MY LIFE AT SEA
[Illustration:
_Frontispiece_
CAPE HORN, DISTANT ONE MILE
(_From a photograph taken from the “Ruapehu”_)]
MY LIFE AT SEA
BEING A “YARN” LOOSELY SPUN FOR THE PURPOSE
OF HOLDING TOGETHER CERTAIN REMINISCENCES
OF THE TRANSITION PERIOD FROM SAIL TO
STEAM IN THE BRITISH MERCANTILE
MARINE (1863-1894)
BY
COMMANDER W. CAIUS CRUTCHLEY
R.D., R.N.R., F.R.G.S.
A YOUNGER BROTHER OF TRINITY HOUSE, LATE SECRETARY
OF THE NAVY LEAGUE
WITH A PREFACE BY
EARL BRASSEY, G.C.B.
_WITH TWELVE ILLUSTRATIONS_
LONDON
CHAPMAN AND HALL, LTD.
1912
RICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED,
BRUNSWICK STREET, STAMFORD STREET, S.E.,
AND BUNGAY, SUFFOLK.
DEDICATED BY PERMISSION TO
EARL BRASSEY, G.C.B.,
LORD WARDEN OF THE CINQUE PORTS;
ALSO
A MASTER MARINER AND CIRCUMNAVIGATOR.
FOREWORD
My good sailor friend Captain Crutchley has asked me to write a
foreword to his autobiography. It is a pleasure to comply.
The author began his life at sea in sailing-ships, in the age of the
Black Ball liners, the Baltimore clipper-ships, and those perfect
specimens of naval architecture built in Aberdeen for the China tea
trade.
Captain Crutchley tells of the hardships of the sea. He gives stirring
descriptions of the performances of the ships in which he sailed. His
narrative may perhaps be briefly supplemented. Sir George Holmes, in
his book on ancient and modern ships, quotes many examples of record
passages. In 1851, the _Nightingale_, in a race from Shanghai to Deal,
ran on one occasion 336 knots in twenty-four hours. In the same year
the _Flying Cloud_, in a voyage from New York to San Francisco, ran 427
knots in one day. The _Thermopylæ_, 886 tons register, built by Messrs.
Steel, of Greenock, sailed 354 knots in twenty-four hours. The Aberdeen
clippers of the ’sixties did marvellous work. Under sail, the _Ariel_,
_Taeping_ and _Serica_ started together from Foochow on May 30, 1866.
They met off the Lizard on September 6; and on the same day the
_Taeping_ arrived in the East India Dock at 9.45 p.m., and the _Ariel_
at 10.15 p.m.--a difference of half-an-hour after racing for over three
months on end.
The present writer recalls a like personal experience of more recent
date. In 1905 a race was sailed from Sandy Hook to the Lizard for a
cup offered by the German Emperor. On that occasion the _Valhalla_, a
full-rigged ship, _Hildegarde_ and _Endymion_, two-masted fore-and-aft
schooners, and the _Sunbeam_, a three-masted topsail-yard schooner,
anchored off Cowes on the same tide, the distance of more than 3300
miles from Sandy Hook having been covered in fourteen days.
After years of service at sea, Captain Crutchley passed from sail to
steam. He filled important commands with distinguished success. He
began with the comparatively easy voyage to the Cape. In the later
years of his career at sea he was engaged in Australasian voyages, when
his experience in sailing-ships enabled him, by the combined power of
sail and steam, to make successful voyages.
In Captain Crutchley’s time ships coming direct from the homeland were
the bonds of empire. They received a warm welcome on their arrival
in the distant ports of New Zealand and Australia. Captain Crutchley
earned a deserved popularity as a representative seaman. He began his
work as an empire builder while serving at sea. It was continued ashore
for a period of many years in the capacity of Secretary of the Navy
League.
The book abounds in valuable hints on discipline at sea. The vessels
commanded by Captain Crutchley were happy ships.
It only remains to commend this volume as interesting reading to all
who love the sea and admire the hardy breed of men who do business in
great waters.
BRASSEY.
