now and then they
fell from aloft while performing this manœuvre, and so broke their
necks and came to an unhappy end.

In some ways they may have been of benefit to the sailors. Though
they cheated them themselves they kept others from cheating them.
They were not without tenderness, nor were they so unfaithful as
most people would suppose. In many cases the sailors married them.
In others, the women grew so fond of their protectors that they
followed the ship by land, if she were ordered, say, from Spithead
to Sheerness, or to some other home port. It was not unusual for a
monstrous regiment of women to march right across England so that
they might join their mates on the other side.

When a ship set sail after a long sojourn in a home port there was a
great deal of misery upon the lower-deck. The sailors, or at anyrate
the tender-hearted ones, were melancholy; the women were either
crying or drunk; the Jews were clamouring for their moneys; the
bumboat people wanted their bills paid; and the sailors were drinking
parting cans and hoping to pay their debts with a loose fore-topsail.
Before the marines drove the women out of the ship the tender-hearted
sailors came aft to the captain for permission to take their wives
to sea with them. A line-of-battle ship often carried as many as a
dozen women to sea. It seems that the practice did not quite die
out for many years after the time of which we write. Some admirals
strictly forbade it, as fatal to all discipline. As a rule, however,
the married warrant officers, and perhaps a few men, obtained leave
to take their wives with them, on the understanding that misconduct
would involve their instant dismissal. A captain had to weigh such
applications very carefully, admitting only the most respectable of
those who offered. He had also to suffer patiently the abuses and
menaces of the harridans he refused to ship.

The partings between the robuster sailors and their ladies were not
marked by any great flow of sentiment. The women smuggled off a last
bladder of red-eye for the brewing of a good-bye flip. The sailors
bought onions and turnips, the latter as a symbol of subsequent
unfaithfulness, the former to induce tears in “eyes unus’d to flow.”
With a good deal of merry, blackguardly banter, a good deal of
drunken squabble, and a very energetic wrangle over the sailors’
money, the last day aboard came to an end. Before sunset of the day
before sailing the strangers were driven out of the ship, and bundled
down into the shore boats. The drunken men were lashed into their
hammocks till morning, when discipline again took hold and reduced
them to order.

After a spell in port a ship was nearly always dirty and
evil-smelling. The men were diseased, and in poor condition. It
generally took a month to bring them back to their old standard of
smartness. Very few of them came to sea with any money. The little
left to them after they had cashed their tickets, or swept the heaps
of coins into their hats, had gone to their women, or to the Jews.
After the wars our roads were thronged with sturdy beggars, who had
been in the King’s ships, and had wasted their substance in the home
ports. It is said that the number of loose women in Portsmouth
decreased at that time from 20,000 to about a fifth of that number.

The custom of admitting women to the ships was not abolished for many
years—barely more than sixty years ago. In the early forties, the
captain of a frigate in the West Indies sent ashore for 300 women,
so that every man and boy aboard might have a black mistress during
their stay in the port. A white planter supplied the women from his
plantations. The lieutenants were not allowed to keep women on board,
but until the beginning of the nineteenth century the midshipmen,
and some of the junior ward-room officers, indulged as licentiously,
with as little authoritative restraint, as their inferiors. An old
naval surgeon, writing in 1826, tell us that he knew of several
fine lads who died miserably from perseverance “in their debauched
habits.” After the first decade of the nineteenth century the
captains were more careful of the manners of the young gentlemen.
Their vices, if practised at all, were then practised ashore, out of
the captain’s jurisdiction. After 1814 the service was purged of some
of its vicious officers by the examination known as “passing for a
gentleman,” to which we have alluded elsewhere.

The songs most popular among the sailors were not always those
purporting to deal with life afloat. Their most popular song was a
song very popular ashore. It is still well known, though the old name
for it, “Drops of Brandy,” is now nearly forgotten. The tune is an
old country dance tune. The words the sailors sang to it are the
familiar:

“And Johnny shall have a new bonnet
And Johnny shall go to the fair,
And Johnny shall have a blue ribbon
To tie up his bonny brown hair.
And why should I not love Johnny
And why should not Johnny love me,
And why should I not love Johnny
As well as another bodie.”

