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• 1 2019-03-10T20:32:25-07:00 Cecil Northrop "Two Months Before the Mast" pages 1-11 82 Transcription plain 2020-05-11T19:25:18-07:00 Narrative of Northrop's first sea journey at age 18 in 1919. 

  
This work (Two Months Before the Mast), by Cecil Northrop, identified by SUNY Maritime Archives, is free of known copyright restrictions in the United States (life of the author + 70 years).

  TWO MONTHS BEFORE THE MAST

  (with apologies to Dana).
  
  by
  Cecil P. Northrop
  (Seaman S/S Santa Paula)
  
  From: Cecil P. Northrop
  525 Tribune Bldg.,
  New York City
  Telephone: Beekman 504)

  BEFORE THE MAST TO THE WEST COAST

  by Cecil P. Northrop
  
  Well, here I am at sea at last, days out from New York and bound for the West Coast of South America through the Panama Canal. The mate says it will take about seventy five days to go to Talcahuano and back. That is three hundred miles farther south than Valpariso, and we might even go through the Straits of Magellan and return by Buenos Aires and the East Coast. The other boat belonging to this company went that way.
  
  Every boy wants to go to sea sometime, especially after reading sea tales like Dana's Two Years Before the Mast. I thought I would go on a sailing ship at first, but a seagoing friend told me there was an awful lot of work, poor grub, and bad conditions on these ships. Sailing ships are fast going out of business and if not for the war having destroyed so much shipping, I don't think there would be any sailing ships left. They look wonderful though and make you feel like you would want to sail in one.
  
  I suppose you would like to hear just how I managed to get started on my first voyage. Well, here goes:
  
  A friend of mine helped me in getting a letter from a shipping company, as some sort of letter is necessary in making the first voyage in order to obtain a seaman's passport. Besides, I could not get my passport without a letter saying what ship I was going on. With this letter, I applied to the New York Barge Office and after being kept waiting several hours and answering a lot of questions about being a citizen, besides being made to bring three small photographs of myself, I got the passport. As the ship was to sail the next day, I went to the dock and went up the gang plank just as the Shipping Commissioner was "signing on" the crew. This signing on is quite a grand affair. The Captain of the ship and all the officers are lined up in the cabin and two or three United States Commissioners sit at a table with big sheets of printed matter spread out in front of them. These sheets are the "Articles" or agreement between the shipping company and the men. I signed it in three places and was "on" from that time. They seem to want to scare the life out of you before they get you.
  
  The week before I decided to go to sea, I was shopping around the water front looking over all sorts of sailor clothes, and bought the following "gear".

  Sea Boots, rubber $6.75
  Oil Skins 5.00
  Heavy working shoes 6.00
  Sheepskin Coat 10.00
  Dungarees two pair 8.00
  Sweater 4.00
  Cap 1.00
  Two Shirts 3.00
  Socks, heavy 1.00
  $44.75

  I did not know that I could buy nearly all this stuff on board the ship at very reasonable prices. The ship will let you have these clothes out of what is called the "slop chest". They advance it out of your wages. Lots of boys go to sea without any clothing suitable for sea life and as they don't always have the money, this ship store is a life saver.
  
  The ship at first looked in terrible confusion, which I thought would take days to straighten out. There were great piles of rope in tangles, hatches with the covers in the middle, all the chain rails sagging, rope ends all over the deck, loose blocks swinging, papers and all kinds of dirt, empty barrels, cargo runners and hooks, broken slings, all the booms up with the many wires which hoist the cargo hanging from them, making the place look like a wreck. Being unused to any of this, I could not make head or tail out of it. I just took ahold where I saw the men pulling; being very little help I suppose, not understanding any of the orders given by the Bos'n, when he would say "unshackle that off guy", or "unreave that runner", or "hand me the end of that inch and a half rope". Not knowing what any of this meant, I at first looked around for some man, thinking he was referring to some "guy" who had to be unshackled. I did not know the sizes of the ropes, or what a "runner" was. When told to get anything I would run aft and repeat the message in a parrot like manner not having the least idea what it was. The store keeper would sometimes ask what part it was for, or for which side, "starboard or port"? and I would have to say right or left, which would always cause a laugh. It is surprising how quickly everything was in its place. We first lowered all the booms into the chocks and lashed them down, we then battened down the hatches and put the lock bars on. Then we unrove the runners. They are the wires by which the cargo is taken out. We took all the "guys" and strung them up. This is done by passing the bight over the guy itself when pulled taught and made fast with some yarns. The guys, by-the-way, are the ropes which hold the booms in place when taking out the cargo. The chain rail was then tightened, and in about two hours work everything was beginning to look shipshape and we were ready for sea. After a quick wash down, you would not have recognized the ship; there was such a change.
  
