Chatper Two -- Overboard!

High Seas Adventures

By Ellen Weaver Bailey

This is a slightly fictionalized version of the biography of 19^th-century seaman Joseph Bates. While all of the events are strictly true, his Autobiography often lacks detail, so I have added logical dialogue and actions to fill in the blanks. I have also somewhat modernized the language.

Joseph raised his face to the breeze as the brig Fanny slipped from her mooring in New Bedford and glided out of the harbor, headed for New York and London. It was June of 1807, a month before his 15^th birthday, and he was a real seaman! He could hardly wait for the adventures to begin.

It didn’t take long. A pilot took the wheel as they approached the city of New York by way of Long Island Sound and the East River.

“All hands on deck!” commanded Captain Terry

“All hands on deck!” echoed First Mate Eldridge as men scrambled from every part of the ship.

“We’re approachin’ Hurl Gate,” announced the pilot. “Sailors call it Hell Gate, and there’s a good reason fer that. This here passage is narrow, so the tides tear through like bull seein’ a red flag. Many ships have been lost like that” -- he snapped his fingers –  “ ‘cause of a moment’s inattention.” Then he appointed each man to a station to manage the sails.

“Stand at your station with no jabberin’. Watch me and listen fer my commands. If we run into trouble, ye’ll need to hop to instantly, or none of us is goin’ to be writin’ home about it.” Joseph stood silent among his shipmates. Each crewman kept his eyes on the pilot, afraid to move, ears straining to hear his voice above the crashing of the waters in the strait. When the ship winged its way safely through, every man drew a relieved breath. Joseph was impressed with the knowledge and skill of the pilot. Promptness and exertion brought us through a perilous situation, he told himself. I’ll remember that.

In New York, they took on a load of wheat, so much that it spilled into the hatchways.

“We’ll be lucky if we don’t sink from the weight of so much cargo,” worried Adams, an old hand.

“We’ll be all right,” Captain Terry assured him. Joseph hoped the captain was as knowledgeable and capable as the pilot had been.

All hands boarded the ship the night before they were to sail although some of them were rather late in coming on board. Eldridge left it so long that it was full dark as he approached the vessel, and he had to carry a lighted lantern to find his way up the plank. But even that didn’t save him from slipping over the edge into the strong, swift current, between the ship and the wharf. He yelped as he was pulled under. Thinking fast, Adams slung a coil of rope under the wharf, on the off-chance that Eldridge would catch it.

He did! It was a struggle against the powerful pull of the water, but at last he was hauled safely up onto the deck. When he could breathe in anything but terrified gulps, his first thought was of the lantern.

“It’s down at the bottom of the river,” he mourned, with good New England thriftiness.

“No, it’s not!” exclaimed Adams. “It’s right there in your hand!” Heads swung toward Eldridge’s right hand, where he clutched the lantern in a death grip, and the crew found it impossible to restrain their laughter. The good humor was interrupted by a cry from the wharf.

“Ahoy the ship!” All heads swung back toward the gangplank, where a man about 20 years old was climbing swiftly in the dark. Captain Terry greeted the newcomer.

“We’re carrying a few passengers,” said Terry. “Do you wish to travel with us?

“I’d love to, but I don’t have the money for the passage,” said the young man.

“Well, then, why have you come?” asked the captain.

“My name is Moore, and I’ve come all the way from Philadelphia,” said the man. “There’s a book I want, and I can’t find it anywhere here. I’m told it might be available in London.” He drew a deep breath.  “My question is, may I work my way to London on your ship?” The captain was so surprised it took him a moment to answer.

“Well,” he said, thoughtfully, “you did a god job of climbing the gangplank in the dark – and without even a lantern.” The crew’s focus returned to First Mate Eldridge, who grinned sheepishly. “But you realize, you’d be going as a green hand on a voyage of six or seven months. The work would be harder and the pay lower than for experienced seamen.”

“I’ll work as hard as I need to, if only I can go with you. I really want that book.” So the determined Mr. Moore was hired on. Since Joseph was also new to sailing and his job description as cabin boy was that he would do any work the captain told him to, he and Moore often worked together. What a man! To work so hard, on the chance of finding a particular book. The teenager was impressed.

The voyage out was pleasant, and they made good time into the English Channel.

“Hey, what’s that?” called out a sailor. There in the water were numerous kegs, tied together into groups, with buoys attached.

“Lay to the main tops’l!” ordered the captain, and the crew lashed the main topsail to the mast. A few snickering sailors lowered a boat  -- they knew what they would find -- and soon returned with several kegs, which were quickly broached.

