British Sailors.—A hearty cheer.—Seamen are sad clumsy fellows at some things.—The pretended sailor.—Jack in the wherry.—A squall.—The chain cable.—The sailor’s marriage.—The arrival.—Banns.—Disappointment.—Doctors’ Commons.—License.—The church gates.—The robing-room.—The ceremony.—The Prayer Book.—The Bible.—Jack happy.

“What handy and hearty fellows sailors are, uncle; we have just seen one, and he gave us such a hearty cheer!”

“It has been said, that a British sailor can only give free vent to his feelings by a hearty cheer. It is his mode of thanksgiving for a benefit received; with a cheer he honours his friend, defies his enemy, and proclaims a victory. Sailors may be hearty, but how do you make them out to be handy? In many things they are the clumsiest fellows in the world.”

“Do you say so! What are they clumsy in doing?”

“Oh! in things without number. In the first place, they are bad hands at passing by a messmate in distress without relieving him; then they know nothing about running away from danger; you cannot teach them, any how, to forget an old friend; and they are the awkwardest fellows in the world in striking their colours when alongside an enemy.”

“You are right! you are right, uncle. About half an hour ago a sailor came up to us, and said that ‘Poor Jack’ was ‘in shallow water,’ and that, having nothing in his ‘bread-room,’ he would let us have a real India silk handkerchief for little or nothing.”

“And did you buy his handkerchief of him?”

“No, uncle. But we were so pleased with what he told us of his cruises, and battles, and shipwrecks, that we gave him all the money we had.”

“Ay, well, that would answer his purpose quite as well. It is possible that you may have fallen in with a ‘true blue,’ but I am very doubtful. It was but last week that a fellow accosted me with the old story about a ‘King’s ship.’ ‘The winds blowing great guns in the Bay of Biscay, O!’ ‘breakers ahead!’ a ‘lee shore and a wreck!’ but he had stumbled on a Tartar; for a few questions about sea affairs made him look all manner of ways at once, and it was a clear case that he would have willingly given up a part of his ill-gotten prize-money to have secured a retreat. At first I used him tenderly, treating him with only a few points of the compass backwards—north-by-west, north-north-west, north-west-by-north, north-west, north-west-by-west, and west-north-west. This was, as I well knew, all Dutch to him. Seeing him look rather queerish, I opened upon him with my ‘tiller-ropes,’ ‘gun-tackle,’ ‘mizzen-jears,’ ‘jib-halyard,’ ‘fore-braces,’ ‘deep-sea-line-blocks,’ ‘top-sail-sheet-bits,’ ‘main-top bow-lines,’ and ‘ringtail-booms,’ until he looked as frightened as if I had been a wild man of the woods. At last, seeing that he was preparing to scud before the wind, I poured in a broadside of ‘Brail up and haul down the main-top-mast stay-sail!’ ‘Bear a hand, my hearty!’ ‘Man well the lee-brail, and down haul!’ ‘Gather in the slack o’ the weather brail!’ ‘Let go the halyards!’ ‘Ease off the sheet!’ ‘Haul down, and brail up briskly!’ ‘There! let go the tack, and stop the sail to the lee-fore-rigging!’ ‘What! are you off? then up all hammocks!’ ‘Prepare for action!’ ‘Fire to the larboard!’ And away ran the rogue, forgetting how he had been wounded by a nine-pounder, as nimbly as though a press-gang had been at his heels.”

“It served him right, uncle! that it did.”

“A true-hearted sailor would rather take in a reef of the main-top-sail in a hurricane than skulk about in such a manner under false colours.

“Some time since a Jack-tar, seated in a wherry, was rowed up the river Thames, against wind and tide. He had just returned from India; and, sailor-like, was industriously disposed to get rid of his spare cash. He had a pipe in his mouth, and the clouds of smoke poured forth showed that the smoker was in earnest; while with his right hand he flourished a flexible bamboo. Behind him was a large shaggy Newfoundland dog, who appeared as well pleased as Jack himself. Before him sat a musician, with a huge drum and pandean pipes, playing away with all his power.

“As Jack passed the vessels in the river, and the wharfs, and the drinking-rooms overlooking the water, he was cheered continually. When he arrived at St. Katherine’s Docks he quitted the wherry, and hopped along on his real leg, for his other was a wooden one, as nimbly as a kangaroo, while the spectators, assembled to witness his landing, greeted him with a cheer. Jack and the Newfoundlander were soon stowed in a coach; the musician occupied the roof, striking up ‘Rule Britannia!’ and the crowd loudly cheered as Jack drove off, waving his hat good-humouredly from the coach window. What became of Jack afterwards is not known; but it is easy to imagine, that at the end of a few days’ cruise he would not have a single shot in his locker.”

“Then he would be off to sea again?”

“No doubt he would. Whether at sea or on land, seamen seldom keep out of squalls long together.”

“What is the real meaning of a squall?”

