HOMEWARD BOUND
CAPTAIN Brown and I left the “Pelew” at Brisbane, he, because he
did not care for the Solomon Island trips for the reason stated in
the previous chapter, and I, because what I had seen and heard had
satisfied any desire I had to visit those regions. We made our way
to Newcastle, where Captain Brown had his home. Here I found letters
awaiting me from England, which stirred within me a longing to see
the old country once more. I had been away about eight years and
seven months, and the strange part of this long absence was that
I had promised those at home it should not be a long voyage, but
circumstances, and my love of roaming had lengthened the months into
years. I determined, however, that now I would go back, but before
doing this I made up my mind to have a good time in Newcastle, and I
did, for if you have money to spend, that is the place to get through
it. For six weeks I went the pace, and had the jolliest time of my
life, and spent my money like a real British sailor, or a fool, which
was nearer the mark. I saw the Browns frequently, and parted from
them with regret, for the captain and I had seen some ups and downs
together, and he was a good comrade, one of the best. He smiled when I
called to bid them good-bye, and told them I was going home to England.
“It’s about time you did, you mad-brained young beggar, at the pace you
are going at you’ll soon be played out.”
“No jolly fear,” I replied, “so good-bye, good-bye, and good luck.”
The next day I engaged as second officer on the ship, “Tonquin,”
bound for England, via San Francisco. The “Tonquin” was a smart
double topgallant yard ship, and a fast sailer. She carried a crew of
thirty-three hands all told. Most of these had been picked up in the
colonies, as the old crew had deserted, for the gold-field rush was
still on. They were a fairly decent lot of men. Captain McLellan was a
hardheaded Scotchman, who hailed from Leith, and had been many years
in command, and was great on discipline, proud of his ship and his
company, both of which he counted as second to none. The first mate,
Mr. Brown, was a Glasgow man, who had for years been doing his best to
drown his brains in whiskey, and since their arrival in the colonies he
had rarely been sober. When I reported myself to him on the following
morning he was half-witted with drink, and instead of giving me full
particulars about the ship and the work in hand, also the work in
prospect, he simply said “all right, go and look after the men, and get
the ship ready for sea.” I hunted up the third officer, Mr. Smith, and
found him working like a nigger, and as black as the ace of spades. He
was young and inexperienced, but willing, and not afraid of work, he
had also plenty of go in him, and I found he had in him the making of
a thorough seaman when he had got a little more experience. He soon
showed me where all the sails, stores, etc., were kept.
All hands were set to work bending sails, reaving the running gear, and
getting the ship ready for sea. We saw very little of the first mate
that day, he kept in his room and was drinking hard. The next morning
the captain came to me before going on shore and told me not to bother
about him, as he would be all right when we got to sea--that was all
right as far as he was concerned--but his work had to be done by Smith
and myself.
The crew, under Dan Kelly the boatswain, bent all the sails before
dark, and the captain coming on board just as we had finished,
expressed his pleasure and satisfaction at the good day’s work we had
done, and ordered the steward to give each man a good glass of grog.
This was done, and all hands seemed satisfied with themselves and their
surroundings. I told them to go and get a good night’s rest, as we
should haul out from the wharf at daylight, but somehow I felt in my
mind that the captain had made a great mistake in giving them the grog
while lying at the wharf.
The coal tips were working all night, and at six a.m., the last truck
load of black diamonds was tipped into the hold.
“Now turn out you fellows,” I heard the boatswain calling, as the
steward brought my coffee to my room. “Now where are you, here show
yourselves, you’re mighty slack at turning out this morning.”
Just then there was a knock at my door, and a voice called out, “are
you there Mr. Farrer?” it was the boatswain.
“Yes, boatswain, what’s the matter.”
“Matter, sir, why half the blooming crowd has cleared out.”
“The dickens they have,” I cried as I ran along to the forecastle,
where I found it was all too true. Rushing aft I told the steward
to rouse the captain and let him know that most of the sailors had
cleared out. Then, jumping ashore, I hurried up Hunter Street to the
Police Office, and told the superintendent in charge, and received the
information that he could give us no help until we took a warrant out
against the men.
