Liberty on the Waterfront. Paul A. Gilje

      13. Seamen needed to know how to handle a small boat as well as work on larger vessels. “Shore Party.” New Bedford Whaling Museum.

      Each category of seamanship had its skill level. Dana claimed that both able and ordinary seamen were expected to “hand, reef, and steer.” These tasks entailed climbing into the rigging, furling and unfurling the sails, as well as commanding specialized knowledge of a variety of sails and ropes. An able seaman would be distinguished by his handiness with a marlin spike, neatly restoring and mending the rigging with “knots, splices, seizings, coverings, and turnings in.” He must know how to “make a long and short splice in a large rope, fit a block-strap, pass seizings to lower rigging, and make the ordinary knots, in a fair, workmanlike manner.” Ordinary seamen performed some of this work but had not quite mastered all of its elements. Landsmen and boys did the least pleasant and most mundane tasks, like slushing the masts and yards with tar, swabbing the deck, and coiling rope. They also had to go aloft and help in loosening and furling the sails in a subordinate capacity to the ordinary and able seamen.²⁹

      Every vessel's captain had total responsibility. The smaller the crew, the smaller the distinction between the captain and the rest of the men serving aboard a vessel. When the crew reached a total of four or five men there would also be a first mate. The captain and the first mate would each take charge of a watch. The first mate was usually responsible for keeping the ship's log, indicating date, conditions, and employment of the crew. Often mates did the most skilled work in the rigging and they had to be tough enough to make a hardened tar jump when they barked an order.³⁰ If the vessel was larger still, over 200 tons with a crew of ten, there was likely to be a first and second mate, each in charge of one watch. A second mate was frequently in an awkward position. He had to serve out orders, yet lacked the authority of his superiors. Too close to the common seamen, he was just beginning his career as an officer. One sailor commented that the second mate is “neither officer or man.”³¹ Larger vessels would have more elaborate hierarchies with a third mate and maybe a boatswain. In addition, specialized crew members might be hired like a ship carpenter and sailmaker. Most often, since knowledge aboard sailing vessels was acquired through experience, the captain and officers had worked their way from the forecastle to the quarterdeck, although personal connections helped one advance.³²

      Work on fishing vessels was organized somewhat differently. The distance between captain and crew, as it was on smaller merchantmen, was not as great. If there was fishing to be done, everyone sank their lines and hauled in the catch. Along the New England coast, a fishing boat usually also had a shoreman, whose job was to preserve and process the fish. Work was seasonal, in New England running from March to November. During this time a vessel might return to port three to four times to bring in the catch and refit. Labor came in spasms of intense activity, interspersed with slack moments during which the six- to eight-man crew entertained one another with story and song. Often they passed empty hours drinking.³³

      Conditions within the fishing industry of the New England coast experienced many gyrations, as Daniel Vickers explains. During the 1790s and early 1800s, fishing provided a degree of independence and profit for the fisherman. In the closing days of the colonial period and after the 1810s, however, the industry became more confining and under greater control of the merchants in port. Although the work force changed with these conditions, during the middle decades of the nineteenth century fishing became more of a permanent occupation along the New England coast, and the essential outlines of the labor remained the same.³⁴

      14. Whaleman John F. Martin drew this picture in his log depicting a crucial moment in capturing and killing a whale. “Whale boat attacking Whale.” John F. Martin, Log of the Ship Lucy Ann, 1841–1844. Kendall Whaling Museum.

      Great changes occurred in the whaling industry. At the end of the colonial period, whaling voyages were just beginning to reach further into the Atlantic and last for several months. After a hiatus during the Revolutionary War, whalemen began extending their voyages. With the processing of the whales taking place aboard ship, vessels got larger and the time at sea longer. By the early nineteenth century, whalers had ventured into the Pacific. Eventually ships stayed at sea for three to four years as they scoured the globe for leviathans.

      The hierarchy aboard ship became more rigid in whalers in the nineteenth century as the captain ruled over a crew of thirty to forty. Gradations in rank appeared with first, second, and third mates, as well as coopers, carpenters, sailmakers, harpooners, and a variety of seamen's ranks. Landsmen like Browne were at the bottom. Because of the size of the crew, the daily work on the vessel was easier than on a merchantman. Also, since speed was not of the essence and one spot on the whaling ground was as good as another, whalers seldom cracked much sail. Once a pod of whales was spotted, activity reached a fever pitch. Three to four boats were lowered, packed with four to six oarsmen, a boat steerer, and a harpoonist. If the men were lucky enough to fix on to a whale, and survive the ordeal by killing it, they had to drag the carcass back to the ship. The whale was then made fast to the vessel's side, and the blubber cut out and processed in the try works. The labor was messy and dangerous, and the stench was awful. It was not unusual in these circumstances for the crew to work twenty-four hours nonstop.³⁵ One whaleman reported that between hunting and cutting out whales, a crew had only five hours of sleep in fifty.³⁶

      Labor aboard a man-of-war differed from labor on a whaler or merchant ship. Despite the large crews (a frigate would have three to four hundred men), the officers saw to it that there was plenty to keep them busy. The structure of work remained the same whether the sailor served in the British or American navy. (American seamen also served in the French, Dutch, Danish, and other navies, but most were in the English-speaking services.) The daily maintenance work only increased as the aim was for total spit and polish. Dragging the holystone—a huge scrubbing stone—over sand and water on the decks every morning represented one aspect of this desire for cleanliness. Clothing, even the hammocks, were expected to be immaculate. Officers took pride in speed, so sails had to be constantly adjusted. Whether in peace or war, guns had to be worked, and the vessel made ready for battle. Impressment or recruitment into the British navy meant an undetermined sentence to this work. The American navy tended to have limited terms of service, in wartime for a specific voyage and in the nineteenth century for a set number of years.³⁷

      Privateers were less demanding in terms of work. Like a regular warship they would have large crews, as they had to be prepared to fight. A small schooner, for example, might have one hundred men. These vessels varied greatly in discipline. Some privateers were as spotless as a navy ship, but most fell short of that goal. Privateers had detailed duty lists, exercised their great guns, and called men to their battle stations regularly. Speed was also essential for a privateer, whether to chase down its prey or to escape the guns of a more heavily armed opponent. All privateersmen understood this and worked to make sure that the vessel could operate at its top speed.³⁸

      Living conditions aboard every type of vessel were cramped and without privacy. The forecastle of a merchantman might be twelve feet long, and almost as wide at its greatest breadth but tapered off toward the bow. A whaler's forecastle might be slightly larger to accommodate greater numbers. This confined space was the sailor's “dining and dressing room, bedchamber and parlor.” The furniture was spartan. The beds were little more than planked bunks with maybe a threadbare mattress, a blanket as cover, and a canvas bag stuffed with dunnage as a pillow. Sea chests made do as tables, and bunks served as chairs. Light came from a candle or old lamp. The toilet was in the “head” or the very front of the vessel. Warships had more space devoted to housing, owing to the number of men required by privateers and the navy. Sailors slept in hammocks swung tightly on the gun deck, next to and on top of one another. During the day, hammocks were folded and stowed along the ship's sides, providing added protection in a battle. The crew divided into messes of four to eight, prepared food and ate together (hence the term “messmate” to describe a relationship even closer than shipmate). Whether in a merchantman or a man-of-war, little if anything could be kept from the prying eyes of one's shipmates. Even journals were