The month in which my seventeenth birthday arrivedI signed on before the mast on the Sophie Sutherland， athree-topmast schooner bound on a seven-months’ sealhuntingcruise to the coast of Japan. We sailed from SanFrancisco， and immediately I found confronting me aproblem of no inconsiderable proportions. There weretwelve men of us in the forecastle， ten of whom werehardened， tarry-thumbed sailors. Not alone was I a youthand on my first voyage， but I had for shipmates men whohad come through the hard school of the merchant serviceof Europe. As boys， they had had to perform their ship’sduty， and， in addition， by immemorial sea custom， theyhad had to be the slaves of the ordinary and able-bodiedseamen. When they became ordinary seamen they werestill the slaves of the able-bodied. Thus， in the forecastle，with the watch below， an able seaman， lying in his bunk，will order an ordinary seaman to fetch him his shoes orbring him a drink of water. Now the ordinary seamanmay be lying in HIS bunk. He is just as tired as the ableseaman. Yet he must get out of his bunk and fetch andcarry. If he refuses， he will be beaten. If， perchance， he isso strong that he can whip the able seaman， then all theable seamen， or as many as may be necessary， pitch uponthe luckless devil and administer the beating.
My problem now becomes apparent. These hard-bitScandinavian sailors had come through a hard school. Asboys they had served their mates， and as able seamen theylooked to be served by other boys. I was a boy—withalwith a man’s body. I had never been to sea before—withalI was a good sailor and knew my business. It was eithera case of holding my own with them or of going under. Ihad signed on as an equal， and an equal I must maintainmyself， or else endure seven months of hell at their hands.
And it was this very equality they resented. By what rightwas I an equal？ I had not earned that high privilege. I hadnot endured the miseries they had endured as maltreatedboys or bullied ordinaries. Worse than that， I was a landlubbermaking his first voyage. And yet， by the injustice offate， on the ship’s articles I was their equal.
My method was deliberate， and simple， and drastic. Inthe first place， I resolved to do my work， no matter howhard or dangerous it might be， so well that no man wouldbe called upon to do it for me. Further， I put ginger in mymuscles. I never malingered when pulling on a rope， for Iknew the eagle eyes of my forecastle mates were squintingfor just such evidences of my inferiority. I made it a pointto be among the first of the watch going on deck， amongthe last going below， never leaving a sheet or tackle forsome one else to coil over a pin. I was always eager for therun aloft for the shifting of topsail sheets and tacks， or forthe setting or taking in of topsails； and in these matters Idid more than my share.
Furthermore， I was on a hair-trigger of resentmentmyself. I knew better than to accept any abuse or theslightest patronizing. At the first hint of such， I wentoff—I exploded. I might be beaten in the subsequentfight， but I left the impression that I was a wild-cat andthat I would just as willingly fight again. My intentionwas to demonstrate that I would tolerate no imposition.
I proved that the man who imposed on me must have afight on his hands. And doing my work well， the innatejustice of the men， assisted by their wholesome dislike fora clawing and rending wild-cat ruction， soon led themto give over their hectoring. After a bit of strife， myattitude was accepted， and it was my pride that I wastaken in as an equal in spirit as well as in fact. From thenon， everything was beautiful， and the voyage promised tobe a happy one.
But there was one other man in the forecastle. Countingthe Scandinavians as ten， and myself as the eleventh， thisman was the twelfth and last. We never knew his name，contenting ourselves with calling him the “Bricklayer.” Hewas from Missouri—at least he so informed us in the onemeagre confidence he was guilty of in the early days of thevoyage. Also， at that time， we learned several other things.
He was a brick-layer by trade. He had never even seensalt water until the week before he joined us， at whichtime he had arrived in San Francisco and looked upon SanFrancisco Bay. Why he， of all men， at forty years of age，should have felt the prod to go to sea， was beyond all ofus； for it was our unanimous conviction that no man lessfitted for the sea had ever embarked on it. But to sea hehad come. After a week’s stay in a sailors’ boarding-house，he had been shoved aboard of us as an able seaman.
All hands had to do his work for him. Not only didhe know nothing， but he proved himself unable to learnanything. Try as they would， they could never teach himto steer. To him the compass must have been a profoundand awful whirligig. He never mastered its cardinal points，much less the checking and steadying of the ship on hercourse. He never did come to know whether ropes shouldbe coiled from left to right or from right to left. It wasmentally impossible for him to learn the easy musculartrick of throwing his weight on a rope in pulling andhauling. The simplest knots and turns were beyond hiscomprehension， while he was mortally afraid of goingaloft. Bullied by captain and mate， he was one day forcedaloft. He managed to get underneath the crosstrees， andthere he froze to the ratlines. Two sailors had to go afterhim to help him down.
All of which was bad enough had there been no worse.