“But,” I replied, “the ship is going to sail out to-day, and if the
captain has to take out a warrant for each man, look at the delay it
will cause.”
“That’s no business of mine,” he replied, adding, “perhaps if you paid
them better and fed them better they would not run away.”
I made no answer to this remark, as I felt it was only too true in many
cases, so returned to the ship to find Captain McLellan in a towering
passion. Lines were run out to the departure buoys, and the ship hauled
off.
“Shackel the starboard cable on to the buoy, Mr. Farrer,” the captain
called out.
“Aye, aye, sir,” I replied.
This was done and the captain went ashore to see if he could have the
men arrested, and if not, to try and get others to fill their places,
so that the ship would not be detained.
About two hours after the captain had left, a large colonial barque
came slowly down the river in full sail, outward bound with a fair
wind. She was a perfect picture, as she slipped along on a strong ebb
tide. Mr. Smith and I were admiring her, when we saw to our surprise
five of our runaway sailors leaning over her side and waving their caps
at us in derision as they passed.
“The dirty mean skunks,” said Smith, in a towering passion, and before
I could say a word he had darted into his room, snatched up a revolver,
and rushing along the deck to the nearest point of the receding barque,
fired at the men waving their caps. Fortunately for him the shots fell
short, and in half an hour she was outside the Nobbies, and bounding
away toward New Caledonia.
It was very aggravating, but nothing could be done, so we had to make
the best of it.
Shortly afterwards the boat returned with the captain and six sailors,
all dead drunk, and lying like sacks at the bottom of the boat. Shangie
Brown, as great a scamp as ever encumbered the earth was with them, to
receive his share of the seamen’s advance. Two months advance at six
pounds per month, each man received, but the boarding house master took
it for them, the money to be paid when the men were safely on board.
A bottle of drugged whiskey was given to them in the meantime, and by
the time they came to their senses they were well out to sea, and the
boarding-house master was back in Newcastle with their two months’
advance in his pocket.
“Get a slip rope on the buoy, and unshackle the chain,” called out the
captain.
“Aye, aye, sir,” replied Dan Kelly, and soon had the cable off and
shackled on to its anchor, and then all hands went to dinner. During
that interesting meal, the sailors, as sailors will, got counting their
numbers, and found they were short of four men.
“Look here boys,” said Humphreys, a big lump of a fellow, who looked
strong enough to do two men’s work with ease, “I’m not going out in
this hooker short handed, there’s plenty of work in her for the lull
complement of men, and we ought not to go out without the other four,
let’s go aft, and see the old man.”
At that moment Captain McLellan was on the poop talking to the
ship-chandler, whose boat was alongside.
“Well, what do you fellows want,” he said, as the men came to a
standstill near the break of the poop, “what’s wrong now?”
“We’re short-handed, sir,” said Humphreys, touching his cap, “and we
won’t go in the ship until you get four more men.”
The captain looked at them one by one as they stood there just at the
break of the poop.
“Oh, you’re not going, aye. Ah, well just step into the cabin every one
of you, and I’ll read you the ship’s articles, and perhaps you will be
satisfied then.”
As the crowd marched stolidly into the cabin, and the captain whispered
to me, as he turned to follow them, “Get the end of the tug’s rope
on board and tell him to go ahead at once. The pilot will look after
her.” While the captain detained the men in the cabin, the ship was
cast off the buoy, and the tug pulling for all she was worth, soon had
her outside the entrance. When the sailors came out of the cabin they
realized that they had been tricked, then they showed fight, at least
the leaders did, but that was soon taken out of them, and the few that
were sober and willing, loosed and set the square sails, and when the
ship had a good offing, the tug was cast off, and blowing her syren as
a good-bye salute, steamed back to Newcastle, and we stood out on our
long run to San Francisco.
Very little work was done except trimming the sails during the first
two weeks, the wind and sea were so boisterous, and the men gradually
fell into their proper places. Nothing out of the ordinary ship’s life
occurred on the passage, and after a run of fifty-seven days we arrived
in San Francisco.
