Part 29
In every port of any size in the United States there are a number of men whose business it is to maintain boarding-houses for sailors,--that is, they are known to the outside world as boarding-house-keepers, but in reality they form one of the most extensive aggregations of criminals, thieves, and persecutors to be met with in any country of the world that boasts a high civilization. Their technical name is crimps. The Encyclopædic Dictionary defines a crimp as “one who keeps a low lodging-house, into which sailors and others are decoyed and then robbed”; but it would be impossible to present properly, in so small a space, the different phases and extensions of a system which for generations has eluded and defied investigation and has baffled the attempts of well-meaning but incapable legislators. New York is the hot-bed of crimps, for there are more than fifty boarding-houses in the city near the water-front. Take the case of a vessel just in from a long voyage. No sooner does the anchor touch bottom than her decks are suddenly and mysteriously filled with strange men, who pay no attention to the captain or mates, but go at once into the forecastle among the sailors. They are the runners for the crimps,--men whose business it is to supply the sailors with grog which they have brought on board for the purpose, and then decoy and persuade them to their respective establishments. Every sailor at the end of a voyage has but half of his wages coming to him (more of this by and by), say about forty dollars. The crimp at once takes a week’s board in advance and then, having drenched the unfortunate with the vilest of rum, it is a matter of but two or three days until the crimp has wheedled him out of the rest of his hard-earned gains, and then he gets in his finest work by opening an account with the sailor for lodging, meals, drinks, etc. He then at once becomes the slave of the crimp and must do his bidding; not only can the latter prevent him from securing employment (in this free country!), but can actually prevent a ship-master from getting a crew, unless he signifies his willingness to deal with him; and as I have said, so powerful (politically) is the crimping organization in New York that it successfully defies all effort at checking it and controls absolutely the shipping of sailors in New York. When a captain wishes to engage a crew, not finding one at the shipping commissioners, where they are supposed to be, he is compelled to apply to a crimp, and if sailors are scarce at the time, he will charge the captain so much per head! If the sailors are plentiful, though, he will not charge the captain anything for supplying him with a crew; in fact, he will go to the extremity of paying the latter a bonus for the privilege of shipping his men, in order to prevent some other crimp from securing his business, taking the precaution of charging the sailors a fee sufficiently large to make up the deficiency. This fee is known among sailors as “blood-money,” and it varies from one to twenty dollars _per capita_; in our own case, the amount that each foremast hand had to pay for being allowed to sail in this ship was five dollars; and though their wages are so small (about eighteen dollars a month) it would be useless for them to object to the blood-money; alternative, starvation in the streets. This practice of paying ship owners and masters for the privilege of supplying them with sailors has grown so common that it is regarded by many owners and captains as a legitimate source of income; so much so, that the majority refuse to sign other than a crimp’s crew. The shipping commissioner, a federal officer, is supposed to look after the gathering together of a ship’s company; the men, it is true, sign the articles in his presence, but that is the sum total of his connection with the shipment of sailors. Why doesn’t the commissioner stop the crimping? He is well aware, of course, that it goes on; but he does not seek to prevent it because he is instructed not to interfere with the accredited “_agents_” of the owners, and it must not be forgotten that under the fee system in vogue at present the commissioners are, to a great extent, dependent upon the good-will of the owners for their income. Any attempt of the commissioner to interfere with the “agents” of the latter would evoke a strong protest from them, and would, perhaps, end in the suppression of the office of commissioner; therefore the majority of the owners insist that their “agents” shall be respected.
In many instances the commissioners have been utterly unfit for the office they have held, for they are supposed to look after the welfare of seamen, besides their shipment. It is even said that some have been appointed from the forces of the crimps themselves. Others have been common ward politicians (those who know New York will appreciate this), and even a metal-worker has in the past held the office at New York; while the most influential candidate for the position now at one of our greatest ports is a sign-painter! It will be appreciated at once how much men of this sort know of the grievances of sailors whom they are supposed to protect.
