The Memoirs of Admiral Lord Beresford
upon coming aboard, fallen in while the blacksmith, lifting up each
man's foot behind him, wrenched off and dropped into a bucket the metal
on the heel of his boot, lest it should mark the deck.
The Afterguard worked on the quarterdeck and helped with the mainyard.
They were the less efficient men and were therefore employed under the
eye of the commander.
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The Idlers were not idlers. They were so called because
(theoretically) they had their nights in, although actually they turned
out at four o'clock a.m. They were artificers, such as carpenters,
caulkers, plumbers, blacksmiths, etc. They worked all day at their
several trades until their supper-time. They were nearly all old petty
officers, steady and respectable. It was part of their duty to man the
pumps every morning for washing decks. I made up my mind that, if ever
I was in a position to do so, I would relieve them of an irksome and an
inappropriate duty.
In action, the carpenters worked below decks, stopping holes with
shot-plugs, while many of the other Idlers worked in the magazines.
Among the Idlers was the ship's musician--unless the ship carried a
band--who was a fiddler. He used to play to the men on the forecastle
after working hours and when they manned the capstan. Personally I
always considered the name of Idlers to be anomalous. They are now
called Daymen.
Among the ship's company were several negroes. At that time, it was
often the case that the captain of the hold and the cooper were
coloured men.
An instance of the rapidity and efficiency of the organisation of the
_Marlborough_ occurred upon the night before she sailed for the
Mediterranean. She was newly commissioned, and she carried a large
number of supernumeraries on passage. We took out 1500 all told. A
fire broke out on the orlop deck; the drum beat to quarters; every man
instantly went to his station, to which he had previously been told
off; and the fire was speedily extinguished. The event was my first
experience of discipline in a big ship.
The nature of the discipline which was then in force, I learned on the
way out to the Mediterranean. In the modern sense of the word,
discipline was exemplified by the Royal Marines alone. I cannot better
convey an idea of the old system than by means of an illustration.
Supposing that a Marine and a bluejacket had each committed an offence.
The Marine was brought up on the quarter-deck before the {15}
commander, and the charge was read to him. The commander asked him
what he had to say. The prisoner, standing rigidly to attention,
embarked upon a long rambling explanation. If his defence were
invalid, the commander cut him short, and the sergeant gave his order.
"Right turn. Quick march." The Marine, although continuing to
protest, obeyed automatically, and away he went. He continued to talk
until he was out of hearing, but he went. Not so the bluejacket. He
did not stand to attention, not he. He shifted from one foot to the
other, he hitched his breeches, fiddled with his cap, scratched his
head.
"Well, sir," said he, "it was like this here, sir," ... and he began to
spin an interminable yarn.
"That'll do, my man," quoth the commander. But, not at all. "No, sir,
look here, sir, what I wants to say is this"--and so on, until the
commander had to order a file of Marines to march him below.
But both Marine and bluejacket had this in common: each would ask the
commander to settle the matter rather than let it go before the
captain; and the captain, to sentence him rather than hold a
court-martial.
The explanation of the difference between the old system of discipline
and the new is that in the sailing days it was of the first importance
that the seaman should be capable of instant independent action. The
soldier's uniformity and military precision were wholly unsuited to the
sailor, who, at any moment, might have to tackle an emergency on his
own initiative. If a seaman of the old days noticed anything wrong
aloft, up he would run to put it right, without waiting for orders.
Life and death often hung upon his promptitude of resource.
In the old days, we would often overhear such a conversation as the
following:--
Officer: "Why the blank dash didn't you blank well do so-and-so when I
told you?"
Man: "Why didn't I? Because if I had I should have been blank well
killed and so would you."
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Officer: "Damn you, sir, don't you answer me! I shall put you in the
report."
Man: "Put me in the ruddy report, then."
And the next day the commander, having heard both sides, would say to
the officer,
"Why, the man was quite right." And to the man, "You had no right to
argue with the officer. Don't do it again. Now get away with you to
hell."
And everyone would part the best of friends.
The change came with the improvement and progress in gunnery, which
involved, first, the better drilling of the small-arm companies. In my
early days, the small-arm companies used to drill with bare feet.
Indeed, boots were never worn on board. It was of course impossible to
wear boots going aloft for a sailor going aloft in boots would injure
the heads and hands of his topmates. Occasionally the midshipmen went
aloft barefooted like the men. So indurated did the feet of the
sailors become, that they were unable to wear boots without discomfort,
and often carried them when they were ashore.
A sailor's offences were hardly ever crimes against honour. They
rather arose from the character induced by his calling. Its conditions
were hard, dangerous and often intensely exciting. The sailor's view
was devil-may-care. He was free with his language, handy with his
fists and afraid of nothing. A smart man might receive four dozen for
some violence, and be rated petty officer six months afterwards.
