(November, 1858.)
At the time that the ship "Northfleet" was rescuing the crew of the brig
"Hebe," the ship "Bombay," belonging to the same owner,--Mr. Duncan
Dunbar,--was on the side of the same storm, at about one hundred miles
distance, and had the wind from just the opposite direction, but with
much greater force, and came near being lost.
The "Bombay" had embarked some troops in Portsmouth for the Indian
Mutiny, and was ordered to proceed to Queenstown in Ireland to take on
board some two hundred more soldiers.
When the vessel got near the entrance of the harbour it was nightfall,
and, the wind being unfavourable, when the pilot got on board, he
recommended the captain to make everything easy for the night and enter
the harbour next morning, when he expected the wind to be fair. But
during the night the wind increased and became a violent northeast gale,
and the vessel was blown out of the Irish Channel into the Atlantic
Ocean. For some days the wind blew with hurricane force. The ship lost
some sails, and was at last carrying only a close-reefed main topsail
and fore staysail. The sea was mountainous and lashing the ship from all
directions. Then late in the day, to the dismay of all on board, the lee
main topsail-sheet gave way, and the sail was flapping like thunder and
lashing the mast and rigging most furiously. The ship, now having
nothing to steady her, was helplessly rolling in the trough of the sea,
at the mercy of the waves, which threatened to engulf her, as they were
breaking on board from every direction. The deck-houses were washed away
and the decks were filled with water, which began to find an entrance to
the 'tween-decks, where the poor soldiers were battened down. In this
plight it was necessary to get the remnant of the topsail secure, and if
possible get a new sail in its place, so as to steady the ship. The
second officer was ordered to get the sailors and do this, but he soon
reported that the sailors, many of whom were foreigners, would not go
aloft. The chief officer then went forward and called for men, and asked
if there were any British sailors among them. If there were, for God's
sake, to go aloft with him. He led, the way, followed by seventeen
British sailors. They had nearly completed the work of securing the sail
when the ship gave a tremendous roll on the top of a very heavy wave and
the mast went by the board, carrying with it the chief mate and his
seventeen followers, and not a soul could be saved. Oh, to think of the
horrors of that dark and fearful night!
Now came the trial for Captain John Flamanek and the remaining portion
of his crew. The broken mast and yards, still held by the broken
rigging, was lashing against the ship, threatening to break in her side
and send all to the bottom. It was necessary to cut away this wreckage
as soon as possible so as to free the ship, but before this could be
accomplished daylight had set in. Then the captain asked the officer
commanding the soldiers to let some of his men give assistance. This he
refused to do, and made complaint that his men's food was not being
prepared for them as it should be. The men cried shame of their
commander, and volunteered to do whatever they could to assist the
captain.[*] The weather moderated, and some sails were set on the
vessel, which finally unassisted reached Falmouth. Two steam men-of-war
had been sent in search of her, but missed her.
[*] For his dastardly conduct the military commanding officer was later
dismissed from the army, and was never allowed to enter Her Majesty's
service again.
Is There a Fatality Attaching to Men or Inanimate Things?
In another part of this book I have mentioned the ship "Northfleet." In
regard to that vessel the above question might almost be answered in the
affirmative. The vessel was launched at the place from which she took
her name in 1852. She made her first voyage to New Zealand, thence to
China, and from there to San Francisco, and back to China and London.
Then she went trooping for the Crimean War; then for some years ran
between London and China carrying tea, for which she was originally
built.
This ship never made a voyage without some one being drowned from her,
and finally she was run into and sunk by a steamer, which was afterwards
proved to be the Spanish vessel "Murillo." By this collision upwards of
three hundred people were drowned. The "Northfleet" was carrying railway
workmen to New Zealand, and when coming down the English Channel the
weather was stormy and the pilot recommended the captain to anchor under
a point called Dungeness. This was done, and the night came on very
dark. At some time after midnight a steamer came in under the Point,
apparently for the purpose of anchoring, as was afterwards reported by
the crew of the tugboat which was at anchor. They saw the steamer moving
about for some time. Then a crash was heard, followed by most
heartrending cries. The steamer went out to sea, and did not heed the
signal rockets which were sent up by the "Northfleet." The little
tugboat had only four men and a small boat, which was at once launched,
and the mate and the engineer, with one sailor, went to the rescue. When
they arrived all that could be found was the captain's wife and an
ordinary seaman. All the others had perished, through the dastardly act
of the Spaniard in running away.
Captain Knowles of the "Northfleet" was newly married to a very
beautiful lady, who was later on by command presented to Queen Victoria,
who, after hearing her story, condoled with her, and later gave her a
pension of fifty pounds a year as long as she remained a widow.
