B00EF19YY8 EBOK Page 4

  “What are they for?”

  He pulled me to one side. “Slaves.”

  “But my da and the priest said slavery was illegal.”

  “So it is but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t go on. The slave owners in America pay well for new slaves. The ones they have are like Black Jones,” I looked puzzled, “the black man on the wheel. He was a slave and he escaped. The ones who were born in America have ideas about freedom. The darkies from Africa just work till they drop.”

  Paddy Henry’s voice boomed from the dark. “If you two feckin fairies don’t stop chattering like a pair of parrots I’ll have the skin off your backs.” We were silent.

  When we returned to the deck it felt fresh and clean after the rat infested hell hole we had visited. We spent the afternoon cleaning and tidying the ship. Davy told me that we had a few more days before we would pick up our cargo. “They’ll put you in one of the watches. There are three. We all work during the day and at night each watch works three hours.” He grinned. “I don’t think they’ll put you in my watch. They’ll split us up.” His face became serious. “Just so long as you avoid Eddie McNeil.”

  “Which one is he?” He waited until the sailor in question had turned around and then nodded. It was the scowling sailor who had glared at me earlier. “That suits me. He looks like a nasty piece of work.”

  Davy looked at me. “He is that boyo and watch out. He is a bum bandit.”

  I was young and I was innocent but as a good Catholic boy I knew all about bum bandits and I would keep my two knives sharp should he decide to choose me as a partner.

  The boat gave a slight shudder and Davy looked up at the mast. “Shit! The wind’s changed. We’ll soon find out how good you are up the ratlines then!”

  “All hands! Take in the mainsail.” The first mate pointed to me. “You, the wee shit, follow the Welsh boy and try not to fall off. If you make a mess on my clean deck I’ll skin you alive!" Skinning alive was a big thing for Paddy Henry.

  I looked up at the mast which seemed as high as a mountain. I was afraid of the mast but I was more afraid of the first mate and I followed Davy’s lead and grabbed hold of the ratlines and climbed. It is hard to believe now but as soon as my hands gripped the tarred rope I felt at ease and I leapt to the top, beating Davy and the others. They looked at me in amazement.

  I heard the voice from below. “Right monkey boy; you are so feckin clever get to the end of the crosstree.”

  I could see a rope which was obviously meant as a walkway and I held on to the cross tree and slithered my way to the end of the spar. The ship seemed to pitch and toss, threatening to throw me at any moment but, I never thought for one second that I would fall. My body just seemed to adjust to the movement of the ship. Davy appeared next to grinning. “You are a natural. You are even better than Eddie.” I looked along the mast and saw that Eddie was on the opposite end of the spar. Davy showed me what to do and, in no time at all we had put a reef in the sail and the movement of the ship was much easier and more under control rather than the bucking horse she had been.

  “Hoist the mizzen!”

  We had no sooner finished than we had to slide down the lines and hoist the large sail at the stern of the boat. I had the pleasure of a grudging nod from the first mate as I passed him. My first day at sea was ending better than it had begun. As we entered the galley I was famished. Fatty Hutton gave me a big grin and gestured to a place at the swinging mess table closest to the pot. There was a piece of wood running around the edge of the table to stop the food tipping off and I was grateful for it as the dish with the sloppy stew slid towards me. I learned this was called the fiddle- I have no idea why. I found some of the terms they used to be bizarre in the extreme.

  “As we have just left port, young Jack, we have fresh bread so make the most of it. When it runs out we will be on hard tack.”

  “And weevils!” chimed up a remarkably cheerful Davy.

  The rest of the crew joined us. The captain and Paddy Henry had the ship for the few minutes while we ate. As we devoured the welcome hot food and I suffered the glower and glare of Eddie the top man the second mate, Woody Tree gave us our watches. He was the oldest sailor on board and, in my opinion the best. He fixed me with his stare as he conscientiously chewed the indeterminate meat. “Since you have shown yourself to be such a good man on the rigging then you shall be on my watch young Hogan.” He gave the glimmer of a smile. “We have the second watch.”

