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Lindsay Taylor
 A – Z Pearls of Wisdom for Executive PAs: second edition

First published by Your Excellency Limited, The Lodge, Bath Place, Clifton,
Bedfordshire SG17 5HE, UK. www.yourexcellency.co.uk.

© Lindsay Taylor 2015 / 2022

The right of Lindsay Taylor to be identified as the author of this work has been
asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Photographs © Nick Fewings 2015

Edited by Angela Garry ([email protected])

First published 2015. Second edition: 2022.

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under current legislation no part of this
work may be photocopied, stored in a retrieval system, published, performed in
public, adapted, broadcast, transmitted, recorded or reproduced in any form or by
any means, without the prior permission of the copyright owners. Enquiries should
be addressed to [email protected]

ISBN: 9798848848373
Published electronically by www.kdp.amazon.com
 Table of Contents
roduction and message from the author
or… Assertiveness
or… Beliefs (Your Mind is Your Kingdom)
or… Communication : VAK’s amazing!
or… Delegation
r… Empathy
r… Feedback-to-self & Focus (not Flibbertigibbet)
or… Gateway
or… Helpful
r… IMPACT Communication
r… Juggling the demands of more than one Executive
or… KISS
r… Listening with your whole body
or…Manage your Energy
or… Neuro Linguistic Programming
or… Opinionated
r… Perceptual Positions (step into my shoes…)
or… Quality Questions
or… Red lorry, yellow lorry
r… SWOT
or… Time
or… Understanding your power as a PA
or… Voice
or…Well Formed Outcomes : Using your Imagination
or… X marks the spot – how to uncover your personal treasure
or… You!
r… Zealous!
out the Author
 Introduction and message from
the author
Hello! I’m Lindsay Taylor, Co-Founder and Director of Your Excellency
Limited. We specialise in learning and development for the EA, PA
and Administrative Professional. We pride ourselves on providing
down-to-earth, fun and beneficial learning, helping you to be truly
exceptional.
I’ve collated a wealth of input from professionals across the world in
response to my questions “What is an Executive PA?” and “What
skills and attributes are needed to be an effective and efficient
Executive PA?”.
I understand the diversity of the PA role – how it can differ from
organisation to organisation, from sector to sector, from team to
team. That’s what makes the role so exciting. It’s also what makes
the role so challenging. More and more organisations are realising
the worth of their EAs and PAs. You are being welcomed as a
valued member of the management team – with this status comes
the need for specific skills and attributes, specific Pearls of Wisdom –
that are crucial for your overall success.
I’ve pulled together these Pearls of Wisdom in a useful A-Z format
which I know Executive PAs and Administrative Professionals across
the world will find not only useful and beneficial, but essential in
today’s demanding business environment.
You can find out more about our learning and development
opportunities on our website at www.yourexcellency.co.uk.
I’d like to say a huge “THANK YOU” to the following:
My husband, son and daughter for their support and feedback.
Angela Garry of Pica Aurum for invaluable self-publishing
knowledge and pulling this book into the amazing format you
see now.
 DeskDemon.com for featuring the original Pearls of Wisdom on
their website and for providing a fantastic resource for PAs.
Nick Fewings who provides the images to complement each
Pearl of Wisdom (more of Nick’s images can be viewed on his
Flickr work-stream www.flickr.com/photos/jannerboy62).
My friends and clients across the world who have provided
testimonials to endorse this book,
And, of course,
A heartfelt thanks to YOU – the dedicated EAs, PAs and
Administrative Professionals who I have the absolute pleasure to
work with.

Thank you all.

Lindsay Taylor x
 “I will blink before you do” Few
Peeps©

A is for
Assertiveness
 A is for… Assertiveness
A top ask and want of EAs and PAs, consider Assertiveness to be as
simple as ABC, per the Model below.

In challenging situations where you are (A) Antagonised by an (A)

Antagonist, you are likely to (B) Behave in one of two ways, either
Aggressively or Passively.

This is the fight (Aggressive) or flight (Passive) response when we

feel threatened. Neither an Aggressive or Passive Behaviour has
positive (C) Consequences and it is likely to lose you the respect of
your team members and impact your credibility.
Recognise that you always have a choice of behaviour… and the very
best (B) Behaviour with more positive (C) Consequences is
Assertiveness.
What is “assertiveness”?
For me, it’s about standing up for what you think and what you
believe in, at the same time respecting the fact that not everyone
will think the same as you do.
People have different perspectives – everyone “ticks” differently. We
are all unique in the way we are made-up.
This is what makes the world such an exciting place to be. This is
what makes the world such a challenging place to be.

How do we respond and communicate

assertively?
Based on the research of former Harvard Professor Albert
Mehrabian, when sharing our thought, feelings and attitudes face to
face, we can break down communication into three elements (the
3Vs), namely:
1) Verbal – the words that we speak
2) Vocal – the tone that we use and
3) Visual – the body language that we display.
Mehrabian skewed the Verbal versus non-Verbal elements of
communication in his research and attributed percentages to the
elements in terms of the importance of communication:
Verbal accounts for 7% importance,
Vocal 38% importance, and
Visual 55%.
If we use Mehrabian’s research in terms of responding assertively
then it is clear that we need to pay attention to how we deliver our
assertive message as well as considering the actual words and
Verbal element.
I am an advocate of the saying “failing to plan is planning to fail” –
so where possible take time to plan your assertive response.
You can think about your response in terms of The 3Vs with the
following “checklists”:

Assertive Verbal:
• Be open, honest and to the point.
• Use “I” statements – this is about your view.
• Share your feelings – take ownership of the fact that we are
emotional beings.
Say “I feel....” and claim the emotion you are feeling.
• Acknowledge your own rights, wants and needs.
• Ask questions of others to find out their wants and needs.
• Empathise with the other person’s views and respect the fact
that people are different and have different views.
• Focus on problem solving, moving forward and thinking about
the future.
The ideal outcome for any assertive response is for a win-win
situation.
Propose a way forward and then “bounce” this back to your
recipient asking them what they think.

Assertive Vocal
• Think about how you say the words.
• Speak the meaning, not just the words.
• Think about the timing of your response – put your own view
forward and allow others to have their say.
• Ensure your breathing is relaxed and steady.
• Use evenly spaced words.
• Speak at an even pace.
• Use your tone to emphasise key words.

Assertive Visual
• Ensure your eye contact is direct, relaxed and gentle.
• Deliver your message at the same eye level to your
recipient(s).
 • Keep your posture upright and balanced (“plant” your feet
firmly on the ground – so you feel truly “grounded”).
• Ensure you face the other person and at the same time respect
their personal space.
• Ensure your gestures are balanced and open.
• Ensure your facial expression is open and pleasant.

Assertiveness Aura
In addition I believe assertiveness is at its most powerful when you
achieve an Assertiveness Aura – a state of being, a presence, an
aura that comes from your belief in yourself – the belief that you are
entitled to be assertive, that your opinion is valued and deserves the
respect of others.

The ‘A’ Pearl:

“Say what you mean and mean what

you say.”
Lindsay Taylor
 “Framing the Day Ahead” Few
Peeps©

B is for Beliefs
 B is for… Beliefs (Your Mind is
Your Kingdom)

16th Century English Poet Francis Quarles famously stated “my

mind is my kingdom”.
If we take time to think about Quarles’ meaning, in essence we are
creating a rich kingdom in our own minds and ironically
substantiating his claim and statement.
Interpreting Quarles’ quote further, if we consider our mind to be our
own kingdom we are ultimately the “King” or “Queen” of our
domain. We have complete control and authority of it – we can rule
our kingdom as we see fit – but do we?
Understanding the power of our own thinking and “tapping” into our
mind can be highly beneficial, indeed a necessity, in being successful
in our everyday lives and achieving all those things we want or need
to achieve.
Hold the belief that “I am in charge of my mind and therefore my
results” and understand that, crucial to our overall success is the
recognition that – sometimes the way our mind operates can be
unhelpful to us and – we have control over our own mind and can
“reprogramme” it accordingly.
We all have “voices in our heads”, internal dialogues and
conversations going on in our mind.
Sometimes these voices can say some pretty unhelpful things – we
can hold beliefs and thoughts that can limit or stop us from doing
things. These are what we call “limiting beliefs”.
Henry Ford famously said “If you believe you can or believe you
cannot do something, either way you are likely to be right”.
It’s true – by saying you “can’t” do something you are already
setting yourself up to not do it!
It’s important to notice when the voices in your mind are talking,
and then take control of these voices (as if we have a giant personal
remote control in hand).
We can pause the voices, we can turn down the volume and, more
importantly, we can “reprogramme” these voices.
We can reprogramme the limiting beliefs to something much more
useful – we can presuppose something to be true and hold enabling
beliefs that will enable us and help us to achieve things.
Enabling beliefs can be inspirational, powerful and motivational –
they can help us “unlock” our thinking and be curious about a
situation so we can get a different perspective.
We can hold a belief to be true in certain situations to help us and
others – to enable us to move forward and achieve our objectives,
goals and outcomes.
We can experiment with our own thinking and this can give us
flexibility in our feelings and behaviours.
In situations where we feel stuck or confused, we can hold an
enabling belief.
The following are just a handful of motivational enabling beliefs, two
with corresponding narrative to their potential use and others for
you to think about yourself – employing the strategy that Your Mind
is Your Kingdom.