Some three years after this the widow was again married, to Captain
Cawes, of the ship "Coriolanus." This ship came to Hankow to load tea
and I had the pleasure to meet Mrs. Cawes, who had been saved from my
old ship in which I had served for years.
The steamer that run down the "Northfleet" was twice arrested, but
nothing definite could be proved until some two years later, when one of
her officers was near dying, and he confessed that it was the steamer
"Murillo," which was later proved to be true, and the vessel was
confiscated.
Chinese Politeness.
Whilst running to Hankow with the steamer "Neimen" I had as sailors
Malays. The firemen were seedy boys, or Nubians. The steward was a Goa
Portuguese. The servants were Chinese, and the cook a Chinese who
claimed to be an American, he having been trained by Captain John
Parrott, of San Francisco, "a number one American man," who had taught
him to swear quite neatly.
Well, on Christmas Day, 1862, we had a very hard gale and snowstorm, and
early in the evening we had to anchor. Then we sat down to dinner, which
we hoped to enjoy. There were several passengers on board, and when the
soup was served and tasted each looked at the other, and I looked at the
steward and asked him what kind of soup it was. He said it was plain
soup. I asked why some meat had not been used in its making, and he
replied that the cook must have eaten the meat, as he was given plenty.
The cook was sent for, and when he was confronted with the steward he
began to use the refined language taught him by Captain Parrott. I
ordered the steward to put all the soup back into the tureen. Then I
invited the cook to take a seat at the table and consume the soup, which
he did. When he had taken it he rose and, bowing most politely, tucked
the tureen under his arm like an admiral with his cocked hat, and said,
"Excusey, my sir; all hab finishee," and backed out of the saloon most
politely.
A Brazilian Slaver.
In the year 1851 I was on a voyage to Melbourne, Australia, on the
sailing ship "Severn." This was shortly after the opening of the gold
mines. We left Southampton with about one hundred passengers, and had a
very fine run with fair weather. There was no incident to mar the
enjoyment of the trip until we neared the coast of Brazil, when one
morning we saw a smart-looking brig hove to, waiting for us to come up,
and when we came near our passengers became very much excited, as we
could see there was an unusual number of men on her deck; the idea was
that it was a pirate vessel.
When we came very near to her, a boat was put off from her, and an
officer brought a letter from her captain asking for provisions and
water, saying that the vessel was bound for the port of Santos, and had
been blown off the coast in a pampero. Neither the officer nor the
boat's crew could or would speak English. They could only ask in Spanish
for "tabac." Some of our sailors protested that they were either British
or--Americans. Well, they were supplied with salt beef and pork, canned
meats, water, etc. Several trips were made by the boat, and when all was
finished, and the boat was at some distance from us, these marauders
stood up and gave us three rousing cheers in good plain English, and
called out "Good-bye boys, and good luck to you for feeding the
blackbirds." The brig was full of slaves.
This "slave" business was then near its end in Brazil, and, probably
this vessel had been chased off the coast by a British war-vessel, as
every possible effort was being made by the British Government to
suppress the slave trade.
Mary Ann Gander.
On this voyage we had a Mr. and Mrs. Gander and their eight children.
Poor Mrs. Gander used to suffer terribly from seasickness, and was
totally unfitted to do anything but scold, whilst poor unfortunate
Gander used to promenade the deck with a child on each arm and a couple
of others tagging on to his coat-tails. He was a wonderfully
good-natured fellow, was Gander; otherwise I do believe he would have
jumped overboard, for whenever he came near to where Mrs. Gander was,
she used to call to him to go to the captain and tell him to put her on
shore immediately; she would not go any further in that ship,--no, that
she wouldn't. "Now, Mary Ann, what's the use your talking that way; you
know that we are a thousand miles from any land and the captain cannot
put you on shore." "Now, Gander, don't you talk to me. How dare you? You
just go to the captain at once. Oh! you catch me going to sea again. No,
that you won't. When I go home I'll go overland, if I have to walk every
step of the way." Poor Gander! Mary Ann and the children all survived
the trials of the voyage and arrived safe in Melbourne, where Gander was
very fortunate, and in three years made sufficient money to enable him
to retire, and as the English Mail Steamer Company, or the P. & O.
Company had put on a line from Ceylon to Australia in 1852, the Gander
family were enabled to go home by the overland route, as Mrs. Gander had
wished to go.
Hard Times.
