Cuffers Spun In The Dog Watch TYPHOON JACK

Auckland Star, Volume LXX, Issue 35, 11 February 1939, Page 2 (Supplement)

Cuffers Spun In The Dog Watch TYPHOON JACK

By Capt. McKenzie Cliffe

We crossed the Line, the .Golf Stream, We rounded Table Bay, i ?, > Then round Cape :Horn-and ; home again. For that 1* the Sailor's Way, WE left Newr Zealand in the middle of a July in the-early nineties for New York with a cargo of kauri gum. She was an iron barque of between 800 and 900 tons, commanded by a gentleman who rejoiced openly in the sobriquet of "Hell Fire Jack," or, better still, "Typhoon Jack." He wa» a stout man, and loud in all thing*, his dress included. His command of language, dead or alive, was extensive. His chief hobby was creating new delectable cuss-words. He was a dictionary—-in fact, several diction'aries, and when he got a flow on it was wonderful to hear him. He did not call a spade a spade, but a G.B.D.H. of an agricultural instrument. He used to glory in his profanity. He would talk "fight" to all and sundry; with handspike or iron belaying pin he might have been a dangerous man. Wartmg Had from Captain " Previous to leaving .New Zealand he took me on one side and said to me: "Well, mister, you are the fifth second mate I've had in three months. You can back out now while, there's time, if voti wish to." "Back out T" said I. "Why should t back out? I can-do my work, and I am not scared of you or any other master. I am. going to New York, captain, and it all depends on you whether both of us get there alive or one' of us passes out'. And you can depend on it, captain; that when I hit out, I hit hard." He gave me a queer look and went on to the wharf, and th'e following conversation took ' place '* between him and old Captain John Neariiig, head of a big firm of stevedores. Old John, who was a friend of mine since childhood, repeated it to me with a warning to take care. "Know that second mate of mine, Captain Nearing?" said our captain. " Yes > I know him," said old John, him*?" 11 fr ° m ' a h o 7* What about .. * OT ' °f a chap is he, and where f, come from?" asked the skipper. Old John gave him as much of my pediknew, and-finished up with: Better go slow with him, captain He came out of that Yankee blood shin that came into Dunedin a. few week's ago. He wants to get back to New York though he was born in New Zealand " ofy said this t0 frighten him „ said old John to me afterwards, "because he is a rotter to his officers." "Thank you, captain," said I "Forewarned is forearmed." I shook hands and went aboard. • sa ''> 'but had to come .to anchor m Tuwhino Bay, just up the coast. Here the captain opened out on the mate—his language was vile. Filthy epithets of all sorts were heaped on the mate, who stood it all. I was indignant and more K BUr P r ' se 4 to see the mate take it. Are you going to stand that, mister V' said I.