_March 7, 1912._
CONTENTS
PAGE
CHAPTER I 1
CHAPTER II 25
CHAPTER III 51
CHAPTER IV 75
CHAPTER V 97
CHAPTER VI 125
CHAPTER VII 155
CHAPTER VIII 185
CHAPTER IX 215
CHAPTER X 241
CHAPTER XI 269
CHAPTER XII 301
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
_To face page_
CAPE HORN, DISTANT ONE MILE _Frontispiece_
(_From a photograph taken from the “Ruapehu”_)
CLIPPER SHIP “ESSEX,” 1042 TONS. J. S. ATWOOD, COMMANDER 46
U.S.S. “ROMAN” 100
U.S.S. “NYANZA” 100
U.S.S. “AFRICAN” 100
U.S.S. “SYRIA” 145
(_From a painting by Willie Fleming of Cape Town_)
N.Z.S. CO.’S “RUAPEHU” 243
N.Z.S.S. “KAIKOURA” 271
(_From a painting by Willie Fleming of Cape Town_)
“KAIKOURA” IN HARBOUR 283
THE MASTER OF THE “KAIKOURA” 289
SHAKING A REEF OUT 303
A HANDY MAINSAIL WHICH DOES NOT DRIVE SMOKE DOWN ON THE BRIDGE 311
CHAPTER I
“Ride with an idle whip, ride with an unused heel,
But, once in a way, there will come a day
When the colt must be taught to feel
The lash that falls, and the curb that galls,
And the sting of the rowelled heel.”--KIPLING.
Early in the year 1863 there was brought into the little harbour
of Margate a vessel called the _Figaro_ of Narbonne, a small craft
with a cargo of wine. She had got into trouble on one of the many
outlying sandbanks which make the entrance to the Thames a problem of
considerable difficulty for any vessel not thoroughly qualified to meet
any emergency that may arise through wind or weather. What the precise
cause of this accident was escapes my memory, but whatever its origin,
it was instrumental in sending me to sea, for it brought me into close
contact with a London merchant, Mr. Trapp, who was interested in her
cargo and who had come down to supervise her repairs. This merchant was
also a shipowner, and had been at sea during the French wars in the
early part of the century. He was good enough to tell me many stories
relating to privateering and the customs of the sea, to all of which
I listened greedily, for I was born with the sound of the sea in my
ears and from my earliest recollections had made up my mind that the
sailor’s life was the only one worth living. Unfortunately this view
was not shared either by my father or my mother, both of whom had set
their minds upon making me a civil engineer. My head master was of the
same opinion as myself as regards my future, but we reached the same
conclusion by somewhat different roads, as will be seen.
I scarcely think I was tractable as a school-boy. I can distinctly
remember that from the age of ten until I was fourteen I was
always the “awful example,” and my impression is that the cane was
administered thrice daily with great regularity. At the age of fourteen
there was a serious difference of opinion between the head master and
myself; he suggested that my conduct in class was beyond his endurance,
and I, considering his was also objectionable, expressed my view by
launching a book at his head. When I turned to make my escape, there
was no escape for me; I was headed off and cornered by masters lower
down the room. And face downwards on a desk I both heard and felt the
best arguments that can be used in such circumstances. When I got
home, these arguments were only too palpable, and my indulgent parents
brought my career at that school to a summary conclusion. Nevertheless,
I bore the old boy no malice, for he was a good judge of a human boy’s
nature. When he asked me one day what I was going to be, I replied,
“Civil engineer,” to which he retorted, “A soldier or a sailor is all
they will ever make of you,” and it must be confessed that it was
a fairly accurate forecast, though the prophecy was evidently not
intended as a compliment to either army or navy.
After that episode it seemed to dawn upon my mind that it was time to
learn something, and I was put as a private pupil with a man whose
memory I shall always respect (afterwards Leetham of Thanet House), for
he had the great gift of raising his pupil’s enthusiasm for the subject
he was teaching. We used to start quite early in the morning, before
breakfast, take our time in the middle of the day for recreation, and
again tackle the work in the evening. It was in one of the mid-day
recreations that, happening to walk down the lower pier, I met my old
friend the shipowner. I soon made up my mind that I must go to sea,
and realised that here was the instrument by which my desire could be
accomplished. A steady siege was at once commenced.
