IN FORMER DAYS.

Waikato Times, Volume XXIX, Issue 2343, 16 July 1887, Page 2 (Supplement)

IN FORMER DAYS.

As soon as the sailor of former days was out of ids “lime,” he was fit to go anywhere or do anything. The ship was his house, and them 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 independnnt. Ho could take his turn as cook, cobble his own shoes, darn his stockings, make a sail, work an elaborate mat, tie any knot that tho 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 whs a perfect master of his work, and could satisfy Ids own necessities during tho longest and most tedious of voyages. People who know nothing about tho matter picture tlie 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 crow were discharged, the vagrants of the set went usually' into abondnahlequarters whore mad debauch was the rule ; but the debauchees were quite few in number compared with tire men who lived fairly reputable lives. As to the boisterous merriment, it is a mere silly tradition which was originally started by reason of tlie carouses in which men-of-war’s men indulged when they came homo with plenty of prize money. The rowdies of tlie merchant service “filled the public cy'e,” as the newspaper phrase has it, and and gave a somewhat false impression of a noble body of men. Poor fellows who had no homes to go to fell into tho hands ot crimps and other scoundrels just as they do now. They wero encouraged to behave like beasts until they had spent their money, and then they woro hustled aboard some ship or other—generally in a state of helpless drunkenness. Tho seafaring roughs live in ranch the same way now, and landsmen would be mightily astonished if they could see tho performances on hoard of outward-bound ships before tho worst of tho men have recovered from their frantic drunkenness. The murderous floggings, tho kicks, and tho oaths, are something to shudder at and remember.

Bat the seafaring thoroughbred of the old sort most heartily detested and despised the ruffians and fools of his trade. He was usually connected with docent people; ho respected himself, and ho 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 tew of the good men who still remain before the innst, and lie 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 onr mariners should be left! At odd times a humorous singer might chant a “shanty” which was funny, or noisy, or oven ribald ; but the very music sung at sea was melancholy as a rule. When the alcohol was acting on the men as the vessel worked out of harbour, they were lively ; hut, as soon as Jack reached bluo water, he became serious, and behaved himself much like any other respectable artisan. His thoughts ran constantly towards homo, 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, 1 ' “ 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 overwhelm, I think of thee, my love.” The air of this ditty was gruesome in the extreme. Then the imperishable 11 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 Forde went on board a vessell so claim her lover’s discharge. She took him away, and “ She got a shore tailor To rig her young sailor With tight nankeen breeches and blue longtailed coat, And he looked like a squire For all to admire, With his dimity handkerchief tied round Ilia throat; And they had a house greater Than e’er a first-rater, Willi servants in uniform handing the drink;

And a garden to go in _ With flowers a-blowiu’— The daisy, the buttercup, lily, and pink, 1 ' and so on. But even this merry ditty, dealing as it does with wedding-bells and general felicity was sung to an air which is like the sound of prolonged weeping. The most admired of the hauliug 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— Oh, Rio ! Her breast it was cold, her eyes they were white; And we’re bound for the Rio Grande. Rn away, love, away, away down Rio ! Oh, fare yon well, my bonny young girl— I'm bound for the Kio Grande ! So I goes down on my bended knee— Oh, Rio ! 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 gone— Oh, Rio ! And over my 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— Oh, Rio,— Fur you know as I can’t live without you,’ And we’ro bound for the Rio Grande. So away etc.” All the favourite songs have the same melancholy tinge. “ Across the Western Ocean.” “ Old Randso,” 11 Cupid’s Garden,” “Lowlands,” and every other favourite on an average “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 “ Forebittcr,” dealing with death, desertion, parting, and other old, unhappy, far oft things, Curious it is that men with such tastes should ever have been set down as children of a larger growth !