The tune is simple and beautiful. When the marines and waisters
manned the capstan, to weigh the anchor, aboard one of these old
ships of war the pipers struck up “Drops of Brandy,” to put a heart
into the jollies as they hove around. It was sung by many merry
sailors over their grog, in the dark sea snuggeries between the guns.
A tune which kept many a miserable pressed man from going over the
side should be reverently treated. We give the music below.

[Illustration: DROPS OF BRANDY

_Campbell’s Dances, Book 11th, circa, 1800_]

The tune the fifers played to call the sailors to the grog tub was
“Nancy Dawson,” a tune well known to everyone as “Sally in our
Alley.” The “double double double beat,” which drummed the men to
quarters, is also well known, as “Hearts of Oak”—a song still popular
in many parts of England. After these, the best-known song was that
known as “Spanish Ladies,” a beautiful old song, long popular at sea,
and still familiar to many people. It has been quoted so often, by so
many popular writers, that we must apologise for reprinting it. It is
still sung at sea, especially aboard American merchant-vessels. The
Americans sing it with various alterations.

[Illustration: SPANISH LADIES

_Boldly_
]

[Illustration:

_Arranged by Martin Shaw._
]

SPANISH LADIES

Farewell and adieu to you fine Spanish Ladies—
Farewell and adieu all you Ladies of Spain—
For we’ve received orders to sail for Old England
And perhaps we shall never more see you again.

_Chorus_—We’ll rant and we’ll roar like true British Sailors,
We’ll range and we’ll roam over all the salt seas,
Until we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England—
From Ushant to Scilly ’tis thirty-five leagues.

We hove our ship to when the wind was sou’west, boys,
We hove our ship to for to strike soundings clear,
Then we filled our main-tops’l and bore right away, boys,
And right up the Channel our course we did steer.
_Chorus_—We’ll rant and we’ll roar, etc.

The first land we made it is known as the Deadman,
Next Ram Head near Plymouth, Start, Portland, and Wight;
We sailed past Beachy, past Fairley and Dungeness,
And then bore away for the South Foreland Light.
_Chorus_—We’ll rant and we’ll roar, etc.

Then the signal was made for the grand fleet to anchor
All all in the Downs that night for to meet,
So stand by your stoppers, see clear your shank-painters,
Haul all your clew-garnets, stick out tacks and sheets.
_Chorus_—We’ll rant and we’ll roar, etc.

Now let every man toss off a full bumper,
Now let every man toss off a full bowl,
For we will be jolly and drown melancholy
In a health to each jovial and true-hearted soul.
_Chorus_—We’ll rant and we’ll roar, etc.

Many of Charles Dibdin’s songs were popular in our fleets and naval
hospitals. His most popular song appears to have been “Tom Bowling,”
a song which seems to have continued in the popular favour until our
own time. His songs sent so many young men to the Tower tender as
naval recruits that the Government pensioned him.