“Gin in this one!” yelled a sailor, triumphantly.

“I’ve got good French brandy here,” exclaimed another.

One by one, all the kegs were found to contain the illegal liquor. Party time! Crew members surged toward the kegs, but the captain’s upraised hand stopped them in their tracks.

“Contraband,” said the captain grimly, for the benefit of those sailors who had not come this way before. “Brought in from France by smugglers. When the revenue cutters chase ‘em, the smugglers throw the kegs overboard. If they’re caught with the goods, the fine is so high that it pretty much ruins them financially. For life.”

“Why do they attach buoys?” asked Joseph. 

“To help them find the cargo after the revenuers leave. But even if it’s lost, though, they can make up the money on their next voyage.”

“Can we keep these?” asked a sailor, still hopeful.

“No way,” replied the captain. “If we were caught, I could never pay the fine. And we’re heading right into London. We’re sure to meet revenuers.” The sailors groaned mournfully as they tossed the kegs overboard.

  As soon as the Fanny arrived at the dock, she was boarded by officers of the Royal Navy.

“Good thing we didn’t keep those kegs,” a sailor murmured out of the side of his mouth as the officers flung open the hatches.

“My word” exclaimed the group’s commander as he gazed down at the golden cargo, “there’s so much!” All the officers knelt and ran their hands through the grain.

“So clean and dry!” exclaimed one.

“This’ll be a boon to our sailors when they go out to face old Boney,” said a second.

“Yes, with good grain like this, our boys‘ll be strong enough to fight off Napoleon Bonaparte and all his allies,” their commanding officer concluded. “Well done, Yanks! We’ll be glad to buy your entire cargo. Name your price.”

At this, Captain Terry beamed. The Fanny was obviously a lucky ship, he thought, with typical sailor superstition.

“Captain Terry,” said Moore after the officers had left, “could I have an advance on my wages so I can buy the book? I – I might not have enough cash with me.” He looked both eager and fearful at the same time.

“It’s not usual for sailors to be paid until the end of the voyage,” said the captain. The young man’s face fell. “But I’ve been impressed by your willingness and hard work. I’m convinced you’re not about to jump ship. Sure, I’ll cheerfully pay you for the time you’ve put in.” Thanking the capnaib, Moore took the money and headed out into the city. Late in the afternoon he did return, waving the book over his head.

“I found it! I found it!” he exclaimed triumphantly as he ran up the gangplank, and all the sailors cheered.

With the cargo unloaded and paid for, the captain ordered the crew to prepare for the voyage home. First, they had to replenish their water supply. Joseph knew their water barrels were nearly all empty and was glad they would be refilled. But he was shocked when the empty barrels were lowered into the filthy Thames and hauled back aboard, trailing water streaked with green, red and yellow mud. Joseph couldn’t help making a face at the sight. A nearby sailor clapped him on the shoulder.

“’Feart of a little Thames water, me lad?” he teased. Joseph nodded. “Don’t worry,” the sailor continued. “All the muck’ll settle to the bottom, and we’ll drink the clear water off the top. It’ll taste fine. Trust me.” Joseph nodded weakly.

“I still say, give me good spring water from Vermont or New Hampshire,” he said, causing the sailor to guffaw and clap him on the back again.

“If yer gonna be a sailor, me lad, ye’ll be eatin’ and drinkin’ worse than this. No room for namby pamby misses aboard ship.” Joseph squared his shoulders and stood up to his full height, determined to prove his manliness. Not another word would he say about the disgusting-looking water.

Nothing happened for the next 18 days, as the ship sailed past Land’s End and out into the North Atlantic. Then, one Sunday morning, a shark was spotted following the ship. Very little was known about sharks in those days, and the crew delighted in relieving their boredom by scaring the passengers – and themselves – with tales they had heard about these ferocious creatures.

“A shark’ll follow behind a ship when someone on board is sick,” said one sailor, looking wise. “When the person dies, the shark catches the body as it’s thrown overboard, and eats it up.”

“If a person falls overboard, a shark’ll swallow him whole,” said another. This was a chilling bit of news for a 15-year-old cabin boy.

“Naw,” a third disagreed. “The shark bites ‘im in two and then swallows the pieces.” Somehow, the thought of being eaten in two pieces instead of one did not comfort Joseph much.

“Let’s catch the shark!” suggested one of the crew. So they dangled a piece of meat over the side, hoping to lure the marine creature close enough to grab it with a barbed gaff and haul it aboard. But the shark would not be moved. It kept its position somewhat to the stern of the ship.

