Sketcher.

Wairarapa Standard, Volume XX, Issue 2092, 15 July 1887, Page 2 (Supplement)

Sketcher.

In Former Ways*.

As soon as the sailor of former days was out of his “ time,” he was fit to go anywhere or do anything. The ship was his house, and there was nothing he did not know about her and her gear. Poor landsmen have to send for plumbers and carpenters and plasterers when they want anything done to their houses; but the trained seaman was independent. He could take his turn as cook, cobble his own shoes, darn his stockings, make a sail, work an elaborate mat, tie any knot that the wildest ingenuity of man ever contrived, steer as straight as an arrow, no matter how much watching and nursing the vessel required—in short, he was a perfect master of his work, and could satisfy his own necessities during the longest# and most tedious of voyages. People who know nothing about the matter picture the old sailor as the most careless and joyous of men ; he was not. He was grave to the last degree, and rather taciturn than otherwise. When a crew were discharged, the vagrants of the set went usually into abominable quarters where mad debauch was the rule; but the debauchees were quite few in number compared with the men who lived fairly reputable lives. As to the boisterous merriment, it is a mere silly tradition which was originally started by reason of the carouses in which mcn-of-war’s men indulged when they came home with plenty of prise money. The rowdies of the merchant service " filled the public eye,” as the newspaper phrase has it,and gave a somewhat false impression of a noble body of men Poor fellows who had no homes to go to fell

into the hands of crimps and oth'T scoundrels just as they do now ; they were encouraged to behave like beasts until they had spent their money, and then they were hustled aboard some ship orofher —generally in a state of helpless drunkenness. The seafaring roughs live in much the same way now, and landsmen would be mightily astonished if they could see the performances on board of outward-bound ships before the worst of the men have recovered from their frantic drunkenness. The murderous floggings/the kicks, and the oaths, are something to shudder at and remember.

Cut the seafaring thoroughbred of the old sort most heartily detested and despis ;d the ruffians and fools of his trade. He was usually connected with decent people; he respected himself, and he took-life very seriously indeed. The merry writers who tell us about Jack’s reckless and short-sighted jollity do not seem to know that the real sailor was, and is, a very reserved and somewhat melancholy personage. Let any one sail with a few of the good men who still remain before the mast, and he will very soon see that the sailor who is described as a sort of overgrown schoolboy is a quiet responsible man who seems to weigh every word that he utters. Alas that so few of the flower of our mariners should be left 1 At odd times a humorous singer might chant a ‘‘shanty ” which was funny, or noisy, or even ribald ; but the very music sung at sea was melancholy as a rule. SVhen the alcohol was acting on the men as the vessel worked out of harbor, they were lively ; but, as soon ns Jack reached blue water, he became serious, and behaved himself much like any other respectable artisan. His thoughts ran constantly towards home, and the sadness of the illimitable sea seemed to affect him unconsciously. The same disposition holds now some of the thoroughbreds ; but we are mainly bent on talking of by-gone days; so we use the past tense without meaning any disrespect to the last mournful remnants of our once matchless seafarers.

Look over the old sea songs, and it is plain the “ light-hearted,” 11 boyish,” '• reckless Jack cared most for tunes that ran in a melancholy minor key, and for words that spoke of death or parting. One hundred years ago the most popular of forecastle songs had a chorus which ran “Lashed to the helm, while seas o'erwhelm, I'll think of thee, my love." The air of this ditty was gruesome in the extreme. Then the imperishable “ Farewell unto you, Spanish ladies" was sung to a tune like a dirge. The words of “ Cawsand Bay,” are quite humorous. They tell how a lovely young damsel named Elinor Ford went on board a vessel to claim her lover's discharge. She took him away, and “ She got a shore tailor To rig her young sailor With tight nankeen breechc? and blue longtailed coat, And he looked like a squire For all to admire, With his dimity hanhkerchief tied round his throat;

And they had a house greater Than e’er a first-rater, With servants in uniform handing the drink; And a garden to go in With flowers a-blowin'— The daisy, the buttercup, lily, and pink,” and so on. But even this merry ditty, dealing as it dees with wedding-bells and general felicity was sung to an air which is like the sound of prolonged weeping. The most admired of the hauling songs informs us that the hero was crossing the Western Ocean when his dead love visited him.

She came to me at dead o' the night—

Ob, Rio!— Her breast it was cold, her eyes they were white; And we’re bonnd for the Rio Grande. So away, love, away, away down Rio 1 Oli, fare you well, my bonny young girl— I’m bound for the Rio Grande!—

So 1 goes down on ray bended knee—

Oh, Riol— And I says, ‘My love, what brings you to me ?’ And we're bound for the Rio Grande. So away, etc. Says she, •My dear, I'm dead and I’m gene— Oh, Riol— And over ray head they’ve putten a stone.’ And we’re bound for the Rio Grande. So away. etc. Says I ' They may make the grave for two Oil. Rio, — For you know as I can't iive without you,’ And we're bound for the Kin Grande. S-) away, etc.” All the favorite song= have the same melancholy Unite. •• Across the Western Ocean.” ‘■Old Randso," -Cupid's Garden.’’ - Lowlands, ” and every other favorite on an averay ” shanty ” singer’s list are nothing but, more or less tuneful laments. The most lugubrious performance that, the nerves can endure is encountered when a sentimental forecastle hand drones out a •• Forehitrer,” dealing with death, desertion, parting, and other old, unhappy, far-off things. Curious it is that men with such tastes should ever have been set down as children of a larger growth !

On one occasion Webster the American senator was on his way to his duties at Washington. He was compelled to proceed at night by stage from Baltimore. He had no 1 ravelling companion, and the driver ha i a sort of felon look which produced no inconsiderable alarm in the senator, “ I endeavored to tranquillize myself,’’ said Webster, and had partly succeeded, when wo reached the dark woods between Bladens burg and Washington—a proper scene for murder or outrage—and here. I confess, my courage again deserted me. Just then the driver turned to me, and. with a gruff voice inquired my name. I gave it to him. ■ W here are you going?’ said he. The reply 'vas. ‘To Washington. I am a senator.’ 1 poo this the driver seiz.ed me fervently by tlm hand, and exclaimed. ‘How glad [‘am'l i have ben trembling on my seat for the last, hour; for when I looked at yon I took you to be a highwayman.'"