THE SAILOR’S SABBATH; OR A WORD FROM A FRIEND TO SEAMEN.
BY REV. TITUS COAN, MISSIONARY AT HILO, HAWAIIAN ISLANDS.
Honolulu, Oahu: PUBLISHED BY THE HAWAIIAN TRACT SOCIETY 1846.
THE SAILOR’S SABBATH.
It is a bright feature of the present age, that truth, philanthropy and love, are extending their influences to all classes of men. Among the many objects of benevolent interest the seaman is not forgotten. His temporal and eternal wants have found a place in the hearts of the good. An earnest desire is enkindled in the souls of Christians, to promote the happiness of his whole being--physical, civil, social, intellectual and moral.
This is true of those who ride upon the mountain billow, and brave the loud tempest of mid-ocean; of those who plow the bosom of inland seas, or thread the sinuous coast; and also of those who glide along the more quiet waters of rivers and canals. To this class of men, and more especially to those connected with the Whaling service and their friends, the writer would address a few remarks.
Having been, for more than 20 years, conversant with this vigorous and enterprising portion of our race, he is happy to say that, among the numerous sons of the deep, there are not a few of enlightened, elevated, noble and generous minds, as well as many sincere Christians. Still, it is an undeniable and an affecting fact, that the great mass of seafaring men, are very far from that high standard of excellence, both moral and intellectual, which they might attain. Such improvement and elevation of character as we desire, would carry in it a double blessing; for while it inspired in the sailor self-respect, and clothed him with respectability--while it augmented his happiness in time, and prepared him for a bright immortality, it would also convert him into a friend, a benefactor, and an angel of light to the nations.
Notwithstanding all that oratory and poetry have said and sung of the generous and splendid qualities of the sailor, still such eulogies must be received with much abatement. There is more of fiction, flattery and romance, than of sober truth in them. Jack, after all, has wandered far from his home and his God. The winds of temptation, like a pressing tempest, have driven him wide from a heavenward course, and the currents of passion have carried him far from the haven of peace. The ocean is covered with wrecks--not of ships, but of men--of men who have broken the ties of country and of kindred--of sons who have sundered the strong cords of a mother’s soul--of brothers who have crushed a tender sister’s heart--of husbands who have wantonly violated the most sacred conjugal vows--of citizens who have trampled on the obligations of allegiance, quenched the fires of patriotism, and plunged into folly and crime. And now, impelled by fear or shame; by remorse or revenge; by desperation or reckless daring, they have left their native shores, hoping to bury their crimes and their names in the vast and profound solitudes of ocean, or forget themselves amidst the strangeness and the bustle of distant realms. In this catalogue may be found many a once fair professor of religion, who has violated the most solemn covenant vows ever witnessed and recorded by High Heaven, and who is now plunging deeper into sin, and hurrying on to a more fearful doom than the dark-souled pagan. This picture, of course, applies to a portion only of seafaring men; but the great mass need reformation on certain important points connected with morality. Among the many which might be named, the only one now selected as the subject of this essay, is, The violation of the Lord’s Day by Seamen generally; but more especially by those connected, directly or remotely, with the Whaling service.
It were easy to show from all history, from observation, and from innumerable facts, that the highest state of civilization, refinement, enterprise, intelligence and temporal prosperity, can never exist without the Sabbath. And the world may be challenged to produce a single instance of a nation, either ancient or modern, which has, without a Sabbath, maintained a pure and unsullied virtue, a sound and vigorous morality, and a spiritual and heavenly religion. Among all nations, and in all time, public and private virtue, and “pure and undefiled religion,” have flourished or declined as the Sabbath has been sacredly kept or wantonly desecrated. Whoever, therefore, shall throw his whole influence on the side of a proper observance of this sacred day, will be a friend and a benefactor of mankind; and he who throws his influence into the opposite scale, is a practical enemy to his race.
We will now proceed to apply these remarks by an appeal to that class of men who are engaged or interested in a seafaring life, especially to those connected with the whaling service.