My dear old father would not listen to the scheme for a moment; salt
water had no charms for him. Yet he himself had taught me the use of
mathematical instruments and given me a fair grounding in plan drawing
and similar matters. The shrine at which he worshipped, however, was
that of Brunel and the great engineers who were then discovering the
wonders of applied science. My mother, on the other hand, seeing that
my mind was made up, offered no further opposition, and when the time
arrived managed to give me the necessary assistance.
The scheme finally formulated was this. My friend Mr. Trapp had at that
time a vessel in port of which he was part owner, and as she carried
apprentices I was to take my place among them on her next voyage,
but it was also stipulated that a premium was to be paid. How often,
I wonder, have boys been jeered at by the old salts as being “blank
gentlemen’s sons that pay to go to sea,” and when one considers in
after life the hardships of a sailing-ship, such a custom certainly
seems humorous.
Well, the appointed day arrived and my mother and I set out for London
to carry out the necessary preliminaries. My father had provided
funds in a surreptitious sort of manner, for when the die was cast he
accepted the situation, though he never really acquiesced in it. Boys
are heartless brutes as a rule where their inclinations are concerned,
and set little store by the desires of those who have had the trouble
of rearing them. But, after all, we none of us are asked whether
we would like to come into the world. We are shoved upon the stage
willy-nilly without any consideration as to the part we are to play,
and expected to give unquestioning obedience to the prompter. This
seemed to me unreasonable, and that is how I at length found myself
in the London Docks boarding the _Alwynton_, a sailing barque of 491
tons register. To the best of my knowledge she was one of a series of
outside vessels chartered by the Orient line, and a stout, staunch
craft she was, good looking also in her own way.
On the other side of the wharf was the sailing-ship _Orient_, the first
of her name and a clipper of renown. The officers and men of that craft
considered themselves very superior beings to those who had not the
good fortune to sail under the blue St. Andrew’s Cross; but they in
their turn were looked down upon by the men sailing in the ships of
Green, Dunbar, Wigram & Smith. In those days it would have required a
very careful M.C. to give the varying grades of the merchant services
their due order of precedence.
We were met by a very dark, handsome man who we were told was one of
the owners of the vessel, and one of the first remarks he made to me
after the ceremony of introduction had been gone through was on the
iniquity of my wearing kid gloves. Needless to say, I immediately
disclaimed any intention of doing so in the future, being fearful
that so pernicious a habit should already have prejudiced my chances
of forming one unit of the ship’s company of so particularly correct
a craft. Let me here say that the last time I met that gentleman he
was bowed in stature and quite white on the figurehead; it was at the
Trinity House, and this time we foregathered on equal terms. I reminded
him of the particular incident and he was much amused. I regret that
he has now joined the majority, leaving behind him a name that will be
long remembered for good and philanthropic work wherever seamen are
concerned. I refer to Captain David Mainland.
My first doubts were raised when I met the second mate, who seemed
to be what I should now describe as a particularly “hefty” personage.
He was not wearing any elaborate uniform, in fact he wore neither
coat nor waistcoat, and was very busily engaged in assisting to take
in stores and stow them away down a hatchway in the after part of the
cabin, a receptacle known as the lazarette. For many months afterwards
that place to me was one of discomfort, for it was also the sailroom,
and to one not accustomed to the smell of “below decks” the work of
stowing and re-arranging canvas was not agreeable. It was, however,
particularly the sort of operation to which a raw and unskilled hand
could be usefully turned, and accordingly there fell to my lot a good
deal of it.
Immediately behind this hatchway were two staterooms, so called,
fine airy cabins, one of which was the abode of Captain Hole, whose
acquaintance it was now my lot to make. Let me try and describe him. He
was a man of more than average height and enormous chest measurement;
his face was not so weather-beaten as might have been expected, but it
was one mass of freckles, and was surmounted by sandy hair and fringed
with whiskers of the same colour. His hands were mighty and possessed
enormous power, as I was to discover later. There was withal a bluff
_bonhomie_ about the man that was attractive in its way, and to do him
justice I think he tried to behave as well as he could, but he was the
natural product of a hard school.
