OAKLAND CREEK AND PORT COSTA
_Friday, 28th July._--We were turned out at 3.30, and started unmooring
ship in the dark; no light work, shorthanded as we are. The tug was
soon fast alongside, however, and away we went for Oakland Creek.
The early rising had a bad effect on the captain’s temper. He started
letting it off in loud tones to the pilot about what a ---- fool of a
mate he had got. This was on account of the yards not being cockbilled
quite high enough.
This was said so that the whole ship’s crew and tugboat could hear.
The mate happened to be forward superintending the cockbilling of the
fore-yard a bit higher.
“I’m d--d if I’d stand that,” shouts the second mate at the top of his
voice to the mate, in plain hearing of the old man; nor did he.
Aft came the mate, not stopping until he was within talking distance,
but shouting at the old man as he came along, and letting him have it
hot and thick. The old man roared back, and for a minute or so they
went at it in rare style, much to the delight of the rest of us.
“I won’t stand it, Captain Bailey; I’m d--d if I will, and so I tell
ye.”
“Didn’t I tell ye to cockbill the yards last night, d--n it? but I
can’t trust ye, I can’t trust ye: what good are ye, what use are ye?”
“I know my duty, Captain Bailey, and I do it;” and the mate had his
say. At last the mate went forward again to his cockbilling, and then
the old man thundered out to the second mate, who was under the break
of the poop,
“Mr Knowles, come up here!” and then another furious row began. These
two had been at loggerheads most of the voyage, both had tempers of the
hottest description; the second mate was afraid of no man, and what’s
more, did not care what he said, and he used to make the old man almost
foam at the mouth, by laughing when he was cursing him.
On the passage from Japan, the old man had shut him up in his cabin for
a week--this, by the way, is a not uncommon punishment for young second
mates.
Well, at it they went, and I heard every word, as, unknown to the
old man, I happened to be doing something on the other side of the
wheel-house.
“You are the worst b--dy second mate I ever had!” thundered the old man.
The second mate laughed.--He had a laugh when his temper was up which
would have made an angel grind his teeth.
“D--d mutinous dog.”
This burst the torrent of the second mate’s language, and the air was
sulphurous for a bit.
“I’ll put you in irons! I’ll put you in irons!” yelled the old man,
shaking his fist in the other’s face.
“Two of you could not do it; I defy you! d’you hear, I defy you!” and
the second mate glowered over the old man, with clenched fists and
quivering nostrils.
At last they talked themselves out, and the second mate left the poop.
Turning round, the old man found Rowland and myself coiling down a
line behind the chart-house. Rowland was just out of his time, and had
served the whole of it under Captain Bailey in the _Royalshire_, and so
knew him pretty well by this time.
“Ever cockbilled yards before?” growled the old man sarcastically to
Rowland.
“Yes, sir, in mid-Atlantic this voyage,” said Rowland, referring to the
cyclone the _Royalshire_ was caught in, in the Western Ocean on her
way to Philadelphia from Hamburg, in which both her fore and crossjack
port lifts carried away, and the yards were cockbilled as they had
never been before. They had a narrow squeak of it; all three topsails
and the foretopmast staysail were blown out of the bolt-ropes, and for
some seconds the ship was on her beam ends.
But to return, whilst the skipper raved on the poop, we were being
towed over to Oakland Creek, and the dawn was not yet.
Presently there was another row, for Mac was overheard by the old man
as he cursed him in the foulest language under the break of the poop.
Up Mac had to go on to the poop, and stand up against the old man’s
wrath.
He and Scar the third mate, who is now acting as night watchman, are
both very down on the old man, because he won’t let them go home _via_
New York.
Like Rowland, they are both just out of their time; the old man has
made them third and fourth mates, but they want him to pay their
passage home by New York, as they do not want to waste the time by
going home in the ship. Rowland hopes to go home by New York, as his
people are going to send the money out.
On arriving in Oakland Creek, we found a wretched three-masted schooner
in our berth, so we had to moor ship a hundred yards off the sheds.
How sick we did get of mooring ship and unmooring ship. Our whole
ship’s company at present is only nine for working purposes: the four
mates, Rowland, Chips, Johnsen, Don, myself, and the nipper, who is
only sixteen. Mooring a big ship like the _Royalshire_ is pretty heavy
work for eight men and a boy.