However, as soon as the anchor was down, a crowd of Yankee boarding
house runners and crimps boarded us. Many of them even went aloft
and helped the men to furl the sails. Of course each of them had the
usual flask of whiskey in his pocket to help their persuasive powers
in getting the men to clear out of the ship. It was simply useless we
officers ordering them ashore from the vessel, they just laughed at us
and tapped the revolver in their hip pocket. My blood boiled, and had
it not been that Mr. Brown came along just then, and advised me not to
put myself out over the dirty low beasts, I should have tumbled a few
of them over the side, regardless of what followed.
“Don’t fash yer-self laddie,” he said, “they’re not fit for a decent
man to dirty his hands on, and the men are aye like a lot of silly
sheep when they’ve had a glass o’ their poison inta them, a’ll nay
call it by the decent name o’ spirits for it isna ony such.”
We hauled into the wharf during the day, and the following morning all
that was left of the sailors were Jack Anderson, Charlie Partridge, and
Charlie Hogg, they had all cleared out.
The stevedores started at once to unload the coal, soon we were up to
our eyes in coal dust.
For a fortnight I explored and saw all the sights good, bad, and
indifferent that were to be seen in that go-a-head city of the west.
I found too that it was very risky work to pry into the dark corners
of this revolver-ruled city of palaces, prisons and hells, and many a
narrow shave I had in seeking to know Who’s Who and What’s What.
At last our coal was all out, and the ship cleaned down, and thankful
we were to see the last of the coal dust washed off the ship and
ourselves. We then received orders to proceed up the river to Vallaya
to load wheat for the United Kingdom. Although we were so shorthanded
the trip up to Vallaya was a treat. To describe the scenery would
require the pen of a poet and an artist, for it is without rival in
being the finest in the world.
The cargo was all waiting for us stored up in the great sheds near the
wharf, and we were no sooner alongside than the carpenters came aboard
and commenced lining the ship fore and aft with boards covered with
Gunnie Sheeting. It was contract work, so you may be sure no time
was lost over it. The following morning the grain was pouring into
the hold from the elevators in a steady stream, and one could almost
see the ship sinking lower and lower into the water, as the grain
poured steadily in, like water down a spout, and in thirty-six hours
from the time of starting, the ship was loaded. None of the officers
or apprentices were allowed on shore at Vallaya. We were all kept too
busy attending ship under the elevator shoots. I was disappointed at
this, but it could not be helped, and on the third day the “Tonquin”
was towed down the beautiful river again, and came to anchor in San
Francisco Bay.
We found San Francisco en fête, as President Grant had just arrived
from his tour round the world.
All the syrens, steam hooters, fog horns, ship’s bells, and steam
whistles in the district were clashing and clanging for all they were
worth to celebrate his safe arrival.
The sky was lit up with rockets and fireworks, pandemonium reigned, and
the whole city seemed to have gone mad.
The following day we filled up the vacancies in our crew, and in the
company of five other clippers set sail for Liverpool. A good deal
of speculation was rife as to who should reach the Channel first,
and a good number of bets were laid amongst the various captains and
officers.
The “Tonquin” as I said before, was a very smart sailer and Captain
McLellan was just the man to get all the speed he could out of her.
The “City of Madrid,” “Khersonese,” and the “Mallowdale” all left San
Francisco within a few hours of the “Tonquin,” but during the long run
of fourteen thousand miles, we never got a sight of each other after
the first day.
We arrived at Falmouth one hundred and seventeen days after leaving San
Francisco, and got orders to proceed to Liverpool, this taking us seven
days beating round to accomplish, and I arrived home just nine years
from the day on which I sailed on the “John Kerr,” so here I part from
my readers, as the stone has once more rolled home, not to settle, oh,
no, but should this have interested my readers, I have no doubt that
the further rollings of this restless stone will be found in another
volume.
FINIS
PRINTED BY THE DEVONSHIRE PRESS, LTD., TORQUAY
Transcriber’s Note:
The publication used as the basis of this eBook contained several
alternative and some now obsolete spellings that have been retained.