On this particular occasion he wished to be very agreeable, and the
interview went off well, ending with the transfer of my premium from my
mother’s pocket to his. In this he stole a march upon my first friend,
the owner, who had intended me to be _his_ apprentice, in place of
which I was forthwith indentured to Captain Hole.
The remainder of the day was all pure joy. I was a sailor and was
measured for my sailor clothes! Some days afterwards I went back
home to display to my lay acquaintances and the world of Margate in
general, the full glory of blue cloth and brass buttons. Upon mature
consideration I am not certain that the first wearing of a brass-bound
cap is not the most satisfactory experience in a long sea life; the
first command is not in any way to be compared with it.
At length the long-looked-for day arrived when I was to join my
ship, and I set out without a doubt in my mind, and with a callous
indifference to the tearful farewells of my family, or rather the
feminine portion of it. I have since noticed that this indifference is
not unusual with the human boy, and perhaps it is well that it should
be so, for he is like the young bear and has no idea of the troubles
that lie before him. Still, were my time to be gone through again, even
starting with the accumulated wisdom of half-a-century’s experience, I
doubt greatly whether I should act very differently.
I was not, however, fated to join my ship that day. I was taken by my
old friend, Mr. Trapp, to his house in the Minories and handed over to
the care of one of his sons. He took me to my first theatre, and next
morning at breakfast was solemnly reproved by his father for causing me
to break that clause in my indenture which forbade the apprentices to
frequent taverns or playhouses.
But the time had now come when the realities were to commence. We
were five apprentices in all, and, with the carpenter and boatswain,
lived in the starboard side of the topgallant forecastle. As the
ship’s windlass formed part of the furniture it may be imagined that
the quarters were rough in the extreme, but they were in keeping with
the life in general, which began to develop as soon as we reached the
dockhead, prior to being towed down the river. Here we began to make
acquaintance with that very authoritative person, the chief mate, who
in all well-ordered ships is the ruling spirit. Mr. Coleman was a good
specimen of the mate of his time. Not bad-looking by any means, very
neat in personal appearance, and painfully precise in his remarks to
all and sundry. There was also conveyed in some particularly subtle
manner the fact that he was an accomplished pugilist, and in point
of fact, there were not many that could emphasise their orders with
greater neatness and dispatch. I can recall many instances where the
trouble was over almost as soon as it began, and that was no small
qualification for an officer in the rough sailing-ship days. This
quality of command was quickly manifested on the way to Gravesend,
when the work of rigging out the jib-boom and getting things shipshape
commenced in earnest. Before the first day was finished we had
discovered that the lot of an apprentice was likely to prove an
extremely lively one.
The next few days were a blank to me--sea-sickness claimed me for its
very own, and there is only a confused recollection left in my mind of
wishing to die and being expressly prevented from doing anything of the
sort. That state of affairs lasted perhaps two days, until one morning
with a fair wind and fine weather the episode passed away like an ugly
dream. There was one other difficulty, however, to be surmounted, and
that was “going aloft.” But with a determined boatswain behind you it
is astonishing how quickly difficulties disappear; the terrors of the
unknown yielded swiftly to good solid pliable arguments capable of
immediate application.
It becomes evident to me that I must curtail my reminiscences of
this period or my work will grow to gigantic proportions completely
unwarranted by the importance of the subject, but I wish, if I may, to
record one phase in the change from sail to steam.
We were bound to Adelaide with a general cargo, and made a fairly good
passage. The captain firmly believed in giving the crew lots of work
to keep the devil out of their minds. Consequently the ship was what
was known as an “all hands ship,” in other words neither officer, nor
man, nor boy ever had an afternoon watch below. “Watch and watch” was
a thing unknown, but as the power of the master was absolute there
could be no appeal, and for reasons I have hinted at there were none
who would have been willing to incur the wrath of the ruling powers.
It will be shown presently how those powers were sometimes used, but
that was the ship’s routine, and every afternoon, no matter what
the weather, all hands were on deck from half-past twelve to five
o’clock. We apprentices were taught to observe the meridian altitude,
and sometimes in the afternoons and evenings the captain gave us some
instruction in navigation, but the mate rather resented what he termed
loafing in the cabin in the afternoon. Our captain was also fond of
signalling to other vessels, and that, of course, was our special work.