Talk about “sea serpents,” I know what they are now--“wire
mooring-lines.”
These devils incarnate will go any way but the way you want them to go:
as a rule they prefer lying in a tangled knotted heap on the deck. If
you try to coil them down neatly, they spring into action at once; one
bight trips you up, whilst another knocks you over the head and lays
you flat on the deck; a third giving you a gentle rap across the wrist,
which nearly breaks it.
Then if they have been in the water, they have probably found bottom
somehow, and come out covered with slimy mud, which they immediately
wipe off on you.
They jam in the hawse pipes, they serge, and in fact play the devil
in every way they can think of. The consequence is, that mooring
the _Royalshire_ is usually done by eight blaspheming, perspiring
ruffians, muddy and bruised, and soaking wet.
For some reason or other, we always had to moor or unmoor ship in the
early morning, or late at night in pitch darkness, which certainly did
not improve matters.
Well, by eight bells, 8 A.M., we had got the _Royalshire_ snugly
moored; but no sooner had we cleaned ourselves and gulped down our
slumgullion than we were turned to to warp the ship further up the
wharf, as another ship wanted to come in where we were lying.
This meant slacking away our stern lines, and taking our head lines to
the capstan.
Four hands were all we could spare on the capstan to move the 2000-ton
ship, with 600 tons of coal and the stiffening, about fifty yards
against the stream.
We did it somehow; how long we took I don’t know, but I shan’t forget
those hours at the windlass, fighting for every inch.
The second mate, Don, Johnsen, and myself were on the bars.
“Heave and she must, heave and she will!” sung the mate; but devil a
bit of it.
As soon as we had got her moored again, we were turned out to cleaning
out the stringers in the fore-hold.
Just across the creek lies an old-time South Sea whaler, and from the
look of her lines she must be at least fifty years old.
She had a regular old-fashioned stern, with great windows surrounded by
ornamentation gilt work. Her boats, to the number of four, were slung
out on wooden davits; her jibboom had a great hoist to it, and was very
lengthy compared to the iron spars which form the bowsprits of modern
sailing-ships. Her decks were flush fore and aft; there was the usual
brick-built “tryworks” amidships, and a small galley forward. She had
long topmasts and stump topgallant masts, and her topgallant yards were
on deck.
I was very much interested in her--a last survivor of an almost
vanished type of ship, whose business in the Great South Seas was at
one time a source of great wealth to “down-east” owners.
In the days of their prime, these South Sea whalers constantly came
into port after a three year’s voyage with a fortune in their hold.
The record whaling cruise, I believe, was that of the New Bedford South
Seaman _Onward_, which, after forty-one months at sea, stocked 275,000
dollars. But, like many other good old sea trades, the day has passed;
whales have been thinned out and killed off, and it no longer pays, and
a South Sea whaler is now a very great rarity.
_Saturday, 29th July._--Early this morning we were again turned out of
our berth, and had to move farther up.
Johnsen is getting quite talkative in the forecastle, and yarned away
last night for some time to Don and myself.
He has tried to educate himself a bit, and thinks he knows a good deal
about languages. He told us some very queer and bloodthirsty yarns
about his sprees in New York and other parts of the world.
They generally had some deep joke in them, which he would chuckle over
for hours, but Don and I always seemed to miss the point.
He has got a sea-chest which he bought in China, and which he is very
proud of. Somebody on the last passage broke the lock and stole the
lid, so now he is very much on the alert lest Don or I should try and
repeat the performance.
He has bought some wood, and spends most of his spare time trying to
make a new lid. It is bothering him a good deal, and we found him
cursing like fury two days ago, as, after all his trouble, he found
he had made his lid a bit too small, so now he is hard at work making
another one.
Don and I often go and sit in the half-deck of an evening now, and yarn
away with the nipper, Rowland, and Mac.
This half-deck, as it is called, is a kind of deck cabin under the
break of the poop.
It is the abode of the apprentices, and, though none too large, has
seven bunks in it.
It is pretty well blocked up now with the curios they all bought in
Japan. Each man bought a tea-set, besides sword-sticks, fishing-rods,
vases, Chinese puzzles, and other curios. The nipper also has got a
canary, which he hopes to get safely to England.