“If you always do what you’ve always done,

you will always get what you’ve always got”
If something isn’t working and you are doing the “same old thing”
over and over again you will get the same result.
By doing something differently it might give you a different (and
potentially better) result.
By seizing an opportunity to try things in a different way you are
opening up all sorts of possibilities – and if you don’t try things in a
different way, how will you know what you are missing out on?
This is where knowledge sharing and networking comes into
greatest effect.
You can learn from other administrative professionals by sharing
knowledge and best practice.
In the interactive world of the world wide web, there are some
amazing resources out there – all available at the touch of a button
on your laptop or trusty “hand held”. My daughter’s favourite saying
is “if you don’t know something, Google it, mummy!”
Build up your own Resources List for inspirational sources of
information and a catalyst for putting into practice this enabling
belief.

“There is no such thing as failure, only

feedback”
Many of you will have a formal appraisal process at your
organisation. Recognise that feedback is crucial to your overall
success and high quality feedback is given for your own career
progression.
Those voices in our head may receive certain feedback with a
response along the lines of “well, you failed there didn’t you!”. Sound
familiar? This is not a particularly useful internal dialogue to have.
By holding the belief that “there is no such thing as failure, only
feedback”, this will open up more opportunities and possibilities for
you to learn from feedback.
So, the project you’ve worked on may not have gone as well as you
liked or hoped – so what can you learn from it?
Knowing what you now know, in hindsight, what could you have
done differently?
If you were to run a similar project again, what could you do more
of? Less of?
What will you replicate? What will you do the same? What will you
do differently?

And here are some other enabling beliefs for you to think about –
remembering that Your Mind Is Your Kingdom…
“Choice is better than no choice.”
“If one person can do something then anyone can.”
“The person with the most flexibility in thinking and behaviour
has the most influence over any interaction.”
“I am in charge of my mind and therefore my results.”

The ‘B’ Pearl:

“The happiness of your life depends on

the quality of your thoughts.”
Marcus Aurelius
 “Synchronised Fish and Chip Eating” Few
Peeps©

C is for
Communication
C is for… Communication : VAK’s
amazing!

As an Executive PA you need to communicate with internal and

external customers. Very quickly you need to get on someone else’s
wavelength in order to communicate effectively with them and
create good rapport. You need to think about the best way to
communicate in any given situation (face to face, email, text
message, online/virtual meeting, telephone call…) then think about
the language you will use to communicate.
People use terminology, phrases and words that relates to how they
process their world and that’s what I want to introduce in this Pearl
of Wisdom.
We are all complex beings – with neurological pathways buzzing with
activity, skilfully multi-tasking with organisational expertise and
company knowledge at our fingertips… we are seeing, hearing,
feeling, smelling and tasting our way to PA excellence and success!
But did you know that, whilst we access all five senses to “make
sense” of our worlds, in fact most of us have a dominant or primary
sense that we use over the others? That dominant sense can mean
we favour certain words, phrases and vocabulary.
Being able to identify your own and others’ dominant sense can be a
useful thing to do to ensure you communicate as effectively as
possible.
Take a few minutes to think back to the last meeting you were
involved in and re-live the most memorable bits – collect the
memories in your mind.
Then, think about how you remembered it: Did you create a visual
picture of the events? Was it a “snapshot”, a still image? Was it a
“mini movie”? Was it in colour?
Or did you notice the sounds within the experience – people’s voices,
music or the natural sounds of the surroundings?
Or maybe the memory was about feelings inside – happiness (the
meeting went really well!) or tension (the Sales Director and
Managing Director could not agree on anything!).
Whichever one of these ways of reconstructing your memory was
the first and/or most recognisable indicates your likely dominant
sense – or your lead Representational System. Quite simply, it is how
you create a “representation” or “re-present” your world – either in
pictures (the Visuals – or The V),
sounds (the Auditory – or The A), or
feelings (the Kinaesthetics – or The K).
This is our VAK System – one that you as a PA can tap into to
communicate really effectively with the people you work with.
An indicator of your Representation or VAK System is the language
that you use – particular words and phrases that we call
“Predicates”.

The V
If you have a predominantly Visual Representational System then
you’re likely to use words and phrases like:
“I see what you mean”
“I get the picture”
“Things are looking great”
“We need to focus on this aspect.”
And, because you can see in your “mind’s eye” what you’re talking
about you’re likely to use your arms and body to draw out in front of
you the very thing you’re describing! You will notice how things look
around you – their shape, form and colour – the aesthetics.
The A
If you have a predominantly Auditory Representational System then
you’re likely to talk in predicates that are sound or music related, as
examples:
“We discussed the situation”
“I’d like to listen to your ideas”
“I do like the sound of that”.
You might be great at tuning into new ideas.

The K
If you have a predominantly Kinaesthetic Representational System
then you’re likely to use language that is feelings, movement or
touch related:
“I’m under pressure”
“I like the feeling of that”
“Things are really moving now”
“He’s hot on quality control.”
You probably have a pretty clear idea of where you experience your
feelings too. If you’re stressed you may touch your head, if you’re
hungry you may touch your stomach and for you to really optimise
any learning, you probably want to be there, doing it as a first-hand
experience.

So, why is this useful I hear you cry? “Tell me more” say the
Auditory readers!
“I get a feeling this is really beneficial stuff – how can I take this
great new learning and really get to grips with it in the office to
communicate effectively?” ask the Kinaesthetic readers.
“So, that’s great you’ve painted a picture of what this VAK thing is all
about – can we look at it in relation to the Executive PA role?” the
Visual readers request.
What is the use of my newfound knowledge?
Before I answer your question, let me ask you a couple of questions.
How often have you met someone for the first time and felt that you
got along really well and immediately seemed to be on the “same
wavelength”? And… how often have you met someone for the first
time and found it really difficult to keep the conversation going?
The reason for this could be because you are either talking the same
or a different “VAK Language”.
If a primarily visual person is using all their visual type predicates,
an auditory person is likely to “switch off”. However two “visual”
people are much more likely to create quicker and deeper rapport
and be “comfortable” with each other because they are, in effect,
talking the same language.
So, next time you are listening to colleagues or friends in
conversation, notice what words they tend to use and favour. Read
through your emails in your inbox and notice any patterns of
predicates favoured by those you work with. What Representational
System do you think they are?
If you’ve discovered you are a primarily Visual Representation
System and your manager is Auditory, in order to communicate
effectively with him / her you can adjust your language and include
more auditory predicates.
And that just leaves me to end this Pearl of Wisdom with a beautiful
quote from Nelson Mandela:

The ‘C’ Pearl:

“If you speak to a man in a language

he understands, that goes to his head.
If you speak to him in his language
that goes to his heart.”
Nelson Mandela
 “The Piggyback of True Love” Few
Peeps©

D is for
Delegation
 D is for… Delegation

Rarely does Delegation take the limelight – the starring role as an

important “technique” for your overall success (and the overall
success of your team). So in this Pearl of Wisdom (drum-roll please),
I’d like to welcome to the stage: Delegation.
I’ve called Delegation a “technique”. In my opinion, that is what it is
and, as with any technique, it takes practice. Let’s think about
Delegation in terms of the following:
What are the reasons people don’t delegate?
What’s important about delegating?
The “when” of delegation
The “who” of delegation
The “how” of delegation.

What are the reasons people don’t delegate?

So, I put my hand up… here I am sharing my wisdom on delegation
and I own up to the fact that, in the past, I haven’t delegated
because that little voice in my head is saying “I like doing things my
way. I know how to do this – so it’s easy just to do it myself rather
than to take the time and effort to explain it all to someone else.
Anyway they might not do it the same way as me – and, of course,
my way is the best”.
Sound familiar?! We need to understand that delegation is
important.

So, what’s important about delegation?

1. You can free up your time to develop skills in other areas, and
2. You can develop other people’s skills and abilities.
So, there’s another D word that skips hand-in-hand across the stage
with Delegation.
Development
In essence, delegation allows you to make the best use of your time
and skills and it helps other people in the team grow and develop to
reach their full potential.

The “When” of Delegation

The power of questioning comes into being here! Ask yourself:
Is this a task that only I can do – or can someone else do it? (is
confidential / sensitive information involved?)
Does the task provide an opportunity to grow and develop another
person’s skills?
Is this a recurring task?
By delegating now, will I be saving time in the long term?
Do I have enough time to delegate the task effectively? You need to
think about the time involved in any training provision, questions and
answers, opportunities to check progress and rework if necessary.
Keep thinking long-term. This might take some time and effort now.
However, in the long-term you could be freeing up your time and
ultimately aiding development.

The “Who” of Delegation

Think about the person you are delegating to.
What skills, knowledge and experience do they have in relation to
the task?
Are they going to need training (and do you have the time and
resources available to provide this)?
What do you know about the way this person likes to work?
How independent are they?
What do they want from their job?
What is their current workload like and do they have time to take on
more work?

