PROSPERITY PALLS UPON ME.
As I grew better acquainted with the conditions of life on board the
coasting steamers, I became extremely dissatisfied with my treatment on
board the _Helen M'Gregor_. For while I had the usual duties of a
lamp-trimmer to attend to, I was also compelled to work at all hours as
one of the crew, while the heavy weights I was ordered to handle were
far beyond my strength, and several times I was severely hurt. So that
at a fitting opportunity I left her, taking up my abode with a
shoemaker, who had a large connection among steamer-hands, and for two
or three weeks led the unprofitable life of a gentleman at large. This
was bad for me in many ways. The company I was thrown amongst was
doubtful; I did not then know how much so, and, although I did not get
involved in any of their shadier exploits, I began to drink pretty
heavily, and, to put it briefly, go to the devil generally. This career
was fortunately put a stop to by the emptying of my purse, which
compelled me to get employment again.
My next ship was one of the finest on the coast, the last new vessel of
the Australasian Steam Navigation Company's (A.S.N.) fleet, which was
called the _Wentworth_. To my juvenile ideas she was a floating palace,
everything on board being on a grand scale as compared with the little
_Helen M'Gregor_. The mate was a huge Scotchman named Wallace, rough as
a bear, but very just and straightforward. When he engaged me, he gave
me to understand that my duties consisted solely in attending to the
lamps and polishing the ornamental brass-work about the deck, and that I
was on no account to do anything else or take orders from anybody but
himself or the captain. This, added to the fact that my wages were now
to be three pounds ten shillings a month, made me feel quite an
important personage--in fact, I was almost "too big for my boots."
Everything on board was so excellent in quality, and so well managed,
that I felt great pride in my ship, and I determined that, as I had only
one master to please, I would do all I could to succeed. The first thing
I resolved was that no ship in harbour should have such dazzling brass
as mine, and, after I had polished it all, I used to go round the other
ships and look at theirs. If there was one that I thought looked more
brilliant than mine, I would come back and go over my polishing again
until I was satisfied, and so I gradually got the reputation of being
smart at brass-cleaning anyhow. I lived entirely alone in a little
cubicle by my lamp-room, which was a spacious apartment, well fitted and
quite sheltered from the weather, being on the main-deck. In return for
trimming the cook's lamps, I received all my meals from the saloon
messes, and thus I lived better than I have ever done before or since.
Not that the men fared indifferently. The food supplied to them was of
the best quality, and as for quantity--well, they had steaks, chops, and
potatoes, with unlimited baker's bread, for breakfast; roast joints and
potatoes for dinner, and for supper the same as for breakfast. The waste
was shameful. The first two or three hands to arrive on the spot where
they took their meals, would cut all the brown off a ten or twelve-pound
joint. When the laggards came along, if the appearance of the meat was
not to their liking, which was usually the case, they would just fling
it over the side and go to the galley for more. The cook dared not
complain, as the officers always took the crew's part. This partiality
was owing to the system obtaining, whereby a contractor ashore supplied
all provisions at so much per head, finding cooks and stewards himself.
And any suggestion upon the part of his servants that food was being
wasted was always fiercely resented by every member of the crew, who
would immediately accuse them of trying to fatten their employer at the
sailor's expense. The result was that as much food was wasted each
passage as would have supplied another ship of the same size.
Those were the palmy days of Australian coasters. A.B.'s received L7 per
month, and one shilling and sixpence per hour overtime when in harbour,
while the day consisted of eight hours only. Firemen got L10, and
trimmers L8 per month, with overtime in addition like the sailors. And,
in justice to them, it must be said that they seemed to value their
privileges, and did not behave in the senseless way that deep-water
sailors usually do. They spent a lot of money on dress and
theatre-going, it is true; but many of them owned house-property or
land. Nor was their life a hard one. There was none of that tremendous
drive and tear seen on the American coast, where high wages are paid--as
if the officers are determined to get the last ounce of energy out of
every man because he was well paid. No; take it all round, it was the
most comfortable sea-service that ever I saw or heard of, and I never
ceased to wonder at it, or imagine that it was much too good to last.
From all reports that have reached me of late years, my ideas on the
latter point seem to have been well founded, for I hear that neither pay
nor conditions of service are in any degree comparable with what then
obtained.