The occupants of the half-deck at present are Scar, MacDenny, Rowland,
and the nipper. There was another apprentice, who is at present in
hospital in Frisco.
He fell from aloft one dirty night whilst making the spanker fast, and
landed face down on a skylight. It was a wonder he was not killed; his
jaw was broken, his face cut to ribbons, and his skull nearly cracked,
but he is slowly recovering.
The others all swear by him. He appears to have been a very fine
sailorman, strong as a bull, good-tempered, and fearless.
_Sunday, 30th July._--Turned to at 5.30 A.M., and warped ship down to
the coal bunkers, the schooner having departed. Finished mooring ship
at 8.30.
After breakfast, Rowland and I went off to play cricket for the
California Cricket Club against the Pacific C.C. in a cup match, both
of us having been made honorary members.
Neither of us helped them much, and we got badly beaten. After the
match Don, Rowland, and I went and had a swim in the magnificent baths
they have here.
Don holds several swimming records both in California and in England,
having taught swimming in the famous Frisco baths, the finest in
the world. He has a lot of diving tricks, and is really a beautiful
performer.
After our swim we wanted our usual go of hot cakes, but though we
searched Oakland high and low, we could not get them. Apparently in
Oakland they only eat them for breakfast.
_Monday, 31st July._--I had the dirtiest day’s work I have ever had
to-day. Directly we had got the stringers clean as the last of our coal
was taken out, we were turned to cleaning bilges again. These bilges
forward were far worse than those aft; the smell was worse than any
smell I have ever smelt, and you could not help getting covered with
the awful stuff as you shovelled it into the buckets with your hands.
Once a full bucket, when half hauled up, fell, and scattered the muck
all over us, and I can tell you it made some of us feel queer. When we
had the bilges clean, we plastered them, and this filthy job lasted
until knock-off time.
They tell me that when the ship gets home she will have her bilges full
again and the grain will have grown over a foot high in them.
[Illustration: FRISCO SWIMMING BATHS]
_Tuesday, 1st August._--Turned to at 3.30 A.M.; unmoored and towed off
to Port Costa, or to be exact, Crockett, which is about a mile nearer
than Port Costa.
Chips and his mate from the shore have got all the after and main hold
lined with planks ready for loading grain, and are busy now on the
fore-hold, and all the lumber that I sent on board from the wharf in
Frisco is fast being used up.
We are busy on a much cleaner job to-day, that of nailing down old
sails and canvas over the lining in the hold, according to regulations.
Many were the growls when, on arriving at Crockett, we found our berth
again occupied, and we have got to wait until the other ship has
finished loading.
The captain has allowed Don and myself to come aft into the half-deck,
a rare piece of luck; so we brought all our truck aft this evening, and
took possession of two empty lower bunks.
Our first night in the half-deck was not a nice one, as it was very hot
and close, and the mosquitoes were awful, biting like fury; they were
half the size of Klondyke mosquitoes, but twice as vicious.
Too hot to sleep in my bag any longer, so have turned it inside out to
lie upon.
_Wednesday, 2nd August._--We finished chipping this morning, and all
hands are over the side on stages, busy painting. I always thought
“slap, dab, dash” painting of this sort was easy enough, but I soon
found out my mistake.
A modern sailorman has to be an expert with the paint-pot, and the
mates of course have to understand how to mix the different paints.
It is wonderful how much paint a smart ship consumes in a voyage.
Well, I started work painting our beautiful figure-head white, and
thought I was doing very well; but when I had finished it, Chips had to
come along and do it all again. After this the old man was constantly
pointing out bits of bad painting as he came along the wharf, and they
generally turned out to be my doing.
Don had been in the “slap-dab” trade before, and rather fancied
himself, and the only person on board who attempted to rival me in bad
painting was the nipper.
Painting is reckoned one of the nicest jobs on board ship, and most
sailors are extremely neat, quick painters. I was all right at little
tricky jobs, but when it came to putting the paint smoothly on a big
plate, I was done.
This evening we walked down the line to Port Costa, where there is a
small branch of the Institute. Here we met a number of apprentices off
the other ships loading, marvellous specimens some of them.