The “How” of Delegation

Firstly, as with any situation, you need to be really clear about your
desired outcome – what is it you want or need to achieve?
Involve the person in the whole delegation process – discuss and
decide with them what tasks are to be delegated.
Agree with them how this will work.
Should the person wait to be told what to do? Ask what to do?
Recommend what should be done then act? Act and then report
results immediately? Take action then report periodically?
Ensure you match responsibility with authority (remembering that
ultimate accountability is with you).
Communication flow is key and you need to be available to answer
questions.
Quieten that little voice in your head that says your way of
completing a task is the best – someone else may complete the task
differently to you.
We all have our own ways of working. Ensure you focus on the
result.
Get the person to recommend solutions and problems (rather than
simply providing the answer) and ensure you provide praise and
recognition throughout.
Discuss timelines and deadlines and set aside time to review
submitted work.
Get the balance right between giving enough space for people to use
their abilities whilst still monitoring and supporting them to ensure
the job is done effectively.
Only accept work you are satisfied with – if you accept work you are
not satisfied with the team member will not learn to do the task
properly.
Share the Belief that “There is no failure, only feedback” and
that the best feedback is given for someone’s development.

So, there we are. Delegation and Development have taken the

limelight – our stars of the stage and I’m sure you’ll join me in giving
them the standing ovation they deserve.

The ‘D’ Pearl:

“One of life’s greatest joys comes not

from what you achieve in your life, it’s
what you inspire others to achieve in
theirs.”
Nick Fewings
 “A Mother’s Touch” Few
Peeps©

E is for Empathy
 Another Random Document on
Scribd Without Any Related Topics
they, together with the two lieutenants of marines, who were waited
upon by two marines, form what is called the ward-room officers. The
ward-room is a large cabin, (I mean large for a ship, of course,)
below the captain’s, where they all mess together; aft of this cabin is
a smaller one, which serves as a species of store-room. Besides these
accommodations, every ward-room officer has his state-room,
containing his cot, wash-stand, writing-desk, clothes, etc. The gunner,
boatswain, and some others, are also allowed a boy; and a man and
boy are appointed to be the servants of a certain number of
midshipmen.
Another arrangement is that of forming the ship’s company into
watches. The captain, first lieutenant, surgeon, purser, boatswain,
gunner, carpenter, armorer, together with the stewards and boys, are
excused from belonging to them, but are liable to be called out to
take in sail; some of the last mentioned are called idlers. All others
are in watches, called the larboard and starboard watches.
 Stations are also assigned at the guns, to the whole crew. When
at sea, the drummer beats to quarters every night. This beat, by
which the men are summoned to quarters, is a regular tune. I have
often heard the words sung which belong to it; this is the chorus:
“Hearts of oak are our ships, jolly tars are our men,
We always are ready, steady, boys, steady,
To fight and to conquer again and again.”

At the roll of this evening drum, all hands hurry to the guns. Eight
men and a boy are stationed at each gun, one of whom is captain of
the gun, another sponges and loads it, the rest take hold of the side
tackle-falls, to run the gun in and out; while the boy is employed in
handing the cartridges, for which he is honored with the singularly
euphonious cognomen of powder-monkey.
Besides these arrangements among the men, there are from thirty
to forty marines to be disposed of. These do duty as sentries at the
captain’s cabin, the ward-room, and at the galley during the time of
cooking. They are also stationed at the large guns at night, as far as
their numbers run. When a ship is in action, and small arms can be
brought to bear on the enemy, they are stationed on the spar-deck;
they are also expected to assist in boarding, in conjunction with
several seamen from each gun, who are armed with pistols and
pikes, and called boarders.
The great disparity of numbers between the crew of a merchant
ship and that of a man of war, occasions a difference in their internal
arrangements and mode of life, scarcely conceivable by those who
have not seen both. This is seen throughout, from the act of rousing
the hands in the morning to that of taking in sail. In the
merchantman, the watch below is called up by a few strokes of the
handspike on the forecastle; in the man of war, by the boatswain
and his mates. The boatswain is a petty officer, of considerable
importance in his way; he and his mates carry a small silver whistle
or pipe, suspended from the neck by a small cord. He receives word
from the officer of the watch to call the hands up. You immediately
hear a sharp, shrill whistle; this is succeeded by another and another
from his mates. Then follows his hoarse, rough cry of “All hands
ahoy!” which is forthwith repeated by his mates. Scarcely has this
sound died upon the ear, before the cry of “Up all hammocks ahoy!”
succeeds it, to be repeated in like manner. As the first tones of the
whistle penetrate between decks, signs of life make their
appearance. Rough, uncouth forms are seen tumbling out of their
hammocks on all sides, and before its last sounds have died upon
the air, the whole company of sleepers are hurriedly preparing for
the duties of the day. No delay is permitted, for as soon as the
before-mentioned officers have uttered their imperative commands,
they run below, each armed with a rope’s end, with which they
belabor the shoulders of any luckless wight upon whose eyes sleep
yet hangs heavily, or whose slow-moving limbs show him to be but
half awake.
With a rapidity which would surprise a landsman, the crew dress
themselves, lash their hammocks and carry them on deck, where
they are stowed for the day. There is system even in this
arrangement; every hammock has its appropriate place. Below, the
beams are all marked, each hammock is marked with a
corresponding number, and in the darkest night, a sailor will go
unhesitatingly to his own hammock. They are also kept exceeding
clean. Every man is provided with two, so that while he is scrubbing
and cleaning one, he may have another to use. Nothing but such
precautions could enable so many men to live in so small a space.
A similar rapidity attends the performance of every duty. The word
of command is given in the same manner, and its prompt obedience
enforced by the same unceremonious rope’s-end. To skulk is
therefore next to impossible; the least tardiness is rebuked by the
cry of “Hurrah my hearty! bear a hand! heave along! heave along!”
This system of driving is far from being agreeable; it perpetually
reminds you of your want of liberty; it makes you feel, sometimes,
as if the hardest crust, the most ragged garments, with the freedom
of your own native hills, would be preferable to John Bull’s “beef and
duff,” joined as it is with the rope’s-end of the driving boatswain.
 We had one poor fellow, an Irishman, named Billy Garvy, who felt
very uneasy and unhappy. He was the victim of that mortifying
system of impressment, prevalent in Great Britain in time of war. He
came on board perfectly unacquainted with the mysteries of sea life.
One of his first inquiries was, where he should find his bed,
supposing they slept on shipboard on beds the same as on shore.
