Square Rigger Days

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Contents AUTHOR’S INTRODUCTION TO  EDITION

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INTRODUCTION: LIFE IN THE DYING WORLD OF SAIL, –

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1

MY FIRST VOYAGE by Captain J G Bisset, RD, RNR



2

MY SECOND VOYAGE by Captain J G Bisset, RD, RNR



3

STARVATION by Captain J G Bisset, RD, RNR

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4

THE ‘LEICESTER CASTLE’ AFFAIR by Captain R Barry O’Brien

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5

HELL SHIP by Captain R Barry O’Brien

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6

MUTINY IN THE ‘VERONICA’ by Captain R Barry O’Brien

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7

A SHIPWRECK TO REMEMBER by Captain R Barry O’Brien

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8

THE ANCHOR’S WEIGHED by Harry Hine, RI

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9

BOUND FOR ALGOA BAY by Harry Hine, RI

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10 BOUND FOR THE EAST IN THE ‘TIPPOO SAHIB’ by Harry Hine, RI

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11 SAIL IN THE ’SIXTIES by Harry Hine, RI

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12 AN ADVENTUROUS VOYAGE by Captain J H Mabey

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13 AN EVENTFUL VOYAGE by Captain W W Waddell & J Anderson

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14 FULL ABACK by Captain W W Waddell & J Anderson

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15 THE NIGGER OF THE ‘CHELMSFORD’ by W Deal

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16 CHURCHWARDEN’S GEAR by F Cousins

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17 POSTED LOST by Gerard Fort Buckle

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18 WHEN THE SEA CALLS by Captain Archer Wayth

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19 BURNED OUT by Edward Gordon

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Author’s Introduction to  Edition

I

F this book were only the personal reminiscences of the Editor it would have consisted of one story of youthful misery – the answering of a call. It is, however, something far wider; and, moreover, it is intended to fill a very wide gap in the available literature of the sea.

There have been exhaustive works of great scholarship published during recent years describing and illustrating both the history of the sailing ship, that most beautiful creation of man throughout the ages, and of the great deeds of the men of sail, whose bravery, suffering, and endurance laid the foundations of commerce, Empire, and sea-power.

There has not been, so far as I know, any recent collection of personal stories by living seamen of their square-rigger days which combine to present a complete picture, in all its lights and shadows, and in all parts of the world, of the real life at sea as it was lived in those great days of sail, extending from the ’sixties of the nineteenth to the early years of the present century.

The illustrations have been collected over a period of many years, from all parts of the world, and themselves form a most complete collection of photographic studies of the ships and of life on board the old square-rigger in the days of sail.

It is a pictorial and descriptive record of personal reminiscences which must, in the nature of things, soon recede into history. Several of the authors have already reached the age of ninety years, and the white wings of memory will pass with them into the Valhalla of the Sea. CHARLES W DOMVILLE-FIFE

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 Hell Ship ‘Hell ships’ and ‘Lime-juicers’ – A hell-ship officer becomes Captain of the full-rigged ship Star of Russia – Outward bound  – Christmas at sea – A seaman in irons – Torture – Psychology in the days of sail – A sea bully – Gale off Diego Ramirez – ‘Hazing’ – ’Frisco in  – Sailors’ Home – British Consul investigates – Shanghaied – ‘Cracking on’ – A hurricane in the Southern Ocean – Apprentice lost – The end of a ‘boy-killer’.

A

MERICAN sailing ships, in their prime, were renowned – or rather ill-famed – the world over for the brutal treatment their crews received on board them, There were exceptions, no doubt; but the majority of these Yankee packets richly deserved the title of ‘hell ships’, ‘blood boats’, and the like. Their hard-case skippers and bucko mates, possessed by some diabolical and inhuman blood-lust, were experts in the art of ‘working-up’ and ‘man-handling’ refractory crews; and many cases are on record of their beating a man to death with their belaying-pins or knuckle-dusters, or of subjecting him to such methods of refined cruelty that he went mad, or jumped overboard to escape from them. In rare instances these human gorillas were brought to justice and executed, or sent to penal servitude for long terms. But so difficult was it for the prosecuting attorneys to collect evidence against them – an instance of which I shall give in this narrative – that in the majority of cases they went free, to perpetrate fresh outrages elsewhere upon longsuffering and down-trodden sailormen.