The allotment system which obtains now when sailors are about to go to sea is a most iniquitous arrangement. The law says that “a sailor may stipulate in his shipping agreement for the allotment of any portion of his wages which he may earn to his wife, mother, or other relative, or to an original creditor in liquidation of any just debt for board or clothing which he may have contracted prior to an engagement.” This law was evidently framed to the advantage of the sailor, but in its ambiguity lies its detriment to seamen. Of course, the “original creditor” is the crimp (which was obviously not what the law intended), who has turned the words “may stipulate” into “must stipulate.” When a ship-master makes known to a crimp that he wants a crew, the crimp rounds up the required number of men, marches them to the shipping commissioner’s, where they sign the articles and are paid usually two months’ advance wages (which is not lawful until it is turned into an “allotment”). This money, forty dollars in round numbers, is given to the crimp (“the original creditor”), who then extracts from the sum an amount three or four times in excess of what the man is really indebted to him, arranges for the blood-money, and hands the rest (if any money remains) to the victim. Frequently all of his advance is necessary to liquidate this “just debt,” and the man goes to sea without a cent. On the voyage he gets in debt to the ship for the slop-chest account, clothing, oil-skins, boots, tobacco, etc., and at the end of the voyage, if it lasts four months, generally not more than a month’s wages are due him. This is secured by the crimp at the destination, and the old story of robbery and persecution is repeated. No foreign nation that I know of, at least none of the highest rank, allows crimping. The government has charge of the procuring of crews, and any infringement or interference by an outsider is a criminal offence, and, more than that, it is always punished as such. The United States government has never attempted to stamp out the crimps, and they, in turn, have never experienced any difficulty in prosecuting their lawless and miserable business.
Every time that a sailor signs articles any one or all of the following laws are violated, which the commissioner placidly disregards, and of which other government officials seem to be in complete ignorance:
1st. The payment of advance prohibited under penalty, fine, and imprisonment. 23 St. at L., page 55, Section 10, Dingley act, June 26, 1884; pages 66, 67 of U. S. Navigation Laws, also subdivision, Section 4522, U. S. R. S.
2d. Misuse of allotment notes. See 24 St. at L., page 80, Section 3, act June 19, 1886, and page 67, U. S. Navigation Laws.
3d. Payment of blood-money strictly forbidden. Section 4609, U. S. R. S.
4th. Withholding wages four or five days to bring seamen into the power of crimps. Section 4529, U. S. R. S.
5th. Withholding seamen’s baggage to prevent them from seeking employment on their own account. Prohibition and penalty, Section 4536, U. S. R. S., as amended February 18, 1895; page 68, U. S. Navigation Laws.
6th. Soliciting lodgers (employment of runners) on inward-bound ships. Section 4607, U. S. R. S; page 71, U. S. Navigation Laws.
All these violations tend directly to the demoralization and degradation of sailors, and ought to be immediately abolished.
Why our shipping laws should be so frequently broken, and with the utmost impunity, is, I think, partly due to their ambiguous construction, for many of them were prepared by either ship-owners or crimps with an abundance of political influence, and also partly to our lax method of carrying out the laws that we have framed; and they are disregarded because it would not be to the advantage of any one save the sailor, for whom they were supposed to have been enacted, to enforce them. The grievances of seamen are not popular subjects with the authorities, because of the peculiar obstacles generally met with in efforts to prove them; while the amount of damages awarded to sailors, except in unusual cases, do not offer sufficient inducements to the sort of maritime lawyers who would be likely to bring the cases to a successful issue.
As that able writer on the subject and champion of sailors, Mr. James H. Williams, says, “The complaining seaman has usually arrayed against him the combined powers of the wealthy ship-owners; the cunning, unscrupulous, and designing crimp; the sagacity and ability of the most experienced lawyers; and sometimes the traditional prejudice of the judicial mind is often turned against him. With this combination to overcome on the merits of his case alone, the allegations of the sailor must be well sustained indeed to enable him to win.” As for the cases of sailors suing for damages for maltreatment at sea, the difficulties encountered by them when seeking justice lie in the facilities afforded the offender--that is, the master or mate--to escape; the obstacles that the owners put in the way of his apprehension; and the disposal of the witnesses--“shanghaiing”--either by _bribery or intimidation by the crimps_.
Mr. Williams has accurately and truthfully summed up the seaman’s condition in the United States as follows: “The sailor is degraded to be more effectually robbed; he is cheated for want of official protection; he is not protected because of his own utter helplessness, and because we have no recognized shipping system such as exists in Great Britain, for instance. In this country the sailor is often despised because of his nationality; in European countries he is usually honored for the same reason. When this nation rises to a realizing sense of its own responsibility and manifest duty to the sailor, and provides proper laws for his protection and adequate means for their enforcement, both our merchant marine and navy will become Americanized, seamanship will become an honorable calling, and American boys will go to sea.”