His messmates, with true sailor roguishness, sent him to the
boatswain. “And where shall I find a bed, sir?” asked he of this
rugged son of the ocean.
The boatswain looked at him very contemptuously for a moment,
then, rolling his lump of tobacco into another apartment of his ample
mouth, replied,
“Have you got a knife?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, stick it into the softest plank in the ship, and take that for a
bed!”
Poor fellow! what was sport for others was pain to him. He had
been used to kind treatment at home. After he had received his
hammock, when turning out in the morning, with the boatswain’s
mates at his heels, he used to exclaim, “When I was at home, I
would walk in my father’s garden in the morning, until the maid
would come and say, ‘William, will you come to your ta, or your
coffee ta, or your chocolarata?’ But, oh! the case is altered now; it’s
nothing but bear a hand, lash and carry. Oh, dear!”
I confess that Billy Garvy was not the only one who contrasted the
present with the past, or who found the balance to be greatly in
favor of the former. I often looked back to the village of Bladen, and
thought how preferable would be the bright hearth-side and
pleasant voices of that quiet home, to the profane, rough,
uncomfortable life we led on shipboard. As these reflections were
anything but pleasurable, I banished them as quickly as possible,
with a determination to be as happy as I could in my station of
servant to the surgeon of His Britannic Majesty’s frigate Macedonian:
a resolution which I commend to all lads, who, like me, are foolish
enough to quit the quiet scenes of a native village, for the noisy,
profane atmosphere of a man of war.
As our fare was novel and so different from shore living, it was
some time before I could get fully reconciled to it: it was composed
of hard sea biscuit, fresh beef while in port, but salt pork and salt
beef at sea, pea soup and burgoo. Burgoo, or, as it was sportively
called, skillagallee, was oatmeal boiled in water to the consistency of
hasty pudding. Sometimes we had cocoa instead of burgoo. Once a
week we had flour and raisins served out, with which we made
“duff” or pudding. To prepare these articles, each mess had its cook,
who drew the provisions, made the duff, washed the mess kids, etc.
He also drew the grog for the mess, which consisted of a gill of rum
mixed with two gills of water for each man. This was served out at
noon every day: at four o’clock, P. M., each man received half a pint
of wine. The boys only drew half this quantity, but were allowed pay
for the remainder, a regulation which could have been profitably
applied to the whole supply of grog and wine for both boys and
men. But those were not days in which Temperance triumphed as
she does now; though, I believe, the British navy has not yet ceased
to dispense the “drink that’s in the drunkard’s bowl” to her seamen.
Shortly after our captain came on board, his servant died
somewhat suddenly, so that I had an early opportunity of seeing
how sailors are disposed of in this sad hour. The corpse was laid out
on the grating, covered with a flag; as we were yet in the river, the
body was taken on shore and buried, without the beautiful burial-
service of the church of England being read at his grave—a
ceremony which is not omitted at the interment of the veriest
pauper in that country.
I have purposely dwelt on these particulars, that the reader may
feel himself initiated at once into the secrets of man-of-war usages.
He has doubtless seen ships of war with their trim rigging and
frowning ports, and his heart has swelled with pride as he has gazed
upon these floating cities—the representatives of his nation’s
character in foreign countries: to their internal arrangements,
however, he has been a stranger. I have endeavored to introduce
him into the interior: a desire to make him feel at home there, is my
apology for dwelling so long on these descriptions.
After various delays, we were at last ready for sea and under
sailing orders. The tide and wind were both propitious; then came
the long-expected cry of the boatswain, “All hands up anchor ahoy!”
The crew manned the capstan in a trice, and running round to the
tune of a lively air played by the fifer, the huge anchor rapidly left
the mud of the Thames, and hung at the bows of our taut frigate.
Then came the cry of “All hands make sail ahoy!” As if by magic, she
was immediately covered with canvas; the favoring breeze at once
filled our sails, and the form that had lain for weeks inert and
motionless on the waters, now bounded along the waves like a thing
of life. Rapidly we ran down the Channel, and before we had well
got under weigh came to an anchor again at Spithead, under shelter
of the garden of England—the Isle of Wight.
Short as was the period between weighing anchor off Gravesend
and our arrival at Spithead, it gave opportunity for one of those
occurrences which are a disgrace to the naval service of any nation,
and a degradation to our common humanity, which the public
opinion of the civilized world should frown out of existence: I allude
to the brutal practice of flogging.
A poor fellow had fallen into the very sailorlike offence of getting
drunk. For this the captain sentenced him to the punishment of four
dozen lashes. He was first placed in irons all night: the irons used for
this purpose were shackles fitting round the ankles, through the
ends of which was passed an iron bar some ten or twelve feet in
length: it was thus long because it was no unfrequent case for half a
dozen men to be ironed at once. A padlock at the end of the bar
held the prisoner securely. Thus placed in “duress vile,” he was
guarded by a marine until the captain bade the first lieutenant
prepare the hands to witness the punishment. Upon this the
lieutenant transmitted the order to the master at arms. He then
ordered the grating or hatch full of square holes to be rigged: it was
placed accordingly between the main and spar decks, not far from
the mainmast.
While these preparations were going on, the officers were
dressing themselves in full uniform and arming themselves with their
dirks: the prisoner’s messmates carried him his best clothes, to make
him appear in as decent a manner as possible. This is always done,
in the hope of moving the feelings of the captain favorably towards
the prisoner.
This done, the hoarse, dreaded cry of “All hands ahoy to witness
punishment!” from the lips of the boatswain, peals along the ship as
mournfully as the notes of a funeral knell. At this signal the officers
muster on the spar deck, the men on the main deck. Next came the
prisoner; guarded by a marine on one side and the master at arms
on the other, he was marched up to the grating. His back was made
bare and his shirt laid loosely upon his back; the two quartermasters
proceeded to seize him up; that is, they tied his hands and feet with
spun-yarns, called the seizings, to the grating. The boatswain’s
mates, whose office it is to flog on board a man of war, stood ready
with their dreadful weapon of punishment, the cat-o’-nine-tails. This
instrument of torture was composed of nine cords, a quarter of an
inch round and about two feet long, the ends whipt with fine twine.
To these cords was affixed a stock, two feet in length, covered with
red baize. The reader may be sure that it is a most formidable
instrument in the hands of a strong, skilful man. Indeed, any man
who should whip his horse with it would commit an outrage on
humanity, which the moral feeling of any community would not
tolerate; he would be prosecuted for cruelty; yet it is used to whip
men on board ships of war!