  As soon as we cleared the dock, the tow lines on the tug were cast off, and we continued under our own power down the bay. When we had passed the Narrows and were well outside, we stopped and nearly turned a complete circle. A tug had followed us down and they pushed our bow around so that we could correct our compass if there were any error. This is called "swinging the ship" and is done to compare the ship's compass with some known point on shore, or compass brought from shore.
  
  All this time I had been working so hard that I did not get a chance to give New York a farewell look. When under way again, we had to send down the bow lines of which there are about four hundred feet and, being wet, they weighed like lead. I thought my back would break before we got to the end.
  
  By this 'time it was dark and we went to supper. It was much better than I had expected! Roast pork, potatoes, carrots, spinach, tea, bread and jam. I thought it would be the story book "salt horse" that I would have to go to the galley for, and bring it myself in a small tub. But we had a mess boy to wait on us, the meal was brought in pails with divisions ("chow cans") so it was not so bad.
  
  That night I did not sleep very well, as the beds are hard and filled with a sort of straw and so are the pillows. The lights are kept burning all night and of course the screw makes a noise like thunder. It took some time to get used to the single pieces of straw coming through the pillow or mattress and feeling like a needle going through you. But in a week or so I did not notice it.
  
  The next day being Saturday, instead of being given a "royal" all to myself, they gave me a pail of "sugee" (soap and soda) and LET me scrub up the forecastle. I tried to keep a stiff upper lip, and make out that I did not care, and enjoyed it. To help this along I whistled a little but felt far from cheerful, feeling that it was not real sailor's work; which it is not, this usually being done by the mess boy. The floor was very dirty and as the water was slimy from the soap, I hated to put my hands in it. I did not know that I was noticed, but one one of the sailors said "I can see by your face that you hate to do that" which of course I denied. When I had finished this, I thought I was through with this kind of work for the day, and was just recovering my lost dignity, when I was given a pail or coal oil, and told to wash up the alley-ways amidships. This was worse than the forecastle, as it required my getting down on my knees with a wad of waste soaked in oil, where before I was able to use a mop. This seemed to be the last straw and it made me fighting mad, and I got rough and slopped it all over the place. Then the first Mate came along and when he saw how I was doing it he laughed, and got down on his knees and showed me the way he wanted it done. This made me feel a little better and I finished work in good shape within an hour.
  
  lt was then about dinner time as I had "stalled" all morning. For dinner we had a meal that was first rate, two kinds of meat, green stuff, coffee and pie for des[s]ert. I then began to notice the men around me: they were nearly all Danes, all big men, their language as rough as it comes, but they all had nice table manners, every one washed before coming to the table which, for men of their type, was unusual.
  
  We then started to paint the deck of the wheel house aft. It is one of the hottest places in the ship, completely [e]nclosed and contains a good size steam engine, which turns the rudder. This engine is always leaking steam, so of course the heat is terrible and the air breathless.
  
  It being cold on deck and the sea running pretty high I was dressed in everything I had, to keep warm. Well, I began to paint and for the first half hour was alright. Then I began to feel a little sick, which I thought was due to the sea, but it was the heat and the smell of the paint. It got so bad that the room was swimming 'round and 'round. I was painting the engine, and every time it passed me I would try to give it a brush of paint, but my aim got so bad that I would miss it altogether, so I gave it up and started to paint the floor because it seemed more of a fixture than the engine. I knew where it was at least, and so finally got it finished and crawled out on deck where the air soon put me on my feet again and I had not more trouble that way. I was not sea sick at all, but my heavy warm clothing and the hot steam inside the wheel-house with the smell of the paint made me faint and dizzy.
  