A very kind old lady ran the branch, and after an evening spent in
song, gave us a very good tea--the great attraction, of course, and one
that was well earned, as the Institute was at the top of a hill, with
a regular breakneck climb up to it, and a nice time we had coming down
it one or two pitch-dark nights. Walking back to the ship along the
railway track was not a very pleasant job on a pitch-dark night, with
trains coming along every few minutes, and grain-trucks being shunted
about.
The second mate of one of the ships had an adventure which provided us
with laughter for some time. As a whole lot of us were sitting yarning
in the half-deck, he came staggering in, evidently full of nose-paint,
and with his trousers pulled up above his knees.
“My God, boys, I can run, an’ so I tell ye. I’ll run any man for
fthifthy poundths.”
“Why, what the devil have you been doing now?”
“I’ve just--ah, let me see, I forgeth--oh yeth, I’veth justh beaten
the bloomen thrain; that’th so’th, boys. I was down sitting on th’
thrack over ath Port Costa, when I sees a thrain a comin’ righth on top
o’ me; well, boyths, will ye believ’ thi’t, but I justh pulled up ma’
throuthers like this, see,--d’ye see, ye with the uglith mug,--are you
lookin’, you, eh? ugly?”
“Aye, mate, I’m lookin’.”
“Do ye want’th to fighth; if tho, I’m ye man, d’ye hear, ugly? I can
fighth the blasted world, I can.” He was beginning to get bellicose,
and was right off his subject, leering round and shaking his fist at us
all as we roared with laughter.
“What about the train, mate; did it catch ye?” asked somebody.
“Did it catch’th me? ye say; did it catch’th me? I should smile. Why,
I giv’th a whoop, an’ away I goes for Crocketh quicker ’an flyin; an’
here I am--the blasted thrain ain’t got here yet. Run! I can run!” and
he pulled his trousers up higher, and put himself into position to
run a hundred yards. We spent a hilarious night, heedless of heat and
mosquitoes, on the top of this yarn, and finally had to put the crack
runner to bed.
We never found out the truth of this yarn. I expect really he ran from
a stationary lot of cars, thinking they were a train after him, or
else some carriages being shunted started him off.
_Thursday, 3rd August._--The other ship finished loading yesterday,
and went off; so early this morning we warped down into position, and
started loading barley.
How those stevedores did work!--the heavy bags of grain being simply
poured down the shoots into the hold, where they were immediately
shouldered by great burly half-naked men, who packed them as tight as
possible in tiers and rows.
I now had a new job. Chips and I crawled about over the bags as they
were stowed, with our knives “bleeding” them, that is to say we ripped
them open, and poured grain into all the chinks and crevices.
The stevedores were as rough a crew of men as I had seen anywhere,
and their chaff amongst one another was of the wildest and coarsest
description, and several times small fights arose and even knives were
drawn, but with no dangerous results.
One man hove some grain in another’s face by way of a joke, but the
other did not see it, as, growling out that he wasn’t going to be
blinded, he hurled his knife across the ’tween-decks at the other; it
missed the man by a hairbreadth, and stuck, quivering, into a bag of
grain by his side.
_Friday, 4th August._--The mosquitoes were very hungry all night, and
made a great repast.
Last night the captain had a party on board, the result of which was
that the new steward got “whole seas over,” and kicked up such a row in
the half-deck that the old man wanted to know about it in the morning;
and as he could not find out the truth of the matter, put it down on
Don, whom he regards as a real wrong ’un.
After work to-day, all hands from the mate down, except the Dutchmen,
went overboard for a swim; but it was dangerous work, as the tide and
current of the Sacramento are very tricky and strong, and full of
eddies.
Chips brought out a little 30.30 Winchester carbine, and we had some
shooting at bottles.
I had one of these guns up in the Klondyke, and was delighted with it.
I can’t say much for sailors as shots, but Scar was the worst of the
lot, and could not go within a hundred yards of the target, besides
letting the gun off by mistake, and scaring us out of our lives.
_Saturday, 5th August._--The old man gave Rowland, the nipper, and
myself, leave to go and play cricket in Frisco for the “British Sailing
Ships” against the Australian boat R.M.S. _Moana_.
We played up in the park on a grass wicket, and for a wonder it was a
very cold, damp day. I only got 12, and was rather annoyed getting out,
as the old man, who is a keen cricketer, was looking on.