In those days it was almost a certainty that every vessel sighted was
British; a foreign flag was a matter of interest. But the great mass of
the world’s sailing-ships to-day are no longer of our nationality, and
the training of our future seamen can no longer be carried on in those
best of all possible schools for teaching men self-reliance, and the
faculty of doing the right thing at the right time. The trip out was
uneventful. By the time we had arrived at our port of destination we
boys had learned to steer, and to use a broom, also to furl the light
canvas, and generally do as we were told.
Port Adelaide in those days was still a rising town, and the facilities
it offered to shipping were considerable. We were consequently soon
discharged and loaded up for Auckland with a cargo of flour, wheat,
and sheep on deck. At that time the Maori War was in progress, and we
had hopes that some adventure might possibly befall, for up to this
time our visions of sea life had become very commonplace, and were far
from realising our youthful fancies. I may say that the experiences
of the passage out had satisfied several of the men and one of the
apprentices, who consequently deserted. Some difficulty was experienced
in filling their places, as colonial wages ran high.
We ran through Bass Straits with a fine fair wind. There are few more
picturesque parts of the sea than these grand straits, dotted with
steep rocky islands like impregnable fortresses. On this passage, as
I have said, we had a cargo of sheep on deck, and as these foolish
animals will not drink of their own accord, it was necessary to
administer to each member of the flock one quart bottle of water daily,
an operation which at first took a considerable time. After a few days,
however, they became accustomed to the treatment and gave no trouble.
When the coast of New Zealand was sighted and we were running through
the Bay of Islands, the captain thought it prudent to overhaul the
ship’s armoury, and muskets, pistols and cutlasses were all got on deck
for cleaning and putting in order. Here it was discovered that I was of
some use, for firearms had been one of my hobbies, in which I had been
encouraged by the officer in charge of the coastguard at Margate--dear
old Bob Aldrich. After a long lapse of years I can recall his cheery
face and the infinite patience with which he initiated me into the
mysteries of powder and shot. He succeeded after a time in making me a
fair marksman.
With a view to testing the hitting power of the crew a bottle was hung
at the fore yard-arm, and we all fired in turn. The bottle survived
until it came to my turn, and then, probably because I had loaded the
musket properly, I hit it, but suffered reproof afterwards because I
could not do so with a ship’s pistol. I mention this matter of loading
because, even with an old smooth-bore gun, if the bullet was properly
centred by means of the spare cartridge paper, it was quite possible
at short ranges to get decent shooting from it, but if, as commonly
happened, the bullet and cartridge were rammed down anyhow, the bullet
went anywhere.
There are few harbours in the world more beautiful than Auckland; it is
worthy of Kipling’s description “last, loveliest, loneliest, exquisite,
apart--on us, on us the unswerving season smiles.” I have known the
apple of beauty claimed often for Sydney. Of that harbour I cannot
speak personally, but I have heard a great Sydney authority confess
that the apple should, in fact, be given to the harbour of Rio, and
with that judgment I am inclined to agree.
The most striking object in entering Auckland is the mountain
Rangitoto. It is doubtful whether it can best be described as a cone or
a pyramid; from whichever side it is viewed it presents the same shape,
and it possesses considerable interest by the speculation it creates as
to whether it is an extinct volcano. In point of fact the whole region
is volcanic, and once, many years afterwards, in a little altercation
with an Auckland man concerning some point in connection with the
harbour, I heard it observed that he need not put on too much side,
“for he was only living on the outside of a bally cinder, anyway.”
Curiously enough, within ten days of that altercation, there occurred
the eruption of Tarawera, and the celebrated terraces were destroyed.
Anchored off Rangitoto was a splendid-looking ship, the _Tyburnia_,
as spick and span as any first-class London sailing-ship could be.