  The following morning our real work began with washing down, which takes about an hour and is done between seven and eight, the day men being called at six thirty. The ship was in a terrible condition, as dirty as a pig pen, and all the running gear frozen stiff with rust, all the ropes rotten, fore and aft peaks in chaos. So we began on the blocks, which weigh about seventy pounds. We had to lift them down, which means knocking the pin out with a sledge, then dragging them along the deck, and swinging the sledge for about an half hour trying to loosen them up. I suppose this work is not hard for anyone used to a black smith's shop, or to an iron worker, but to one like myself who had never done any manual labor it was killing. You can bet by the time night came I was so dead tired that I could have slept on anything. The noise of the engines did not keep me awake any either. The next morning we "turned to" and did the same thing over again. By this time I began to wonder why I came to sea. I believe that if land had showed up I would have swam ashore.
  
  In a few days the weather got warmer. My spirits rose with the thermometer and I began to look on the work in a different light. I figured that I had to do eight hours work every day, and what difference did it make what the work was, so long as it made the hours slip by, and that, as, washing up the alley-ways was better than swinging a hammer, what difference did it make? In other words, I settled down to the job to make the best of it, and I find that everything goes much better with this method. I never hurried to finish anything, as there was sure to be something else to do just as soon as one job was over.
  
  For a couple of days the weather was not up to much. The sea was gray and sullen, with large swells, and when the wind blew hard it would blow the top of them right off, and for awhile kept our deck a little wet. I guess if it had been a smaller boat we would have been under the water most of the time. She had a nice easy roll and she sure could pitch, but I soon caught the trick of being steady on my feet and was OK for the rest of the trip.
  
  They kept me pretty busy all day at one thing or other. The only fault that I found was, that when the day was done I got very little chance to study. By the time I had supper it was dark, and I had to study in my bunk as the crew were playing cards on the table, and you know how quiet a bunch of seamen are when off duty. I wish I had been an "AB" and then I would have had my watch, and it would have been daylight with no one in the room, or on deck they would have been busy and have let me alone. So, the next trip I don't think I will ship as an "ordinary".
  
  The sea down here is the most beautiful color that I have ever seen, a wonderful light blue, and when there are a few white caps on it, it looks like a painting with cloudless skies.
  
  I tell you, there is some class to this baby, going south for the winter, but "sorry to say that business calls me back to New York in a month or so". And here is another thing I can tell my friends. I am on the bridge most of the time (washing paint) and am getting to know the Captain quite well. He came across me the other morning and said "why hell-o what are you doing down this way". The truth is, he tripped over me and instead of saying "Hell-o" reversed the word, which sounds quite different. "Ordinaries" by the way are never supposed to be on the boat deck.
  
  We have passed a lot of islands, the Bahamas, which are very pretty as we go within a few miles of them. We are now headed for the Windward Passage between Cuba and Haiti, and shall be able to see both of them if we don't go through at night. 
  
  Another thing I notice down here are the beautiful stars.The air seems so clear, and there is no moon, nearly every star casts its reflection on the water. Late last night I could not sleep very well. It being warm I came on deck about four in the morning, and as I looked over the port I saw a star that at first I thought was the moon, it was so big. So, I looked it up and found that it was Jupiter. It cast a long silver gleam right across the ocean. I watched it for about an hour, it seemed to hold me spell bound.
  
  It is now warm enough to go around without anything on except a sport shirt and a pair of pants. My cold is nearly gone and as the heat is even I think I will get along fine.
  
  Most of the crew are from the cold climates and cannot stand very much warm weather. They are all down in the cabin sweating their eyebrows off, but I am up here on the forecastle-head, where I do not hear the thud of the engines, which I must say make a most fearful noise. I am sitting here with my Corona on my lap feeling like a pirate king. I am happy just now, as I have made some easy money. You see, this is Sunday and we are paid over-time for anything we do. A little while ago, the Bos'n received word that the Captain was coming around, and as there were a handful of rope ends which looked bad, he said that he would give me an hours over-time if I would lend him a hand. I thought it would be an hour's work, but it only took five minutes by my watch (I was watching out for my over-time, you bet it gets the care that only a mother can give) and so when I had finished I thought I would not get the full hour, but he said "Thanks, son, that is all, I will put you down for an hour."
  