Over against this wretched treatment allowed to exist by the government of the United States, for its commissioners make no attempt to prevent it, stands forth the protection accorded the sailors of Great Britain and Germany. Seamen are well taken care of in the latter country; but in Great Britain there exists a system of sailor protection ashore, so perfect as to leave little or nothing to be desired; and the perfection of its detail has led me to show the workings of this scheme in the next few pages, a scheme that is _facile princeps_, and that ought to be a model for the rest of the world. The shipment of seamen in Great Britain is conducted under the superintendence of the Board of Trade; this is a separate department of the government, and upon it devolves the supervision and control of the entire merchant marine,--_i.e._, commerce and navigation. The president of the Board of Trade is a cabinet minister, and of course occupies a seat in Parliament; and the duties of the Board are defined and guided by acts of Parliament. Among other specific functions, the Board of Trade must provide for the shipment, care, and protection of seamen, and must frame and _enforce_ (that’s the great point) proper laws for the suppression of crimping and similar abominations. Inasmuch as the Board was organized solely with reference to the interests of sailors and commerce, its officers have been, in nearly every case, judiciously chosen for their peculiar fitness and natural aptitude for the work rather than for any _political views_ they may have held, or because of any _influence_ exercised in favor of their appointment. As a result of this common-sense arrangement a most efficient and reliable body of officials has been secured, and for this reason the Board of Trade, from being considered at first a very troublesome innovation by maritime people, has succeeded in forming relations so close as to be almost indispensable with ship-owners and merchants throughout Great Britain; and what is even more remarkable, and certainly just as important, it has secured the confidence, improved the character, and protected the rights, interests, and persons of seamen to an extent which no other institution in any country has ever attained.
In all ports of Great Britain subdivisions of the Board of Trade, called Local Marine Boards, are established, each having authority over local maritime affairs. Seamen are entitled to direct representation on these local Boards, which are now maintained by the home government at various foreign seaports between Hamburg and Brest.
In Great Britain the shipping and discharging of seamen is conducted and superintended by government officers, _and no person other than duly appointed officials of the Board of Trade are permitted to enter the shipping office under any pretext whatever while business is being transacted between master and crew under severe penalty_. Crimps and all manner of “beach pirates” are particularly objectionable, and if found on the premises occupied by an official shipping bureau, are incarcerated without the slightest ceremony. Every shipment of seamen must take place at a government office except in extraordinary cases provided for in the law. When crews are wanted, notices to that effect are posted at the shipping office, on the vessels requiring them, and in other places where sailors will be likely to see them. Men desiring employment then proceed to the shipping office, present their _discharges_ to the official, who in turn hands them to the captain. In this way crews are selected, and it will be perceived what an excellent body of men a captain can thus gather together. A seaman without his discharges generally finds great difficulty in obtaining a berth in England unless he can offer proof as to his previous service and character. These discharges are usually enclosed in a sort of wallet furnished by the government for a small sum, and are always accepted as evidence of the men’s rating, ability, and conduct. They are retained by the master until the end of the voyage, when they are returned to the owners with a new one added.
Aside from the mere formal engagement and official protection from “water-front parasites,” the Board of Trade is of immense importance and value to British sailors in a variety of ways altogether too numerous for enumeration here. Suffice it to say, then, that the many shining features of this splendid institution have proved of incalculable benefit to English sailors and their families, while the practical results obtained by means of its beneficent influence have contributed in no small degree to the present maritime greatness and power of the British nation.
Compare this method with the American fashion of throwing a dozen or more poor, wretched, half-starved, drunken creatures on board a ship, who have been robbed of their small pittance, gained often when looking into death’s jaws without so much as a flinch; and frequently stripped of every garment save the underclothes which alone cover them, the hapless victims of the laxity and the passive indifference of the United States government, commence the voyage of four or six months in a ship commanded in many, many instances by men little short of devils, and officered by men worse than beasts, conscious that for themselves it is merely a case of “out of the pan into the fire.” Latitude, 8° 53′ north; longitude, 122° west.
+August 27+
Last night was one of terrific heat. Imagine a temperature of 87° at one in the morning, with an atmosphere so oppressive with humidity that instead of sustaining a weight of fifteen pounds per square inch the body seems to be supporting at least thirty. It was hotter than any night that I ever remember afloat or ashore. There was a peculiar, smothering quality in the atmosphere, which was so heavy and moist that it seemed as though you ought to be able to seize a handful and squeeze the water out of it. The very essence of humidity seemed to be instilled into the air, and my wife, who readily withstood the heat in the Bay of Bengal at the close of the wet season, nearly fainted in the middle watch. It must not be supposed that because the air is pure that people do not suffer in hot weather at sea; that is an idea held only by those who have never crossed the equator. If the hygrometer would drop even to eighty-five or ninety the temperature could be conveniently borne; but this almost continual saturation is exceedingly trying. Think of the sufferings of passengers in the Red Sea, when steamers often have to alter their course and proceed against the wind to prevent people from dying of heat apoplexy!