My recollection of her is vivid even now. I think that she had
taken troops there. As we got further up the harbour we came across
H.M.S. _Miranda_, an object of admiration and respect, for the tales
concerning warships that were then told in merchantmen were many and
wonderful, creating an atmosphere of awe. There was also the vague idea
still existing that a man-of-war could send on board and take any men
she pleased for the state service. Old traditions die hard, and at the
time I write of the great mass of the songs and ditties sung by seamen
were reminiscences in verse of the Great Napoleon, and the men of the
navy and the merchant service were more interchangeable than they are
to-day.
The Queen Street wharf was not then the imposing feature it now is; but
it was a very fair size and we got to a comfortable berth at the end
of it, quickly getting clear of our live cargo. I have reason to think
that the entire shipload was extremely welcome, for the town was at
that time more than a little anxious concerning the future of the Maori
War. We, however, saw no signs of fighting.
As showing the vast changes a few years make, twenty-one years later I
lay at that same wharf, in command of a splendid mail steamer fitted to
carry frozen mutton and produce to the home country.
One great characteristic of Auckland in the early days was the peculiar
abruptness of some of its streets. It was not lit at night-time
with any degree of brilliance, and the sudden inequalities of road
surface required some practice to deal with; still we were generally
pleased with the place and the scene of bustle there was about the
shipping. We, being the end ship of the wharf, often got visits from
the members of other ships’ companies, and in particular there was one
midshipman from the _Tyburnia_ of whom we heard great things. He was a
good-looking lad and a gentleman, but it seemed that he was rather made
much of by his captain for his smartness as a seaman; he was credited
with being able to start from the deck, stow the mizzen royal, and
be down again in four minutes. Our ship was not exactly popular as a
rendezvous, however, for the custom of the grog tub, prevalent in most
ships in harbour, was entirely unknown to us.
In due course the cargo was discharged. The mate, having kept careful
tally, clapped on the hatches when he had landed the exact quantity
he was responsible for. There was a considerable surplus, but how the
matter was finally arranged I know not--probably by compromise I should
think, for the mate, being a canny Scot, was not likely to have given
much away. Our captain was anxious to secure a cargo for London, so
the ship was what is called “laid on” for that port, and we commenced
loading with casks of Kauri gum. These were stowed, with ballast to
fill in such spaces as would hold it, for it was necessary to give
her some stiffening; but one afternoon I was taken up to the agents
by the captain and sent back with a message to the mate to commence
and break out and land all we had taken in, as enough could not be
procured to fill the ship. We all thought that bad luck, for we now
had to ballast the ship and return to Adelaide in the hope of filling
with wool and copper. We made rather a long passage back, for there
was a good deal of strong head wind, the ship being hove-to under a
close-reefed main topsail for some days. That made no difference to the
work of the crew, for day after day we were kept at it scraping and
oiling the woodwork of the hold, in other words the inner skin of the
ship. I personally was very glad to recognise some of the landmarks I
remembered in Bass Straits, and to know that we were that much nearer
home. We duly arrived at Adelaide without adventure, and commenced
preparations for the homeward run.
Before going further with the narration let me describe a scene, not
an unusual one in those days, which took place on the passage from
Auckland. There were certain epithets which were considered fair
and lawful to use, and which men did not resent, on the other hand
there was one term only used if he who was delivering the oration
was prepared to back his opinion by muscular arguments. Our ship was
fitted with patent reefing topsails, but as most good things have
drawbacks to them this particular main topsail had developed a habit of
carrying its halliards away, and their replacement usually caused some
little trouble. For one thing, it was an “all hands job,” and with the
scanty rest the crew were permitted, this did not tend to increase the
smoothness of current matters either for officers or men. Upon this
particular evening the halliards had parted and the yard came down with
a run. As the chain passed round the yard it was necessary it should
be kept clear of turns to ensure smooth working of the patent, and
this was a job of some little difficulty. The second mate and a fair
number of men were aloft reeving the chains when one man in the top
incurred the wrath of the mate, who was superintending operations from
the quarter-deck. He yelled out to his subordinate aloft: “Mr. King,
kick that son of a ---- out of the top.” King on his part addressed
some drastic remarks to the delinquent, but did not appear to consider
it necessary to do more, so the work proceeded until the man who had
been “mentioned” came down the rigging saying loudly: “I’ve never been
called son of a ---- before and won’t stand it.” That was enough for
the mate. As the man stepped on deck he was met by a straight one, two,
in the face, and then began a rough-and-tumble about the end of which
there could be no doubt. The captain came along to see what was going
on, and the mate sang out: “Put this man in irons, sir.” The captain
did so, and poor Canadian Bill, as he was called, was duly ironed and
dropped for security down the lazarette hatch, where for some days he
endured the scanty bread and bitter waters of affliction. Needless to
say he lost no time in deserting on arrival in port, which no doubt
fitted in with the higher policy of the master, who did not wish to
retain the services of men at high colonial wages during a long stay in
port when the absolutely necessary routine work could be carried on by
apprentices, the cargo of course being stowed by stevedores.