Rowland and the nipper, however, distinguished themselves, getting 28
and 18 respectively, and we of the _Royalshire_ contingent beat the
_Moana_ off our own bat, besides getting most of the wickets, so we did
not do so badly.
_Sunday, 6th August._--Karney of the Institute very kindly put the
nipper and myself up for the night, as we had not got to get back to
the _Royalshire_ until Sunday night, so as to be in time to begin work
on the following morning.
What a luxury sleeping between sheets seemed. I did not go to sleep
at first, because I felt so comfortable, and wanted to prolong the
enjoyment, and revel in it as long as I could.
A member of the Olympic Club took us there in the morning, and we had a
fine swim, followed by a big lunch, at which I ate a whole porterhouse
steak, much to the amazement of our host. We caught the seven o’clock
train back to Crockett.
_Monday, 7th August._--Still at work bleeding grain bags, whilst the
others are painting the ship.
Amongst the ships loading-up here is the _Queen Margaret_, a
skysail-yard four-mast barque, with a great reputation for speed and
good treatment. She is a very fast sailer, and is expected to get home
first out of the whole fleet. Her apprentices actually get eggs and
bacon for breakfast in port: who ever heard of such a luxury?
Close to her is the _Almora_, a three-mast barque, with a greater
carrying capacity than the _Royalshire_, but so slow that she will
be very lucky if she gets home in one hundred and fifty days. She is
such a hungry ship, that even in the cabin they do not get butter or
marmalade.
_Tuesday, 8th August._--Don and I went aloft for the first time to-day,
as we have started bending sail.
The first sail to be bent was the fore-royal, and so there was no
chance of approaching matters by degrees. We neither of us found any
difficulty, however, except that perhaps at first we were a bit more
careful, and kept a good hold.
On the royal-yard I found that I was much too long in the leg for the
foot-ropes, so that my knees came above the yard, and I was in danger
of losing my balance and toppling over if I stood up, and if I sat
down on the foot-rope I was too low down, so I had to do a kind of
kneel to be able to work in any comfort.
We soon found that bending sail shorthanded, with a strong wind in
your teeth, was terrific hard work, and most trying to the temper,
especially when you are new to the job.
For those who may not know how a square-sail is bent, I may perhaps be
permitted to give a short explanation:--
First you have to hoist the sail up by means of a block and gantline
until the bunt, which is made fast to the end of the gantline, is well
above the yard--(always send up a sail to windward). Then the sail is
spread along the yard, head up, and the head-earings passed by the men
at each yardarm. Then the buntlines and leech-lines, which are used to
clew up the sail, are clinched. Then you tie the head of the sail to
the jackstay, which is an iron bar running along the top of the yard.
This is done with rovings, lengths of rope yarn, three or more being
passed according to whether the sail is a royal, topgallant, topsail,
or course; the sheet and the clew-line being shackled on to the clew by
the men at the yardarms. The sail is then picked up and furled by means
of the gaskets, short ropes made fast to the jackstay, and wound round
and round the sail and yard to hold the sail up when furled.
All this is no easy business for two men on each yardarm and one at the
bunt, with the sail dragging and blowing aback and trying to knock you
off the foot-ropes, and half a gale of wind in your face.
The old rule on a yard is, “one hand for yourself and one for the
ship,” which means, hold on with one hand and work with the other.
But if you want to get the work done in a case like this, when so
shorthanded or in real bad weather, I defy anyone to do much good with
only one hand; you soon find yourself using both, extremely dangerous
as it is, for the sail has a way of flying up over the yard and hitting
you in the face, which, if you have not got fast hold of the backstay,
must send you over backwards.
All day we worked like furies, sweating and cursing. The language used
up aloft was a revelation to me; never had I heard such thundery and
hair-curling expressions before, not even in an American mining camp.
The language of the mates verged from the forcible to the personal,
from the picturesque to the lurid; and finally their inventive minds
gave way before the strain of coining new words, and their voices,
grown husky and broken, gradually lapsed into hoarse murmurings and
whispered commands to “hoist away,” or “tie up the sail,” as the case
might be.