During my own sailing-ship days I was with a number of men who, at one time or another, had served in these American ships. Nearly all of them bore some mark – a scar, a permanent limp, or maybe merely a tendency to insomnia – to remind them of the fact.

One old shipmate I recollect in particular, who had served in a number of Yankee packets, had an ugly white scar running from his left temple, across the empty socket of his left eye, down to his mouth. A blow from a knuckle-duster had inflicted this hideous wound, and the old fellow was as proud of it as a war veteran might be of his VC. To have served in an American ‘hell ship’ and survived was regarded as a great honour.

The experience lifted a man out of the ruck aboard a British ‘lime-juicer’, singled him out as a hard case, stamped him as a man of iron – to be looked up to, respected, and admired by his less fortunate (?) shipmates. Indeed, I honestly believe that the old sailor I have mentioned would far sooner have had his ghastly scar, which never failed to send a shudder through me, than all the proverbial gold in China.

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SQUARE-RIGGER DAYS

The American ship Gatherer was one of the most notorious ‘hell-ships’ of the 1880s and ‘90s.

The terrible treatment of sailors aboard such vessels was a contributing factor in the formation of The Sailors’ Union of the Pacific, established in San Francisco in March 1885.

Captain X, with whom this narrative is concerned, was a Yankee ‘hell-ship’ officer by adoption, and as such was a scoundrel of a far deeper dye than many real American captains and officers brought up from boyhood in the American Merchant Marine. A Britisher by birth, X had begun his sea career in the famous ‘Stars’ of Belfast. After serving in the Star of Denmark he entered the American Merchant Marine. For the next six years he served in a number of notorious Yankee packets, including the Gatherer and Harvester, than which it would have been hard to find two more unwholesome ‘blood boats’.

He returned to the British Mercantile Marine saturated with Yankee ideas; and, merely remembering him as a very capable officer, his old firm gave him command of the Star of Russia, a fine-looking full-rigged ship of  tons register.

Until then this vessel had been commanded by a Captain Simpson, a wise and considerate shipmaster who had been so popular with his men that several of them had stuck by the old ship for many voyages. Captain Simpson was given command of the company’s first steamer, and no sooner had Captain X taken his place in the Star of Russia than all her old hands realised that their happy days were over.

The vessel sailed from London, bound for ’Frisco, on th December , and before she was clear of the English Channel the new Captain had made it known that he intended to run the ship in real Yankee fashion, and that when he spoke he expected everyone to flap their wings and fly.

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HELL SHIP

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‘But this ain’t an American ship, thank heaven!’ remonstrated a young American named McLean. ‘She’s a Britisher, sir: a lime-juicer! Look at the old red duster at her stern.’

There was something rather funny in this – an American standing out for British justice and fair play; a Britisher upholding Americanism – but Captain X hadn’t the pride of race, imagination, or sense of humour to see it.

‘The flag at her gaff, or the port of registry on her stern, doesn’t cut any ice with me,’ he answered. ‘Out here, on the high seas, I shall run her in my own way. That’ll be Yankee fashion. If any of you want to know any more about this, just let me hear you question an order, or see you walking when you should be running, and you’ll damn soon learn!’

Three days out from the Channel the skipper began to put the screw on the men. Their afternoon watch below was suspended. This meant that instead of working twelve hours a day, which was what the customary four hours on duty and four hours off amounted to, they had to work sixteen hours, with only eight for eating, sleeping, and recreation. The men put up with this injustice for a week or ten days; then they rebelled.

This was four days before Christmas. People ashore were buying presents, holly, and their Christmas fare; were exchanging the compliments of the season with one another; and the atmosphere of Yuletide festivity stole across the sea and entered the Star of Russia’s gloomy fo’c’sle.

‘I’m damned if I’m going to do any work this afternoon,’ declared McLean, while he and his watch-mates were having their dinner.

‘Nor me,’ replied another sailor, amid murmurs of approval from his shipmates.

The full-rigged ship Star of Russia, shown here under British colours.