HOMEWARD TO LONDON.
As Captain Smith had foretold, we were having an exceedingly
fine-weather passage. All the way down the Indian Ocean we were favoured
with pleasant breezes, fair for our course, and glorious weather. Every
care was taken to make the work as light as possible for the small crew,
although we in the starboard watch were sorely exasperated by the second
mate's devotion to sand and canvas--a mania that had given him his
well-earned sobriquet of "Jemmy the Scrubber." If he could only have his
watch slopping about with a few buckets of sand and rags of old canvas,
rubbing away at the dingy interior of the bulwarks, that with all his
attentions never _would_ look white, he was in his glory. But oh! how we
did hate the messy, fiddling abomination. It made our discontent the
greater to notice that the mate's watch scarcely ever touched it. Like a
sensible man, Mr. Edny preferred to have one thoroughly good scrub down
at lengthy intervals, going over the whole of the paint in one day, to
scratching like a broody hen, first here and then there, in patches, and
never making a decent job after all. It kept the watch in a chronic
state of growl, which was only prevented from breaking out into
downright rebellion by the knowledge that the second mate was always in
hot water aft, although, owing to his seven years' service in the ship,
the skipper and mate allowed him to have pretty much his own way. Apart
from this, things went on smoothly enough. Many a time did Jemmy, with
only such assistance as Bill and I could give him, set and take in the
lighter sails without disturbing the rest of the watch, who were fast
asleep in their several bunks. They knew this well, and consequently
never turned out, even upon the most urgent necessity, without a chorus
of growls at the second mate, although he never took the slightest
notice of them.
So we slowly lumbered homeward in uneventful monotony, until one morning
we made the land about East London, and congratulated ourselves that we
were near the southern limit of our journey home. Still the weather was
kind to us. No envious southerly gale battered us back from the Cape we
were striving to get round, and presently we found ourselves in the
embrace of the great Agulhas current that for ever sets steadily round
the Cape westward. Homeward bounders have reason to rejoice when they
enter the limits of this mighty marine river, for, in spite of contrary
winds or calms, they are irresistibly carried on the way they would go
at a rate that is the same for the bluff-bowed sea-waggon as for the
ocean-flyer. And one day, to my intense delight--for I had heard a tale
from Bill--the wind died completely away and the water became as smooth
as a mirror. Every bit of line in the ship that could by any
possibility serve as a fishing-line was ferreted out, and fishing
commenced. At first only the favoured few, whose lines were fifty or
sixty fathoms long, got a look in, bringing up from the bank far below
us some magnificent specimens of cod. Then, as the fish followed their
disappearing comrades up, the shorter lines came into play, and the fun
became general. It was a regular orgie of fishing. At least three
hundred splendid fish of various kinds, but chiefly cod, rewarded our
efforts, the subsequent feast being something to date from. Better
still, the weather being cool, we were able to salt down a large
quantity for use later on, so that we had fish for nearly a month
afterwards. After about eight hours of this calm a gentle south-easterly
breeze sprang up, which persisted and strengthened, until, with the dim
outlines of the high land behind the Cape of Good Hope on our starboard
quarter, we were bowling cheerily along under every rag we could muster,
our head pointing north-north-west, homeward-bound indeed.
Then the work that must be undertaken in every respectable ship on the
"home-stretch" came with a rush. Setting up rigging, rattling down,
general overhaul of running and standing gear, chipping iron-work and
painting it with red lead, scraping bright woodwork, etc., etc., kept us
all busy, although we were allowed watch and watch all along. In most
ships it is the custom while in the south-east trades, homeward-bound,
to give no afternoon watch below in order that the bulk of the
"redding-up" may be done before crossing the line. But for several
reasons our skipper did not think it advisable to tax his scanty crew
too much. As for attendance on the sails, we might have been a steamship
for all the work of that kind required--the "south-east trades" being
notoriously steady and reliable in the Atlantic, while the north-east
trades are often entirely wanting. So we had trades, from the Cape to
the line, that did not vary a point in force or direction for three
weeks; and, if she would have steered herself, she could have made that
part of the passage unmanned. The time literally flew by, being
delightfully punctuated every Sunday by a glorious feed of roast
pig--two of our large stock of home-bred porkers being sacrificed each
Saturday, and fairly apportioned among all hands.