There was a kind of fierce enjoyment of it all as we sweated and
toiled, struggling desperately, and putting every ounce of strength
into the pulling and hauling, such as a man feels in the midst of a
hard-fought battle--an exultation that lifted one out of oneself, and
enabled one’s muscles to accomplish prodigies of strength without
feeling the tremendous fatigue and strain.
Occasionally a laugh would be raised at some unfortunate’s expense, and
chaff flew thick from yardarm to yardarm.
By the end of the day we had bent the fore-royal, two topgallant-sails,
and two topsails, and were all well pleased with ourselves, as it was
no mean performance with half a gale of wind in our teeth.
The second mate was as active as a cat aloft, and did the work of six
men. As for myself, after the first hour or so I felt completely at
home, and as if I had been used to swinging on a foot-rope 200 feet
above the deck all my life.
_Wednesday, 9th August._--No mosquitoes could keep me awake last night,
I was so tired.
We bent the main-royal, topgallant sails, and topsails to-day,
and did even better work than yesterday; things worked smoother,
notwithstanding that the wind was blowing as hard as ever.
My hands, by the way, are now as hard as leather, and all this pulling
and hauling has got me into splendid condition.
Don, though, is fifteen years older than I am, and is feeling the hard
work rather, especially in his back, and is fairly worn out at the end
of every day’s work.
We are bending our best sails; these will all have to come down after
we have been a few days at sea. We shall bend our old sails for the
tropics, and then bend these again for the Horn.
Many landsmen think that one bends one’s old sails for the bad weather,
and one’s best sails for the tropics. But just the opposite is the case.
The old, patched sails that are used in the tropics would fetch away
like tissue paper in a hard blow; and in the furious southern blasts
and the terrific gales of the Western Ocean, only the very best and
strongest canvas is able to withstand the strain.
_Thursday, 10th August._--Bent mizen-royal, topgallant sails, topsails,
and foresail. This last was a very heavy job for our small ship’s
company.
_Friday, 11th August._--We finished bending sail to-day with the jibs,
staysails, spanker and gaff-topsail.
After work, we were glad to plunge into the Sacramento and have a good
swim, Don giving us an exhibition of trick diving.
We had several visitors in the half-deck this evening, and a great
sing-song took place, everybody being required to tune up his pipes and
sing a song in turn.
_Saturday, 12th August._--We had a great treat to-day: the second mate,
Mac, Rowland, Don, and myself went off in the lifeboat to get sand,
taking a dozen empty grain bags to be filled.
Don and I took a pot of jam and some hard tack, as we started before
breakfast; but the second mate had the remains of a cold leg of mutton,
and some real bread-and-butter sandwiches.
We rowed about two miles up-stream before we found a suitable sandy bay.
The sand we wanted was good, fine sand, as it was to be used for that
most important business on board ship known as “sand and canvasing,”
which is “rubbing the woodwork clean by means of wet sand and pieces of
canvas.”
We soon had our bags full, and then began the picnic. How we did enjoy
that breakfast on the beach!--we even lit a camp fire, though we had
nothing to cook on it.
Rowing back was very heavy work against the tide, and the sand bags
put the boat very low in the water, added to which, by the time we got
alongside she was quite half-full of water. As she had not been in the
water for some time, her seams were open, and she leaked so badly that
we had to keep a baler going the whole time.
After washing down, I was lucky enough to catch the five o’clock train
for Frisco.
_Sunday, 13th August._--I played in a cup match for the California C.C.
against the Alameda C.C.
We had a very exciting match, and just won by a wicket and 6 runs.
I got 34--top score.
I had supper at the Institute, and caught the seven o’clock train back
to Port Costa.
We were greeted by bad news on board the _Royalshire_. The nipper had
been bathing with some apprentices off another ship.
He and two of the others could swim, but the third couldn’t, so he hung
around the shore, until all at once he floundered into a hole. The
nipper was the only one near him, and immediately dived for him; the
drowning boy caught hold of him as he reached him, and held him under
the water in a deadly embrace. The other two came up as quick as they
could, and after several dives, managed to fish the nipper, insensible,
up to the surface, but the other boy could not be found.
When I arrived on the _Royalshire_, I was told that the nipper was
still insensible, having been taken on board another ship, and that the
other poor little fellow’s body had not been recovered.
_Monday, 14th August._--We have finished bending sail for the present,
and are busy painting.