As for me, I led a gentleman's life. Called at daylight to take in the
lamps, I was able to finish all my work before ten a. m., and from
thenceforward I was my own master. So heavily did the time hang when at
sea, that I took in washing from both sailors and firemen at the rate of
three shillings and sixpence per dozen, and thus earned a lot of extra
money. Unfortunately, I had no ideas of thrift; and so, although I must
have been in receipt of at least thirty shillings weekly, I never saved
a penny. My earnings used to leak away as if all my pockets were sieves.
But, on the other hand, the comfortable life, abundance of good food,
and freedom from ill-usage, had such an effect upon my hitherto puny
body, that I began to look and feel as if I was capable of doing a good
day's work, and should, therefore, not now be ashamed to ask for
employment. I no longer felt like a sailor, nor did the prospect of a
return to the old life ever enter my head--in fact, I am afraid I never
thought of the future at all. My life was very pleasant; and there was
nobody in the world who cared a row of pins what became of me--what more
natural than that I should, like any other pampered animal, live
contentedly in the present?
Our usual trip was between Sydney and Melbourne, and it generally
occupied from eight to ten days. Anything more delightful than the
ordinary run along the coast would be hard to imagine. I got to know
every landmark between the two ports as intimately as one knows the
route between his work and his own street-door. But, although I was
always interested in the Australian scenery, I felt delighted to hear
one trip that we were bound to Auckland next voyage. I had heard so much
of New Zealand that I had got to regard it as a sort of fairy-land--a
group of Islands of the Blest. We left Sydney on Christmas Eve for our
Auckland trip, much to the disgust of everybody on board except myself;
but as we carried the mails no delay could be allowed. The next day we
were, of course, out of sight of land, steering straight across that
stretch of the Pacific that lies between Australia and New Zealand; the
sea was like a lake of glowing oil, and the sky a fleckless dome of
deepest blue, with one mighty globe of molten gold hanging in its midst.
Festivities began early--so early, indeed, that by dinner-time some of
the fellows were getting very frivolous. There was a Gargantuan feed,
of course; and, after that--well, it was surely expecting too much of
human nature to suppose that steam would or could be kept up as usual.
At any rate it wasn't. It went down, down, down, until, by four p.m.,
the propeller was just feebly revolving, the vessel making no more than
two knots at the outside. By dusk I verily believe that the only two
sober males on board were the captain and myself. Drunkenness reigned
supreme in saloon, stokehold, and forecastle. By-and-by the screw
stopped altogether, and we lay almost motionless. A few of the more
vigorous revellers made spasmodic efforts to "keep it up"; but gradually
the "fun" fizzled out, and general sleep succeeded. How long it lasted I
don't know, for I turned in as usual; but in the morning she was going
again, though at no great speed, it is true. The only redeeming feature
about the whole orgie was the absence of quarrelling. General
good-humour prevailed everywhere on board, and not a word was said in
recrimination after the resumption of work. A day late, we sighted the
Three Kings--those solitary rocks off the north point of New Zealand
that stand up so sternly out of the blue waste about them. When we made
them out, it was in the tremulous lovely light of dawn--beautiful beyond
expression in those latitudes--and their rugged outlines stood out
sharply against the tenderly tinted sky, through that lucent atmosphere,
like the shadows cast by an electric beam. Then, as the sun sprang into
the smiling heaven, they were gilded, and became like some fantastic
ruin in black marble fringed with fiery rays and floating on a sea of
many-coloured flame. A few hours' run brought us to the Gulf of Hauraki,
up which we steamed amidst some of the most beautiful scenery in the
world. As we glided onward to where, apparently, a huge mountain
completely blocked up the apex of the gulf, a lovely island was pointed
out to me on the starboard hand as the earthly paradise of Sir George
Grey--Tiri-tiri. Here I was told it was his custom to receive troops of
his Maori friends, and entertain them for days, mingling with them
without the slightest consciousness of any difference of rank or colour
between him and them. No wonder they loved him, and will hand his memory
down to their remotest descendants as the great white chief who loved
them and justice.