The captain has once more donned his white drill suits, the jackets of which button closely up under the throat, like soldiers’ tunics in the tropics. By this arrangement it is not necessary to wear an ordinary shirt underneath; and at first glance the skipper looks to be most suitably and airily attired, and you envy him the possession of his gossamer tunics, until at meals, when there is an expansion of his corporeal sphericity which opens the spaces between the tunic buttons. And then, oh, horrors! the sight is blasted by the lurid glare of a red flannel undershirt! Red flannel on the equator! It is enough to throttle you, and the temperature instantly rises several degrees. No man ought to be allowed to so afflict his fellow-creatures.
Last night when I went on deck at 9.30 the skipper was on the lee side, looking at the heavens. On seeing me he said, “Well, there’s our old friend, the pole star; we haven’t seen him for many a day.” Now, I ought to have known better than to attempt any joke, but it seemed likely that he would surely know this ancient pleasantry of mariners, so I answered,--
“Yes; as the saying is, the pole star is the first land you make coming up from Cape Horn.”
This threw him into a grave meditation, at the end of which he ominously observed, “I don’t see what you mean.” I had by this time forgotten all about the star, and had to ask him in turn what _he_ meant.
“Why, how do you mean that the pole star is the first land you make?” he demanded, bristling; “you often see Juan Fernandez.”
“Oh, well,” I answered, desiring propitiation, “sailors used to say that in the old days, meaning that it reminded them that they were once more in northern latitudes.”
“Well, _I_ never heard it,” he returned; “and, anyhow, we don’t know whether hit’s land _or_ water.” Here I fled, unable to withstand the strain any longer.
At dinner to-day he unexpectedly relapsed into his usual morose, contrary humor, and came strutting and stamping into the dining-room, glaring at every object, till his eye lit on a plate of rather stale hard bread on the table; then he grabbed some, fiercely bit an enormous piece out of it, threw the rest back into the platter, dropped into his seat with a crash that shook the tumblers, and shouted at the quaking steward, “Ain’t I told yer not to put nothin’ on the table but what’s fit for a white man to eat?” Deep silence followed as he dashed the soup around in the tureen with the ladle and fell upon his dinner; and my wife, without thinking, observed, “Well, this is the hottest we have had yet.” “No,” said Captain Scruggs, “it ain’t, hit’s nice and cool.” Angry at this flat contradiction, I told him that the thermometer, unlike many people, always told the truth, and that it was 88° on deck. “In the sun,” he replied, which he knew wasn’t so; while that devilish Goggins smiled blandly at us, as if to say, “You can’t catch _him_”; but I stood by for developments. Presently the old man began to shift about in his seat; then he made the curious remark that it was too warm for rain; in ten minutes more the perspiration began to stream from his face, and in another five minutes he got up and left the cabin, almost prostrated with the heat on this cool and pleasant day; though as he departed he attributed it to “them beans bein’ too heavy eatin’.” The mate followed him, with a face like a worn-out wet carriage sponge.
We have crossed the sun and he is at last south of us and casts shadows in the opposite direction from yesterday. We haven’t had the racks on the table for two days, which means a phenomenally smooth sea; the ocean often appears quiet enough to the eye, but there is nearly always a swell present that would play havoc with glasses and bottles. This is the first time that we haven’t used the fiddles since leaving New York. Latitude, 10° 44′ north; longitude, 122° 35′ west.
+August 28+
Another very hot day and night, but not comparable with yesterday, when a draught of air out of the sails was more like a blast from Tophet than a breath from this great ocean. It was possible to get considerable sleep last night, and on the whole we did very well; for even if we made only seventy-five miles, it was in the right direction. During the whole of the first watch last night there wasn’t even a suspicion of wind and the silence that reigned was wonderfully impressive, so that we were deeply awed by the solemnity of the scene. All about the zenith was a large area of perfectly clear sky thickly dusted with stars that shone with a calm splendor not to be seen except near the equator.
“By night those soft, lasceevious stars Leer from those velvet skies,”
saith Kipling.