Bone Street/Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LEARNING THE ROPES
The pan of water boiling, Jack decided to make coffee. He then turned his attention to the ham, filling the clean-washed tin with slices. Then preparing to lay the table looked round for a tablecloth and found what appeared to be one in one of the cupboards. It was a coarse thick cloth, more like a sail-cloth than anything. Jack eyed it dubiously. It was greasy and stained with use. “That needs washing,” he said to himself. However, he spread it on the table, and presently breakfast was ready. He again approached the deckie, whose name he found to be Bill Stevens, and informed him breakfast was ready.
“Good,” said Bill, “give ’em some gong.”
Jack looked enquiringly, so Bill picked up an old frying-pan and banging it with a big metal spoon bellowed “Break-fast.” And soon the skipper, chief engineer, boatswain, and third-hand appeared.
They climbed down the ladder, and sat up to the table, while Jack served them. Bread (of which there was a quantity aboard for the first few days), ham, and plenty of coffee. The men were hungry, and without much talk the food disappeared, Black Jack nodding his head appreciatively at the coffee.
“Good coffee, stoorard,” he commented, “keep it up, lad.”
“That’s all right,” thought Jack, “sounds as though he is satisfied.”
They didn’t take long to feed, these rough men of the sea, and soon they returned to their duties, relieving the others for their breakfast.
As the skipper left the cabin, he slapped Jack on the shoulder, saying:
“You’ll do if you keep on like this. Feel sick?” he queried.
Jack was just wondering if it was sickness that was creeping over him.
“I believe I’m going to be,” he said, “but I’ll try to stick it.”
The skipper nodding his head departed.
Soon the others came for their breakfast. Second engineer, mate, deckie and trimmer.
“Sit down,” said the mate to Jack when they were served.
But the nausea was upon him. “No thanks,” he said, while the others grinned.
They had now reached the open sea, and to one who had never been even in a rowing-boat before the sensation was certainly queer. How Jack lived the rest of the day, he never knew, but, with an occasional visit to the ship’s side, he stuck it out. He cooked a dinner and served it up, eating nothing himself, but without knowing it was being observed closely by the others.
Said the mate to Black Jack as they stood together on the bridge, the mate steering, “The lad’s got pluck.”
“Aye,” said the skipper, “we’ll try him out.”
But before tea was prepared, Jack was beaten. He sat down on a coil of rope on deck, and with his head on his knees, shuddered convulsively. The skipper, silently watching, nodded his head to the mate. The latter called out “Deckie.”
“Aye, aye,” replied Bill.
The mate, nodding at Jack, added, “Take hold for him while he gets better.”
Bill grinned understandingly, and taking Jack’s arm, led him to the fo’castle, after which he assisted him into his bunk.
Jack didn’t know until afterwards that the deckie had lent him one of his own blankets.
Jack lay on the straw mattress as weak and helpless as a baby, the trawler tossing more and more as they reached the open sea, but he had a very bad night. He could hear the banging and tramping on deck — only dozing off in sleep occasionally — and by daybreak was wide awake.
He heard Bill bang the gong for breakfast, and presently that good soul appeared in the fo’castle, bearing an enamelled mug of coffee.
“Feeling any better?” he asked.
Jack nodded.
“Drink this,” said Bill, “you’re mending. Want anything to eat?”
“No, thanks,” answered Jack, and Bill left him.
However, the loneliness of the place oppressed him, and presently there staggered on to the deck, a pale, wretched-looking creature, staggering with every lurch of the trawler.
“Hello,” cried the skipper, “feeling better?”
“Just a bit, thanks,” replied Jack.
“Righto,” was the reply, “deckie will help until you’re fit.”
And so Jack returned to his duties, or at least to assist as far as he possibly could, which certainly was not a great deal that day. Towards evening he began to recover, and by seven o’clock he was able to nibble at a piece of toast, which was just as well, for deckie could not be spared from his own duties much longer, and told him that soon they would be shooting the trawl, which meant all hands would be needed.
Jack enquired as to his duties, had he to assist in other work besides cooking?