It was hardly possible for human beings to live contentedly under
the iron regulations of a man-of-war. One has but to read the books
left to us by the sailors to realise the peculiar horror of the life
between-decks. Cooped up there, like sardines in a tin, were several
hundreds of men, gathered by force and kept together by brutality.
A lower-deck was the home of every vice, every baseness, and every
misery. The life lived there was something like the life of the negro
slave who happened to be housed in a gaol. It is not strange that
the men sometimes revolted, and broke out in open mutiny in order to
obtain redress. The story of the mutiny of the _Bounty_, in which
the men were “hazed” into turning their obnoxious officers adrift
in an open boat, is well known. The stories of the mutinies at the
Nore and at Spithead are also familiar. The seamen concerned in
these latter mutinies have been held up for execration, but we would
ask the indignant reader to learn something of the sufferings which
prompted them, and of the temperate and manly way in which they made
their wants known. They asked for a slight increase of pay, amounting
to about threepence a day for each man, so that they might be able
to support their wives and families. They asked for an occasional
day ashore; for fresh vegetables when in port; for better food, and
for more humane treatment for their wounded. They also asked that
they might be paid in cash instead of by ticket, and that the pay of
the wounded might not be stopped while they lay in their hammocks
under the surgeon’s hands. They had suffered much from the treatment
of some of their officers, but their attitude towards these men was
singularly humane. They towed one brutal lieutenant ashore on a
grating, and they very nearly hanged a marine officer for firing on a
boat-load of delegates. With these exceptions they acted throughout
with a moderation as praiseworthy as it was astonishing. They were
less temperate aboard H.M.S. _Hermione_, a 32-gun frigate, commanded
by Captain Hugh Pigot, the son of an admiral. Captain Pigot was one
of the most tyrannical and cruel officers who ever held command. He
maddened his crew by repeated acts of cruelty, which culminated at
last off the South American coast. One quiet afternoon he drilled his
topmen at reefing top-sails. While the men were doing their best,
“lighting out,” and “passing earrings,” he called out to the men on
the mizzen top-sail-yard that he would flog the last man down. In
their hurry down from aloft two of the men fell on to the deck at the
captain’s feet, breaking all the bones in their bodies. His remark
on this occasion was: “Heave those lubbers overboard!” That night
the crew rose in open mutiny. They broke into the cabin, and stabbed
Captain Pigot with repeated stabs, so that he died. They killed a
number of the lesser officers, and turned several others adrift in a
boat. They then sailed the _Hermione_ into La Guayra, and handed her
over to the Spanish authorities. She was captured in Puerto Cabello a
couple of years later, by the boats of H.M.S. _Surprise_. Many of the
mutineers were afterwards apprehended, and hanged.

Hanging was the usual end of a mutineer. Mutiny, being the one
unpardonable sin in a sailor, was treated with far less mercy than
desertion, or attempted desertion. The mutiny at the Nore[27] sent a
considerable number of sailors to the yard-arm, and lesser mutinies
were no less severely punished. A man who struck an officer was
fairly certain to be hanged or flogged through the fleet. A man
who raised a disturbance or headed any open rebellion, however
trivial, was certain to be put to death. On one ship some sailors
were taken in the act of violating the Twenty-Ninth Article of
War. They were condemned to be punished publicly. Their shipmates,
eager for the honour of the ship, begged that the sentence might
not be carried out, lest the crew should be hooted at throughout
the fleet. On their request being refused, they at once broke
out into a noisy disturbance on the lower-deck. Their officers ran
down and secured the ringleaders, drove the remainder on deck, and
promptly court-martialled and hanged the offenders. At the cessation
of hostilities in 1802 many of the sailors were dissatisfied with
the orders relating to paying-off. Some ships stationed in the
west were ordered to be paid off in London. Others were ordered
off on some short cruise, which kept the sailors from joining the
many merchant-ships then fitting out after the winter in port. The
ringleaders of these little mutinies were hanged, though the occasion
surely warranted a slighter punishment.

Many of our sailors deserted to the French, Spanish, and American
services, where the routine was a little less severe, and the pay no
worse. Those who were taken in foreign ships of war were invariably
hanged at the fore yard-arm.

We have mentioned the narrow pendant, the long banner, with a red St
George’s cross on a white ground, and long red swallow-tail, which
captains hoisted at the main-topgallant masthead, on placing a ship
in commission. We now add a few words about some of the other flags
and colours in use in the navy. The Royal Standard, which need not be
described, was worn at the main-topgallant masthead of those ships
which carried a member of the Royal Family. A ship which carried the
Lord High Admiral or his Commissioners flew the Admiralty flag (a
square red flag, with a golden anchor and cable in its centre) at
the same place. An admiral of the fleet flew the Union Jack at the
main-topgallant masthead of his own ship. An admiral of the white,
or vice-admiral, flew the St George’s banner at his fore-topgallant
masthead. An admiral of the blue, or rear-admiral, flew a square
blue flag at his mizzen-topgallant masthead. A commodore, or senior
captain of the first class, flew a broad red swallow-tailed pendant
at his main-topgallant masthead. If another commodore senior to him
were in company he flew a white broad pendant marked with a red St
George’s cross. A commodore of the second class flew a blue broad
pendant, unless a senior captain were sailing in company.