Condemnation was then the rule. Personally, I endeavoured to
substitute for it, commendation. For if there are two men, one of whom
takes a pride in (say) keeping his rifle clean, and the other neglects
it, to ignore the efficiency of the one is both to discourage him and
to encourage the other.
Before the system of silence was introduced by the _Marlborough_ the
tumult on deck during an evolution or exercise was tremendous. The
shouting in the ships in Malta Harbour could be heard all over Valetta.
The _Marlborough_ introduced the "Still" bugle-call. At the {17}
bugle-call "Still" every man stood motionless and looked at the
officer. For in order to have an order understood, the men must be
looking at the officer who gives it. During the Soudan war, I used the
"Still" at several critical moments. Silence and attention are the
first necessities for discipline. About this time the bugle superseded
the drum in many ships for routine orders.
There were few punishments, the chief punishment being the cat. The
first time I saw the cat applied, I fainted. But men were constantly
being flogged. I have seen six men flogged in one morning. Even upon
these painful occasions, the crew were not fallen in. They were merely
summoned aft "for punishment"--"clear lower deck lay aft for
punishment" was piped--and grouped themselves as they would, sitting in
the boats and standing about, nor did they even keep silence while the
flogging was being inflicted. The officers stood within three sides of
a square formed by the Marines. Another punishment was "putting the
admiral in his barge and the general in his helmet," when one man was
stood in a bucket and the other had a bucket on his head.
Very great credit is due to Admiral Sir William Martin, who reformed
the discipline of the Fleet. The Naval Discipline Act was passed in
1861; the New Naval Discipline Act in 1866. In 1871 a circular was
issued restricting the infliction of corporal punishment in peace time.
Flogging was virtually abolished in 1879. (Laird Clowes' _The Royal
Navy_, vol. 7.) Now we have proper discipline and no cat. In former
days, we had the cat but no proper discipline.
The men were granted very little leave. They were often on board for
months together. When they went ashore, there they remained until they
had spent their last penny; and when they came on board they were
either drunk or shamming drunk. For drunkenness was the fashion then,
just as sobriety is, happily, the fashion now. In order to be in the
mode, a man would actually feign drunkenness on coming aboard. In many
a night-watch after leave had been {18} given have I superintended the
hoisting in of drunken men, who were handed over to the care of their
messmates. To-day, an intoxicated man is not welcomed by his mess, his
comrades preferring that he should be put out of the way in cells. It
was impossible to keep liquor out of the ship. Men would bring it
aboard in little bladders concealed in their neckties. Excess was the
rule in many ships. On Christmas Day, for instance, it was not
advisable for an officer to go on the lower deck, which was given up to
license. I remember one man who ate and drank himself to death on
Christmas Day. There he lay, beside a gun, dead. Other cases of the
same kind occurred in other ships.
The rations were so meagre that hunger induced the men constantly to
chew tobacco. For the same reason I chewed tobacco myself as a boy.
Nor have I ever been able to understand how on such insufficient and
plain diet the men were so extraordinarily hardy. They used to go
aloft and remain aloft for hours, reefing sails, when a gale was
blowing with snow and sleet, clad only in flannel (vest) serge frock
and cloth or serge trousers, their heads, arms and lower part of their
legs bare. Then they would go below to find the decks awash in a foot
of water, the galley fire extinguished, nothing to eat until next meal
time but a biscuit, and nothing to drink but water.
Seamen often curse and swear when they are aloft furling or reefing
sails in a gale of wind; but I have never heard a sailor blaspheme on
these occasions. Their language aloft is merely a mode of speaking.
Although in the old days I have heard men blaspheme on deck, blasphemy
was never heard aloft in a gale. To be aloft in a whole gale or in a
hurricane impresses the mind with a sense of the almighty power of the
Deity, and the insignificance of man, that puny atom, compared with the
vast forces of the elements.
In later life, I once said to a young man whom I heard using
blasphemous language in a club:
"If you were up with me on the weather yard-arm of a topsail yard
reefing topsails in a whole gale, you would be {19} afraid to say what
you are saying now. You would see what a little puny devil a man is,
and although you might swear, you would be too great a coward to
blaspheme."
And I went on to ram the lesson home with some forcible expressions, a
method of reproof which amused the audience, but which effectually
silenced the blasphemer.
The fact is, there is a deep sense of religion in those who go down to
the sea in ships and do their business in the great waters. Every
minister of God, irrespective of the denomination to which he belongs,
is treated with respect. And a good chaplain, exercising tact and
knowing how to give advice, does invaluable service in a ship, and is a
great help in maintaining sound discipline, inasmuch as by virtue of
his position he can discover and remove little misunderstandings which
cause discontent and irritation.
The discomforts of the Old Navy are unknown to the new. The sanitary
appliances, for instance, were placed right forward in the bows, in the
open air. If the sea were rough they could not be used. On these
occasions, the state of the lower deck may with more discretion be
imagined than described. As the ship rolled, the water leaked in