Three West Inndian sailorsfrom Honduras ship on one of gthe last sailing clippers and One Boot saves the day. Told to me by Capt. Freddy as a true story.
One Boot Jackson, By Ames K. Swarstafger
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Capt. Freddy Jarvis, boatbuilder of El. Marinero, in Coxen Hole, Roatan, Honduras
Ice-cold water dripped steadily on Matt’s unshaven face. He woke with a start, bumping his head on the bunk just eighteen inches above. Moments later, the ship gave a great lurch, throwing him from the bunk.
A whistle sounded in concert to a loud banging on the fo’c’s’l hatch.
“All on deck, you lazy bastards,” cried a voice. “Do ya hear? All hands on deck!”
Before the shouting stopped, the six men on the off-watch were hauling on coats and boots.
“Get up to the for’tops’l, and reef it down before we broach!” The bos’n yelled over the shriek of the wind and roar of the huge waves off the port quarter. “You,” he pointed to Matt, “help the port watch haul the yard around!”
Matt crossed the heaving deck to the lee t’yard brace, and just missed being washed overboard by a surging monster of a wave. Another monster hit the ship and a secondary upsurge sucked at Matt’s feet as if it was determined to pull him overboard.
Hours later his watch was relieved. Matt hurried, racing between the large waves, to the fo’c’s’l, struggling with the other men to take off his foul-weather coat and crawling into his wet bunk. He tried to synchronize his body to the lift and fall of the waves. Half asleep, he thought back to his first day on the ship.
Boarding Summer Wind, a steel ship of about 150 feet, in Sydney, Australia, he signed on with the mate and found his berth on the starboard side of the fo’c’s’l. He was so tall that he had to bend over when he stood in the compartment. Before he could leave to wander about the ship, three West Indians came banging through the door. The three stood easily in the small fo’c’s’l. They stopped and stared at Matt, surprised to see a new crewman.
Finally, one said, “I’m James. Which watch do you have, Mon?”
“An officer told me I’m to be on the starboard watch,” Matt replied. “So I guess I’m with you.”
“This is Freddy,” James said, putting his hand on the man next to him, and then pointing to the third sailor. “And that there’s Jackson.” Jackson nodded his head to Matt. “We all from Coxen Hole, Honduras.”
“Have you all been sailing long?” Matt asked.
They looked at one another and smiled. “Since we was fourteen,” Freddy said.
“We always sailed together,” Jackson added.
“An’ don’t worry,” James said. “We show you the ropes, mon.”
Matt’s head was spinning after touring the deck. His shipmates had pointed out all the lines and their functions.
“You’ll learn dem all,” Freddy said. “Now, we go up there.” He pointed to the tall masts shrouded with so many ropes that it looked as if a giant spider had spun them on the masts.
A few days after the ship left Sydney, a squall hit. The call came for everyone on deck to reef the sails. Everybody scrambled.
As Jackson, who was the last man on deck, ran for his mast assignment, he was overwhelmed by a big sea that boarded the lee side. Matt, Freddy and James could see him from the rat’lins as they climbed and were sure he would be washed overboard. As the wave receded, Jackson’s head appeared. He was cussing and swearing. Later he told everyone what had happened.
“I got one of my boots on and was carrying the other. You know, Mon, the brand new boots I bought in Sydney? When that wave caught me, it stole my boot. Right ott’a my hand.”
“What are you gonn’ do with just one boot?” James asked.
“Well whadda ya’ think? I’m gonn’ wear it, o’course,” Jackson retorted. “I’m sure not gonna pay for another one after I just bought ‘em in Sydney. I may’a lost one boot, but I got one left and I’m gonn’ wear it.”
From them on, Jackson always appeared wearing just one boot. He was no longer Jackson. He was One-Boot.
ONE BOOT JACKSON (Continued)
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The weather became colder and the seas higher. The ship was heading southeast towards Cape Horn, the deathbed of thousands of ships. Sixty foot waves curled under her keel with 40-knot winds gusting higher pushed the ship. The call for “all hands on deck to reef sails” came often, and standing watch froze cheeks, ears and fingers. The beards and mustaches on the men dripped with icicles.