  Davy murmured, “Midnight.”

  Woody glared at Davy who nodded his apology. “There are just three of us on watch.” He pointed to Fatty. “Fatty here is the fourth. You work Fatty’s share and we eat well.” His face lit up into a smile and I felt happy. There were still three men on board who terrified me but at least eleven seemed like friendly men.

  Davy showed me how to sling my hammock and then how to get in. After the mussel collecting and the rigging climbing I found it easy but Davy assured me that most landlubbers fell out during the first week at sea. Eddie had already gone on watch and the captain and Paddy ate in the captain’s cabin so I was able to look at my surroundings. The deck above our head was low and we had to stoop to avoid banging our heads. There was just enough space for ten hammocks but we only ever needed seven so it was not too cramped. Davy told me that, when in the tropics, most men slept on deck as it was cooler. Some of the men sat at the mess table and carved intricate pieces of wood or bone called scrimshank. Davy told me that they could sell them as souvenirs of foreign trips and people at home loved them. I decided that, when time allowed, I would try my hand. The penknife from Stumpy would come in handy.

  After Davy turned in I was about to do the same when Fatty gestured to me and I went to the door of the galley. I knew that it was a heinous crime to enter without permission but Fatty pulled me in and closed the curtain. He took me to the far side of the pot which had bubbling stew in it; tomorrow’s meal. He spoke quietly to me.

  “I am Stumpy’s friend. He said to look out for a red haired Irish lad who looked like he needed a good meal.”

  My day was getting better and better. “You know Stumpy then?”

  “Aye we served the Queen together.” He shook his head in sad remembrance. “I didn’t know it then but they were the best of times.” He lowered his voice even more. “The crew are mainly good but there are some bad ‘uns and Captain Bill, well he didn’t get the nickname Black for nothing. You keep your nose clean and we’ll see about getting you off this ship in America, if we can.”

  “But he said…”

  “I know what he said but you just keep safe till we reach Charleston and we’ll see.”

  “We?”

  “There’s others looking out for you and all but you needn’t know that. Just keep out of Eddie’s way and avoid upsetting Black Bill or Paddy. Now you turn in. Tomorrow is another busy day.”

  If I thought my new found skill as a top man would make my life easier I was wrong. Paddy Henry would lay about him with his ‘starter’ as he called it at the slightest and most innocent of mistakes. Davy told me in a quiet moment that he had been a bosun’s mate on a Royal Navy ship and he had learned discipline there. He certainly enjoyed meting it out on me and Davy! I also had to contend with nudges and sly punches from Eddie who no longer saw me as a potential bed mate but as a rival as the best top man aboard and he tried to hurt me whenever possible. When Woody and Blackie discovered that they had a quiet word and I saw the top man sporting a bruised cheek. I know they meant well but it just stored up more pain for me. That apart, I was quite enjoying my time on the ship. My sleep was more comfortable than the floor at home and the food was in far greater quantities than I had ever seen in Ireland. That first week we ate like kings with fresh meat every day. Davy told me that we would soon be on salted pork. He said that as though it was a hardship- it was meat and far better than thin cabbage soup. The work was hard and I was not as strong as the others but, with the food and the sunshine I soon began to grow int
o my clothes which had all been my da’s hand me downs. Fatty told me not to worry about spare clothes as there was a slop chest. I asked Davy about that and he looked sad.

  “The lads who were fed to the sharks and the ones who either ran, or died, well their clothes go into the slop chest.”

  It was a sobering reminder of how perilous life at sea could be. That was confirmed three days out of Cork when we ran into a gale. We were summoned from our hammocks to find the ship tossing on the stormy sea like a cork. There were troughs big enough to swallow the ship and the waves were like walls of water. We scurried up the ratlines to take in the main sheet before it tore the mast from the ship. The storm was so powerful that the cross trees almost touched the sea as the wind threw us around. I had learned to climb in bare feet as the grip was better and, that night, it saved my life. As I was racing up to the mast I did not notice Eddie coming alongside me. He hit my legs, with his arm, so hard that they lost their grip and I was forced to hang on to the tarred rope. I should have fallen had I not curled my toes around the swinging rope and secure my hold. I turned and glared at Eddie who swarmed up the ropes, grinning at me. I would need to watch the top man who seemed to have gone beyond bullying to attempted murder. It took some time to reef the sail as we were holding on as much as we were securing the sail. By the time we reached the deck Black Bill and Paddy had lowered an anchor to hold us steadier until the wind abated.