I. Our first inquiry is, Why do ships so often leave port on the Lord’s Day?
It has been said--and probably with truth--that more ships leave port on the Sabbath than on any other day of the week. Now why is this? Does it merely happen? or is it done through carelessness and want of consideration? Is it done to pain the hearts of a Sabbath keeping community, and to insult the “Lord of the Sabbath?” Or do the breezes of heaven blow more favorably and more wooingly on that hallowed day? Are seamen in haste to leave parents, brothers, sisters, wives, children and companions? Do they feel impatient of one day’s delay amidst sanctuaries, and Christian privileges, and the cherished scenes of a loved land? Or do they esteem it an act of pious and exhilirating devotion, to spread their white canvas to the winds of heaven, and to move forth upon the bosom of the great deep amidst the chime of church going bells, the solemn peals of the organ, and the glad anthems of the saints? But how often have these slighted melodies been the prelude to the mariner’s death knell! How often have they but a little preceded the funeral dirge which the howling winds have swept over the sailor’s watery grave! And what assurance has the seaman who thus launches forth upon the stormy sea, to pursue his worldly schemes, in open disregard of the command, “Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy,” that he will ever again enter the hallowed precincts of the sanctuary, or hear any more the voice of the messenger of peace?
Again we ask; and why does the mariner leave a peaceful port on the Lord’s Day? Does he flatter himself that it will be approved or overlooked by Him who has commanded us to keep this day holy? “The winds and the sea obey” the Sabbath’s Lord, and why not man for whom the Sabbath was made--who was created in the image of the Eternal, endowed with reason, loaded with favors, and invested with the prerogatives of immortality? Why should a dependent creature disregard the will of his protector and benefactor, or offend that “God in whose hand his breath is?” or provoke that power on whose fiat hangs all destiny? or rush upon the high helmet of Him “Who rides and thunders through the sky?” It cannot be that seamen are under the influence of that false and foolish proverb, “The better the day the better the deed!”
One says, that “By delaying we may lose a fair wind.” True--and it is equally true that you may not. Sometimes you will lose and at other times you will gain a fair wind by a few day’s delay. Ships often beat out of port on the Lord’s Day, against a head wind, and sometimes they are towed out by three, four or five boats, in a dead calm, when, had they remained quietly in port, a fair and favoring breeze would have carried them out on Monday.
Another says, “One day’s delay may make a great difference in our voyage.” True--and this difference may be for the better or it may be for the worse. One day earlier may greatly expedite a voyage by securing a good wind and fair weather, or it may lead into a calm, or drive your ship into a storm which shall shatter her and hurry all on board into a watery tomb. These are all contingencies with which we have nothing to do, and on which true philosophy and true faith will not speculate. All that concerns us is to do right, and in doing this we need fear no evil.
“But,” says one, “We must sail when we are ready. We should be blamed for lying in port after the ship is ready for sea.” Now this, in most cases, is a mere subterfuge--especially where whalers go into port for refreshments. Whale ships lie in port from one to four weeks, according to the pleasure of the master--the term may be prolonged or shortened at his discretion--and he may, usually, fix on any day he chooses in the week for sailing, without fear of being called to account for stopping one day too long. This then, as every one knows, is not the difficulty.
Among a certain class of men there is a strange and unaccountable rage for sailing on the Lord’s day. This rage--to say nothing of its immorality--is often ridiculous. For example. A ship is about ready to sail on Friday; but “Friday is an unlucky day,” and no prudent mariner--who would nail a horse shoe to his main-mast or in his cabin, “to keep the witches off”--would think of sailing on that day; as there are more tales of hurricanes, shipwrecks, and disastrous voyages, in consequence of leaving port on Friday, than of all the ghosts and witchcraft of New England. And now, as “the bad day” must be passed in port, and as “Sunday is the most fortunate day for sailing;” and moreover, as “one day will not make much difference in a long voyage,” Jack is allowed to take things easily, while “the Old Man” spends Saturday in making calls, bidding farewells, and “doing up last things,” ready to sail “early Sunday morning.”