"What can I do ?" said the mate. "Anyway, your turnH come soon." "Let it come," said I, which it soon did. "Where the G.B.H. is that second r greaser?" roared the old man. 1 "Don't you hear him now?": said the l mate with a chuckle. "It's your turn I now." - "Oh, is it?" said I, stopping whore I was. Tire old man's Qt of oratory never - ceased, but I took no notice. He jumped , on the poop and came forward to where the mate and I were standing. The men' were grouped on the foredeck listening and watching. The old man was foaming at the mouth and his language was vile. I took 110 notice until he came up to me. 3 "You G.B.D. son of a half-bred . greaser!" roared he. Grabbing an iron 3 belaying pin out of the rail, he made for t me. .1 i Were you speaking to me?" I said, j "I. thought you were rehearsing a scene ; from Julius Caesar. But if you're speak- ■ ' n g to me that's entirely different." s "Speaking to you!" he spluttered- "IH talk to you with this soon," brandishing the belaying pin. "Oh, no you won't," said I, snatching it from him. "Now, captain, as you have insulted me before the men and , the other officer, I'm going to talk to you before them. If you call me out of my nam& or roar at me or abuse me in any way, I'll punch that old windbag of yours till you can't stand, and if you think you are going to bluff me, captain, I call your bluff now. Take .your coat off and fight like a man." So saying, I took my coat off and, folding it neatly up, put it on the hatch. The men gathered around. The old man gasped, then muttered: "I don't want to fight." "But I do," ■ said I, "and until you apologise to me for insulting me on deck I am going to punch you." The old man looked at me and then said: "Have a heart. You wouldn't hit an old man. Come aft, mister, and we'll talk it over." "Very well, sir," said I, and, turning to the crowd, I said: "Dinner," and they all filed forward to the fo'c'sle. I then went aft and the old man called me to his room. Here he apologised and I accepted his apology. "You and I will get on fine," he said. "I like a boy with plenty of spirit. Now that mate, he's a- louse." "Look here, sir," said I, "I don't want to discuss the mate with you. That's hardly 0.K." We came to an agreement, and he treated me well alls the way to New York. He occasionally lapsed, but very seldom. As to his treatment of the first mate, after a while I came to the conclusion that he deserved all he got. Dirty in his habits, slovenly and careless, and hardly to be trusted on deck, I could hardly blame the old man when • he rounded on him. ' °? e . ? U1 Buffice " The watch tTll, 1, , - at one bell > a quarter ! J? OUr „ °I £,ght bells - The mate > to si an f. 1 specially watched ' to ,. see that did call him, but he . seldom arrived on the poop until 150 minutes past eight bells. This was annoyiiig, and after three or four times

. I spoke to him abotit it. He laughed it off, but never improved his habits, s _ I got "fed up" and determined to stop i it once and for all. It was no use r appealing to the captain. He would only , say: "Fix it your own way," for he had . got to trust me, so I thought it all over , and determined on a plan. The bucket [ rack was on the fore part of the poop, i a, 'd at one bell I ordered a man (named ■ "Cockney") to 1111 the buckets up and place them down on the deck near the mate's door. I The mate was called at one bell and , he . answered "All right," then deliberately turned over and went to sleep [ again. At eight bells he was called • again, and again he said, "All right." By this time ar. inkling of what was • coming seemed to have got forward i among the men. Instead of going forward, they all sat down on the main hatch, quietly awaiting events. At 25 minutes past 12 I opened the mate's door—he was dead asleep in his bunk. He had not even got his clothes on. He had simply taken no notice of the watchman nor of my expostulations or warnings. Opening the door and hooking it back, I picked up a bucket of water and threw it all over ■ him. There were eight of them, comprising the letters of the ship's name. With a yell he jumped up, only to be met with another icy cold bucket of water full in the face. As quickly as I could I gave him the lot. Spluttering, yelling, cursing, he flew from his room and out on to the deck. His yell had woke the captain and all hands. "Now, mister, you will perhaps get up when I call you," said I. "I've warned you now for over a fortnight, and now you've got it. Next time it will be worse." The old man demanded an explanation, and he got it. He looked at me, eyes out, and then at the mate and the water. "My God," said he, and went away chuckling. The mate came on the poop, but he was too cold to say anything, but ever after that he was on deck up to the mark. It was shameful the way the captain treated this man, but if he had had the pluck of an antediluvian legless insect he could have made things better for himself. We had bad weather down to Cape Horn, and when we were 100 miles from the Horn we had the wind ahead. Tack for tack, with royals and de gallants fast, we made very little casting. It was cold—the middle of winter, with big seas, snow, hail and sleet—proper Cape Horn weather. And there was always a chance of icebergs. The old man was surly and uneasy. We had had no sights for three days— solar or stellar. The old man did not believe in stellar or star navigation. "AH rot," he called it, and "good enough for boys to play with."