  By dawn we were exhausted. The galley fire had gone out and we had no hot food. The last of the bread had been ruined by salt water pouring through the open hatches and we were miserable but, as Fatty pointed out, you had to be alive to be miserable. We spent the rest of the day repairing the ship. I learned how to stitch canvas and repair damaged rigging. It was at this time that I learned, from Fatty, how to splice ropes and tie an amazing variety of knots. It would be my occupation during the off duty times.

  Black Bill Bailey was in a foul mood about the delay as we had a rendezvous off the Azores. I managed to avoid invoking his ire. It was Eddie who suffered the rough edge of his tongue and his hand when the bitter top man accidentally dropped a marlin spike over the side. We had plenty of them but it was the excuse Black Bill was looking for. He took another marlin spike and beat the unfortunate top man about the head and arms. Perhaps the beating was worse than we thought for it seemed to hurt Eddie more than we knew at the time.

  We hoisted the storm anchor and set sail before dusk. We set every inch of canvas and the ship fairly flew across the sea. When we were off watch we just collapsed into our hammocks and it seemed no time at all until we were summoned to the deck again. Woody took the helm and I was sent to the bow as a lookout. The old sailor was not happy about the weather for the wind seemed to be building again. As we came on deck I heard him muttering. “We should take a reef or two. This is not good.”

  The wind began to build and I found myself almost submerged as the bow plunged into troughs and then rose like a breeching whale. Toby, my other messmate, came for me. “Woody says come to the wheel it is too dangerous here.”

  It was a struggle to get back along the slippery deck and we slid rather than walked. When we reached Woody he said, “Jack, wake the Captain and tell him I need him. Toby, you grab the wheel.”

  I made my way aft to the big cabin at the stern. I knocked timidly and wondered if I had knocked hard enough. I heard, to my relief, his gruff croak, “Come! Damn your eyes!”

  I entered the cabin which looked just like our mess deck but it only had one hammock. Black Bill was standing, putting on his sea boots. “Second Mate says he needs you sir. The storm is getting up again.”

  He nodded as he felt the motion. “Rouse the crew!”

  I ran along to the crew’s quarters. “All hands on deck!”

  I was luckier than the others for I was awake already and I reached the end of the cross tree first. I began to reef it in having learned that time was of the essence in these matters. Davy soon joined me so that the mast tipped away from us. Perhaps it was that which caused the accident, we will never know but Eddie was making his way to the position at the far end of the mast when the boat tipped alarmingly. He reached up for the stay but his arm must have been more damaged by the beating than we thought. His hand seemed to close on the stay but he continued to fall, his dying scream ended by the noise of his body plunging into the water. We had no time to speculate on his demise for we were now a man down and we had to work even harder to reef the sail. I knew that we were in danger when Paddy Henry joined us, his huge hands working like windmills as we secured the sail.

  No-one liked losing a messmate, even one as unpleasant as Eddie. As we ate ship’s biscuit the next morning I asked Woody. “Will the captain not say a few words over the sea for the dead man?”

  Woody shook his head, “No son. Eddie is in Davy Jones’s locker now and he will join the crew of the Flying Dutchman; doomed to sail the seven seas until the crack of doom.”

  I learned, in my time on the Rose of Tralee, that sailors are a superstitious lot and I found myself signing the cross. The thought of a watery and lonely grave terrified me. We were now a crewman short and, despite what I thought of him, a good sailor. I had no idea how we were going to cope. In the end Paddy Henry just rearranged the watches so that Davy was moved to his watch, and, like Woody’s operated with just three men.