The boatswain’s mate is ready, with coat off and whip in hand.
The captain gives the word. Carefully spreading the cords with the
fingers of his left hand, the executioner throws the cat over his right
shoulder; it is brought down upon the now uncovered herculean
shoulders of the man. His flesh creeps—it reddens as if blushing at
the indignity; the sufferer groans; lash follows lash, until the first
mate, wearied with the cruel employment, gives place to a second.
Now two dozen of these dreadful lashes have been inflicted: the
lacerated back looks inhuman; it resembles roasted meat burnt
nearly black before a scorching fire; yet still the lashes fall; the
captain continues merciless. Vain are the cries and prayers of the
wretched man. “I would not forgive the Saviour,” was the
blasphemous reply of one of these naval demi-gods, or rather demi-
fiends, to a plea for mercy. The executioners keep on. Four dozen
strokes have cut up his flesh and robbed him of all self-respect;
there he hangs, a pitied, self-despised, groaning, bleeding wretch;
and now the captain cries, forbear! His shirt is thrown over his
shoulders; the seizings are loosed; he is led away, staining his path
with red drops of blood, and the hands, “piped down” by the
boatswain, sullenly return to their duties.
Such was the scene witnessed on board the Macedonian, on the
passage from London to Spithead; such, substantially, is every
punishment scene at sea; only carried, sometimes, to a greater
length of severity. Sad and sorrowful were my feelings on witnessing
it; thoughts of the friendly warnings of my old acquaintance filled my
mind, and I inwardly wished myself once more under the friendly
roof of my father, at Bladen. Vain wish! I should have believed the
warning voice when it was given. Believe me, young man, you will
often breathe that wish, if ever you wander from a father’s house.
Flogging in the navy is more severe than in the army, though it is
too bad to be tolerated there, or indeed anywhere. Other modes of
punishment might be successfully substituted, which would deter
from misconduct, without destroying the self-respect of the man. I
hope the day will come, when a captain will no more be allowed to
use the “cat” than he is now to use poison. It should be an
interdicted weapon.
Though I have spoken severely of the officers of the navy, let it
not be thought that the whole class of naval officers are lost to the
finer feelings of humanity. There are many humane, considerate
men among them, who deserve our highest respect. This was the
case with the first lieutenant of the Macedonian, Mr. Scott. He
abhorred flogging. Once, when a poor marine was under sentence,
he plead hard and successfully with the captain for his respite. This
was a great victory; for the captain had a profound hatred of
marines. The poor soldier was extremely grateful for his intercession,
and would do anything for him to show his sense of the obligation;
indeed, the sailors, in their odd way, showed their preference for him
by describing him as a man who had a soul to be saved, and who
ought to go to heaven; while of the captain, they whispered that if
he did not go to perdition, “the devil would be cheated of his due.”
These are, in a manner, proverbial expressions of like and dislike, on
board a British man of war.
One of the effects of this exhibition of cruelty was seen during the
short time we lay at Spithead. The two boys, who were servants to
the first and second lieutenants, conceiving a special dislike to the
idea of being flogged, took it into their heads to run away. Being
sent on shore, they shaped their course for the country. It was well
for them that they were not re-taken.
Our frigate had orders to convey between two and three hundred
troops from Portsmouth to Lisbon, to assist the Portuguese against
the French. The soldiers were stowed on the main decks, with very
few conveniences for the voyage; their officers messed and berthed
in the ward-room. Having taken them on board, we again weighed
anchor, and were soon careering before the breeze on our way to
Lisbon.
As usual, we who were landsmen had our share of that merciless,
nondescript, hateful, stultifying disease, yclept sea-sickness; as
usual, we wished the foolish wish that we had never come to sea; as
usual, we got over it, and laughed at ourselves for our sea-sick
follies. Our good ship paid little attention, however, to our feelings;
she kept along on her bounding way, and, after a week at sea, we
were greeted with the pleasant cry of “Land ho!” from the mast-
head. As it was now near night, we lay off and on until morning; at
day-break we fired a gun for a pilot. The wind being nearly dead
ahead, we had to beat about nearly all day. Towards night it became
fair, and we ascended the Tagus. This river is about nine miles wide
at its mouth, and is four hundred and fifty miles in length; it has a
very rapid current, with steep, fertile banks. Aided by a fine breeze,
we ascended it in splendid style, passed a half-moon battery, then
shot past Belem Castle into the port of Lisbon, about ten miles from
its mouth. Here we found a spacious harbor, filled with shipping.
Besides numerous merchantmen, there were two ships of a hundred
guns, several seventy-fours, frigates and sloops of war, with a large
number of transports; all designed for the defence of Lisbon against
the French.
Lisbon has a fine appearance from the harbor. A stranger, after a
long sea-voyage, while standing on the deck of his vessel, and
gazing on its battlements and towers, might fancy it to be a
terrestrial paradise; but, on landing, his admiration would certainly
sink below zero, as he plodded his way, beset by saucy beggars at
almost every step, through its narrow, filthy streets. Such, at least,
was my impression, as I perambulated the city. Among other things,
I noticed a great variety of churches and convents, which furnished
swarms of plump, good-natured friars, under whose spiritual
domination the good people of Lisbon were content to rest. I also
counted thirteen large squares. One of them contained a huge black
horse, standing in its centre, with the figure of a man upon his back,
both much larger than life. What this monument represented, I did
not learn. That square is denominated Black Horse Square.
On the day after our arrival, the Macedonian was the scene of
considerable bustle. The troops, who seemed to forget their
proximity to a field of carnage, in the delight they felt at escaping
from the confinement on shipboard, were landed; several boats’
crews were also sent up the river to assist in the defence of the
place.
While we lay here, our ship was well supplied with fruits from the
shore. Large bunches of delicious grapes, abundance of sweet
oranges, water-melons, chestnuts, and also a bountiful supply of
gigantic onions, of peculiar flavor, enabled our crew to gratify their
palates in true English style. Poor fellows! they feasted, laughed, and
joked, as if the future had nothing to develop but fairy scenes of
unmixed delight. Little thought, indeed, does your true tar take of
the morrow.
Amid these feastings, however, there rose something to trouble
Macbeth, in the shape of an order from the admiral to prepare for a
cruise. This was peremptory;—for a cruise, therefore, we prepared.
Our boats’ crews came on board; the officers stored their larder with
the means of gustatory gratifications; and we stood out to sea
again.
The port of Corunna, in Spain, was the next place at which we
anchored. While lying in this spacious and safe harbor, our little
world was thrown into temporary confusion by the loss of the ward-
room steward, Mr. Sanders. This man could speak in the Spanish
tongue; he had accumulated a considerable sum of money by long
service, prize money, and an economy little known among sailors.
For some cause or other he had become dissatisfied; so, one day, he
engaged a Spaniard to run his boat under the stern of our frigate;
dropping from one of the stern ports into the boat, unperceived by
the officers, the wily Spaniards covered him with their loose
garments and sails, and then conveyed him to the shore. This was
running a great risk; for had he been detected in the act, or taken
afterwards, he would have felt the cruel strokes of the lash.
Fortunately for himself, he escaped without detection.
From Corunna, we returned to Lisbon, where, at the cheerful cry
of “All hands bring the ship to an anchor, ahoy!” we once more
placed our frigate, taut and trim, under the battlements of the city.
As servant to the surgeon, it was one part of my duty to perform
the task of carrying his clothes to be washed. As great attention to
cleanliness, in frequently changing their linen, is observed among
naval officers, a good washerwoman is considered quite a
desideratum. In attending to this matter for my master, I had
frequent opportunities to go on shore. This gave me some means of
observation. On one of my visits to our pretty laundress, I saw
several Portuguese running along, gesticulating and talking with
great earnestness. Being ignorant of their language, my
washerwoman, who spoke good English, told me that a man had
been stabbed, in consequence of some ground for jealousy, afforded
by the conduct of the deceased. Hastening to the spot, I saw the
wounded man, stretched out on a bed, with two gaping wounds in
his side, the long knife, the instrument of the deed, lying by his side.
The poor sufferer soon died. What was done to the murderer, I could
not discover.
Though very passionate, and addicted to the use of the knife, for
the purpose of taking summary vengeance, the Portuguese are
nevertheless arrant cowards. Indeed, it is a question by no means
settled, whether all classes of men, in any country, who fly to cold
steel or to fire-arms in every petty quarrel, are not cowards at heart.
We had an evidence of Portuguese cowardice in an affray which
occurred between some of the citizens of Lisbon and a party of our
marines. Six of the latter, ignorant of the palace or municipal
regulations, wandered into the queen’s gardens. Some twenty of the
Portuguese, on witnessing this bold intrusion on the privacy of the
queen, rushed upon them with long knives. The marines, though so
inferior in number, faced about with their bayonets, and, after much
cursing and chattering, their enemies, considering perhaps that the
better part of valor is discretion, took to their heels, leaving the six
marines masters of a bloodless field. These recontres were quite
common between them and our men; the result, though sometimes
more serious, was uniformly the same.
As an illustration of the manners of this people, I cannot forbear
the insertion of another fact. I was one day walking leisurely along
the streets, quite at my ease, when the gathering of a noisy
multitude arrested my attention. Looking up, I was shocked at
seeing a human head, with a pair of hands beneath it, nailed to a
pole! They had just been taken from the body of a barber, who,
when in the act of shaving a gentleman, was seized with a sudden
desire to possess a beautiful watch, which glittered in his pocket; to
gain this brilliant bauble, the wretched man cut his victim’s throat.
He was arrested, his hands were cut off, then his head, and both
were fastened to the pole as I have described them. Upon inquiry, I
ascertained that this was the ordinary method of punishing murder
in Portugal; a striking evidence that civilization had not fully
completed its great work among them. Civilization humanizes the
feelings of society, throwing a veil of refinement and mercy over
even the sterner acts of justice; at any rate, it never tolerates such
barbarism as I saw at Lisbon.
While in port we experienced a change of officers by no means
agreeable to the crew. Mr. Scott, our first lieutenant, an amiable
man, decidedly hostile to the practice of flogging, left us; for what
cause, we could not ascertain. His successor, Mr. Hope, though
bearing a very pleasant name, was an entirely different person, in
manners and conduct, from his predecessor. He was harsh, severe,
and fond of seeing the men flogged. Of course, floggings became
more frequent than before; for, although a lieutenant cannot flog