Eventually we got a wind which allowed us to head our course after running 00 miles ea9t; the captain reckoned we were well to the eastward of Cape Horn.. At 4 a.m. I got two stars on the meridian, one east and one west. I worked them out and showed the results to the old man, showing our position by star, which put us to the west and south of the Horn.

"Darned rot," he said, "we're well to the eastward."

"All right, sir," I said, and went to my room.

At 8 a.m. he altered the course well to the north and east. The wind had been light since 4 a.m., but now it came down on us, rain and snow squalls. While we were squaring the yards one man said to me: <.

"I think there's land on the starboard bow, sir."

Astern of us, a couple of miles maybe, was a full-rigged ship, swinging royals. When we squared away she followed suit. We set the man de gallant sail and fore gallant Sail, and away we went. I. was uneasy and stayed about all the time. I knew by the way we were going that we would hit the land about 2 p.m., so I stayed around handy. At 2 p.m. the vessel was half a mile astern of us. Ahead of us was snow and rain —black as thunder. I seemed to think I caught the loom of land. Suddenly the look-out man yelled: Forbidding Cliffs Of Cape Horn "Land on the starboard bow, sir!" With a yell all hands were on deck. They knew what it meant, and did not ask to be called. "Slacking" the starboard braces, we quickly brought our vessel to the wind, and we headed just as much as clear. We could now see the forbidding cliffs of Cape Horn as the squall lightened. It "would be touch and go with us. Anxiously we watched the rocks creep closer and closer. It seemed as if we would strike any moment. All this time we had forgotten the ship which had followed us, but she wa-s now passing our quarter with squared sails.

"Hard down! Rocks ahead!" I yelled, jumping into the mizzen rigging and waving my hat. Although her skipper could not hear us, he, must have surmised that something was amiss, or perhaps he caught a sight of the rocks, now plainly visible.

Down went his helm, but his braces must have fouled, for his yards stuck and the big ship rounded suddenly into the_ wind with royals set, heeling over until her catheads were buried deep in the water. She seemed to stand still. Then, with a crash that seemed loud enough to waken the dead, her three de gallant masts snapped off at the caps. They braced her up smartly, and, witli wreckage hanging over her topsail yards, she shot ahead. We could not help her, for we had all we could do to get clear ourselves. It was now touch and go with her. Aloft you could see her men clearin" away the wreckage. She was still going ahead, six topsails, courses and fore-

and-afters set. She seemed to De Tight under the shadow of those forbidding cliffs, and there seemed no hope for her. It was a battle, but she won out, and at 4 p.m. she was just clear.

At 8 a.m. the next morning she came up to us and spoke us, and, save for the masts broken off, there was hardly u loose end showing. There were real "seamen aboard. She finally arrived at her destination safely.

Our old man was much put out, but I will say he was decent to me. He looked at my position by star and admitted, in the light of later events, that we must have been pretty close to it. This was a great admission for a man of his I 'type, for he was as pigheaded as a mule, though a capable seaman.

After running east for a while we altered our course to the northward without further adventure until we came into the region or zone of the dreaded "pampero"—the River Plate. The glass had been unsteady and I saw the old man studying it with uneasy looks.

"Looks like a blow, sir," said I to him.

"Yes, mister," he said, "but we won't get it till to-morrow night at the earliest." I did not reply, but went on deck.

It was my watch from 4 a.m. to 8 a.m. next morning. As the dawned the sky was a revelation. /There was not much wind, but it was fitful. We were under full sail, and after looking at the glass I quickly took the royals and fore gallant sail off her and swme of the light staysails. The sun rose in a brassy sky with streamers of red and orange flashing to the zenith. It was the ugliest sky I had ever seen. There was no sea and very little wind, but the glass was falling steadily. I took the mainsail off the ship, and she was now under topsails, foresail and main de gallant sail. After making it fast, which was a long job for the watch, I went down to call clie old man. He ,was asleep, and I woke him up. He awoke in an ugly temper, and his first word was a curse.