All ships in commission wore a red, white or blue ensign at the
mizzen peak, according to the flag of the admiral under whom they
sailed. They also carried a small Union Jack at the end of the
bowsprit on a flagstaff above the spritsail-yard.

Flag officers had certain distinctive boat flags which they flew in
the bows of their boats when they pulled ashore. There were also
a number of coloured flags and pendants in use for signalling.
The Union Jack was also used for signalling on certain important
occasions, such as the holding of a court-martial.

The Royal Standard, Admiralty flag, admirals’ flags, and commodores’
broad pendants were entitled to salutes of guns, varying in number
from twenty-one guns (in the case of the first named) to nine (in
the case of a second-class commodore). The numbers of guns fired
in salute were always odd, following an ancient custom, not now
explicable. Ambassadors, consuls, foreign governors, and dukes were
also saluted by guns. A salute was fired quickly, with an interval of
about six seconds between each gun.

Merchant-ships, both English and foreign, were expected to lower
their top-sails, or to let fly their topgallant sheets, when passing
a British man-of-war. This old custom is now nearly obsolete, but
the present writer has seen the master of a schooner lowering his
top-sail in salute to a cruiser.

FOOTNOTES:

[27] The mutiny at Spithead—a far more serious matter than the mutiny
at the Nore—was managed with such skill, and such temperance, that
the King extended his pardon to the ringleaders. At the Nore the
sailors were thought to have been the tools of the Radical party, and
an example was made of Parker and his accomplices.

EPILOGUE

If it be the lot of the dead to pass, unviewed, along the streets
of cities, or by the country hedgerows, conscious of the life about
them, there is, surely, a prospective triumph for the beaten and the
broken folk whose blood and agony have made easy, if indirectly, the
passage of later pilgrims. Could the countless unselfish ones, the
sufferers, “the great despisers,” who bore so many miseries, that we,
their descendants, might pass gaudy and comfortable days—could they
but know how golden a thing their misery purchased, the memory of
the old torture and the old injustice would be soothing and gentle
like a charity. In the years of which I have tried to write there
were thousands upon thousands of sailors, wandering over many seas,
in countless ships, standing their watches, doing the day’s work,
breaking their hearts, and dying young, not because they liked it,
not because they hoped for glory, but because much suffering had to
be endured before man could learn to inflict less suffering on his
fellows. We sit here quietly to-day in London—in that London which,
as Nelson said, “exists by victories at sea.” Our great ships go
thrashing hither and yon, turbulent and terrible, like islands of
living iron. Here, in London, are the world’s merchants, richer than
the merchants of Tyre, whose purple clothed the kings of the world.
Aboard those ships are the English sailors, the finest men afloat,
living cheerfully the lives they have chosen, under humane and just
captains.

There is no London merchant telling over gold in his counting-house,
no man-of-war’s man standing his watch at sea, who does not owe
his gold or his rights to the men who lived wretched days long ago
aboard old wooden battleships, under martinets. In order that they
might live as they live, what misery, what blood and tears, fell to
the portions of those who went before making straight the paths! For
every quiet hour here in London, for every merry day at sea, what
hecatombs were necessary!

In order that our days might be pleasant, those thousands of
long-dead sailors had to live and suffer. They passed rough
days—living hard, working hard, and dying hard. In order that we
might live in peace at home they were dragged, with blows and curses,
from their homes. In order that we might walk erect among men they
cringed before tyrants, and lost their manhood at the gangway. In
order that we might live on the luxuries of the world, brought from
the East and the West, things of great cost, wines, and spices, they
were content, those great despisers, to eat salt junk and drink
stinking water. They passed, those mighty ones, in the blackness of
the cockpit, in the roaring hell of the gun-deck, that we might hear
no noise of battle. They were well pleased to live among thieves and
infamous folk, that our conversation might be virtuous and our ways
right ways.