“Oh yes,” replied Bill, “you’ve to hold on at the winch, and see to the coffee after ‘up-trawl.’ There’s plenty of work for all hands on deck, except the engine-men.” And so by degrees Jack formed some idea of the extent of his duties.
“Now what about a wash?” Jack asked.
Bill looked surprised.
“A wash,” he repeated.
“Yes,” said Jack.
“There’s no fresh water for washing yourself, that is unless you can cadge some condensed water from the engineer,” said Bill. “We only carry enough fresh water for drinking.”
So Jack had to content himself with a swill in the sea-water, which Bill got him in a bucket from over the side of the trawler.
“I’ll show you how to pull water in some time,” Bill said, “and understand, don’t try until you’re shown, or you will be pulled overboard.”
Next morning found Jack up at six o’clock, still feeling shaky, but he was a trier, and determined to resume his full duties as soon as possible. Passing the bridge, the mate gave him a “Good morning,” and enquired, “Better, doctor?”
“Very nearly,” replied Jack as cheerfully as he could. “I think I shall manage to stick it.”
The mate nodded and Jack went off to prepare breakfast.
He had found several large tins of tomatoes, which appeared to be old stock, but as they were apparently intact he opened one, and after examination decided that although old, they were quite wholesome, so again cooking ham, he proceeded to make coffee, which he served out to the crew preparatory to breakfast, for he remembered what Ned Hampton had told him, “Fishermen like coffee any time.”
The ham being cooked, Jack took the tin out of the oven, and emptied the tomatoes into the tin, stirring all the time until they were thoroughly cooked. Then he banged the frying-pan. “Breakfast. Breakfast,” he cried, imitating Bill.
The invitation was enough. They trooped up, skipper and engineer out of the cabin, boatswain and third-hand from the fo’castle; unwashed, unshaved, since leaving the shore, they sat round the table while Jack served the breakfast.
“What the hell’s this?” asked the skipper.
“Ham and tomatoes,” replied Jack, “I’m sorry it’s not much change from yesterday, but I’m not quite used to it.”
“Sorry, be damned,” said Black Jack, after he had tasted a mouthful, “it’s extra, what do you say, chief?”
The engineer agreed, and the way they shifted the food made Jack go and open another tin for the remainder of the crew.
“That’s been a damned fine breakfast,” said the skipper when he had finished. “Keep it up, son,” while the others nodded appreciatively. “I didn’t know we had any tomatoes aboard.” And when Jack showed him many other tins, commented, “Well, they must have been here months. We’ll get some more for next trip.” And off they went to relieve the others, who also congratulated Jack on the breakfast.
Jack’s spirits were so lifted up by the praise, that he actually managed to eat a little himself. The tablecloth still troubled him, it was so dirty that he determined to wash it, so he approached the chief engineer for a bucket of condensed water.
“A bucket,” said the chief in surprise.
“Yes,” answered Jack, “I want to wash the tablecloth.”
“Well, you’ll have to manage with half a bucketful.”
So with half a bucket of hot water he commenced his washing. First he laid the cloth on deck, and carefully wetting it all over with his precious hot water thoroughly soaked it, then with a deck scrubber vigorously scrubbed.
Various comments reached his ears from the crew.
“Oh,” said Bill, “ain’t the doctor getting swanky, clean tablecloths, nothing less.”
Even the skipper peeped round from the wheel-house to observe, but Jack scrubbed away industriously, taking no notice of the comments. Suddenly Black Jack shouted “Deckie.”
“Aye, aye,” said Bill.
“Lend a hand there.”
So Bill took the scrubber, while Jack carefully ladled his precious water on until it was used up, and again the skipper gave an order:
“Deckie, tow it.”
So Bill got a length of line, tying one end to the cloth, and the other he made fast aboard, then flung the cloth well astern of the propeller, while Jack returned to his duties.
Going through the larder, Jack thought, “I must bake bread to-day or we’ll run short.” He found the meat was below on ice, and after investigation, found that there was a piece for each day, counting nine days out, each piece weighing at least six pounds. “Well,” thought Jack, “there’s plenty of wholesome food, and if they are not satisfied it won’t be my fault.”