upon his own authority, yet, such is the influence he exerts over a
captain, that he has the utmost opportunity to gratify a thirst for
punishment. It may appear strange to the reader that any
gentleman—and all officers of the navy consider themselves
gentlemen—should possess such a thirst; yet such was the case with
Mr. Hope. Nor was his a solitary example; many a man, who, on
shore, in presence of ladies of fashion, appeared too gentle to harm
an enemy, too kind to injure an insect, was strangely
metamorphosed into a genuine unprincipled tyrant, upon assuming
command in a man of war.
We had already witnessed a number of punishments, especially at
sea: in port, the officers were more condescending, lest their men
should desert; but at sea, when this was impossible, they flogged
without mercy. Cases of offence which occurred while in the harbor,
were looked up; sometimes a half dozen were flogged at once;
every man trembled lest he should be a victim; the ship’s crew were
made wretched; a sword seemed impending over every head. Who,
in such a case, could be happy? Not even a sailor, with all his
habitual thoughtlessness. Yet it is said we must flog, to maintain
discipline among sailors. Pshaw! Flogging may be needful to awe a
slave writhing under a sense of unmerited wrong, but never should a
lash fall on a freeman’s back, especially if he holds the safety and
honor of his country in his keeping.
Poor old Bob Hammond! Never was man more reckless than this
honest-hearted Irishman; never was sailor more courageous under
punishment. For being drunk he received four dozen lashes; he bore
the infliction with profound silence, uttering neither groan nor sigh;
neither casting one imploring look at his tormentors. On being taken
down, he applied himself most lustily to his bottle, and before night
was drunk again. Rushing to the quarter deck, with a madness
peculiar to a phrensied drunkard, he ran up against the captain with
such force that he nearly knocked him down. With a boldness that
seemed to strike the great man dumb, Bob hiccupped and said,
“Halloo, Billy, my boy, is that you? You are young and foolish; just
fit for the launch. You are like a young lion—all your sorrows are to
come.”
The captain was excessively proud; even his officers scarcely
dared walk the quarter deck on the same side with him. He never
allowed himself to be addressed but by his title of “my Lord.” Should
a sailor, through design or forgetfulness, reply to a command, “Yes,
sir,” the lordly man would look at him with a glance full of dignity,
and sternly reply, “What, sir?” This, of course, would put the
offender in mind to correct himself by saying, “Yes, my Lord.” Judge
then of his surprise, indignation, nay, of his lordly horror, when poor
old drunken Bob Hammond called him “Billy, my boy!” Doubtless it
stirred up his nobility within him, for, with a voice of thunder, he
exclaimed, “Put this man in irons!” It was done. The next morning,
his back yet sore, poor Bob received five dozen more strokes of the
hated cat-o’-nine-tails. Most heroically was it borne. No sound
escaped him; the most profound silence was observed by all, broken
only by the dead sound of the whip, as it fell every few moments on
the wounded back. The scene was sickening in the extreme. Let me
throw a veil over its details, simply remarking that it is questionable
which of the two appears to the best advantage; poor drunken Bob,
suffering degrading torture with heroic firmness, or my Lord Fitzroy,
gloating on the scene with the appetite of a vulture! Let the reader
decide for himself.
These statements may at first sight appear incredible. It may be
asked how a man could endure whippings which would destroy an
ox or a horse. This is a very natural question, and but for the
consciousness I feel of being supported in my statements by the
universal testimony of old men-of-war’s-men, I should hesitate to
publish them. The worst species of this odious torture, however,
remains to be described—flogging through the fleet.
This punishment is never inflicted without due trial and sentence
by a court-martial, for some aggravated offence. After the offender
is thus sentenced, and the day arrives appointed by his judges for its
execution, the unhappy wretch is conducted into the ship’s launch—
a large boat—which has been previously rigged up with poles and
grating, to which he is seized up; he is attended by the ship’s
surgeon, whose duty it is to decide when the power of nature’s
endurance has been taxed to its utmost. A boat from every ship in
the fleet is also present, each carrying one or two officers and two
marines fully armed. These boats are connected by tow lines to the
launch.
These preparations made, the crew of the victim’s ship are
ordered to man the rigging, while the boatswain commences the
tragedy. When he has administered one, two or three dozen lashes,
according to the number of ships in the fleet, the prisoner’s shirt is
thrown over his gory back; the boatswain returns on board, the
hands are piped down, the drummer beats a mournful melody, called
the rogue’s march, and the melancholy procession moves on.
Arriving at the side of another ship, the brutal scene is repeated,
until every crew in the fleet has witnessed it, and from one to three
hundred lashes have lacerated the back of the broken-spirited tar to
a bleeding pulp. He is then placed under the surgeon’s care, to be
fitted for duty—a ruined man—broken in spirit! all sense of self-
respect gone, forever gone! If he survive, it is only to be like his own
brave bark, when winds and waves conspire to dash her on the
pitiless strand, a wretched, hopeless wreck; a living, walking shadow
of his former self. Shameful blot! most foul and disgraceful stain on
the humanity of England! How long before this worse than
barbarism will disappear before the mild influences of civilization and
Christianity?
No plea of necessity can be successfully urged in behalf of
whipping men; for, if subordination or faithful adhesion to orders is
expected to follow such terrible examples, I know, from my
acquaintance with the sufferers themselves, that the expectation is
vain. One of two results always follows. The victim either lives on, a
lone, dark-minded, broken-spirited man, despising himself and
hating every one, because he thinks every one hates him; or he lives
with one fearful, unyielding purpose; a purpose on which he feeds
and nourishes his galled mind, as food affords life and energy to his
physical constitution—that purpose is revenge. I have heard them
swear—and the wild flashing eye, the darkly frowning brow, told
how firm was that intent—that if ever they should be in battle, they
would shoot their officers. I have seen them rejoice over the
misfortunes of their persecutors, but more especially at their death.
That it has frequently led to mutiny, is well verified. I have known
such severity to result in actual murder. While we lay at Lisbon, a
sergeant of marines, on board a seventy-four, made himself
obnoxious by repeated acts of tyranny. Two marines determined
upon his death. One night, unperceived by any, they seized him,
hurried him to the gangway, and pitched him overboard. The tide
was running strong; the man was drowned! But for themselves his
fate would have remained a secret until the great day of judgment;
it was discovered by an officer, who accidentally overheard them
congratulating each other on their achievement. He betrayed them.
A court-martial sentenced them. They were placed on deck with
halters on their necks. Two guns were fired, and, when the smoke
cleared away, two men were seen dangling from the foreyard-arm.
Only one day previous, a letter had brought a discharge from the
service for one of them. Poor fellow! it came too late. He was fated
to a summary discharge from all service, in a manner appalling and
repulsive to every finer human feeling.
Such are the actual consequences of severity of discipline on
board men of war. Punishment leads to revenge; revenge to
punishment. What is intended to cure, only aggravates the disease;
the evil enlarges under the remedy; voluntary subordination ceases;
gloom overspreads the crew; fear fills the breasts of the officers; the
ship becomes a miniature of the house of fiends. While, on the other
hand, mild regulations, enforced without an appeal to brute force,
are easily carried into operation. The sailor has a warm heart; show
him personal kindness, treat him as a man, he will then be a man;
he will do anything for a kind officer. He will peril his life for him;
nay, he will cheerfully rush between him and danger. This was done
at Tripoli, when the brave James[3] offered his own arm to receive
the fell stroke of a Turkish scimitar, aimed at the life of the bold
Decatur, on board the frigate Philadelphia. Let naval officers, let all
ship-masters, once fairly test the effect of kind treatment, and I am
sure they will never desire to return to severity; unless, indeed, they
are tyrants at heart, in which case, the sooner they lose their
commands the better for their country; for no tyrant is truly brave or
trustworthy. Cowardice and meanness lie curled up in the heart of
every tyrant. He is too despicable, too unsafe to be trusted with the
responsibilities of a naval command. Such, at least, is the opinion of
an old sailor.
One of the greatest enemies to order and happiness in ships of
war is drunkenness. To be drunk is considered by almost every sailor
as the acme of sensual bliss; while many fancy that swearing and
drinking are necessary accomplishments in a genuine man-of-war’s-
man. Hence it almost universally prevails. In our ship the men would
get drunk, in defiance of every restriction. Were it not for the moral
and physical ruin which follows its use, one might laugh at the
various contrivances adopted to elude the vigilance of officers in
their efforts to procure rum. Some of our men who belonged to the
boats’ crews provided themselves with bladders; if left ashore by
their officers a few moments, they would slip into the first grocery,
fill their bladders, and return with the spoil. Once by the ship’s side,
the favorable moment was seized to pass the interdicted bladders
into the port-holes, to some watchful shipmate, by whom it was
carefully secreted, to be drunk at the first opportunity. The liberty to
go on shore, which is always granted while in port, was sure to be
abused for drunken purposes. The Sabbath was also a day of
sensuality. True, we sometimes had the semblance of religious
services, when the men were summoned aft to hear the captain
read the morning service from the church prayer-book; but usually it
was observed more as a day of revelry than of worship. But at
Christmas our ship presented a scene such as I had never imagined.
The men were permitted to have their “full swing.” Drunkenness
ruled the ship. Nearly every man, with most of the officers, was in a
state of beastly intoxication at night. Here, some were fighting, but
were so insensibly drunk, they hardly knew whether they struck the
guns or their opponents; yonder, a party were singing libidinous or
bacchanalian songs, while all were laughing, cursing, swearing or
hallooing; confusion reigned in glorious triumph; it was the very
chaos of humanity. Had we been at sea, a sudden gale of wind must
have proved our destruction; had we been exposed to a sudden
attack from an enemy’s vessel, we should have fallen an easy prey
to the victor; just as the poor Hessians, at Trenton, fell before the
well-timed blow of the sage Washington, during the war of the
revolution.
Of all places, the labors of temperance men are most needed
among sailors; and I am glad to know that much has been
accomplished among them already. From what I know of the
sufferings and difficulties growing out of intemperance at sea, I most
heartily desire to see a temperance flag floating at the mast-head of
every ship in the world. When this is seen, sailors will be a happier
class than ever they have yet been, from the time when the cautious
Phenicians crept timidly round the shores of the Mediterranean, to
the present day of bold and fearless navigation.
 CHAPTER III