That suffering of theirs has, perhaps, been rewarded by the vision
of the ease they won for us. Their spirits may be moving about us,
touching us, rejoicing that evil days should have purchased happy
days, and well content that misery should have brought such treasure.
Let us hope so, at anyrate. Let us think, too, that patriotism, in
its true form, is of the kind they gave. It is not a song in the
street, and a wreath on a column, and a flag flying from a window,
and a pro-Boer under a pump. It is a thing very holy, and very
terrible, like life itself. It is a burden to be borne; a thing to
labour for and to suffer for and to die for; a thing which gives no
happiness and no pleasantness—but a hard life, an unknown grave, and
the respect and bared heads of those who follow.

APPENDIX

This book is necessarily condensed. It indicates, very briefly, some
of the aspects of sea life in the Royal Navy during the latter years
of Nelson’s career. Any reader desiring to learn more of that way of
life will find the following authorities of service to him; they are
some of the books from which the present writer has extracted his
information:—

ADMIRALTY REGULATIONS AND INSTRUCTIONS, 1734
ADMIRALTY REGULATIONS AND INSTRUCTIONS, 1766
ADMIRALTY REGULATIONS AND INSTRUCTIONS, 1790
ADMIRALTY REGULATIONS AND INSTRUCTIONS, 1808
ADMIRALTY REGULATIONS FOR THE EXERCISE OF GREAT GUNS IN H.M.
SHIPS, 1764
BARKER, M. H. _Greenwich Hospital_
BARKER, M. H. _The “Victory”_
BARKER, M. H. _The Naval Club_
BLANE, J. _Diseases of Seamen, 1785_
BRENTON, E. P. _Life of Earl St Vincent_
BROADHEAD, A. G. _The Navy as It is_
CAPTAIN IN THE NAVY _Observations_
CHARNOCK, W. _Marine Architecture_
CLOWES, SIR W. LAIRD _History of the Royal Navy_
COCHRANE, T. _Autobiography_
COCHRANE, T. _Observations on Naval Affairs_
COKE, HON. HENRY _Tracks of a Rolling Stone_
COLLINGWOOD, G. L. N. _Life and Letters of Lord Collingwood_
CONGREVE, SIR W. _The Mounting of Naval Ordnance_
DAVIS, JOSHUA _Narrative_
DERRICK, C. _Memoirs of the Royal Navy_
DOUGLAS, SIR H. _Naval Gunnery_
DUNDAS, LORD _A Fair Statement_
EDYE, L. _Records of the Royal Marines_
FALCONER, R. _Dictionary of the Marine, 1789_
FALCONER, R. _Dictionary of the Marine, Burney’s
edition, 1815_
GLASCOCK, W. N. _Naval Service_
GLASCOCK, W. N. _Naval Sketch Book_
GLASCOCK, W. N. _Tales of a Tar_
GLASCOCK, W. N. _The Night Watch_
GLASCOCK, W. N. _Land Sharks and Sea Gulls_
GREENER, W. _The Gun_
GRIFFITHS, A. L. _Observations on Seamanship_
HALL, B., CAPT. _The Midshipman_
HALL, B., CAPT. _The Lieutenant and Commander_
HAMILTON, SIR E. _Story of the “Hermione”_
JAMES, W. _Naval History_
LEECH, SAMUEL _Thirty Years from Home_
LESLIE, R. C. _Old Sea Wings, Ways, and Words_
LIDDEL, R. _Seaman’s Vade Mecum_
LIND, J. _Essay on the Health of Seamen_
LONG, W. H. _Naval Yarns_
MARKS, E. C. R. _Evolution of Modern Small Arms_
MARRYAT, F. _Impressment in the Royal Navy_
MAYDMAN, H. _Naval Speculations_
MELVILLE, HERMAN _White Jacket_
MILES, E. _Epitome of the Royal Navy_
MITFORD, JACK _Johnny Newcome in the Navy_
MOYLE, JASPER _Chirurgus Marinus_
NASTY-FACE, JACK _Nautical Economy_
NAVAL CHRONICLE, 1799-1805
NAVAL EXHIBITION CATALOGUE, 1891
NAVAL ORDERS AND STATUTES
NAVY AT HOME, THE
NEALE, W. J. _History of the Mutiny at Spithead_
O’BRIEN, D. H. _My Adventures_
OFFICER IN ROYAL NAVY _An Address, 1787_
OLD NAVAL SURGEON _An Address to Officers_
OLD SEAMAN _Impressment_
ORDERS IN COUNCIL FOR H.M. NAVY
RICKETTS, CAPTAIN _Popularity of the Royal Navy_
ROBINSON, COMMANDER C. N. _The British Fleet_
SCHOMBERG, J. _Naval Chronology_
SCOTT, MICHAEL _Cruise of the “Midge”_
SINCLAIR, A. _Reminiscences_
SMOLLETT, T. _Works, edition 1797_
SOMERVILLE, A. _Autobiography_
STATUTES RELATING TO H.M. NAVY
STEEL, T. _Seamanship_
THOMPSON, E. _Sailor’s Letters_
URQUHART, T. _Evils of Impressment_
WARD, E. _Wooden World dissected_