In the lifeboats slung aft, covered with a tarpaulin, he found carrots, turnips, cabbages and potatoes; certainly in those days fishermen had plenty of good food.
So putting dinner on to cook, he fetched his newly washed tablecloth out, which while not snow-white was certainly cleaner.
Again the crew were satisfied with the dinner of roast meat, Yorkshire pudding, potatoes and cabbage.
Immediately after dinner the lead was brought out for sounding. This lead had a circular hole in the bottom, which was filled with tallow, and after being allowed to touch the bottom was brought up, the sand and gravel were examined by the skipper, who decided that during the afternoon the real work of the trawler would commence.
The huge trawl was attached to the boom, and after being made safe by wire hawsers, was slung overboard. Then at half-speed the trawler cruised about in an ever-widening circle. For hours the vessel steadily steamed about in a perfectly calm sea; overhead the sun was shining, not a speck on the wide waters, except the trawler.
During the whole of the time, Jack, like other members of the crew, was busily engaged, but whilst his task was baking bread, preparing tea, etc., the others (with the exception of the engine-room staff) were making preparations for the anticipated catch.
What a hive of industry a trawler is, preparatory to the catch! Decks must be swilled clean in preparation, more than a hundred tons of ice is in readiness to lay the fish in when caught, hundreds of boxes all ready for packing, everyone—skipper, first mate, and the entire crew—were working hard while they were trawling.
Jack was to find bread-making more difficult than he expected, but putting a stone of flour into an enamelled bowl, he added the yeast, leaving it for a time whilst the yeast was working. Returning to it some time later, he commenced the task of kneading the dough.
Now this is not a difficult task, when one is possessed of sound arms, but Jack found that kneading with one arm was indeed arduous. He managed, however with some difficulty, and the dough was soon a nice round mass, almost ready for the oven.
This done, he turned his attention to other duties. The skipper’s state-room and the cabin required a clean out, so without wasting any time, Jack fetched mop and bucket, and like a good housewife continued till the rooms were nice and clean.
By now tea-time was drawing near, and Jack was puzzled to know what to prepare for tea which would provide a change. For two days he had already served ham; true, there were eggs, but he was not sure about their freshness. Whatever could he give? then, having a look round the stores, he discovered some cheese, and remembering toasted cheese was a favourite dish of his father’s, decided to experiment with it.
Placing some in a tin, and adding butter, he started to bake both cheese and the bread he had previously prepared. Soon a dozen cakes were baked, and removed from the oven to make room for the remainder.
“God,” muttered Black Jack, as an appetising smell of roasted cheese and newly baked bread pervaded the trawler. “The doctor’s at it again. I wonder what we have got for tea to-day, lads.” In a while Bill came prowling round, but Jack laughingly drove him back, with “I’ll let you know when it’s ready, clear out.”
Table set, Jack proudly exhibited his newly baked oven-bottom cakes on the table, and the first half of the crew sat down for tea. Again the meal was a success, but what was better still, they showed their appreciation.
“I’ll tell you what it is, son,” said the skipper.
“If you look after us this way, we are going to be a happy ship, what do you say, chief?”
The engine-man acquiesced.
“Aye,” he said, “it makes a deal of difference when the grub’s good. Keep it up, lad. The sea doesn’t seem so cruel when your stomach feels full.”
So Jack knew that at all events he was giving satisfaction, and determined as far as possible to keep it up.
After tea everything was ready for the “up-trawl.” The engine was rung “Stop,” and the boat swung round with the great trawl pulling aft. “Up trawl-e-o-oh,” came the cry from the bridge, and all hands rushed to their posts, the skipper directing operations.