“That way, it can see anythin’ that falls from either side of the ship,” said an old sailor. “Then it’ll swim up – and they can move fast – and catch whatever falls as soon as it hits the water. Maybe before it hits.” After a few hours of this, though, everyone lost interest in the shark and went about their business.

Along toward evening, a bored Joseph decided to climb the main-topgallant masthead to the crow’s nest, which may have been simply a barrel nailed to the mast, and see if he could see another ship, -- or anything -- on the water. Nothing. The sea was an endless blank slate. With a sigh, the boy began to descend the rigging.

He was about 50 feet from the deck when he missed a handhold, bounced off the rigging and plunged into the sea! The cold waters of the north Atlantic closed over his head.

The Beasts of Midnight

I enjoy “camping out” in the shed with the cats, and I’m glad the possums come in to eat and tank up on water. Maybe all that water they drink is the reason their fur is so soft. It gives me a good, Sam-Campbellish feeling to provide for critters, domestic and wild. I haven’t been able to sleep in a bed since the electric scooter accident back in ’04, so I have a new recliner out in the shed, and it is very comfortable.

At night I leave the shed door open slightly, winter and summer, so the cats and possums can go in and out at will without waking me up. Because they will. The possums scratch at the door, and the cats meow until they get my attention and roust me out to serve them. Last night, though, it got so cold by midnight in spite of the heater that I got up, put a full food dish outside (a water dish was already out)  and shut the door, hoping Bright was up in the loft instead of out in the cold. Hurry Possum got shut in with the rest of us because she was too scared to go out the door with me standing there, and I was too tired to go back to bed, wait for her to leave and get up again to shut the door. I told her to curl up in a snug spot and go to sleep. Then I returned to the recliner and pulled the covers over my head.

But possums are nocturnal animals. That means they don’t sleep at night. They roam around. They crunch food. They turn over wastebaskets. And hiding under the covers does not shut out the sounds of their scrabbling little feet as they climb and fall, then open and inspect my boxes of stored belongings. At one point, I felt a tug on the sheet, and, thinking it was one of the cats, I pushed back the covers and opened my eyes so I could see to pet it. It was Hurry, climbing up over the arm to take possession of the recliner!

At sight of me, she dropped to the floor, where she continued her explorations, accompanied by the rattling of rakes and shovels, occasional crashes of unknown objects and the slide of a stack of documents from the desk onto the floor.

By 3:00 o’clock I couldn’t take any more. After righting the wastebasket, I held the door open and ordered Hurry to leave. She froze in place, blocking the doorway so that Bright, who had been out in the cold, had to jump over her to get back inside, where he immediately leaped onto the cat condo and from there up to the loft. I gave up and returned to bed with the door still open. For the rest of the night, I heard occasional possum-cat squabbles over the food dishes, but I returned the covers to the over-the-head position and ignored the fights.

Eventually I fell asleep, just in time to be jerked from a deep slumber by the alarm.

High Seas Adventures Chapter One – Dreams of Adventure

This story is taken primarily from the Autobiography of Joseph Bates.

Chapter One – Dreams of Adventure

“Man your stations! The pirates are boarding!” The stalwart Captain of the East Indiaman knew the dangers of the Malacca Strait, and he had trained his crew for just this sort of encounter. For some time the sailors were able to hold off the assault with their modern flintlocks, manufactured in the famous works at Harpers Ferry, Virginia. Each firearm could be shot only once because reloading took too long in the heat of battle. The sailors dropped their spent guns to draw their swords and daggers of fine Toledo steel, also supplied by the forward-thinking captain, and slashed at the lines holding the grappling hooks to the rails of his merchant ship.

Seeing a pirate strike his first mate, the brave captain rushed to the rescue of the downed man, brandishing his own sword. The pirate fell back, but a sudden blow from behind knocked the captain’s weapon to the deck. Drawing his dagger, the captain spun to face this new threat and saw the grinning pirate leader holding his blood-drenched sword aloft.

“Now I have you!” snarled the pirate. “Now you die, Mr. Bates! –“

“Mr. Bates!” the schoolmaster’s voice yanked Joseph from his daydream. The 14-year-old lad sprang to his feet.

“Well?” the schoolmaster asked impatiently. “Do you have the answer for us?” Joseph stared, his mouth open, unable to think of anything to say.

“You were attending, were you not?” asked the teacher sarcastically. “You did hear the question?”

“Er – uh – n-no, Sir” Joseph stammered. The teacher’s face darkened into a scowl.

“Very well, come to my desk and hold out your hands.”

