Steering for Harwich after we had left the fleet, we passed, at a
distance, the handsome town of Lowestoft, from which a considerable
fishing-fleet sails, and then Aldborough, an ancient seaport, with a
number of new houses near it. When off Orford, on the Suffolk coast,
papa told us that we were crossing the submarine telegraph line which
runs from thence to the Hague. We had also passed another, which
extends from Cromer to Emden.
Catching sight of the pretty little village of Felixstowe--the houses
facing the sea on the north side--and of the neat watering-place of
Dovercourt on the left, we stood in between Landguard Fort, on the north
shore, and the long breakwater which runs out from the south, when we
crossed the mouth of the Orwell at the point where the Stour falls into
it, and came to an anchor off Harwich, among a considerable number of
vessels, the guardship rising like a giant in their midst.
Though the town is small, the port has long been famous. We saw several
steamers start for different parts of the Continent. If I was asked
what was the chief article of sale in the town, I should say, Shrimps.
We made a short excursion up the Stour, the banks of which are richly
wooded; and we also pulled up to Ipswich, where the Orwell may be said
to commence, for the river above the town is confined in a narrow
canal-like channel. On our return, while at anchor in the harbour, an
oyster-dredging vessel brought-up close to us, and papa, who was always
on the look-out for information, invited the skipper to come on board.
He gave us a good deal of curious information about the oyster. They
are obtained by means of a dredge, which consists of a flat bag, the
under part made of strong iron rings looped together by stout wire. The
upper side is merely a strong netting, as it is not exposed to so much
wear as the part which is drawn along the ground. The mouth of this bag
is fastened to an iron frame, with an opening about four inches deep,
extending the whole breadth of the bag. The lower part of this frame is
flattened and turned forward at such an angle as to enable it to scrape
the surface of the ground. To the ends of the scraper two stout iron
rods are firmly welded; these, after curving upwards, form the narrow
sides of the mouth, and extend forward four or five feet, when they
unite at a handle, to which a stout warp is made fast. The free end of
the bag is secured to a stout stick, which forms a convenient hold when
the contents of the dredge are being turned out. The weight of the
dredge keeps it at the bottom, and but little skill is required in
working it. A good-sized boat can work two dredges at one time, one
from each quarter.
Oyster-beds are often valuable property, and they are rented by various
companies. Rules have been made for the preservation of oysters, and to
allow of new beds being formed. Oysters require nursing, and unless the
beds were carefully preserved and reconstructed, they would disappear.
The beds are level banks of no great depth, which are seldom or never
uncovered by the tide. The first important business, when preparing a
bed on which the oyster may spawn, or spat, as it is called, is to
sprinkle over it broken plates and pans and tiles, with empty shells and
such like substances, to which the embryo oyster immediately attaches
itself. This broken stuff is called "skultch." The oyster deposits its
spawn in July; and a month afterwards the young oysters can be seen
sticking fast to the skultch in confused clusters. Here they remain for
two or three years, until they become about the size of a shilling; they
are then taken up and spread evenly over the surface. After another
year they are once more dredged up and scattered on the beds, where they
are to remain until full-grown. Seven years are required to bring an
oyster to maturity; but many are dredged up and sold when only five
years old. The muddy shores of Essex are highly favourable to the
breeding of oysters; and those are considered very fine which are
dredged from the beds at the mouth of the river Colne.
"You see, sir," said the skipper; "oysters ain't fit to eat except in
certain months. They are only prime from October to March. In April
they begin to sicken, they are of a milky white colour, though fit
enough to look at; then they become of a dirty grey colour, and then
change to black by July, when they cast their spawn. After this it
takes them two months to get well again, and they ought to have another
month to fatten up, which brings us to October. It always makes me
angry-like when I see people eating oysters in August; but there are
poachers at all times ready to fish them up; and there would be many
more if they were not sharply looked after. It is a curious fact, that
while the beds on the coast of Kent make very good nurseries for
oysters, they do not grow as large and fat as they do on the Essex
coast. A little fresh water don't hurt them; but snow water kills them,
as it does other fish, outright. To most people, one oyster is just
like another; but there are many different sorts, and each sort has a
fancy for a particular place. The oyster gives us work for most months
in the year; for when not fishing to sell, we are either dredging up the
young oysters or laying them down again."
It is calculated that one spawn oyster produces eight hundred thousand
young; and if we suppose that of every five hundred oysters, only one
hundred breed during the season, and if the spat of only one of this
latter number is shed, notwithstanding the great loss, the yield will be
ten thousand young oysters.
The oyster has many enemies besides man. There are creatures in the sea
which are very fond of them; among these are the sea urchin, the "five
finger," and the "whelk-tingle." This creature sticks to the shell,
through which it pierces a small hole, and sucks out the delicate
morsel. One thing, however, is very certain--that the supply of oysters
has very greatly fallen off of late years; but whether the fishermen are
answerable for this, it is difficult to say.