  The day that Eddie died marked a change in our fortune and the weather. The wind blew in our favour and sped us on our way to our rendezvous. I was at the masthead securing a loose stay when I first spotted the rocky island that was the Azores. It belonged to Portugal but we would not be landing. I shouted down, “Land Ho!” and I heard the order to reef sails. Black Bill wanted to arrive after dark for his clandestine meeting. There was a large mountain, Fatty said it was an extinct volcano, at the eastern end of the island and we anchored in its lee. We had no lights showing and the nearest settlement appeared to be a dot of houses some way to the east.

  As we waited, Paddy ordered two deck guns to be mounted close to the wheel. I could see that they were aimed at hatches leading to the cargo deck. Woody then issued us with cutlasses and cudgels while the officers all stuck two pistols in their belts. “Are we expecting trouble?” I whispered to Davy.

  “Slaves, boyo. Black as coal miners. Sometimes they come aboard weeping and wailing but sometimes they have a mad bugger with them and they try to run. We should be fine.” He sounded confident but he still gripped his cutlass.

  Fatty, too had come on deck and it was no surprise. Since hitting the waters far to the south of Ireland the temperature had risen and, below decks was like an oven. As his fire was out there was no need for him to be in the galley. He pointed at the cutlass I held. “I daresay you have never used one of those pig stickers before eh?”

  I held the strange, curved weapon in my hand. “No sir.”

  “Thought so. Davy, when you are off watch tomorrow, see Woody and ask him if you can give Jack a lesson with the blade. It may come in handy. If you have to use it then swing hard and away from yourself.” I did not know when I would need cutlass skills in America but Fatty, like his friend Stumpy, had never steered me wrong.

  I wondered at the tension amongst the crew but I discovered that the Royal Navy patrolled these waters looking for blackbirders like us. The night was silent save for the sloshing of the water in the bilges and the creaking of the timbers. Toby had been sent aloft and, in the middle of the dark and moonless night he whispered down, “Sail to the north.”

  Paddy Henry’s voice sounded strangely quiet and muted as he growled, “Stand to. It may not be our cargo."

  The dhow which edged close to us was obviously not the Royal Navy and even I breathed a sigh of relief. The two ships were the same height and they tied tightly to us. The gangplank was run out and Black Bill and Paddy went aboard. I saw my first Arabs and they looked strange. They were not as dark as Blackie and they wore turbans and long flowing gowns that looked like dresses. The crew were bare chested A
fricans who looked dumbly at us. I saw money change hands and then Black Bill and Paddy returned.

  “Get ready.” Woody disappeared with an oil lamp into the hold followed by Fatty. I just stood next to Davy as our crew lined up in two lines. A line of slaves, all chained and manacled began to ascend from the dhow’s deck. They shuffled towards us, prodded by the swords of the dhow’s crew. About twenty had passed us, descending when one of them tried to break for freedom. He was still on the dhow’s deck and he tried to jump between the ships. I don’t know what he was thinking. Had he succeeded he would have been crushed by the two hulls but it mattered not for the dhow’s captain took off his head with one blow. The line of slaves stopped as the headless body crumpled to the deck. I wondered what they would do until I saw a crewman bring an axe and chop off the feet. As the body and feet joined the head and were thrown overboard, the line continued to board us. I counted forty nine slaves and I wondered how they would fare in the confined cargo hold.

  We could see the first false dawn as we separated and Paddy Henry ordered full sail and we sped westwards towards America.

  Chapter 3

  Jack

  The first thing I noticed about the slaves was the smell. It was the smell of unwashed and alien bodies and it was the smell of urine and excreta which ran unabated down their legs. I was spared the horror of giving them water, for they were not fed but I could hear their moaning and their keening. Sometimes Paddy Henry would tire of it and lay about them with his whip. It worked for a while but then they would continue. We also had to throw three dead slaves overboard after they succumbed to the rigours of the voyage and I noticed that the dorsal fins of sharks began to follow the boat. This displeased Black Bill and Davy explained why, “The Royal Navy knows that sharks following a ship mean it is a slave ship.”