“A squall is a violent gust of wind, that comes on a ship suddenly, and sometimes does a great deal of mischief in a very little time. There are parts of the world where you are more liable to them than in others. The first time that I was in a squall in the Mediterranean it put the surprise upon me. There was a small black cloud to windward in the south, but I should have thought little of it, had not a bluff old tar pointed to it and said, ‘There’s a capful, my hearty.’ What he said was true enough, and we had it in quick time too. The course of the ship was altered, to scud before what was coming, and the hands went aloft to take in sail. By this time the cloud had spread and neared us, and all at once, without warning, the squall came. The sheets and ropes cracked and snapped in the wind, the fore-sail was torn to ribands, the rain fell like a torrent, and away went the ship, running almost gunwale down in the water. But if the squall came without notice, it quitted us without notice, for in half an hour the sky was clear, the wind down, and the ship all in order, making her way through the waves.”

“When a squall comes on, sailors should get out their anchors, and the strongest cables they have, to keep the ship steady.”

“The cables must be very long, boys, to enable them to anchor in the middle of the Mediterranean. Perhaps you have never read the account given by Captain Hall, of attempting to anchor in deep water with a chain cable!”

“No, never! Please to tell us all about it.”

“I have it at hand here, and will read it to you. He says, ‘The chain cable is difficult of management in deep water; that is to say, when the soundings are more than twenty or twenty-five fathoms. Nothing is so easy as getting the anchor to the bottom in such cases; it is the facilis descensus with a vengeance! But when the anchor is to be pulled up again, then comes the tug. I once let go my anchor, with a chain cable bent to it, in forty-five fathoms, without having calculated on the probable effects of the momentum. Though the cable was bitted, all the stoppers snapped like packthread; and the anchor, not content with shooting to the bottom with an accelerated velocity, drew after it more than a hundred fathoms of chain, in such fearful style that we thought the poor ship must have been shaken to pieces. The noise was like that of rattling thunder, and so loud that it was impossible to hear a word; indeed it was even difficult to speak, from the excessive tremour caused by the rapid and violent passage of the links, as the chain leaped, or rather flew up the hatchway, flashing round the bits, and giving out sparks like a fire-work. Finally, it tore its way out at the hawse-hole, till the whole cable had probably piled itself on the anchor in a pyramid of iron at the bottom of the sea. The inner end of the cable had, of course, been securely shackled round the heel of the main-mast, but the jerk with which it was brought up made the ship shake from end to end as if she had bumped on a rock; and every one fully expected to see the links fly in pieces about the deck, like chain-shot fired from a cannon. It cost not many seconds of time for the cable to run out, but it occupied several hours of hard labour to heave it in again. The ordinary power of the capstan, full manned, scarcely stirred it; and at the last, when to the weight of chain hanging from the bows there came to be added that of the anchor, it was necessary to apply purchase upon purchase in order to drag the ponderous mass once more to the bows.’”

“How it must have frightened them when the anchor and chain cable ran out in that way!”

“British tars are not very soon frightened, though I dare say that it made them look about them. If you are in the mood to listen to a laughable story, I can tell you a very curious tale of a sailor’s marriage that happened some time since. It was told me a few days after the ceremony.”

“Can you? Please to begin it at once. Please do!”

“Well, then, you shall have it without delay, as nearly as I can remember, in the language in which it was related to me. That the story has been a little embellished there can be no doubt.

“Some years ago, a certain church in the metropolis stood in need of repair; and the bishop gave order that such marriages only should be solemnized therein as had been, before commencing the repairs, proposed by banns three times, but that in cases where the banns had not been put up three times, the marriages should be deferred until they had been regularly proposed at a neighbouring church, recently erected. No wonder that this arrangement occasioned some sad disappointments.”

“Ay, that would disappoint those that came to the church to be married, and could not.”

“On Monday morning a jolly Jack-tar hove in sight, rigged out excellently; under his convoy was his sweetheart Poll, who bore down gallantly, her sky-scrapers fluttering in the wind. After a little heeling to larboard and starboard on the part of Jack, he came with Poll into safe moorings, entering the church door under a press of sail.”

“We can just fancy that we see them.”

“As Poll stood up the middle aisle, with her pendants flying, she seemed a prize fit for an admiral, and Jack himself was as right and tight a bit of craft as could be seen on this side the Channel. Jack was not long in hailing Mr. Parson, and in giving him to understand that he was bound for Cape Matrimony!”

“That’s so like a sailor.”

“On looking over the banns-book, however, the worthy minister discovered that Jack’s marriage had been proposed twice at that church, and once at the new church, and, therefore, in conformity with the order of the bishop, the banns had to be put up twice more in the new church before the marriage could be solemnized.”

“What did the sailor say to that?”