Nearer and nearer we drew to Rangitoto, the frowning peak that loomed
heavily right in our path. At last, when within a very short distance of
it, we made a sharp turn, and, skirting a reef that extended some
distance from its base, we presently opened up Auckland Harbour, which,
if not so picturesque as its approaches might have led one to expect,
had all the merits that a good harbour should have--pre-eminently, the
chief one of being safe with all winds. In a few minutes we were
alongside the wharf, and besieged by an eager crowd who had been
anxiously awaiting us, as we were so much over our time. As was my
constant habit, I began at once to inquire as to the fishing
possibilities of the place, learning, to my intense delight, that the
harbour literally swarmed with fish of all kinds, and that even from
the wharf they could be caught in enormous quantities. That settled my
spare-time occupation for me. During our three visits to the city,
although our stay lasted a week each time, I only went "up town" twice,
and then strictly on business. My beloved sport claimed all my
attention. For some reason, perhaps to avoid accidents, the authorities
did not permit fishing from the wharf in working hours. So at daylight,
enthusiastic fishermen like myself would gather along its lee edge,
where the furious current boiled and bubbled around the piles, and
eagerly try to "jag" a few of the tiny mackerel that clustered in shoals
wherever there was an eddy. As soon as one was caught he would be
impaled on a large hook, fastened to the end of a long, stout line, and
cast out into the current without any other gear attached. As the line
"slithered" through one's fingers an eager watch was kept where the bait
might be expected to be. Presently, like a bar of silver, a huge fish
would leap into the air, and it was pull for your life. There was no
finesse, no sport, in the angler's sense of the term, but I doubt if any
angler ever enjoyed his fishing more than I did. This particular kind of
fishing, however, always had to cease at six o'clock, that is, when work
began. At other times I fished on the bottom from the ship, and was
often at a serious loss to know what to do with the enormous numbers I
caught. But even then I did not realize how vast were the shoals of fish
in the harbour, until one day I took an oar in a boat conveying a
pleasure party from our vessel down the bay. When near the reef which
fringed Rangitoto Mountain, the numbers of kauwhai (a fish much like an
overgrown mullet, and averaging four or five pounds in weight) were so
great, that each dip of the oar slew them until the water around us was
reddened with their blood. They were a fish of most delicate flavour,
and would have commanded a high price in any civilized fish-market. But
the people of Auckland seemed quite indifferent to the piscatorial
advantages they enjoyed.
So in this pleasant, easy-going fashion the months passed away, until
one day we left Sydney for Melbourne in the teeth of a southerly gale.
It was hopeless to expect that we should make any progress; but I was
told, that because we had the mails on board, we were bound to "show
willing." We managed to get round the South Head, and there we stuck;
the engines doggedly pounding away, green seas coming over all,
passengers all sea-sick, and we not gaining an inch against the fierce
wind that roared up from its icy breeding-place in the Antarctic
regions. At last the "governor" carried away, and all attempts to repair
it were ineffectual. This, coupled with the fact that night was coming
on, determined our skipper to run back and anchor in Watson's Bay, just
behind the North Head, for shelter. The word was given, and she spun
round as if rejoicing to be freed from the enormous strain she had been
undergoing. As we drew rapidly near the mouth of the harbour the sight
was one of the grandest conceivable. From the summit of the North
Head--a gigantic cliff over four hundred feet high--fountains of spray
shot up forty or fifty feet into the air, the incalculable pressure of
those tremendous waves, rolling up against it from their thousand-league
journey, having forced the reluctant sea upwards through the interstices
of that massy cliff to such a stupendous height. We flew in through the
entrance and immediately all was still. As we rounded to in the quiet
little bay and dropped anchor, it was almost impossible to realize what
a tormented waste of boiling sea we had just left, since here we lay
perfectly motionless, without a ripple on the waters around. As it was
dusk I prepared the "riding-lamp," which is always suspended from the
fore-rigging of a vessel at anchor; but, for some stupid reason of my
own, I did not place it in its position. Then I forgot all about it. The
captain was the first to discover its absence, and, blowing his whistle
for the chief officer, he reproved him sternly for his inattention to
this important detail. Smarting at this, the mate called me and asked
why I had not put the light up. I made some idiotic excuse, telling him
that it was already lighted and awaited his orders. He was almost
speechless with rage; but controlled himself so far that he presently
said calmly, "Well, go and hang it up." I did so promptly, and soon
thought no more about it. There was just this shade of excuse for
me--that I had never been anchored in a fairway before, since I had been
a lamp-trimmer, except up the Clarence River, and there the gangway-lamp
sufficed.