To this list may be added the nautical novels of Captains Marryat
and Chamier; a number of manuscripts in the British Museum and
Public Record Office; the works of Garneray and De la Gravière; one
or two obscure books of seamanship, and articles in _Blackwood_,
_The Nautical Magazine_, _The English Historical Review_, _The
Fortnightly_, and other reviews. I have also consulted the models at
Greenwich, the Trinity House, and the United Service Institution, and
the nautical prints at the British Museum.

For the costumes worn by the officers and men I have consulted many
pictures, drawings, and old prints, particularly the set of colour
prints by Rowlandson (1797), now at Greenwich Hospital, and the
drawings and pictures of De Loutherbourg.

Some of the drawings reproduced as illustrations to my text are of
a slightly later date than the battle of Trafalgar. I have included
the three drawings by Captain Marryat (which date, I suppose, between
1809 and 1820), because they are vivid and spirited. They are true
to the life, if something out of drawing, and there are not many
drawings extant which represent the sea life so accurately, and with
so much humour.

INDEX

Able whackets, 82

Admiral, 51 (_n._), 214

Admiralty flag, 214

After-guard, 129

Animals, 173

Apron, 35

Assistant surgeon, 94, 95

Battle lanterns, 24

Beer, 66, 67, 149

Berths, 137, 138

Bluejacket, 121

Boarders, 48

Boarding-axe, 48

Boarding-pike, 49

Boatswain, 97 _et seq._

Boatswain’s mate, 101

Booms, 18

Bore, 32

Boys, ship’s, 120

Brass guns, 31

Bread-room, 30

Breech, 32

Breechings, 33

Bull’s-eyes, 23

Bullying, 83

Cabins, 19, 27

Cable, 27

Cable tiers, 27

Cannon, 31 _et seq._

Captain, duties, etc., 51 _et seq._

Captain’s fancies, 60

Captain’s powers, 57 _et seq._

Captain’s uniform, 60, 61

Carpenter, 110 _et seq._

Carriages, gun, 32, 33

Carronades, 32, 43, 44, 45

Cartridges, 29, 36

Cascabel, 33

Cat. _See_ punishment, 157

Chaplain, 95, 96

_Chesapeake_, 183

Cleaning decks, 187, 193

Clearing for action, 170

Cobbing, 81

Cockpits, 26, 27, 28, 91 _et seq._

Collingwood, 159

Commodore, 51

Cook, ship’s, 117

Cook, mess, 146

Copper-sheathing, 5

Corporals, ship’s, 116

Cross-jack, 8, 17

Cutlasses, 48

Decks, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27

Decks, in action, 177 _et seq._

Disinfection, 86, 88 _et seq._

Divine service, 195

Drunkenness, 151, 160, 198, 203, 205

Entry port, 16

Epilogue, 216

Establishment, the, 6, 9

Figurehead, 14

Fish-room, 30

Flags, 213, 214, 215

Flint-locks, 38

Flogging. _See_ punishment, 59

Forecastle, 18, 21

Forecastle men, 126

Fumigations, 88, 89 _et seq._

Galley, 23

Gangways, 18

Gingerbread work, 20

Glims, 26

Grog, 151, 162, 191, 198

Gunner, 107 _et seq._

Guns, 31, 32, 33, 34, 43, 172, 173 _et seq._;
long and short, 41, 42, 43

Gun-room, 24

Grampussing, 81

Halberds, 49

Half-deck, 20

Half-ports, 50

Hammocks, 131, 138, 171, 188, 193

Hammock cloths, 188

Hammock nettings, 18

Handspike, 40

_Hermione_, H.M.S., 211

Hold, 30

Idlers, 130, 186

Jews, 199

Keel, 2

Keel, false, 2

Kit, 138

Ladle, 35

Leaks, 25

Lifebuoys, 17

Light-rooms, 28, 29

Linstock, 37

Lower-deck, 28, etc.