“No sooner was this made intelligible to Jack than he began to overhaul the minister with a little of his old-fashioned lingo. ‘Wait a fortnight, Mr. Parson! No that I won’t for the West Indies; so you may just as well give over your palavering, and pick up your book. I came here to be spliced, and spliced I’ll be. Wait a fortnight! that’s a good un! Why, haven’t we made signals for three Sundays? how long would you keep us cruising about, while you are in snug quarters? The long and the short of it is this: Poll and me have come here to be spliced, and we’ll wait a fortnight for nobody.’”

“The sailor spoke his mind pretty freely, however.”

“The minister, knowing the free habits of sailors, bore Jack’s observations with great good humour, but told him it was utterly impossible to marry him. ‘I am sorry for it,’ said he, ‘but if you were to give me the navy of England I could not marry you.’ This remark was a broadside that almost laid Jack on his beam-ends, but he plucked up his spirit, went on another tack, and instead of rashly boarding his opponent, tried to enter on a friendly parley. ‘Why, look you, Mr. Parson,’ said he, ‘I’ll tell you how the land lies. I shall be off in a few days on a cruise, and if I goes to sea, and leaves Poll in port, she’ll get spliced to somebody else, before I comes back again, so you see I can’t wait a fortnight.’”

“Oh! oh! oh! Then he was afraid to trust Poll, though he was going to marry her.”

“Jack’s rhetoric, however, was all in vain, for the minister told him, that if he must be married that day, there was no other way than going to Doctors’ Commons for a license. ‘And who’s Doctor Commons,’ inquired Jack; ‘and what will the shiners be?’ No sooner were these questions answered, than away goes Jack. ‘Never mind, Poll; never mind, Mr. Parson! I’ll soon be back.’ Saying this, he quits the church, jumps into a coach at the coach-stand near the church gates, and gets under weigh to Doctors’ Commons, telling the coachman, that if he did not sail right afore the wind he should get no shot out of his locker.”

“The sailor was in right earnest about the matter.”

“The morning was wearing away, and there was but little time to spare, but Jack came back in as fine style as if he were chasing an enemy’s frigate. Nimbly as a harlequin he skips along the churchyard, and makes for the altar, holding the license in his hand, crying out ‘All’s right, Poll! all’s right, Mr. Parson! Here’s the bit o’ paper! plenty of time. Never mind, Poll! all’s right!’ It was of little use that the clergyman tried to prevail on Jack to behave with the gravity and decorum fitting the place and the occasion, so much were his spirits excited. When the clergyman examined the paper, he found, so far from things being all right, that all was wrong, for the license set forth that the marriage was to take place at the new church, and not at the church they were then in. ‘Never mind, Poll! Never mind, Mr. Parson! plenty of time!’ cried out the undaunted sailor; and what with pushing Poll, and hurrying on the parson, he got them into another hackney coach, and set off for the new church—the distance was very short.”

“He deserved to be married, for all his trouble; surely he was not again disappointed?”

“It seemed as though poor Jack was to be weather-bound, for on every fresh tack the wind was against him. No marriages being expected that morning at the new church, the high iron gate was closed, and the sexton, who had the key, was not there. Now the iron gate would have been but a trifling impediment to Jack, but it was an effectual barrier to Poll and the parson.”

“Poor Jack would soon have mounted over the gate, no doubt, had he been by himself.”

“At last the key was procured, the clerk was in attendance, and the whole party proceeded with all necessary despatch down the long gravel walk to the church. Jack every now and then crying out, ‘Never mind, Poll! Never mind, Mr. Parson! plenty of time!’ The time, however, grew very short, and the worthy minister was obliged to do his best to prevent any disappointment taking place; but when he hurried to the vestry, where the robes were kept, the door was locked. There was no time to send for the key. It was a case of necessity, and the kind-hearted clergyman resolving to do all he could, proceeded to the altar without his surplice, that he might begin the service in time, for not a moment was there to lose. What was his annoyance to find that the Book of Prayer was not there. So closely was he driven for time that, after despatching a boy to a neighbouring house for a Prayer Book, he began the service trusting to his memory.”

“If he had not been a good-natured clergyman he never would have done all that.”

“No doubt a Prayer Book might have been found in one of the pews, but there was nobody present who could be spared to look for one, and the time for beginning had been delayed till the last moment. To the great relief of the clergyman, the boy soon returned with the book he had brought, but when the worthy minister opened it he found that instead of a Prayer Book, it was a Bible!”

“We never heard of so many hindrances to anything before in our lives.”

“Further delay was out of the question; there was no time for him to go back for another book, so the clergyman, trusting to his memory, completed the ceremony without one, to the great joy of the married couple. No sooner was the ceremony over than Jack, who could not be restrained, capered about in a most indecorous manner. He danced his way along the aisle, slapt the kind-hearted minister on the back, called him a ‘true-blue,’ and a ‘hearty good fellow,’ and declared it would do him good if Mr. Parson would join him in drinking Poll’s health in a bumper.”

“Well, that is the oddest tale we ever heard. Poor Jack was married to Poll after all.”

“He was: but if you are to know anything about the military and naval duties of soldiers and sailors, I must not relate many such long and laughable stories.”