Besides the numerous oyster-beds in shallow waters, there are deep-sea
beds both off the English and Irish coasts. Upwards of three hundred
vessels, each of about twenty-five tons, and carrying six men, hail from
Colchester, Rochester, and Jersey, engaged specially on these deep-sea
beds. One is ten or twelve miles off Great Grimsby, and others exist in
the English Channel. Most of the owners of the beds of the shallow
estuaries have a large capital invested. One company alone spends three
hundred pounds a month in wages, besides rent and other expenses, and
six hundred a year in watching against poachers. It sends fourteen
hundred bushels to a single dealer in London, seven thousand to Kent,
and ten thousand to Ostend and Dunkirk.
This gave us some notion of the vast trade carried on in oysters alone.
We were told that they sell retail for the sum of twopence each. I
wonder people can venture to eat them.
We had a look at Dovercourt, filled with visitors, and with a brand-new
aspect, contrasting with venerable Harwich. We also managed to pull up
a narrow creek to Felixstowe, which I should describe as consisting of a
long row of Swiss-like cottages, with a few more substantial-looking
residences perched on the cliffs above.
Our stay at Harwich was short, though we had no longer any fear of not
getting round to the Isle of Wight before the equinoctial gales
commenced. We sailed early in the morning, papa being anxious to get
across the mouth of the Thames, either as far as Ramsgate or Deal, to
avoid the risk of being run down by vessels standing up or down the
river during the night.
"But would they dare to do it?" asked Dick, when papa made the remark.
"They would not intend to do so; but should the wind fall light, we
might not be able to get out of their way. I shall not forget the
remark made by a skipper on board a large steamer, when I was on my way
to pay a visit to some friends in Edinburgh. We ran stem on into a
schooner, which sank immediately; and although I hurried forward I was
only in time to see her masts disappear. `Serves them right!' exclaimed
the skipper, who was like myself a passenger. `Serves them right; they
should have kept a brighter lookout!' The poor fellows managed to
scramble on board and to save their lives."
A short distance further we came off Walton-on-the-Naze, the "Naze"
being a nose or promontory, with the sea on one side and a shallow
backwater on the other. We had to keep a bright lookout while standing
across the mouth of the Thames, having nearly a dozen steamers in sight
gliding swiftly along, and sailing vessels of all sizes, from the
magnificent Indiaman, or Australian merchant-ship, of a thousand or more
tons, down to the little coaster, measuring no more than forty or fifty;
while yachts with sails white as snow were darting hither and thither.
Besides these, there were not a few barges with yellow or tanned sails,
coming out of the numerous estuaries to the north of the river, some
even bound round the North Foreland, their deep weather-boards enabling
them to beat to windward in a way which, considering their build, at
first looks surprising. We agreed that we should not like to go to sea
on board one of them, laden almost to the gunwale, so that the water
must wash over their decks; but the fact is, they are completely
battened down, and are like casks; so that the only place the sea can
get into is the little cabin aft, or the forepeak, in which the crew,
consisting of a couple of men and a boy, are compelled to live. The
wind holding fair, we passed the North Foreland, standing out boldly
into the sea; then sighted Broadstairs and Ramsgate. We ran inside of
the ill-famed Goodwin Sands, and came to an anchor in the Downs off the
low sandy beach of Deal.
The town extends a considerable way along the shore, and a fine pier
runs off from it. At the south end is a castle in a good state of
repair, although it would be more picturesque if it were a ruin. About
a mile further to the south we saw Walmer Castle, where the Lord Warden
of the Cinque Ports resides. It was here that the Duke of Wellington
spent the latter days of his life. We went on shore, and had a good
deal of talk with some of those magnificent fellows, the Deal boatmen,
who are probably the most daring seamen and skilful pilots of any along
the coast of England.
Deal has a thoroughly salt-water smack about it. "Boys and even girls
seemed to be born seamen," as Dick observed; taking their part, if not
in navigating the boats, in launching or hauling them up on the beach,
and attending to them; while the older part of the community are resting
from their labours. We were amused at a scene we witnessed on the
beach. Two old men, aided by a big girl and a boy, were engaged in
hauling up a lugger by means of a windlass, which they worked round and
round with wonderful energy, putting to shame a young fellow who sat on
a coil of rope idly smoking his pipe.
We were satisfied with a few hours spent at Deal. When once more under
weigh, we passed the South Foreland, towering up high above our heads;
then rounding the cliffs on which Dover Castle stands, three hundred and
twenty feet above the sea, we stood into the harbour.
To the south of us, sheer out of the water, rose the Shakespeare Cliff,
where samphire was wont to grow; while between it and the castle
appeared the old town on either side of a steep valley, the heights, as
far as we could see them, covered with modern houses, churches, and
other public buildings.
On landing we went over the castle, which resembles, in some respects,
that of Gibraltar, as the fortifications are of an irregular form, to
suit the nature of the ground. Excavated far below in the chalk rock
are numerous galleries, from which heavy guns would thunder forth an
unmistakeable warning to any foes attempting to enter the harbour, or to
flaunt their flags within range. Until a few years ago both the inner
and outer harbours were dry at low water but now a fine new harbour has
been formed.