S
hortly after the Christmas debauch, mentioned in the preceding
chapter, news was brought to the admiral that nine French
frigates were cruising on the Spanish coast: immediately, all was
excitement, bustle, preparation through the fleet. The Hannibal and
Northumberland, both seventy-four gun ships, the Cæsar of eighty
guns, called by the sailors the Old Bull-dog, a gun brig, and some
others, I forget the names, and the Macedonian, were ordered to sail
in pursuit of the French. This formidable force dropped down the
river, every man composing it eagerly desiring to meet the enemy.
The enterprise however, was unsuccessful; after cruising in vain for
several days, the admiral signalled the fleet to return. Before reaching
port we fell in with a Scotch ship from Greenock, in a most perilous
condition; her masts and rudder were gone, while her numerous
leaks were fast gaining on the labors of the already exhausted crew
at the pumps. Finding it utterly impossible to save the vessel, we took
off the crew; and thus our cruise, though defeated in its main design,
proved the means of rescuing several poor wretches from a watery
grave. It is a question worthy of consideration, whether this was not
a really higher result than if we had found and beaten the French,
and had returned in a crippled state, leaving some hundreds killed
and wounded. Humanity would answer, yea.
So far as the effects of this cruise concerned our own little frigate,
they were really quite serious. We were reefing topsails one night, at
sea, when the sailing-master, Mr. Lewis, in a fit of ill-humor,
threatened to flog some of the men. The captain overheard him.
Feeling himself hurt by this assumption of his own prerogative, he
told Mr. Lewis that he was captain in the ship, and it was his business
to flog the men. Sharp words followed; the captain was exasperated;
he ordered the sailing-master to be put in irons. Here, however, he
exceeded his own power, for, though he might place the common
sailor in irons, he might not do so by an officer with impunity.
Accordingly, when we reached Lisbon, a court-martial sat on the case,
which resulted in their both being broken or cashiered.
This was a hard blow for Lord Fitzroy, and he obviously felt it most
keenly. It also cut off my expectations of being elevated to the
quarter deck; for, although I had never received any direct
encouragement from his Lordship, yet I had always nourished the
hope that ultimately he would keep the promise he made to my
mother, and do something for my advancement. Now, however, my
hopes were destroyed. I was doomed to the forecastle for life.
Lord Fitzroy was succeeded by Captain Carson. He however, was
soon removed to make way for Captain Waldegrave, who proved to
be far more severe than Fitzroy. He and Lieutenant Hope were
kindred spirits: cruelty seemed to be their delight, for at the presence
of culprits tied to the gratings, a gleam of savage animation stole
over their faces. Punishment was now an almost every-day scene;
even the boys were not permitted to escape. A lad was appointed
boatswain over them, and they were consigned to the care of Mr.
Hope, who took especial delight in seeing them flogged. What a
mean, dastardly spirit for a British officer! How utterly contemptible
he appears engaged in whipping a few helpless sailor boys! Yet thus
he did constantly appear, causing them to be flogged for every trifling
offence. One poor little fellow, unable to tolerate the thought of the
lash, hid himself in the cable tier for several days. He was discovered,
only to be most shamefully punished.
These severities filled our crew with discouragement. A sailor
dreads the dishonor of the lash. Some, urged by a nice sense of
honor, have preferred death to its endurance. I have heard of one
man who actually loaded himself with shot and deliberately walked
overboard. Among our ship’s company the effects of these severe
measures showed themselves in frequent desertions, notwithstanding
the great risk run by such a bold measure; for, if taken, they were
sure to meet with a fearful retribution. Still, many preferred the
chance of freedom; some ran off when on shore with the boats,
others dropped overboard in the night, and either swam on shore or
were drowned. Many others were kept from running away by the
strength of their attachment to their old messmates and by the hope
of better days. Of those who escaped, some were retaken by the
Portuguese, who delighted to hunt them up for a small sum of
money. Two of my messmates, named Robert Bell and James Stokes,
were taken in this manner. I felt greatly affected at losing their
company, for they were pleasant fellows. I felt a peculiar attachment
to poor Stokes; he had taught me many things which appertain to
seamanship, and had cared for my interests with the faithfulness of a
parent. O how anxiously did I desire they might not be detected,
because I knew, if they were, that they were doomed men. But they
were taken by a band of armed Portuguese; barefooted, desponding,
broken in spirit, they were brought on board, only to be put in irons
immediately. By a fortunate chance they escaped with fifty lashes,
instead of being flogged through the fleet.
We had another man who escaped, named Richard Suttonwood; he
was very profane, and was much in the habit of using the word
“bloody;” hence he was nicknamed “Bloody Dick” by his shipmates.
Well, Dick ran off. He succeeded in getting on board an English brig in
the merchant service. But how chop-fallen was poor Dick when he
found that this brig was laden with powder for his own frigate!
Resolving to make the best of the matter, he said nothing of his
relation to our frigate, but as soon as the brig dropped alongside of
the Macedonian, he came on board and surrendered himself; by this
means he escaped being flogged, as it was usual to pardon a
runaway who voluntarily returned to his duty. The crew were all
delighted at his return, as he was quite popular among them for his
lively disposition and his talents as a comic singer, which last gift is
highly prized in a man of war. So joyous were we all at his escape
from punishment, that we insisted on his giving a concert, which
went off well. Seated on a gun surrounded by scores of the men, he
sung a variety of favorite songs, amid the plaudits and encores of his
rough auditors.
 By such means as these, sailors contrive to keep up their spirits
amidst constant causes of depression and misery. One is a good
singer, another can spin tough forecastle yarns, while a third can
crack a joke with sufficient point to call out roars of laughter. But for
these interludes, life in a man of war, with severe officers, would be
absolutely intolerable; mutiny or desertion would mark the voyages of
every such ship. Hence, officers in general highly value your jolly,
merry-making, don’t-care sort of seamen. They know the effect of
their influence in keeping away discontented thought from the minds
of a ship’s company. One of these official favorites paid our frigate a
visit while we lay in Lisbon. We had just finished breakfast, when a
number of our men were seen running in high glee towards the main
hatchway. Wondering what was going forward, I watched their
proceedings with a curious eye. The cause of their joy soon appeared
in the person of a short, round-faced, merry-looking tar, who
descended the hatchway amid cries of “Hurrah! here’s happy Jack!”
As soon as the jovial little man had set his foot on the berth deck, he
began a specimen of his vocal powers. The voice of song was as
triumphant on board the Macedonian, as it was in days of yore in the
halls of Ossian. Every voice was hushed, all work was brought to a
standstill, while the crew gathered round their favorite, in groups, to
listen to his unequalled performances. Happy Jack succeeded, while
his visit lasted, in communicating his own joyous feelings to our
people, and they parted from him at night with deep regret.
A casual visitor in a man of war, beholding the song, the dance, the
revelry of the crew, might judge them to be happy. But I know that
these things are often resorted to, because they feel miserable, just
to drive away dull care. They do it on the same principle as the slave
population in the South, to drown in sensual gratification the voice of
misery that groans in the inner man—that lives within, speaking of
the indignity offered to its high nature by the chain that eats beyond
the flesh—discoursing of the rights of man, of liberty on the free hills
of a happier clime: while amidst the gayest negro dance, not a heart
among the laughing gang but would beat with high emotions and
seize the boon with indescribable avidity, should it be offered its
freedom on the spot. So in a man of war, where severe discipline
prevails, though cheerfulness smiles at times, it is only the forced
merriment of minds ill at ease; minds that would gladly escape the
thraldom of the hated service to which they are bound.
Nor is this forced submission to circumstances universal. There are
individuals who cannot be reached by these pleasantries; in spite of
everything, their spirits will writhe under the gripe of merciless
authority. We had a melancholy instance of this species of mind on
board our frigate. His name was Hill, the ward-room steward. This
man came on board with a resolute purpose to give satisfaction, if
possible, to his superiors. He tried his utmost in vain. He was still
scolded and cursed, until his condition seemed unendurable. One
morning a boy entered the after ward-room, when the first object
that met his astonished eye was the body of the steward, all ghastly
and bleeding. He had cut his throat, and lay weltering in his gore.
The surgeon was called, who pronounced him to be yet alive. The
wound was sewed up, the poor sufferer carried to the hospital-ship,
which was in attendance on the fleet, where he recovered, to be
returned to his former ship, though in another and worse capacity,
that of common sailor.
We had on board a colored man whose name was Nugent, who
possessed a remarkably fine person, was very intelligent, exceedingly
polite in his manners, and easy in his address. He soon grew weary
of the caprices of our officers, and ran away. He was taken, however,
in rather a curious manner. The officers frequently walked the deck
with their spy-glasses. As one of them was spending a few leisure
moments in looking at the surrounding shipping, what should appear
within the field of his glass, but the person of the fugitive Nugent on
the deck of an American vessel! Upon this, a boat was despatched,
which soon returned with the crestfallen deserter, who was
unceremoniously thrown into irons. By some fortunate chance,
however, he escaped a flogging.
Of course, my situation was as unpleasant as that of any other
person on board. I could not witness the discomfort and ill-usage of
others, without trembling for my own back. I, too, had thoughts of
running away, as opportunities frequently offered themselves. But,
being ignorant of the Portuguese language, I wisely concluded that
my condition among them, if I got clear, would, in respect to my
present state, bear about the same analogy as the fire does to the
frying-pan. My little adventures on shore gave me full assurance of
this fact. I remember going ashore on Good Friday. Like good
Catholics, the Portuguese had the masts of their vessels crossed, with
effigies of the traitor Judas hanging very significantly at their jib-
booms. On shore, they were exhibiting the blasphemous mimicry of
the solemn scene of the crucifixion. One was bearing the cross,
another a sponge, a third the vinegar. The streets were crowded with
images of the saints, to which all reverently bowed. Woe betide that
sacrilegious wretch who refused this tribute to their darling images.
He was sure of being knocked down; he was not sure of getting
home alive. I was fain to yield my knees to save my skull; so for the
time I was as good a Catholic as any of them, at least in the matter
of bowing and crossing: it was done, however, with true Protestant
mental reservation, and with a sincere determination to prefer my
man-of-war’s life to a life in Portugal.
On another occasion, some of our officers took me on shore to help
them attend to some purchases. After following them a considerable
distance, they gave me a small commission to execute, with