St. Helena was sighted ten days after losing sight of the African
land--a huge black mass, towering to an enormous height, as it seemed to
me. We approached it very closely, purposing to report ourselves there,
but not to anchor. Coming round under the huge crags of the southern end
with all sail set, we had a splendid view of the cliffs, rising sheer
from the sea, whereon the gliding shadow of our ship was cast in almost
perfect resemblance. Who was responsible for the neglect, I do not know,
but suddenly down a gorge in the mountain rushed a fierce blast almost
at right angles to the wind we were carrying, and making the canvas
shake and flap with a thunderous noise. There was a great bustle to get
sail off her, but unfortunately she paid off rather smartly, and
_crack_ went the mizzen-topmast before the sails came down. A piece of
gross carelessness! for no coast of that kind should ever be approached
under sail without all due precautions for shortening down. Neglect of
such preparation has caused the loss of many a fine ship and countless
boats, with appalling sacrifice of life. It was the only spar we lost
during the whole of that voyage.
By the time we had got the kites off her we had opened out the great
gorge, in which, as if it had been dropped from the cliffs above, lies
the town, the houses appearing curiously jumbled together. We were so
close in that the great ladder, credited, I believe, with a rung for
every day in the year, which leads up on to the cliffs from the town,
was plainly visible. Only one ship, the _Noach VIII._, of Rotterdam, one
of the regular old Dutch East Indiamen from Java, was at anchor, for
even then the prosperous days of St. Helena as a sort of ocean "half-way
house" had departed, never to return. We spelt out our name and ports of
departure and destination with the length of passage, our information
being duly acknowledged from the flag-staff. In a few minutes more we
were again in the grip of our faithful friend the south-east trade, and
feeling that another important milestone was passed on our long journey.
Placidly, equably, we jogged on, four days afterwards sighting and
signalling to the barren volcano-scarred island of Ascension, the
exclusive domain of men-o'-war, for whose behalf a large naval
establishment is maintained in highest efficiency. Another landmark
left behind. Onward we sped with freshening trades and increasing speed
until we were actually in eight degrees north latitude, so kindly had
the fair wind we took off the pitch of the Cape favoured us. But our
good fortune still held. Instead of at least a week of the detestable
doldrums we fully expected, we had only one day's detention before the
north-east trades swept down upon us, and away we went, braced sharp up
on the starboard tack to the north-westward. And now for a while, all
the tarry work being done, all hands were transformed into painters, and
varnishers. Within and without also, as far as the wash of the sea
alongside would allow, we painted and polished, until the grimy, once
shabby old packet looked quite smart and shining. The second mate was
right in his element. He begrudged himself necessary rest, and often
looked angrily at the sun when setting, as if he felt he was being
defrauded out of a few minutes more of his beloved labour. Never surely
was there a man who loved work for its own sake better than he. Never
had a ship a more energetic seamanlike officer. Yet he was by no means
appreciated aft, although his worth was undeniable. And as so often
happens, he was doomed to be a junior officer all his life, for he could
not do the simplest problem in navigation without making the most
ludicrous mistakes. However he "passed" for second mate was a mystery
known only to the examiners. Mainly, I believe, by his untiring efforts,
all our painting operations were successfully completed before we
reached the northern verge of the tropic, where changeable weather
began to appear. But, when once the paint was on, he was like a hen with
one chick. His eager eye was ever on the watch for any unfortunate who
should dare to sully the whiteness of the bulwarks within, or heave
anything overboard carelessly that might mark the glossy blackness
outside. But his great carnival was yet to come. One morning shortly