At seven bells, they had not been off watch for more than a half-hour before the boson called them on deck to furl sails. (Furling sails was different from reefing sails. Reefing sails meant just making the sail shorter, but furling sails means to take it all in a tying them down to the spar.) They knew hard work was in store for them.
Coming on deck, the men saw that the ship was on her beam-ends and about to turn over. They scrambled up the icy rat’lines and climbed the 130 feet to the foretopmast. The ship was rolling so far over that the main yard was making a rooster-tail in the water. Getting onto the manropes under the large metal spar was a dangerous slippery operation. However, there were rope handles attached to the yard to grab so their bare hands would not freeze to the steel spar.
James went out on the 60-foot yard first, followed by Freddy and Matt. Jackson stayed by the mast to haul in the bunting. It was hard to do anything with the icy wind trying to blow them off the yard. The sail itself was frozen. Matt clawed at the sail, only to lose several fingernails. Again, the boat healed over in a gust of hurricane force wind. This time she went so far over, he felt he could reach down and touch the water.
Holding on for their lives, the four men aloft knew that if they did not get that sail in, the ship would turn turtle and all hands would be lost. Then, in a lull of the wind, they heard a shout. Looking up, they saw One-Boot come flying down on the upper topsail halyard. With his one boot stretched out, he kicked the sail in the middle, the ice fell off, and they were able to get a grip on the flailing sail.
Freddy started up a furling chantey:
To me way—, hey—, he—, hi—, ho—,
We’ll all shave under the chin.
To me way—, hey—, he—, hi—, ho—,
We’ll all drink whiskey and gin.
To me way—, hey—, he—, hi—, ho—,
We’ll pay Paddy Doyle for our goods.
With the sail lashed tight, they began to descend to the deck. The ship was riding better now. Getting off the man ropes and descending the rat’ lines was easy now. Suddenly Freddy stopped and yelled, but Matt and the others could not hear him over the wind. James was still at the outer end of the lower top sail yard.
As quick as he could Freddy started out to help his friend. When he reached James, he saw that his hand had frozen to the yard.
“I’ll pull you off!” Freddy grabbed James’ coat and started pulling.
“No! Wait! I grabbed the yard and I can’t get my fingers loose! It’s no use!” James drew his rigging knife and started chopping at the fingers frozen to the metal. He grimaced and kept chopping at the knuckles of his left hand. After some time his hand came free from the yard. James made not a sound. As Freddy helped him back along the yard to the cross tree of the yard, he looked back to see James’ fingers still frozen to the yard.
The next four weeks they tacked and hauled until the wind and storms of Cape Horn finally released the ship. The first Sunday of sun, the Captain declared a day of “make and mend.” Jerry wrapped and bandaged, sat with Matt, Freddy and One-boot settled on the foredeck absorbing the warmth.
Freddy turned to Jackson and said, “Ya’ know, it was lucky for us you kept that one boot. You saved the ship.”
“Oh, I don’t know, mon. I’m just worried about what I’m gonna do when we get to England. Do you think I can buy another boot just like this?”
“I think you’ll have to buy a whole new pair,” replied Matt.
“And me. I don’t mind losing my fingers so much, but I miss climbing the rigging.” James had taken his loss stoically and had become a good assistant sail maker.
“What you gonna do in London, Freddy?” One-Boot asked.
“You don’t have to ask that, mon. I’m going to find me a woman who will help me get warm again.” Freddy gave them a huge grin.
“I know what I’m going to do,” Matt said. “I’m going to ship back to Sydney and find work on shore.”
Eventually James and Freddy returned home to Rotan, Honduras. The Coxen Hole community, out of respect for their experience, gave them the titles of Captain.
Freddy started a boat building business under an almond tree where he built powerboats and sailboats. He did this without any power tools.
James, his left hand missing four fingers, sewed and repaired sails. He was so good a sail maker that sailors from all over came to have him built a sail for them
Matt returned to Sydney and eventually got a job with Cro’jack Chandlers as a rigger.
One-Boot Jackson went to sea on a steamer. One day he slipped on the deck and fell, hitting his head on a winch, and died. He had two boots on.
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