The spelling of place names has also been retained as published,
however, Cookstown is possibly meant to be Cooktown; Tristan d’Acunha,
Tristan da Cunha; Wainmomata, Wainuiomata; Seatown, Seatoun; Haraka
Bay, Karaka Bay; Lower Hut, Lower Hutt; Sea of Marmora, Sea of Marmara;
Mitylene, Mytilene; Monserrat, Montserrat; Eucador, Ecuador; Matacama,
Mayacama; Infiernello bridge, Infiernillo bridge; Sacremonta Railway,
Sacramento Railway; San Bartolome, Bartolomé; Smythe’s Straits,
Smyth’s Strait; Ecclestone, Eccleston; McQuarrie and Macquarry,
Macquarie; Sidney, Sydney; Southlands, Southland; Ducos Peninsular,
Ducos Peninsula; Foveaux Straits, Foveaux Strait; San-Christobal, San
Cristobal; Bourgainville, Bougainville.
Punctuation has been standardized; hyphenation retained as in the
original publication.
The following appear to have been typographical errors and have been
changed:
Page 11
which there is no excurse _changed to_
which there is no excuse
Page 13
and in the tussel _changed to_
and in the tussle
Page 23
just as the Almight _changed to_
just as the Almighty Father placed
Page 33
climbing to the futtoch _changed to_
climbing to the futtock-shrouds
Page 43
corpusant lights were seen _changed to_
corposant lights were seen
Page 48
chief named Te Aroa _changed to_
chief named Te Araroa
Page 52
mollyhawks screeched through the rigging _changed to_
mollymawks screeched through the rigging
Page 55
said at the beginning, Scandanavians _changed to_
said at the beginning, Scandinavians
Page 70
of the s.s. “Bogata,” of the Pacific Navigation _changed to_
of the s.s. “Bogota,” of the Pacific Navigation
Page 93
took my sheath knife an _changed to_
took my sheath knife and
Page 102
some cooking utnesils _changed to_
some cooking utensils
Page 105
One of them, called Yunkque _changed to_
One of them, called Yunque
Page 106
flemish-eyes, splices, seezings _changed to_
flemish-eyes, splices, seizings
Page 123
I ever met with were the lima _changed to_
I ever met with were the llama
Page 124
the stone of the Incas, a marcusite _changed to_
the stone of the Incas, a marcasite
Page 125
“miradores” or carved wooden balconies _changed to_
“miradors” or carved wooden balconies
Page 125
revelry for three days and the “miradores” _changed to_
revelry for three days and the “miradors”
Page 129
contractor was Henry Meiggs, of Calfornia _changed to_
contractor was Henry Meiggs, of California
Page 132
horrible squarking noise _changed to_
horrible squawking noise
Page 133
With screeching and squarking _changed to_
With screeching and squawking
Page 160
meeting one of the Gambeta Indian _changed to_
meeting one of the Gambetta Indian
Page 183
then fitted up for a jury mast _changed to_
then fitted up for a jurymast
Page 190
growing in the Titree scrub _changed to_
growing in the Ti tree scrub
Page 193
Titree scrub that was too thick _changed to_
Ti tree scrub that was too thick
Page 203
stringy bark, tie tree and various _changed to_
stringy bark, ti tree and various
Page 210
wild horses, kangaroos and wallabys _changed to_
wild horses, kangaroos and wallabies
Page 211
of the mammalia which possess _changed to_
of the Mammalia which possess
Page 246
roll the two lower topasils _changed to_
roll the two lower topsails
Page 247
contiuually going to keep her _changed to_
continually going to keep her
Page 249
pitchpine lower mast was put _changed to_
pitch pine lower mast was put
Page 272
on these were erected either corrurugated _changed to_
on these were erected either corrugated
Page 307
corrobberee--by-en-by white fellow _changed to_
corrobboree--by-en-by white fellow
Page 308
of sweet potatoes, tara, bananas, sago _changed to_
of sweet potatoes, taro, bananas, sago