after four, under his directions, I lugged up from the fore-peak a
number of lumps of sandstone, which he busied himself till daylight in
shaping into sizable blocks, while I pounded the smaller pieces into
sand. Promptly at four bells the watch were gathered aft, and
"holystoning" commenced. This delightful pastime consists of rubbing the
decks, along the grain of the wood, with blocks of sandstone, the
process being assisted by scattered sand and water. For three days the
decks were in a continual muck of muddy sand, and Jemmy's face wore a
steady, beaming smile. When, at last, all the grit was flooded away, the
result was dazzling. The decks were really beautiful in their spotless
cleanliness. Then, to my unbounded amazement, no sooner were they dry,
than a vile mixture of varnish, oil, and coal-tar, was boiled in an
impromptu furnace on deck, and with this hideous compost the spotless
planks were liberally besmeared. I felt personally aggrieved. "Why"--I
could not help asking my chum Bill--"why, in the name of goodness all
this back-breaking holystoning only to plaster such a foul mess on the
decks immediately afterward?" "Preserves the wood," was the sententious
reply, and it was all the answer I could get. Certainly the poop was
varnished only, which made it a golden hue until the first water was
poured on it. After that it always looked as if a lot of soapsuds had
been poured over it and left to dry.
But with this final outrage on common sense, as I couldn't help
considering it, our ship-decorating came to an end. Henceforth the chief
object in view apparently was to preserve, as far as possible, the spick
and span appearance of the vessel until she reached home. Those
beautiful decks, especially, were the objects of Jemmy's constant
solicitude. He found some nail-marks one day left by somebody's boots,
and one would have thought the ship had sprung a leak like a well-mouth
by the outcry he made. As far as possible work was confined to the fore
part of the ship, and beside the ordinary routine little was done but
the plaiting of rope yarns into sennit--always a kill-time. But we were
now so far north that the variable weather of the North Atlantic began
to give us plenty of occupation in the working of the ship. Fortunately
we were not long delayed by contrary winds. The brave westerlies came to
our assistance, driving us along in fine style and at increasing speed,
until one day through the driving mist we sighted Corvo, one of the
northern outposts of the Azores. It was fortunate that we did so, for
thenceforward thickening weather and overcast skies prevented any
observation of the heavenly bodies, and "dead reckoning" was our only
means of knowing the ship's position. Now Captain Smith, though
thoroughly at home on the Indian coasts, had a great dread of his own
shores, and as the distance from land grew less he became exceedingly
nervous, until at last, when by his estimate we were well up Channel, he
dared no longer run as fast as the following gale would have driven him,
but shortened sail, much to every one else's disgust. Ship after ship
came up astern, passed us, and sped away homewards, while we dawdled
through those crowded waters, running the risk of the fair wind blowing
itself out before we had gained our port. Before we had sighted land or
light it came down a thick fog--a regular Channel fret--which is a
condition of things dreaded by all seamen on our dangerous coasts. We
hove-to, keeping the foghorn going with its melancholy bray. Thus for
six mortal hours we lay helplessly tossing in the fairway, listening to
the miserable discord of foghorns, syrens, and whistles, but unable to
see the ship's length away from us. The anxiety was exceedingly great,
for at any moment we were liable to be run down by something or another,
whose commander was more venturesome than ours. Suddenly out of the
gloom came a hoarse hail, "D'ye want a pilot, sir?" A sweeter sound was
never heard. Without a moment's hesitation the old man replied, "Yes,
where are you?" He had hardly spoken before the dim outlines of a lugger
came into view close alongside. "Are you a Trinity pilot?" asked the
skipper. "No, sir, but I can run you up to him," replied the voice. "How
much?" queried the captain. "Five pounds, sir!" came promptly back.