Dover, papa reminded us, is one of the original Cinque Ports, so called
from their number--five. They consisted, in the time of William the
Conqueror, of Dover, Sandwich, Hythe, Romney, and Hastings. To these
were afterwards added Winchelsea and Rye. These ports had peculiar
privileges given to them, on condition that they should furnish the
shipping required for the purposes of state. When ships were wanted,
the king issued to each of the ports a summons to provide its quota. In
Edward the First's time, the number they were bound to supply was
fifty-seven fully equipped ships. The period of gratuitous service was
fifteen days, after which they received payment. The chief officer of
the Cinque Ports was called the Lord Warden. It was considered a high
dignity, and was long held by the Duke of Wellington.
Many of their privileges have now been abrogated, as the ports have long
been relieved of their responsibilities. It would certainly astonish
the inhabitants of Winchelsea or Dover if the Queen should inform them
that they must send half a dozen ironclads to complete the fleet off
Spithead!
Sailing as close as we could under Shakespeare's Cliff, we passed
Folkestone, standing partly in a hollow between two cliffs, and partly
up the side of that on the west. Then we rounded the headland of
Dungeness; and sailing by Rye and Winchelsea, we passed Hastings,
renowned in history, a portion, looking old and venerable, joined to the
spic-and-span new town of Saint Leonard's.
Running past Eastbourne, we arrived off the bold, wild-looking point of
Beachy Head. The weather becoming threatening, the wind, which had
hitherto been off shore, began to shift, and drew more and more to the
westward, the sky having anything but a pleasant appearance. Dark
clouds gathered in dense masses on the horizon, and there was every
indication of a heavy gale. Although so near the end of our voyage,
there appeared a probability of its being continued for several days
longer.
Papa having hailed Uncle Tom, it was agreed that we should stand
close-hauled on the starboard tack away from the land, and endeavour to
fetch Spithead.
We sighted two small places, Seaford and Newhaven, and could make out
Brighton, covering a wide extent of ground along the seashore, and
reaching the slopes of the hills and downs beyond.
"By standing on we shall have Shoreham under our lee; and we can but run
in there, if we find it impossible to beat to the westward against the
gale," observed papa. "It is not exactly the port in which one would
choose to be weather-bound, but we may be thankful if we get there."
The bright revolving light at Beachy Head shone forth astern. We were
gradually sinking it lower and lower; at length we lost sight of it
altogether. It might be our last night at sea, and I begged papa to let
us remain on deck.
He laughed. "You may, as long as you like to keep awake; but you must
take care not to topple overboard."
Dick and I for some time walked the deck, believing that we were keeping
watch, and, of course, looking out on every side.
"The wind's drawing more round to the south'ard," I heard Truck remark.
"If we go about, we shall soon catch sight of the Owers, and one more
tack will take us into Saint Helen's."
I was very anxious to see the light, because we had seen it before
starting to the westward, and it would show us really and truly that we
had gone right round England. I continued pacing up and down, in spite
of the pitching of our little craft, for I knew if I were to stop for a
moment, I should fall asleep. Of course we kept a sharp lookout, not
only for the light, but for any vessels which might be running up
Channel or beating down it. At last I heard Truck say:
"There's the light, sir;" and I made out, a little on our starboard bow,
the Owers Light.
"Hurrah!" I exclaimed; "we have been right round England!"
"I can't make it out," said Dick, in a drowsy voice. "We've been
sailing over the plain sea all the time, except when we mounted the
locks at the Caledonian Canal. I suppose it is all right though."
Dick could say no more. I had to take him by the shoulders and help him
down the companion ladder. So sleepy was he, that he could scarcely
pull off his clothes, and would have turned in fully dressed if I had
not helped him.
Next morning, when we awoke and turned out on deck, we were in sight of
many a well-known scene. Ryde astern, Cowes on our port quarter; while
with a fresh breeze, running past Calshot Castle, we stood up the
Southampton Water, and our voyage was over.
After breakfast, Uncle Tom, Jack, and Oliver, came on board; and
together we thanked God for having preserved us from the dangers, seen
and unseen, to which we had been exposed. We had indeed had a pleasant
time of it, and very naturally did not think of any of the anxious
moments we had occasionally gone through.
Uncle Tom and Jack had to return home at once; and they took Dick with
them, to send him to his aunt and uncle.
"The next few days won't be so pleasant," he said, making a long face.
"However, we shall meet at the end of them; and won't we spin long yarns
to the fellows at school!"
Papa, leaving us on board, went at once to his agents, to whom he had
written, requesting them to make inquiries about Nat's friends. After
some time he returned, saying that no information had been received, and
that he would take Nat home with us.
Of this we were very glad. It made some amends to us for having to go
on shore and quit the pleasant life we had so long been leading on
board. We shook hands with Truck and all the crew, and in a short time
were seated in the railway-carriage rattling up to London. We have ever
since been expecting to hear of some of our little guest's relatives
coming to look for him; but, as yet, no one has appeared; and as papa
would never think of turning him adrift, we believe that he will become
one of us; and, after he has been some years at school, perhaps go into
the navy, for which, strange to say, he has a wonderful fancy.