Joseph walked to the teacher’s desk, a distance that suddenly seemed miles long. There were a few snickers form the other boys in the room. Joseph was just happy that the girls’ class met in the other room. Not everyone believed in education for girls in 1806, but the people of New Bedford, Massachusetts, were proud of their academy, sponsored by Joseph’s father and other community leaders, which educated both sexes. They did not go so far, however, as to imagine that boys and girls should be taught together. Joseph knew Prudy’s face would wear an expression of intense sympathy, and that would be harder to bear than the boys’ snickers.

He clenched his jaw as the teacher’s sturdy wooden ruler smacked down across the back of his fingers once, twice, three times, inflicting agonizing pain. He managed to not cry out, but only just. It hurt so badly he wondered if he would ever be able to use his hands again, but he gave no sign of his suffering. There were no snickers as he made his way back to his seat.

“Perhaps that will teach you not to daydream in class,” snarled the teacher, sounding an awful lot like the pirate leader in Joseph’s daydream.

As soon as school let out, Joseph hurried from the classroom and out the boys’ door. Sure enough, here came Prudy from the girls’ door. They met in the middle.

“I heard what happened, Joseph,” she said in her no-nonsense way. “Come home with me, and I’ll put some witch hazel on your fingers.”

“Oh, I’m all right, Pru- er, Miss Nye,” he said. Joseph and Prudence Nye, a year younger, had been best friends since they were preschoolers, but just recently he had begun to see her as a girl. He found himself flushing and stammering whenever he was around her. Prudy carefully took his hands and turned them over.

“Not all right at all,” she said. “Come along. And don’t ‘Miss Nye’ me. We’ve been friends too long to go all formal now.” She led him to her house, where he greeted her mother and sister and received a liberal dabbing of witch hazel over his knuckles. Then he hurried home to do his chores before supper. He ate slowly, and then reluctantly opened his math book on the kitchen table. It was hard to keep his mind on the Rule of Three when visions of sailing ships kept intruding.

“Mother,” he said, turning to where she bustled about. “Would you speak to father about letting me go to sea?”

“Oh, Joseph, surely you don’t want to do that,” said Mother. “Sailors lead low, immoral lives. They suffer terrible diseases from exposure to all kinds of weather. You would ruin your constitution and destroy your soul.”

“No, I wouldn’t. I promise. My schooling will be finished in a few months, and I have to do something.” His eyes, like his voice, were pleading. Mother sighed.

“Why don’t you go into business with your father?” she suggested. “Or become a doctor like your brother Aaron?”

“I don’t want either of those. I want to be a sea captain. I want to explore the world. I want to see for myself what it looks like on the other side!” Joseph’s voice rose n excitement.

“You realize that nobody starts out as a sea captain. You would have to work for years and years as a common seaman, in the worst conditions.”

“Of course, I know that. I can handle it, I know I can. If you and Father would only let me go!” Joseph was almost hopping around, he was so desperate to carry his point.

“Well, right now, you just do your homework. I don’t want you to get punished by the schoolmaster again.” Joseph subsided into his chair.

“Yes, Mother,” he mumbled, his head hanging.

Finally, his parents accepted that he was not going to be happy until he went to sea, but they worked out a scheme with Uncle Barnabas that they thought would cure him.

“A few days of seasickness, and he’ll change his mind quick enough,” Uncle Barnabas assured them. Joseph was called into the parlor.

“Joseph,” said Father, “we have arranged for you to take a short voyage to Boston and along the coast, with your Uncle Barnabas here.”

“If you’re sure you want to go,” teased Mother.

“Yes!” exclaimed Joseph. “I mean – Aye, aye” He smartly saluted his uncle, who laughed to see his eagerness.

The voyage had the opposite effect of the one his parents had hoped for. It confirmed for Joseph that the sea was the life for him. With sighs of reluctance, his parents capitulated.

“Your father has arranged for you to ship as a cabin boy on the Fanny,” Mother told him.

“It’s a new ship, commanded by Captain Terry,” Father said. “It will sail from New Bedford to London very soon. You don’t have much time to get ready.”

Time! Joseph needed no time. He was ready to go right now. Well, of course, he had to say goodbye to Prudy first, and pack his trunk, but those things wouldn’t take long. He hurried to Prudy’s house.

“Are you annoyed with me because I’m going to sea?” Joseph asked her. “After all, you thought I was going to be a minister.”

“Oh, I’ve known for some time that you were over that idea,” said Prudy. “And my father was a sea captain, remember, so I know what it’s like to wait for—“ she broke off with a blush. Joseph’s voice was very soft as he responded.

“You will wait for me?” he asked, almost timidly. Prudy raised her head and looked him in the eyes.

“Yes, I will wait, as long and as often as I need to,” she declared.