In June, 1854, I left Melbourne on the barque "Junior," bound to Callao,
in Peru. We had a fine voyage, and on arrival, being free, I went to
Lima, the capital. I found this was a very interesting old city, with
beautiful surrounding country, which I enjoyed very much, and spent
nearly a month there. Then I had a week in Callao, which was a pretty
wild place. I used to sail around the bay, and in sailing near the shore
I could look down, at the bottom of the sea, on the houses of old
Callao, which was swallowed by an earthquake in the latter part of the
last century. And, strange to say, when the town disappeared an island
came up out in the bay. This island is very high and is called "San
Lorenzo," after a lone fisherman who had been out in his boat fishing on
the night when the earthquake took place, and in the morning poor old
Lorenzo found himself in a boat about a thousand feet up on a mountain
and no town in sight.
Well, I joined the barque "Tropic," loaded with guano, bound for Cork,
in Ireland. This vessel was a very rotten old thing, and in getting
round Cape Horn we all had a very hard time, and did not know how soon
the vessel would sink with us; but we got round the Cape and into the
South Atlantic, where we had better weather and proceeded pretty well
till in the North Atlantic, when provisions began to get short. When we
were off the Azores, watching the beautiful shores and harbours of St.
Michael, we came near a Dutch brig from Brazil loaded with coffee. The
captain hailed us and asked us for some biscuits. A boat was sent to us
bringing us a half-bag of coffee. We had less than a hundred pounds of
biscuits. Our captain consulted with us about giving any of it away. It
was finally agreed that we would divide with the brig. This was done,
and we had to be very careful with so little bread among twelve people.
We had plenty of salt beef and pork, and a half-barrel of flour, but no
beans or peas or sugar.
We had a fair run till we saw Cape Clear, at the south end of Ireland,
on the 30th of January, 1855. We all were in high hopes that a few hours
more would see us at anchor in Queenstown; but that night came on an
easterly gale, and we were driven out into the Atlantic, where for weeks
we were buffeted about, and to our dismay our last fresh-water cask we
found had leaked and was empty. We were surrounded with many other
vessels in the same plight--short of provisions. We had plenty of snow,
with which we could make coffee, but were reduced to salt meat only,
which is pretty hard fare. The hardest part was, that the captain had
his wife and two children on board, and for the youngest child a goat
had been provided to supply milk. This became a scarce article as there
was no food for the goat. So every day the carpenter used to plane up a
piece of wood to make shavings for the goat to eat. It got along as well
or better than any of us.
Finally, on the 10th of March, in the morning early, we had reached near
to the Old Head of Kinsale, and near to Cork, when we saw a boat pulling
off to us. This proved to be a pilot-boat. The pilot got on board, and
told us that ours was the first vessel that could be boarded in six
weeks, the weather having been so bad, and that only a few days before
the mail-carrier between Clonakilty and Cork had been frozen to death on
his journey. The pilot brought us a few potatoes, which gave us one each
and two for the captain's wife, and the next morning we got safely into
Queenstown, where we were able to get a good supply of milk, bread,
butter, and eggs, of which we all made pretty free use, and with a few
days' rest we forgot all our late cares, as sailors usually do.
After being in port a few days we all left the "Tropic," and I spent a
couple of weeks in seeing Cork and the beautiful country where the
people are so genial and hospitable. After seeing all I wanted to see, I
took steamer from Cork for Bristol, spent one day there, and then left
by train for London. The train left in the evening, and here a rather
amusing incident occurred. I had taken a second-class ticket, and after
taking my seat, it being cold weather, I prepared to make myself
comfortable for the night. In my valise I had a rough sealskin or
Esquimau jacket with a hood to it. I put this on and was nice and warm,
sitting in the corner of the carriage. Shortly afterwards a man in
livery came in and sat in the corner opposite to me. Then came an old
lady and her husband, an Irish army officer returning to India. The old
lady was helped in by the gentleman, but as soon as she saw me she cried
out, "O Lord!" and fell back. Then the old gentleman boosted her in
again, saying, "Go in, you old stupid!" and after the second attempt she
gave it up, saying she wouldn't travel in a menagerie. She had taken me
for a bear, and the man in livery for my keeper. The old gentleman got
in, and she remained on the platform until I assured her that there was
no danger. Then she came in very reluctantly and sat as far away as
possible until we reached Bath, where the man in livery alighted. After
that the old lady, her husband, and I became good friends for the
remainder of the journey.
Memory For Voices.
After the bear incident I spent some time in London, then joined the
emigrant ship "Oriental," bound to Adelaide, South Australia. I was
third officer. We took on board about one hundred families of
excellently selected farm labourers, shepherds, and ploughmen, and after
having made a good voyage arrived safely in Adelaide. The Immigration
Commissioners came on board and inspected the passengers. The result was
most satisfactory. There was no complaint of ill-treatment or deficiency
in supplies, and in less than thirty-six hours every family was engaged
and sent into the country. And the Commissioners awarded to our doctor
fifty pounds sterling, the chief officer fifty pounds for his
supervision, and myself fifty pounds for the supervision of the
commissariat department.