It may not be out of place here to say a few words concerning the power
of the master in those days. It may be summed up as absolute despotism.
There was seldom any attempt made to obtain redress for ill-treatment
at sea, and, strange though it may appear, a ship might bear a terrible
reputation through her master or officers, and yet little if any
trouble was experienced in shipping a crew. It must be remembered that
shortly before this had been the great days of the Australian clippers
that made most astonishingly quick passages, and to do this it was
necessary to keep the men in a very tight hand. This had its drawbacks,
for where seamen, accustomed to the rule of mates who in many cases
could have qualified as prize-fighters, happened to sail in a ship
where force was not so dominant, they were apt to be very troublesome,
as I shall show in the course of these pages. I give in this place one
instance of the despotic power of the master. One morning shortly
after we reached Adelaide for the second time we were greatly surprised
at breakfast-time to see the second mate, Mr. King, walk into our
quarters, sit down and commence to eat breakfast. He saw our looks of
astonishment, and remarked: “Did none of you fellows ever see a man
drinking a pannikin of tea before?” Then it came out that for some
offence, I never heard what, the master had turned him out of the cabin
to come and live with the apprentices and the warrant officers. As we
took home a few passengers that trip, I believe that the captain picked
a quarrel to get more room and an additional cabin aft, but King was
quite an acquisition to our party, for he was a splendid sailor, and
always bright and jolly, except when he thought it necessary to use a
rope’s end. That was pretty often, but the rope’s end had little terror
for me. I had been so well acclimatised to punishment at school that it
took more than a rope’s ending to upset my equanimity.
I must confess, however, that a system obtained in that ship which
was bound in the long run to end in disaster. The apprentices were
held responsible for far too many things, and if an article could
not be found in its right place, or let us say the ship heeled over
and a bucket came down to leeward and hit the mate on the legs, his
first instruction would be: “Mr King, lick those dam boys!” and we
got it. At that time the idea of possible rebellion had not taken
root--that was to come later. I still think that the rope’s end in
moderation is a good thing for a boy, and regret exceedingly that a
sickly sentimentality seems to be undermining the healthy view that
corporal chastisement is good for young people. I believe it is still
one of those luxuries dealt out at Eton and similar schools to the sons
of the wealthier classes, and this undoubtedly constitutes a real
advantage that the son of the rich man has over the board school boy.
Our life in Adelaide loading for home was enjoyable. There were many
vessels in port also bound home, and there was a certain amount of
_camaraderie_ among the various ships’ apprentices, but it seemed to
me there was always a certain number of them who walked about thanking
their Creator that they were not as other men were. In other words
they aspired to take rank as from the ship in which they served, and
when it came to a near thing between two ships of nearly equal merit,
a skysail, on a fitted flying jib-boom, or a patent pump, or some such
item was quite sufficient to establish a superiority which would be
insisted upon with all necessary vigour. What it may be to-day I know
not, but ship worship was a very strong feeling among young seamen at
the time of which I am writing, and it ran high in the crews of such
ships as the _Orient_, _Murray_, _Connatto_, _Goolwa_, and others, even
including that very respectable old vessel known as _Irene_.
