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
dogs entirely, all the money that had been spent upon him entirely
wasted.
In many of the large American and Blue-nose ships a third mate is
carried, but he is of a different type altogether. As these ships do
not carry apprentices, they usually breed their officers up from lads
who are _protégés_ of the master or mate. They come on board young,
and while they have an exceedingly good time, they are rigorously
trained both in seamanship and navigation. They are taught that the
cardinal virtues are smartness and cleanliness. So well is this
training pursued, that I verily believe no smarter young men are to
be found anywhere, and while they are still mere boys they are made
third mates with full authority and a handle to their name that no man
dare refuse to give them. They are expected to lead the way whenever
anything of importance is being done aloft, and are encouraged to lift
up their voices with no uncertain sound in giving orders. What splendid
men they do make, to be sure. There are, it is true, many foreigners
in Yankee ships who have by sheer merit risen to be officers, having
first perforce become citizens of the Great Republic; but for the
_beau-ideal_ of a smart sailing-ship officer commend me to the pure
American lad caught young and trained in a big ship. One I have in my
mind's eye now, who was second mate of the _Pharos_, of Boston: tall
and lithe, with a clean-shaven, boyish face (he was just twenty),
close black curling hair, sparkling eyes, and a springy step. We had
a hard bitten crew, shipped in London, and I heard one of the hardest
of them, an Englishman who boasted that he had been in gaol over forty
times, say, as he caught sight of the second mate for the first time,
"What a ---- baby. Boys, we're in for a soft thing here." But he was
quite mistaken. Ten minutes afterwards there was a melodious thundering
voice reverberating along the decks, "Lay aft, here, an' rush this
hawser forrard. Lively now." And the astonished crowd skipped aft, the
gaol-bird at their head, to find the clean-limbed "baby" looking quite
unlikely to bear trifling with. They recognized the able man at once,
and thenceforward there was never any trouble. I never saw men work
harder than his watch did for him, or speak more highly of a man than
they did of this bright-faced youth, who not only knew his own work
thoroughly, but knew how to get the last ounce out of the men under
his command. The only thing that puzzled me about him was the almost
abject reverence he had for the skipper, who was an old man, but by no
means one whom I should have thought capable of commanding respect. But
that grand young second mate always spoke to him with bated breath,
esteeming his lightest word as a dread law, nor did he ever, even in
jest, speak of him but as one should speak of their sovereign.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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