After a short stay in Adelaide, we sailed for Madras, in India, and
after a good voyage we arrived and anchored in the evening when it was
quite dark. There was quite a number of native business men came off in
catamarans and "mussulah," or surf-boats. Among the number was one
noble-looking man, who stepped up near to our captain and, addressing
him, said, "How do you do, Captain Mackintosh?"
"How do you know my name is Mackintosh?"
"By your voice, sahib. When you were here in the 'Lady Mary Harrison,'
eighteen years ago, I was your dubash."
This was quite correct. This man recognized the captain's voice after
all these years.
In 1879 I had a similar experience in my own case. I was travelling in
Scotland, and in Edinburgh I met some friends and inquired for an old
lady whom I had known as a child. I found that she was living at a place
called Aberladye, on the seacoast. I decided to go to see her, and was
directed to take the train to Dreme Station, and there I should find a
conveyance to take me to Aberladye. When I arrived the conveyance was
filled with local travellers and I started to walk three and a half
miles to my friend. After I had gone about half a mile I passed by a
magnificent entrance to a fine estate. Soon after this I heard a
carriage coming, and when it caught up to me the gentleman who was
driving in the dog-cart pulled up and asked if I was going to Aberladye
and invited me to take a lift. I thanked him and mounted beside him. He
asked where I wanted to go. I told him to Rose Cottage, when we entered
into general conversation. He learned that I was from China, so we had
quite a pleasant time, and, arriving opposite to Rose Cottage, he pulled
up and graciously pointed to the house, bade me good-bye, and hoped we
might meet again.
I went up to the door and rang the bell, and the old lady herself
answered it all in a flutter, as she had seen me set down from the trap,
which was driven by Lord Rosebery himself. Well, I asked if Mrs.
McKippen lived there. She replied, "Yes; I am she." I said, "Perhaps
you don't remember me?" She said, "No; but I know your voice." I told
her that I was Arthur Knights. "Aye, laddie," she cried, "I heard that
you was drowned at sea twenty-five years ago." Well, I need hardly say
that I was welcome to her and her husband, who was a retired business
man. Poor old gentleman, he cried as a child when she told him of my
taking the trouble to come and see her, and how when I was a small boy
at a juvenile party I was sore distressed by my dancing slippers being
too big and that they kept slipping off. Then she came to the rescue and
took me to one side and stitched them to the heel of my stocking to
enable me to have a good time.
I spent a couple of days with my friends and then went on my way, and I
have often wondered whether that lady could possibly have connected my
manhood voice with that of my childhood.
An Incident of the Great Taiping Rebellion.
In the latter part of 1862 I left Shanghai on my usual voyage to Hankow.
This port is six hundred miles up the Yangtse River. After we had got
about sixty miles up the river, which is here about ten miles wide, our
attention was drawn to a number of human bodies floating down the river,
most of them mutilated. This lasted about thirty hours. As we steamed
along near the shore, the farmers, with their families, were for miles
gathered here and there, gesticulating, prostrating themselves, and
praying for us to take them on board. The poor creatures were between
the Imperialist soldiers and the rebels, or Taipings. Both of these
parties were ravaging, devastating, and destroying all before them, and
the poor peasants had a very hard time. We could not help these poor
creatures, and had to pass on our way.
On the third day we passed a city called Taiping Foo, "foo" meaning
"city" in Chinese. We afterwards learned that for some months the
inhabitants of the city had withstood a siege from both belligerents,
and one day the Imperialist general conferred with the Taotai, or mayor,
and said that it was well known that the inhabitants had been very good
and had not favored the rebels, and now if they would open their gates
to the Imperial soldiers, he would promise them kind treatment; and the
people were weak enough to believe him and opened the city gates, and in
a few hours nearly the whole population was butchered and thrown into
the river, and those were they whom we had seen floating in clusters a
few days before.
Conclusion.
In the course of my journey through life I have been in many strange
places, and have met many strange people. I have seen many strange
sights--some grave, some gay. For many years I was on
passenger-carrying ships, and have carried many travellers, amongst whom
some strong and enduring attachments have been made.
Although I have been in some bad places, and met some "hard characters,"
yet was I never molested in any country in which I have been. I have
seen some misfortunes, but was never depressed by them. I could always
see around me others who stood in need of help. I have spent a long life
in foreign lands, and happily I can now look back upon the past and say
that I have found much good in all the lands which Almighty God has
permitted me to visit.
My motto has always been, Never despair; persevere, and never give up
hope.
And now with the most happy memories of the past I can look back without
a moment's regret and ask God to bless all those who have been good to
me. And who has not been good?