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      Jack Buntline

      Look at yon smooth-faced blue-eyed lad; his fair locks escaping from beneath his broad-brimmed hat stuck to the back of his head; his blue shirt collar, let in with white, turned over his neck-handkerchief, which is tied with long streaming ends; his loose jacket, his wide trousers. You know the sailor lad at a glance. He is a well cared for apprentice under a kind captain. He wins your regard by his artless frank manners, and you think all sailor boys are like him. Then see that fine specimen of a man rolling along, with his huge beard and whiskers, his love locks, his dark flashing eyes, his well bronzed countenance, his bare throat, his dress, similar to that of the lad, but of good quality and cut to a nicety. He looks the hero of the sea, and so he is, and so he feels himself.

      What will he not dare and do? He will board a foeman’s ship by his captain’s side, however few with him or many against him; storm a battery sending forth showers of deadly shot; leap overboard to rescue a shipmate from a watery grave; will lift in his arms a charged shell with the fuzee yet burning, or will carry on his shoulders a wounded comrade from beneath the very guns of the foe. He loves to fight on shore as well as at sea. He will suffer cold, and hunger, and thirst, and face death in a thousand forms without complaint if his officers set him the example. He is the true man-of-war’s-man, proud of his calling and despising all others.

      Now watch yonder nicely dressed old gentleman, with his three cornered hat, white neckcloth, long blue coat with gold lace cuffs. He is a Greenwich pensioner. He has done his duty to his country and done it well, with all his heart; and now his country, whom he served in his strength and manhood, cares for him as she should in his old age.

      From these pleasing pictures people are apt to form their notions of sailors and of a sea life, but there exists another numerous class of whom I have a very different sketch to present.

      They are as a class, however, gallant fellows. They also will dare and do all that men can accomplish. Many are kind hearted, generous, brave; but others are too often brutal, fierce, vicious, drunkards, blasphemers, thinking only of present gratifications, and utterly regardless of the future or of the world to come.

      If such characteristics be theirs, I have a very solemn question to ask. Why are they so? Who has allowed them to become so? What steps have been taken to improve them? The newspapers often give us one reason why they are brutal. Sent ignorant to sea, ignorant they grow up, no one taking thought for the wellbeing of their souls or bodies; placed often under ignorant brutal masters, whose only idea is how to get the most work out of them, whose only argument is a handspike or rope’s end; ill-fed, ill-treated, ill-clothed, ill-lodged (oh what foul, wet, dark holes have thousands of gallant sailors to live in on board ship); ill looked after in sickness; when they return to port, handed over to the tender mercies of crimps and foul harpies of every description, the lives of our merchant seamen are short and hard indeed.

      Remember that these are the men who supply us with all the luxuries we enjoy, who have charge of the merchandise which has made England great, glorious, and powerful. Who then, I ask, has an excuse for refusing to support any measure which will benefit them, their souls and their bodies? Can any one deny that our seamen have a claim on the sympathies and aid of every member of the community, whether living in an inland town, in the sequestered village, or on the wild sea side?

      Oh could you but behold the merchant seaman on board his ship, the coaster, the trader to neighbouring lands, aye on board some fine looking craft also bound to distant ports; could you see him as he is, day after day toiling on in his tarry, dirty clothes, unshaven, unwashed, with rude companions, obscene in language and habits, in their foul den of a berth; could you hear the expression applied to him by his superiors, his groans of pain, his muttered curses as kicks and blows and cuffs follow after the oaths showered on him; could you see him in port consorting with the vilest of the vile, living in filth and iniquity till his hard-earned gains being spent, his senses steeped in drink, he is put on board another ship, often not knowing where he is going till far out at sea. Could you see and hear, I say, one tenth part of the horrors which take place, unnoticed by man, on the wide ocean, you, my readers, would weep and exclaim, unless your hearts are harder than adamant, “We must, we must do something for that poor fellow’s soul and mortal frame.”

      Before, therefore, I begin the life of Jack Buntline, I must tell you how that something may be done. There exists in London a society called The Missions to Seamen, which I was the humble means of establishing there some five years ago. It had before existed at Bristol. It is warmly supported by numerous admirals, and other naval officers and men of influence. The office is at 11, Buckingham Street, Strand, and the Secretary is the Rev. T.A. Walrond, an excellent clergyman, who has devoted himself with the utmost zeal and energy to the interests of sailors. The object of the Society is to supply clergymen and lay missionaries for seamen: but they do not wait till the sailors come to them, they seek them out on board their ships, not only in harbours and rivers, but even in open roadsteads, such as the Downs, the Solent, and Portland Bay, wherever, indeed, any number of vessels are brought up together. The Society possesses several small vessels, on board which seamen are collected and services are held, as also boats for carrying the missionaries on board the ships. They have a flag, the design of which is an angel carrying the open gospel in her hand, on a blue ground.

      The work of the chaplains and missionaries is, as I have said, especially to seek out seamen on board their ships, without waiting for them to come to hear them. They visit them in their berths, however close or foul they may be, read and explain the Bible to them, pray with them, collect them for public worship, and preach to them; offer them Bibles, leave tracts with them, and speak to them as friends whose only desire is for their soul’s welfare. Under God’s guidance a very large amount of good has, I believe, by these means been done, not only among British, but foreign seamen who visit our ports. Five years ago I was induced to commence the work by the Rev. T.C. Childs, who had succeeded the Rev. Dr Ashley, as sole chaplain of the Bristol Channel Mission, the only one then existing. We have now eleven chaplains, twelve lay missionaries, and an income which already exceeds 6,000 pounds per annum. God has evidently particularly blessed our work. Still we have calls from all directions for more Chaplains and Scripture Readers, and all who read this little book will, I trust, give their aid to the work by such contributions as they can collect, taking care that they send them to the Society for which I plead.

      I should add, that I wrote the following story to read to the pupils of the Rev. J. Thomson, of Blackheath, and also to those of my friend the Rev. T. Langhorne, of Loretta House, Musselburgh, near Edinburgh. Mr Thomson’s boys collected upwards of 10 pounds soon afterwards for the Missions to Seamen. Great will be my satisfaction if all my readers follow their excellent example, and collect similar sums for the same important object.

      William H.G. Kingston.

      Middle Hill, Wimborne, Dorset.

      My dear Mr Walrond,

      Allow me to dedicate the following little work to you, that I may have the gratification of expressing my admiration of the judgment, energy, and perseverance with which you have laboured in the great and noble cause we both have at heart – the spiritual welfare of the British seaman, so long unhappily neglected. Nearly twenty of our flags (the angel with the open Bible), waving in as many ports or roadsteads, joyfully proclaim that it is neglected no longer. Should thrice that number be hoisted ere long, as I pray God there may be in various parts of the world, I feel assured that you will be more gratified than you would be by attaining any reward which the whole earth could give you. That you may live to see abundant fruit from your labours, is the earnest wish of

      Yours most truly,

      William H.G. Kingston.

      To the Rev. Theodore A. Walrond, Secretary, Missions to Seamen.

      Chapter One

      The sailor boy, as he is described in romances, or when he is made to act the part of a hero on the stage, has run away from school or from his parents, and entered under a feigned name on board a man-of-war; there, instead of being punished for his misconduct, he is placed on the quarter deck, and turns out in the end to be the heir to an earldom or to a baronetcy.

      Such was not the origin of poor Jack Buntline.

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