The donkey-engine on deck clanked noisily as the wire hawsers wrapped round the drum, and presently the trawl was alongside. The boom was taken off the trawl and soon the huge net was hoisted above the deck. Then the work commenced. The deck amidship between the bridge and fo’castle was partitioned off by stout beams about 18 inches high, and all hands, except the engine-room staff and cook, commenced to gut the fish, and tossing them to their appropriate place. Sat on the partition, each man seized a fish, and with a quick stroke of a knife, ripped it open, and first removing the liver, threw it into a bucket, whilst the remainder of the fish were thrown in a heap at his side. As the buckets became full of livers, they were emptied into a barrel, and Jack later found that this was sold for making cod-liver oil, the proceeds going to the crew. It was a dirty, messy job, and only a few minutes of watching was sufficient for Jack
There is a custom established on the North Sea that hot coffee must be served each “up-trawl,” so Jack prepared it in the time-honoured way. First he had the kettle full of boiling water, and dumped in a double handful of coffee. After simmering for awhile, he opened a tin of condensed milk and emptied the whole of the contents into the kettle. Then sugar was added, fishermen being notoriously sweet-toothed mortals. The coffee now prepared, the kettle was taken on deck for all and sundry to fill their enamel mugs from.
The coffee served, Jack’s duties were over for the present, and he decided to stay on deck with the others, and real glad he was, for his stay was rewarded by a sight so wonderful that it must be seen to be appreciated. The deckie was preparing to throw the offal overboard, but before commencing to use his shovel he said to Jack:
“Can you see any gulls, doctor?”
Jack looked round.
“No, I can’t,” he replied.
“Well, just watch,” said Bill.
Jack watched, and before the second shovelful had reached the sea, gulls were to be seen on the horizon. Before the fourth shovelful had been thrown overboard, there were thousands of seabirds, gulls and kittiwakes, in a fighting, squabbling group after the offal. Such flapping of wings and angry screams Jack had never heard before. Down a gull would swoop and pick up a piece, then another dozen would fall down on him and attempt to pick it from its bill, but soon the offal disappeared, and except for a few stragglers squawking round the ship, they were off again.
Jack could never understand how they managed to be on the job so soon. He wondered could they see so far; it appeared impossible; but for long he watched the game repeated, each time the trawl was taken in.
By this time Jack was really tired and weary, for he had commenced the day unfit, but had stuck it out, and now felt ready to drop, so, taking Bill’s advice, he left some cold food on the cabin table, for those who required it, and went below for a sleep.
It would be “up-trawl” now every six or eight hours, which meant early rising next morning, and Jack, realising this, determined to get a full night’s sleep on his palliasse of “long feathers.” At five next morning again came the cry from the deck, “Up-trawl-e-o-oh,” but Jack slept on. Again came the cry, this time down into the fo’castle, wakening up those whose watch it was below. “Come on, show a leg,” shouted the mate. “It’s five o’clock, let’s see you getting lively.” Tired, the crew arose to go through another day’s toil, Jack amongst them. He was stiff in every muscle, every joint ached terribly, and beginning to understand what Ned Hampton meant when he said that trawling was a dog’s life.
Off he stumbled to the galley to get his fire going and to prepare the coffee. Again he manned the winch, holding on to the capstan. His lame arm ached dreadfully, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that he kept the rope going without stopping progress. However he managed he could never tell, but manage he did.
The catch was in at last, and off Jack went to tend his fire, but the skipper had been watching him, for he turned to the mate, asking :
“Has that chap a lame arm ?”
“Aye,” said the mate, “he had an accident about a year ago.”
“I thought something was the matter,” said the skipper. “What do you think about it ?”
“I think we might let him off the work on deck,” said the mate. “He’s a trier and a damned good cook, and that’s worth something on board ship.”
The skipper nodded and when Jack again appeared called him on to the bridge.
“What’s up with your arm, doctor ?” he asked in his usual rough way.
Jack’s heart sunk. “Now for it,” he thought, “another job gone.”
“I had blood poisoning about a year ago, but it’s getting better ; please give me a chance, I’ll do my best. You see, I haven’t got used to the work yet, but I’ll try.”
The awful weeks of unemployment rose again in his mind, but Black Jack smiled.
“That’s all right, lad,” he said, “don’t worry. I thought the winch was too much for you, so we’ve decided that you are going to be stooard only, and keep off anything else. If you want any help, ask deckie, and he’ll help you.”
Jack’s spirits brightened immediately.
“Thanks,” he said, “I’ll do the best I can.”
The skipper nodded, and away went Jack to his duties, tired but content.