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.