The Men of the Merchant Service: Being the polity of the mercantile marine for 'longshore readers — John Shaqi
The Men of the Merchant Service: Being the polity of the mercantile marine for 'longshore readersBullen, Frank Thomas
History
The Men of the Merchant Service: Being the polity of the mercantile marine for 'longshore readers
Bullen, Frank Thomas
Merchant marine; Merchant mariners; Sailors
But to return. Having, then, this potent lever in his grasp, this
guarantee for the good behaviour of his officers, the indolent master
may, if he will, leave everything to them, except just the obtaining
of the ship's position each day. Even that it has been my lot to see
neglected by a shipmaster. Of course he will occasionally potter
about and find fault, if he be, as well as indolent, of a small, mean
character. Such a master is a sore trial to both officers and crew.
Asked for instructions as to what he wishes done, he will reply that he
did not expect his officers would need to be shown their work, and that
he would prefer to have men about him who did not want dry-nursing.
Which being translated means that he wants his officers to do things
on their own initiative, so that he can at any time, if in want of a
little recreation, find it in quarrelling with them for doing that
which they deemed to be right.
For instance, I was once mate of a barque. While lying in Noumea,
failing any instructions from the master, I decided to set up all
the rigging, which was so slack as to be dangerous supposing that we
encountered any bad weather. The work was well under way when the
master came on deck from his cabin, where he had been dozing all the
morning, and, seeing what was going on, called out loudly: "Here, Mr.
Bullen, just stop that, will you? That can be done any time. _I_ want
the ship painted outside." Far too well in hand to make any remark, and
really rather glad to get a definite order, I had the gear unrove and
put away; and soon we were in the thick of painting. We did not get
another opportunity to tighten up that rigging before we left one of
the northern ports of the island, deep loaded with copper ore. We were
hardly outside the harbour, bound to Newcastle, N.S.W., when it came on
to blow, the vessel rolled tremendously, the rigging worked slacker and
slacker, and in the middle watch that night she rolled her three masts
over the side. Then, of course, I was blamed for not having had the
rigging set up.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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