We resumed our voyage on the morrow, and returned to Sydney without
incident worth remembering. On the first morning after our arrival the
mate called me, and, giving me the balance of my month's money,
discharged me. Not a word was said, but I felt sure of the reason, and
did not feel sufficiently courageous to try and appease him.
Nevertheless I was very sore, for I knew that, while I had had one of
the best ships on the coast, I had also done my work thoroughly well,
for over and over again the mate had commended me upon it. I slunk
ashore like a beaten dog, not caring what became of me, and, returning
to my old lodgings at the shoemaker's, set about spending my little
stock of cash in reckless fashion. It did not last long, of course, and
I was soon fain to look for a ship; but, strange to say, I hadn't the
heart to try for another berth as a lamp-trimmer. It suddenly occurred
to me that I would like to go "home" again. That is one of the most
incomprehensible things imaginable to me. Never, during the first
thirteen years of my life at sea, did I have any home in England, or one
friendly face to welcome me back there. Yet, however well I was treated
in foreign countries or in the Australasian colonies, I always felt a
longing to get back to my own country again; and the sight of my
home-land never failed to make a lump come in my throat and raise a
feeling of wordless love for her in my breast. Why a homeless waif
should thus love his native land, I do not profess to understand; but it
is a solid fact, and one that has to be reckoned with, since I do not
for a moment suppose that I am any different to the ordinary run of
people.
In consequence of this strange longing to see the white cliffs of
England once more, I neglected the intercolonial steamers altogether,
and spent much of my time hanging about Circular Quay watching the
proceedings on board the splendid clipper-ships that lay in that
beautiful cove discharging their outward cargoes of merchandise, or
filling their capacious holds with the wool, tin, copper, and meat of
the Colonies for transhipment to the mother country. But, owing to a
diffidence that has always afflicted me, I did not venture on board any
of them to ask whether my services were required, although I was now a
sturdy youngster, well able to do a day's work and looking like it. One
day, as I was prowling round one of the outlying wharves, I got into
conversation with a burly Londoner, who was second mate of an old barque
lying there, apparently waiting for freight, which was not forthcoming
for any such out-of-date craft as she was. This individual informed me
that his ship was in want of two ordinary seamen, and that if I would go
to a certain hotel (_Anglice_, public-house) in the vicinity, I should
find the skipper there, and that he would probably engage me at once if
I was willing. This was by no means the kind of ship that I had proposed
going home in; but I was heartily weary of being ashore doing nothing
(my money was all gone), so I turned my steps towards the skipper's
haunt at once. I found it without any difficulty--indeed, the place was
fairly well known to me by sight--and, entering, I inquired of a
red-faced man (who, in his shirt-sleeves, with unbuttoned vest, was
leaning over the bar from the inside, smoking a "churchwarden" pipe) if
he could tell me where I might be likely to find Captain Bunker. He
turned a liquorish eye upon me, and murmured, between the puffs of
smoke, "What might ye be wantin' of him?" "I'll tell him when I see
him," was my ready reply; at which he removed his pipe and laughed most
unmusically, much to my annoyance, as I did not feel like being made
game of. At last he said, "I'm Captain Bunker, m' lad; whadjer want of
me?" For a moment I stared at him incredulously; and then, the
conviction dawning on me that he was speaking the truth, I told him my
errand. Immediately he assumed a magisterial air, and began to
cross-examine me as to my qualifications, etc. My replies being
satisfactory, he then tried to cut me down in the wages. But I held out
for three pounds per month, and, strange to say, succeeded in getting
his consent to give it to me; but not before he assured me that, if I
couldn't fulfil what he was pleased to call the duties of an ordinary
seaman, he would stop my pay altogether. As, in addition to my
confidence in my own abilities, I knew that he was talking nonsense, I
made no complaint about this; and he drew me a glass of ale to clinch
the bargain. Then he told me I might go on board and consider myself one
of the crew, and that he would "sign me on" with the other new hands in
a day or two.