The nipper was brought on board this morning, very little the worse;
but the other body has not been found yet. Poor little fellow, he seems
to have been such a nice little chap, and it was his first voyage.
_Friday, 18th August._--Finished loading. The captain is anxious about
the trim of the ship, but, except for a slight list to port, we seem to
be all right.
About mid-day the tug came alongside. We cast off our lines, and slowly
swung into the stream, and away we went again for the great Bay of
Frisco; but this time in sea trim, and loaded nicely down to our marks.
We brought up, and let our anchor go in the bay about six o’clock.
Around us lay several magnificent ships--two four-mast barques, a
three-mast barque, and two or three full-rigged ships.
One of the full-rigged ships was a real beauty, a skysail-yard clipper:
she had her masts, yards, and blocks painted white, which gave her a
very neat and trim appearance aloft.
Soon after we brought up, a scow came off with some stores, chief
amongst which was some very fine, new, hard tack, which actually was
smoking hot when it came on board.
There were some cabin stores, and some ships’ coffee, which Don
declares is not coffee at all, and I incline to the belief that it is
coloured wood.
_Saturday, 19th August._--The second mate, Henderson, Johnsen, the
nipper, and myself, swung the captain’s gig out this morning, and rowed
him and Rowland ashore.
Rowland had got paid off, and said good-bye to us, as he is going home
overland.
To-day was our first day’s sand and canvasing.
This is the kind of work which you get most of on a sailing-ship, and
at the same time is the most disagreeable, especially in bad, cold, and
wet weather.
This afternoon more stores came on board.
_Sunday, 20th August._--We have no chance of getting ashore, and
occupied ourselves turning out and cleaning up the half-deck.
_Monday, 21st August._--To-day we bent the mainsail and crossjack in
record time for six men.
_Tuesday, 22nd August._--Our crew began coming aboard to-day. The first
man came alongside about eleven o’clock this morning.
We were at work shifting the bags of barley from the starboard to port,
in the fore ’tween-decks.
The man was soon “turned to” carrying the bags.
He was a very small, greyheaded dago, called Yoko, and looked very ill
and done up, and it was as much as he could do to lift a grain bag;
still he stuck to it, and we were soon chaffing and talking with him.
He was a Peruvian, and thought we were bound for Callao; but when he
heard the news that we were bound for Europe, it did not seem to bother
him much.
He afterwards turned out to be a good sailorman, though too old and
weak; but he knew his work, and was one of the best men in the port
watch.
He had not been working long before he was followed by another dago,
who turned out to be a Brazilian. He was a stronger and younger man,
but not much of a sailor, and one of the most cheerful men I have run
across; everything made him laugh, and when he was not laughing, he was
singing.
We had just knocked off for dinner, when two others came aboard:
they were only rated as O.S., and had never been to sea before, both
being American hobos. The biggest was a strong boy just nineteen,
who afterwards took to the life, and learnt everything he could very
keenly. The other, who was a year younger, and was a small, weak Canuk,
was the drudge of the ship; he boasted that he had never done a day’s
work in his life, in fact he was a regular good-for-nothing hobo; but
he soon found out that he had to work, and all the dirty work in the
port watch fell to his portion.
These two, when told to turn to at two bells, came aft to work in
stiff collars and boiled shirts, which showed that they had not much
experience of hard work.
In the afternoon, boats kept coming off at intervals from the shore,
each boat depositing a half-drunk and very decrepit-looking man, who
did not at all like paying a dollar for his boat. As yet no Britishers
had arrived, though we had scooped in an Arab, a Swiss, a Norwegian,
and a Swede.
_Wednesday, 23rd August._--Our new steward came on board too drunk to
work, so I have been appointed steward for the time being.
This is a slice of luck, as I feed with the second mate in the cabin,
and finish up whatever the captain and mate leave.
The captain had someone to supper with him to-night, and was very much
amused at perceiving me playing the waiter.
I had been very careful in laying the table, determined not to forget
anything; but, nevertheless, I forgot the napkins.
The captain, noticing this, said smiling, “H’m, I think you have
forgotten the serviteers.”
He was a self-educated man, and though very well read, was by no means
certain in the pronunciation of his long words.