"All right, come aboard!" said the old man, and all hands crowded to the
side to see our deliverer from suspense. "Heave us a line, please, sir!"
came up from the darkness, where we could see the shadowy form of the
big boat tossing and tumbling in the heavy sea. The main brace was flung
out to her, and, as she sheered in towards us, a black bundle seemed to
hurl itself at us, and in a few seconds it stood erect and dripping on
deck--a man swathed in oilskins till he looked like a mummy. Only
pausing to dash the water out of his eyes, he shouted, "Square the
mainyard!" and walking aft to the helmsman ordered him to "Keep her
away." A minute before all had been miserable in the extreme, and the
bitter gale roaring overhead seemed to be withering all the life out of
us. But what a change! The man seemed to have brought fine weather with
him; the perfect confidence that every one had in him dispelling every
gloomy thought. The lesson of that little episode, so commonplace, yet
so full of instruction, has never been forgotten by me. It is so
palpable that I dare not enlarge upon it.
Meanwhile one of the lugger's crew had followed his chief, and was busy
begging tobacco, meat, and anything else the steward could find to part
with. When he had got all he could, the lugger sheered in again, and he
tumbled back on board with his booty. Very soon the fog cleared away,
and as soon as it did so we saw the light on Dungeness close aboard. We
ran up to the pilot's cruising ground and hove-to, burning a blue light
as a signal, while our friendly hoveller pocketed his five pounds and
departed, well pleased with his four hours' earnings. These men get
called some very hard names, and may perhaps occasionally deserve them;
but as long as sailing-ships exist they will be found, as we undoubtedly
found one, a very present help in time of need, and the salvation of
many a fine ship.
The Trinity pilot was some time making his appearance, for there were
many ships about, and we must needs wait our turn. But in due time we
were supplied, the yards were again squared, and away we went around the
Foreland. Presently there was a welcome sound of paddle-wheels, and up
came a tug anxious for the job of towing us up to London. But our
captain's Scotch economy forbade him to take steam while there was so
much fair wind going for nothing; and the subsequent haggling was almost
as protracted as Bill's celebrated feat in Bombay. At last, after two or
three departures of the tug in fits of irritation, a bargain was struck,
and the ever-welcome command came pealing forward, "Get the hawser
along!" No need to call all hands. Everybody came on the jump, and that
mighty rope was handled as if it had been a lead-line. In a wonderfully
short time the end was passed to the tug, a severe turn was taken with
our end round the windlass bitts, and with what the sailor calls "a fair
wind ahead," we went spinning up through the intricate channels of the
Thames estuary. All hands worked with a will to get the sails clewed up
and unbent from the yards, as it was now daylight. Such a morning's
work had not been done on board for many a day, for was not the end of
the voyage here. As for me, I was continually in hot water, for I could
not keep my eyes off the wonderful scenes through which we were passing.
It was my first home-coming to London by sea, and on the two previous
occasions of leaving, I had either no heart to look about me or I had
come down at night. Just stopping at Gravesend long enough to exchange
pilots, since the sea-pilot never takes a ship into dock, we sped onward
again, the tug straining every nerve to save the tide. Soon everything
was ready for docking, and all hands were allowed to "stand by," resting
until we should reach Blackwall.
The East India Docks at last, with the usual little group of expectant
yet nonchalant officials and the loafers in the background. Are we going
to dock at once, or will she tie up in the basin? As anxiously as if
docking was going to take a month were these questions bandied about, so
eager were all the fellows to get ashore. Joy!--she is hauled in to the
side of the basin, made fast temporarily, and the mate, with a merry
twinkle in his eye, says the closing benediction, "That'll do, men." By
this time the voracious crowd of boarding-masters' runners, tailors'
ditto, and unclassified scoundrels were swarming on board (it was before
the beneficent regulations were passed forbidding these gentry to board
an in-coming ship), and the forecastle was a perfect pandemonium. But
one by one the chaps emerged with their dunnage, and were carried off in
triumph by one or other of the sharks, until, the last one having gone,
we of the half-deck were left in peace. And now I _was_ home what was I
going to do? I felt like a stranger in a strange land, and it was with a
sense of great relief that I accepted an invitation to stay by the ship
for the present.