directions to return to the ship as soon as it was attended to. This
was no easy task, however: they had conducted me to a strange part
of the city, and I knew scarcely a word of Portuguese. There I stood,
then, surrounded only by foreigners, who neither understood my
language nor I theirs. All I knew of my destination was, that our boat
lay near the Fish-market; so, for Fish-market I inquired. Speaking in
English, I asked the first man I met to direct me. He looked at me
with the empty stare of an idiot, and passed on. To the next, I said,
partly in broken Portuguese and partly in my own tongue, “John,”
(they call everybody John, whose true name they do not know,) “do
show me the fish-market.” He could not understand me; so,
shrugging his shoulders, he said, “No entender Englis,” and passed
on. I asked several others, but invariably received a shrug of the
shoulder, a shake of the head, and a “no entender Englis,” for an
answer. I grew desperate, and began to feel as if I had lost myself,
when, to my unutterable satisfaction, I saw an English soldier. I ran
up to him and said, “Good luck to you; do tell me where the fish-
market is, for these stupid Portuguese, bad luck to them, can’t
understand a word I say; but it is all, no entender Englis.” My
countryman laughed at seeing my English temper ruffled, and placed
me in the way of reaching the fish-market. I hurried thither, when, to
my chagrin, the boats were all gone. Here, then, was another
difficulty; for, though there were plenty of Portuguese boatmen, they
could not understand which ship I wished to reach. Here, however,
my fingers did what my tongue refused; our ship had its mainmast
out, so, holding up two fingers and pointing to the mast, they at last
comprehended me and conveyed me on board. Coming alongside, I
gave them what I thought was right; but they and I differed in
opinion on that point; they demanded more, with considerable
bluster, but the sentry shouted, “Shove off there!” and pointed his
musket at them. Whether they thought a reasonable fee, and a
timely retreat, better than a contest which might give them the taste
of a musket-ball, I cannot determine; at all events, I know that boat
never left ship faster than theirs, when they beheld the gleam of the
sentry’s musket flashing in their dark faces.
Just after this adventure, I came very near being flogged, to my no
small alarm. Happening on shore with two more of the officers’
servants, named Yates and Skinner, we stayed so late, the ship’s
boats had all gone off. Finding the boats gone, we strayed back into
the city; night came on, and our return until morning was impossible.
We had to wander about the city all night, in constant fear of being
apprehended by the Portuguese as deserters. To prevent this no very
desirable result, my comrades made me a midshipman; for the
satisfactory reason, that if an officer was supposed to be in our
company, no one would trouble us. The summary process by which I
was inducted into my new station, was by means of a stripe carefully
marked on my collar with a piece of chalk, to imitate the silver lace
on a middy’s coat. Thus exalted, I marched my company about
Lisbon until dawn, when I again found myself the self-same Samuel
Leech, servant to the surgeon of H. M. frigate Macedonian, that I was
the previous evening, with this additional fact, however, I was now
liable to be flogged. So, in the true spirit of a Jeremy Sneak, we went
on board, where, with due ceremony, we were parted for separate
examinations. What tale my fellow-wanderers invented, I know not;
for my own part, I told the truth of the matter, excepting that I
suppressed that part of it which related to my transformation into an
officer. Luckily for us all, one of the party was the first lieutenant’s
servant; if he flogged one, he must flog the whole. To save the back
of his own boy, he let us all escape.
We were now ordered on another cruise. Being in want of men, we
resorted to the press-gang which was made up of our most loyal
men, armed to the teeth; by their aid we obtained our full numbers.
Among them were a few Americans; they were taken without respect
to their protections, which were often taken from them and
destroyed. Some were released through the influence of the
American consul; others, less fortunate, were carried to sea, to their
no small chagrin.[4]
The duties of the press-gang completed, we once more weighed
anchor, and were soon careering before the gales of the bay of
Biscay. Our reception in this proverbially stormy bay was by no means
a civil one. We met with an extraordinarily severe gale, in which we
came very near foundering. We had just finished dinner, when a
tremendous sea broke over us, pouring down the hatchway, sweeping
the galley of all its half-cooked contents, then being prepared for the
officers’ dinner, and covering the berth deck with a perfect flood. It
seemed as if old Neptune really intended that wave to sink us to
Davy Jones’ locker. As the water rolled from side to side within, and
the rude waves without beat against her, our good ship trembled
from stem to stern, and seemed like a human being gasping for
breath in a struggle with death. The women (there were several on
board) set up a shriek, a thing they had never done before; some of
the men turned pale; others cursed and tried to say witty things; the
officers started; orders ran along the ship to man the chain-pumps,
and to cut holes through the berth deck to let the water into the hold.
These orders being rapidly obeyed, the ship was freed from her
danger. The confusion of the moment was followed by laughing and
pleasantries. That gale was long spoken of as one of great danger.
It is strange that sailors, who see so much peril, should treat
religion with such neglect as it is usual for them to do. When danger
is imminent, they send up a cry for help; when it is past, they rarely
return a grateful thank-offering. Yet how truly and eloquently has the
Psalmist shown, in the 107th Psalm, what should be the moral effect
of the wonders of the deep. What but a deep-rooted spiritual
perversity prevents such an effect?
The next incident that disturbed the monotony of our sea-life, was
of a melancholy character. We had been giving chase to two West
Indiamen the whole of one Sabbath afternoon; at night it blew so
hard we had to reef top-sails; when a poor fellow, named John
Thomson, was knocked from the yard. In falling, he struck some part
of the ship, and the wave which opened to receive him, never
disclosed his form again. He was a pressed man, an American by
birth, greatly beloved by his messmates, by whom his death was as
severely felt as when a member of a family dies on shore. His loss
created a dull and gloomy atmosphere throughout the ship: it was
several days before the hands regained their wonted elasticity of
mind and appearance.
My recollections of this cruise are very feeble and indistinct, owing
to a severe injury which confined me to my hammock nearly the
whole period. The accident which ended in a severe illness had its
origin in the following manner. The duty of cleaning knives, plates,
dish-covers, &c., for the ward-room, devolved alternately on the boys
employed in the ward-room. Having finished this task, one day, in my
regular turn, the ward-room steward, a little hot-headed Malay, came
to me at dinner-time to inquire for the knives. Not recollecting for the
moment, I made no reply; when he angrily pushed me over a sack of
bread. In falling my head came in contact with the corner of a locker.
Feeling much pain, and the blood flowing freely, I went to Mr. Marsh,
the surgeon’s mate, who dressed it, and bade me take care of it.
Probably it would have healed speedily but for the freak of a sailor a
few days after, while holy-stoning the decks. By holy-stoning, I mean
cleaning them with stones, which are used for this purpose in men of
war. These stones are, some of them, large, with a ring at each end
with a rope attached, by which it is pulled backwards and forwards on
the wet decks. These large stones are called holy bibles; the smaller
hand ones are also called holy-stones, or prayer-books, their shape
being something like a book. After the decks are well rubbed with
these stones, they are wiped dry with swabs made of rope-yarns. By
this means the utmost cleanliness is preserved in the ship. It was
customary in our ship, during this scrubbing process, for the boys to
wash themselves in a large tub provided for the purpose on the main
deck. The men delighted in sousing us with water during this
operation. After being wounded, as just mentioned, I endeavored to
avoid their briny libations; but one morning, one of the sailors, seeing
my anxiety, crept slily up behind me, and emptied a pail of water
directly over my head. That night I began both to look and to feel
sick. My messmates said I was sea-sick, and laughed at me. Feeling
violent pains in my head, ears and neck, I felt relieved when it was
time to turn in. The next morning, being rather behind my usual time
in waiting upon the surgeon, he began to scold me. I told him I was
unwell. He felt my pulse, examined my tongue, and excused me.
Growing worse, my messmates got down my hammock. I entered it
very sick; my head and face swelling very large, and my eyes so
sunken I could scarcely see.
I remained in this sad situation several weeks, carefully attended
by the surgeon, and watched by the men as tenderly as their rough
hands could perform the office of nurse. My destiny was considered
as being sealed, both by the crew and by myself. I was much
troubled at the thought of dying: it seemed dark and dreary to enter
the valley of the shadow of death without the presence of a Saviour.
To relieve my feelings, I frequently repeated the Lord’s prayer, taught
me by my indulgent mother in my earlier and brighter years. But my
mind was dark and disconsolate; there were none among that kind-
hearted but profligate crew to point my soul to its proper rest.
While lying in this state, my life hanging in a doubtful balance, one
of the crew, named Black Tom, an African, was taken sick. His
hammock was hung up in the sick bay, a part of the main deck
appropriated to hospital purposes. Poor Tom, having a constitution
already undermined by former excesses, soon fell under the attack of
disease. He was then sewed up in his hammock, with some shot at
his feet: at sundown the ship’s bell pealed a melancholy note, the
ship was “hove to,” all hands mustered on deck, but myself; and,
amid the most profound silence, the body of the departed sailor was
laid upon the grating and launched into the great deep, the resting-
place of many a bold head. A plunge, a sudden opening in the water,
followed by an equally sudden return of the disparted waves, and
Black Tom was gone forever from his shipmates! In a few moments
the yards were braced round, and our frigate was cutting her way
again through the wide ocean waste. It seemed to me that she was
soon destined to heave to again, that I might also be consigned to an
ocean grave. But in this I was happily disappointed. By the blessing
of a watchful Providence, the aid of a sound constitution, assisted by
the skill of our surgeon and the kindness of my shipmates, I was at
last able to leave my hammock. Shortly after our return to Lisbon, I
was pronounced fit for duty, and the surgeon having obtained
another boy, I was placed on the quarter deck, in the capacity of
messenger, or errand boy for the captain and his officers.
With my return to active life, came my exposure to hardships, and,
what I dreaded still more, to punishment. Some of the boys were to
be punished on the main deck; the rest were ordered forward to
witness it, as usual. Being so far aft that I could not hear the
summons, as a matter of course, I remained at my post. The hawk-
eye of the lieutenant missed me, and in a rage he ordered me to be
sent for to receive a flogging for my absence. Excuse was vain; for,
such was the fiendish temper of this brutal officer, he only wanted the
shadow of a reason for dragging the poor helpless boys of his charge
to the grating. While I stood in trembling expectation of being
degraded by the hated cat, a summons from the captain
providentially called off our brave boy-flogger, and I escaped. The
offence was never mentioned afterwards. The reader can easily
perceive how such a constant exposure to the lash must embitter a
seaman’s life.