He had a talk to me one day about this, whilst I was at the wheel in
the South Atlantic. He complained that Scotch boys were taught to
spell, but not to pronounce the long words.
I felt very funny standing behind the captain’s chair, with unsmiling
face, and as like a waiter as I could manage to be.
After the captain and his guest had retired, the second mate came down,
and then how I did tuck in; though there was only dry hash, and bread
and butter, I could have cleared the board with ease, but I had to
remember the inmates of the half-deck, who were prowling around the
port-hole, ready for me to pass something through to them.
Well, I don’t think they complained of my treatment of them whilst I
was steward.
_Thursday, 24th August._--A great day for Frisco, for the Californian
boys are expected home to-day from Manilla, and a great reception has
been got ready for them.
Ever since the transport had been sighted off the Farallones, every
factory and steamer whistle had been tooting for its life, and this
awful din has been going on since four o’clock yesterday afternoon.
As the _Royalshire_ was considered the flagship of the British
sailing-ships in port, and had the reputation of being the smartest,
early in the morning we dressed the ship with flags, and did what we
could towards the general din, by keeping a man at work on our foghorn.
I had a good climb, as I was sent up to clear the house flag, which had
got foul at the main-truck.
This means, that after you get on to the royal-yard, you have to swarm
up the naked mast, and is a pretty good test of the condition of your
nerves. For a beginner, however, I accomplished the job all right, and
thus proved my statement to the captain when I first met him.
The captain, who had stayed on shore last night, presently came off in
a launch with about twenty people.
I thanked my stars that the steward was on his legs again. He was very
shaky still, and had a very busy day of it. How he managed to feed
those twenty people I don’t know; they kept on going down to the cabin,
though, in relay after relay.
We have been given a holiday on this auspicious occasion.
The bay was a lovely sight; all the morning, yachts and crafts of all
sort were scudding out to the Golden Gate to escort the transport in.
There was a bright sun and a fresh breeze, and the bright colouring of
the bunting, the white sails of the yachts, and the flashing effects of
foam-flecked sea and blue sky, made an exceedingly pretty and animated
picture. It was a fitting last day in Frisco, for we sail at daybreak
to-morrow.
During the afternoon the rest of our new hands came off, and a queer
crew they looked. Most of them were under the influence of liquor, and
lurching into the forecastle, were seen no more.
One young O.S., by name Jennings, who was afterwards in the starboard
watch, had been on the American Navy, but had been kicked out for some
offence at Manilla.
He had been a signaller, and told us what the battleship _Iowa_ kept
signalling.
At last the transport was descried in the distance slowly approaching
up the bay, surrounded by yachts and steamers, black with cheering
enthusiastic people.
She was a very pretty sight as she approached, with all her bunting
flying, and sailing-yachts and steam-launches darting about all round
her.
As she steamed in between our little fleet of deep-watermen and Frisco,
the din became deafening; the deep roll of cheering reached us over
the water, the _Iowa_ began firing her guns off, and every whistle
screeched at the top of its pipes.
As she came by, we dipped our ensign a number of times, and the man at
the foghorn put his whole heart into his performance.
Dodging round us were yachts of all kinds, big cutters and little
cat-boats; but the prettiest of all was the Frisco pilot-boat, the
_Bonita_, a beautiful little schooner, which was scudding about in
every direction under foresail, headsails, and double-reefed mainsail.
The transport anchored below us, and now the captain had to get his
guests ashore; and as there was no chance of getting the steam-launch,
the order was given to get the gig over the side.
[Illustration: FRISCO BAY]
It was now blowing quite fresh, and with the tide at half-flood,
there was quite a bobble on the water, and we had evidently got a stiff
row before us, as we were lying some way out.
The captain had got half a dozen women amongst his guests, who did not
seem to like the lookout at all, especially when they saw us bobbing up
and down alongside.
With some care and stowing we got them all aboard, and away we started
for the shore, the second mate pulling stroke.
It took us two hours’ hard pulling to reach the landing-stages, by
which time the gig had shipped so much water that the captain and
ladies in the sternsheets were up to their knees in water, and the
nipper had to give up his oar and take to baling.
The old man on getting ashore made the second mate go straight back to
the ship, as he said he would come off in the launch, so we were done
out of a run ashore.
So ended our last day in port.