  Being the youngest of the crew--eighteen years old-- I am known as the lad, by the Bos'n or sometimes "Son" and "Sonny-Jim". A big fellow who used to be on the sailing ship Inverclyde, seems to have taken a great shine to me, and when the other fellows tease in a good natured way about something that I happen to do, he will say "that's all right, Sorn" and will tell me some Danish name to call them. I guess I am the youngest on board as they are all about thirty-five or forty. Considering that I am only a green-horn and so many ways to be made fun of they sure do treat me fine. Altogether these are a mighty fine bunch of men, clean, and very simple, very much like children.
  
  There are some swell jobs on board; easy, I mean, such as the Wireless operator, the Purser, and of course the mates have the time of their lives, and the Captain does nothing, so that is the job I have set my eye on.
  
  I have done so much scrubbing lately, I suppose I will come back with house-maids-knee. Anyway I am going to sea with gloves on which Dana said was impossible.
  
  Nearing Colon, heat about 120° and working like hell!
  
  I have just finished my week's washing, which amounted to a suit of underclothes, a pair of dungarees, a few towels and a pair of heavy socks. Everything was as black as tar, as this is the first trip of the ship since the war and we are getting it into shape. The Navy has had it for the past two years and as they knew that it would be given back to a private Company did not take any care of it in the way of painting or by keeping the paint which was already on clean. Before it can be repainted it has to be washed. The dirty water runs down your sleeve, and for the first two or three drops that trickle down your arm you stop washing and follow it all the way down to your toes, but you get used to that and miss it if it should happen to drip somewhere else. From that kind of work you can imagine the condition of my underclothes. This is the system I used for washing colored clothes: I got a nice wide board (this "system" created quite a lot of comment and laughter) I laid that on the "floor" (I mean the deck) and then wet my things and laid them out flat and proceeded to soap them. I went to the store room and got a scrubbing brush with bristles like wire, and I tell you in about ten minutes when I hung them up to dry they were beautifully white. No not quite white, but a brown which is much better for the eyes. Anyway all the men rubbed their knuckles raw and I don't believe they got theirs any cleaner. I also noticed that two or three of the men when they got through laughing came and sheepishly borrowed my brush.
  
  By the way, about calling the deck the "floor"- I had to go into the engine room the other day and tell the engineer that we were through with the water on deck, and I went down and said that we had finished with the water "upstairs", and he said "upstairs" and I said (just to make him think it was a joke) yes, on the "front porch".
  
  The islands have been very beautiful in the last few days., Most of them had wonderful beaches of the very whitest sand, very wide too, and way back you could see the palm trees waving in the breeze, and see the great rollers break on the beach. This water is the most beautiful color that you can imagine, real light blue, not a cloud in the sky, just the sun shining on everything. While I was looking at one of these little "heavens," a whole school of flying fish rose out of the water and flew for three or four hundred feet. When they fly they flash their color in a thousand different ways. You feel as though you would be content to live the rest of your life on one of the islands. One old sailor said they reminded him of the south sea islands. I felt as if I were reading a story in the magazine "Adventure."
  
  While standing on deck a night or two ago one of these fish flew right on deck. They are attracted by the light, and the men say they are excellent eating. They are caught at night, by placing a lantern on deck and they fly towards the light and fall on deck. I picked this one up and tried to save it to send home, but we are about three days from port and it would have gone bad by the time I got to the Post Office, and even if I mailed it the same day, I doubt if it would keep. I hear that along the West Coast of South America, there are beautiful parrots and other birds which the natives sell very cheaply.
  
  Just think, I am having July weather down here and always a nice breeze, as we get all the trade winds which sometimes blow for months.
  
  The seaman of today sure have changed from those of twenty years ago. One of the men in the forecastle has an electric fan, another an electric iron. He washed his Panama hat today and pressed his nice blue suit. While in the weekdays they have a hard time keeping clean (their clothes I mean) Sunday they all put on their very best. Nice clean pants and a white sport shirt and you can bet they sure do look cool. When I opened my little brass bound box, they all came around to see what I had, and there was my face powder, and buttons, and thread and all the other little things, which I was surprised to see they did not think were out of place. They said "You sure have got a nice daddy; he has given you everything that you need. I bet he has been to sea.” When I said he had, and in a sailing ship, this seemed to please them a whole lot. So, you see, they are not the ordinary bunch of “sea dogs" which is the usual conception of anything going to sea. They are all very nice to me and ready to show me anything that I would care to ask, such as splicing, or knots, or anything at all.