"What the hell's the matter 7" said he. "Can't you lot a man sleep?" I told him, and he said:

\ou didn't take any sail off the ship?" When I told him what I had done, he exploded and he yelled: "Get to hell out of here and put it on her again!" •

"No, sir," I said, "I will not put it on her again until you come on deck, and if you put it on in my watch, I finish and go to my room. It's a proper Mauritius hurricane sky, and you know what that is."

"Get out of here!" he yelled, and I got out on deck. He did not come out on deck until 8 a.m., and then he looked around.

"Put all sail on her," said he. "What the hell did you want to take it off her for?"

"No, sir, I will not put it on her," said I. "And if you insist I'll go to my room." He looked at me, and in his heart he knew I \Vae right, but ha was in an ugly mood.

"I suppose you are frightened?" he sneered.

"No, captain," I replied, "you don't suppose anything of the kind. You know I'm right, and anyway I'm 'not frightened of you." ,

Oh, go to hell," said he, and went down, to get the breakfast. He was soon on deck, however, and he was as ugly as sin. Turning to me, he said: 'Now I'm going to put that canvas on her, mister, even if it takes us all to hell."

"It won't take me there, captain. I'm afraid that'll be your finish, not mine, ihe landlord there is a friend of yours I. suppose," I retorted. With a snarl he v left me. To the mate, coming u„ on deck at that moment, he veiled'•Loose fore gallants and rovals 'and to do Thie the mate proceeded

« n g ? t hroakfas t and turned in, all standing." About 0.30 I heard a yell and a roar.

"Stand by! Hard up, hard up! clew up royals! Call all hands, steward. All hands on deck!"

I needed .no calling, neither did my watch; they were out as soon as I, but we were too late. Shrieking like fiends in torment, the "pampero," or hurricane, was on us. The gallant old ship staggered under the impact. "Clew up, clew up!" roared the captain. This we attempted to do, but the yards would not come down. With a roar the royals went, and then with another roar the de gallant sails blew away and were soon in ribbons. What with the roar and shriek of the hurricane and the creaking and straining of the masts and the thrashing of heavy canvas blowing away, it was pandemonium let loose.

"Let go topsail halyards!" and though the topsail halyards were let go, still the yards would not come down. Then the upper topsails followed suit, and with a roar were blown clean out of their bolt ropes, and we were running before the pampero under main lower topsail and full foresail. "Take the foresail in!" roared the skipper. The 6ea had risen with remarkable rapidity. We succeeded in getting the remnants of the foresail in, and nearly all hands went aloft to stow it. While they were on the vard the sling carried away and down <kme the yard, right across the ship. No one was hurt much, as the force of the wind and the topsail sheets kept it .j 1 ? • comin S down too fast. An Adelaide boy, an. apprentice, was slightly hurt, but there was really not much damage done. We cleared up the loose ends, got her shipshape again, and in 1- hours we had run out of the storm field. It* was hell while it lasted, but when it was over, sailor-like, we soon forgot it. Here we bent new sails, sent the

foreyard aloft, and proceeded «■ ear voyage. We had a fair trip after this, and duly arrived at New York. Hoe I left the ship, much to the dissatie-| faction of the captain, who, as he confessed, really liked me. I have met him since many times, but the only other time I met the® mate was once in the Tasman Set, where the ship he commanded was o»| her beam ends. I asked him if her wanted any assistance, and he signalled "No," so I left him. Suffice to say lie I arrived safe at his destination, but I have not seen or heard of him since. ,- V Of u Typhoon Jack," I can only «ay he was a seaman every inch, a good man, but he had an ungovernable.temper and was as stubborn as a Chiliano mule. It was this last propensity" that 'got him into trouble. He is now dead,, so all we can say is "Requiescat in pace." So once again we can roar: We crossed the Line, the Gnlf Stream, We rounded Table Bay, Then round Cape Horn and home For that is the Sailor's Way. • V.''