The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1905-09-14
TRUTH ABOUT POOR jack
Why the Mates of a Merchant
man Are Not Polite.
FICTION AND THE FACTS
Majority Of Complaints and Tales Of
Abuse From Supieriors Untrue---
Where Sailors Are Badly Treated
it is Mostly Their Own Fault, t,--Few
Use Their Own Name.

There is perhaps no human being
OF whom so much is written and so
little truth told as the sailor. OF late
years the novelists have made a mar
tyr Of Poor jack They have re-
counted tales of horrible brutality in
the merchant marine service. To
read this fiction is to learn that the
decks OF the ship ran with blood; that
the mates We'd with one another in
murder; that the lamblike tars were
treated to capstan bars, marlinspikes,
Delaying pins and rope ends before
and after meals.
All this makes good reading, yet
either highly colored or absolutely
untrue. In nine cases out of ten, when
sailors are badly treated it is their
own fault. There are some good sail
ors, but they are mighty scarce The
toughest men that wear shoes go to
sea. They ship fresh from homes
they have made desolate and from all
manner of questionable pasts. Few
of them dare ship under their own
names. AS usual thing they 60
aboard fighting drunk, and the mates
have no alternative but to lick them
into shape.
A Glasgow bark that shipped a new
crew here last week went to sea from
the upper bay, and before the Hook
was reached the mates had to beat
every new hand all over the decks to
get them to turn to. The owner Of
twelve American ships said yesterday
that the only tractable seaman he ever
met was perched on a pedestal in
front of the Sailors Snug Harbor on
Staten Island and was carved, not
born. Yet it is hard to shake the
faith of landsmen who had read the
popular tales of the Sc. Only the
other day, mt the graduation exercises
aboard the scholarship st. Marys, a
wellknown citizen drew a picture of
how the average sailor is maltreated
by deviish mates.
That same day at the British Con-
sulate, close to the Battery, where the
brimming harbor laps the seawall, a
poor Jack with a rich cargo of rum
safely slowed away, was pleading the
cause of temperance in the behavior
OF mates in general, but one second
mate in particular. This tar was not
quite as trim and yachtylooking as
the one who used to turn out with a
CHEEKY Aye, aye, sir" aboard the i'm
maculate "Pinafore." He had red
hair, pockmarked face and
wrong font eye, and his greasy cap
was catheaded on his port ear in such
way as to give him the appearance
of being very bad man. He had evil
IDENTIFY run afoul of number of
"coaling" stations during his cruise
in search of the consulate, and his
remarks lost nothing in flavor even
after he was warned that there were
women within earshot.
All that the clerks could unwind at
first from his yarn was that there was
mate, and that this particular mate
was-well, pretty much everything
that is impossible. Finally the vice
consul asked him what was his speci-
tic complaint against the mate. Drop
ping his topgallant oaths for the mo
ment, the sailor said:
He was cruel that's what"
I'm what way was he cruel?" in
quired the faithful representative Of
King Edward.
why" explained the unfortunate
mariner, that beer-swilling ruffian
said | warnt no gentleman. | wouldn't
have minded it had he said it private
like, but he ups with it afore the
whole watch. l want you to"
Did this beer-swilling ruffian lay
hands on you? Beat you, mean"
That slouch lay hands on mel!
shouted poor Jack, exploding with a
volume Of bon mots picked up per-
haps in the sinks of Calcutta or
among the cubby holes of Tilbury.
Lay hands on me! I'd like to see
him." And he shifted his cap to the
northeast corner of his head and
raised his starboard flipper in way
to make a mate tremble
What you say doesn't constitute an
assault on the part Of the mate" re-
marked the vice-consul. I'VE can do
nothing for you"
That's how us friendless sailors
are abused" roared the jack tar in
rage. Dye know what sailor folk
sez when anybody talks Consul? Go
round the corner we sez, an you'll
see three or four scarecrows a-settin'
on the pavement under the British
coat'of-arms. That's the British Con-
sul,' we sez."
With that the sadly abused son of
the sea lurched adrift in a seaway,
and by wonderful feat of pedestrian
ism managed to make his exit without
carrying away the combings Of the
door. To a crony who had been await
ing his coming he said There amt
no law for the sailor man. Why, that
soft-pated - up there didn't seem
to mind my bein' called out of my
name. Sorry / didn't lay it on the
mate at sea and take my chance"
And ha hicaOuOhad himcalf into tho