THE "QUEEN OF THE AVON"
A REMINISCENCE OF 1858
The old-fashioned sailing-ship was handicapped by her inability to
contend successfully with strong head winds. After the continuance of
a succession of north-west gales the river Mersey and our docks became
crowded and congested with outward bound ships waiting for a shift of
wind to enable them to get away, and when this took place the river
was a wonderful sight. I remember, as a boy, standing on the shore at
Seaforth and counting over three hundred sailing vessels of all sorts
and sizes working their way out to sea on the ebb tide between the
Rock Light and the Formby Light ship, and interspersed among them were
also a number of sailing-ships towing out to sea. This crowd of
shipping was not only very picturesque, with their divers rigs and
tanned sails, but was interesting, as it contained many types of
vessel now extinct. The "brig," square-rigged on both masts, was a
good-looking, weatherly craft; the "billie boy," carrying a square
sail forward and a jigger aft; the sloop, which did most of our
coasting work, had a big square-cut mainsail and jib; and the old
Dutch galliot, with her bluff bows and paint of many colours; all
these have now practically disappeared.
The most trying winds, however, were the easterly gales, which
prevailed in November and December, and also in the spring. With
easterly gales blowing I have known Liverpool to be a closed port for
weeks together, few or no vessels entering it; and more than once this
blockade of our port by easterly gales had a serious effect upon our
stocks of cotton and produce. The inward-bound fleet was caught in the
chops of the Channel, and was there detained until the wind changed.
It is of such an experience I wish to write.
I had gone out to Australia in the celebrated clipper "Red Jacket." At
Sydney I took my passage home in a small barque of 400 tons, called
"Queen of the Avon." I was the only passenger, and selected this
little ship purposely that I might learn something of the practical
working of a ship at sea. I told the Captain of my wish, and found him
quite sympathetic, and he offered to teach me navigation; but when I
showed him the log I had kept on the "Red Jacket," and the many
observations I had taken and worked out, he said he felt he could not
teach me much. He, however, agreed to my taking my trick at the wheel,
and going aloft when reefing or making sail.
When the ship was ready for sea the police brought off our crew, for,
in consequence of the lure of the goldfields, it was only possible for
a ship to keep her crew by interning them with the police while she
was in port--in other words, placing them in gaol. The police and the
crew soon set our topsails and foresail, and with a fair wind we
quickly passed down Sydney's beautiful harbour. When we reached the
entrance the police, getting into their boat, left us, and we started
upon our long voyage to Valparaiso. From Valparaiso we proceeded to
Guayaquil, where we loaded a cargo of cocoa for Falmouth for orders.
Our voyage was uneventful. I obtained the knowledge of seamanship I
desired, for we were fortunate in having in our small crew an old
man-of-war's man named Amos. Amos was a splendid man, a stalwart in
physique, and most estimable in character. He quickly took the lead in
the forecastle, and exercised great moral influence. No "swear word"
was heard when old Amos was present. When reefing he had the post of
honour at the weather earing, and when he got astride the yardarm the
weather earing was bound to come home. He taught me my knots, bends,
and splices, and looked after me when aloft.
At the end of ninety days we sighted the Wolf Rock off the Land's End.
In the afternoon we were off the Lizard, and stood off shore to clear
the Manacle Rocks. The crew were busy hauling up the cables from the
chain locker, for we expected to be in Falmouth before sunset, and all
hands were bright and gay at the early prospect of being on shore once
more. The wind, however, became more easterly, and when we again
tacked we failed to clear the Manacles. Standing out again we were
blown off the land, and thirty days elapsed before we again made the
Manacles, during which time we battled day after day with a succession
of easterly gales. We were blown off as far west as the meridian of
the Fastnet; then we got a slant, and crawled up as far as the
Scillies, only to be blown off again.
It was monotonous and weary work; standing inshore during the day and
off-shore at night, mostly under double-reefed or close-reefed
topsails, or hove to with a heavy sea running. Indeed, we met many
ships which apparently had given up the contest, and remained hove-to
waiting for a change of wind. We had some bright sunny days, but
mostly drab grey Atlantic days, and an easterly wind always. At the
end of ten days H.M.S. "Valorus," a paddle sloop, came within hailing
distance, and offered to supply us with fresh provisions. This offer
our skipper declined, much to the disappointment of his crew, for our
hencoops had been empty for weeks, and our one sheep and two pigs had
been consumed long ago, and we were living upon hard biscuit and salt
tack, boiled salt beef and plum duff one day and roast pork and pea
soup the next. There was no variation; our food had become distinctly
monotonous.
The crowd of ships thus weather-bound increased day by day--ships from
Calcutta and Bombay, deeply-laden rice ships from Rangoon, and large
heavily-laden American ships with guano from the Chinchas. Some we met
almost daily; others came upon the scene now and again, and we
welcomed them as old friends. The only vessels that got through to
their port of destination in spite of the easterly gales were the
fruit schooners conveying cargoes of oranges from the Azores. They
were smart brigantines--perfect witches of the sea--well handled, and
they never missed a chance. They seemed to have the power of sailing
right into the teeth of the wind. At the end of a further ten days
another relief ship hailed us, but our Captain again declined any
supplies, arguing with himself that the east winds could not last much
longer; but another ten days had to pass before a gentle westerly
swell told us that westerly winds were not far away, and before
twenty-four hours had elapsed we squared away before a westerly
breeze. We soon passed the Lizard, and the Manacles, and dropped our
anchor in Falmouth, making the passage in 120 days, of which we had
spent thirty in the chops of the Channel.