Lord Mayor’s men, 53, 54, 85

Lieutenant, duties, etc., 61

Lieutenant, powers, 62

Lieutenant, uniform, 63

Magazines, 28, 29, 30

Main-deck, 22

Manger, 25

Manning, 52 _et seq._

Marines, 154, 172

Marine Society, 119

Marryat, Captain, 53, 59

Master, 66, 67

Master’s duties, 67

Master’s uniform, 69

Master’s mates, 68, 69

Master-at-arms, 114, 160, 179, 189, 192, 203

Masts, 6, 7

Mast-heading, 80

Mast-pond, 6

Match, 37

Meals, 134

Messes, 134

Midshipmen, 25, 69 _et seq._, 190

Midshipmen’s berth, 75, _et seq._

Misfire, 39

Mould-lofts, 1

Muskets, 47

Musketoon, 48

Muster book, 54

Mutinies, 210, 211

Nastyface, Jack, 165

Nelson, 159

Nelson chequer, 14

Nore, mutiny at the, 211, 212

Oak, 2

Oak, American, 3

Oldsters, 72

Orlop, 27 _et seq._, 86

Parker, Sir Peter, 83

Painting, external, 12, 13

Painting, internal, 14, 15

Painting masts, etc., 15

Pendants, 214, 215

Pigtails, 141

Piping the side, 58

Pistols, 48

Pomelion, 32

Poop, 16, 17, 18, 19

Ports, 49

Port-riggles, 50

Port-tackles, 49

Press-gangs, 52, 53, 122, 124

Pressed men, 53

Priming, 36, 37

Priming-iron, 36

Priming-tube, 36

Provisions, 143

Purser, 101 _et seq._

Punishments, 128, 157 _et seq._

Quarter-deck, 16, 17, 20

Quarter-gallery, 13, 19

Quartermaster, 113

Quotamen, 125

Rammer, 40

Ranges, 42, 47

Rates, 11

Recoil, 38, 39

Rigging, 7, 8

Sailmaker, 113

Sail-room, 27

Salutes, 215

Schoolmaster, 97

Screen, 30

Sheathing, 5

Ships, 1, 9, 10, 11

Ships, French and Spanish, 9, 10

Ships, unrated, 12

Shot, 45 _et seq._

Shot, varieties, 46, 47

Shot-racks, 26

Sick-bay, 86, 90

Side-ropes, 16

Side-tackles, 33

Slops, 104, _et seq._

Small-arms, 47

Smoking, 115

Songs, 190, 207, 208, 209

Spirit-room, 29, 30

Spithead, mutiny at, 211, 212

Splinters, 47

Sponge, 40

St George’s banner, 214

State-rooms, 22

Steerage, 20

Stern-light, 17

Stern-walks, 13

Stern-works, 13

Tackles (side), 33

Tackles (train), 34

Thieving. _See_ punishment

Tiller ropes, 17

Timbers, 3

Tompion, 35

Topmen, 127

Touch-hole, 36, 37

Tree-nails, 3

Tripping, 34

Turn out, 83

Ulcers, 86

Wads, 36

Waist, 18, 178

Waisters, 130

Watch, 184, 192

Water-casks, 66

Wives, 202, etc.

Women, 202

Worm, 39

Youngsters, 70

[Illustration: Decoration]

Transcriber’s Notes

pg 78 Changed: or should have been sufficent
to: or should have been sufficient

pg 120 Changed: any other way trangressed the rules
to: any other way transgressed the rules

*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Sea life in Nelson's time" ***

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