As may be imagined in a small port such as Adelaide then was, the
younger portions of the ships’ crews were something of a terror to the
inhabitants, for if one could not invent some new piece of mischief,
another could; and when a party of us went on shore for the evening the
proceedings were seldom characterised by dulness. One great pastime
of our ship in particular was swimming. We lay in what was then the
river basin, and that was close to a creek where there was a fine
bathing-place. In the course of time we all became good swimmers, and
took an especial pride in diving. This was encouraged by the skipper,
who urged us to go higher and higher from the ship’s rigging, until at
last some of us could dive from the mainyard. As the time of the year
was the Australian summer it was a very pleasant way of spending the
evening.
The independent spirit manifested by the stevedores and other
working-men that had to do with the ship came to one rather as a
revelation. There was a quiet assurance about these men that was
remarkable; they knew what their importance was in a place where
labour was scarce, and being satisfied with the wages they got did
their work with a manly independence which needed no driving. I should
mention that the stevedores stowing the wool were paid by piecework,
and that perhaps may have had something to do with their satisfactory
performances. They had all been seamen at some period of their lives,
and when hauling on their tackles in the hold, screwing wool, could
raise a chanty that would merit unfeigned approval from a nautical
critic. Wool-screwing was there an art. There was not the hurry-scurry
of the present day, and I suppose it took two months to load that
little vessel with wool and copper. When this was done we shipped the
able seamen we were short of through desertions, and set out for our
homeward trip.
I wish I dare set down in black and white the various incidents of that
trip, but I must refrain. We had three passengers, an old Cornishman
and his wife, considered second class, who lived in a boarded space
in the poop, and a fairly young lady who messed with the captain and
mate. The front of the poop was fitted up as an immense birdcage
for a great number of small green parrots that at one period of the
voyage died by scores daily. I believe, however, that enough survived
to make the venture a paying one to the skipper. We had shipped as
steward a colonial man, the blackest I ever saw, with an immense idea
of his own importance. As the steward on a sailing-ship is looked upon
exclusively as the master’s servant there is frequently antagonism
shown him by the mate, and the present case was no exception to the
rule.
Now let me say that so far as my knowledge serves me, all boys at
sea are thieves so far as food is concerned. It is not considered
dishonourable to steal any food that can be got at, but the great crime
is to be found out. My particular chum, Fred Wilkes, however, not
content with annexing potatoes, had the audacity to light the galley
fire in the middle watch for the purpose of baking them. This was
asking for trouble, which promptly arrived, for, being taken red-handed
in the act, he was sentenced to be deprived of his forenoon watch below
for an indefinite time, and this sentence of brutality was actually
carried out. For the uninitiated it may be explained that, having been
on deck for eight hours previous to 8 a.m., he was allowed time for his
breakfast and then called on deck to begin a full day’s work.
The passage home was to be made round the Cape of Good Hope (few of the
Adelaide ships favoured the Cape Horn route), and we were particularly
fortunate in getting round Cape Leeuwin and up into the south-east
trades with a fine fair wind. There are few more pleasant passages than
that across the Indian Ocean at the southern limit of the south-east
trade, which on this occasion was blowing very strongly. Indeed, at
times it was more than we could carry all studding sails to. I remember
that in our middle watch the lower stunsail had been taken in for
wind, and the captain, coming on deck during a period of lull, soundly
abused the second mate, in whose watch I was, for keeping the ship
“hove-to,” and that with everything set except one lower stunsail which
was even then being got ready to hoist again. King was not in favour
with the powers that were, although to do him justice he was a very
fine seaman. On one occasion on the passage from Auckland to Adelaide
it became necessary to call all hands to shorten sail, and it happened
that King was in charge, neither the mate nor captain being on deck. It
was necessary to take in the mainsail, and he did it successfully by
taking up the lee side first, in opposition to the dictum laid down in
Falconer’s _Shipwreck_ that--
“He who seeks the tempest to disarm
Will never first embrail the lee yardarm.”
At that time, however, there was a difference of opinion on the
subject, and I think a good deal is to be said for both contentions.
The truth probably is that with a strong crew and proper management a
heavy course, if taken in lee sheet first, was easier to furl, as the
canvas was not so much blown over to leeward, but on the other hand, if
great care was not taken the canvas very often blew to pieces.
To do justice to the officers of that ship they were all fine seamen,
and insisted on a high standard of a sailor man’s attainments from all
hands. A “job of work” badly done, or done in a slovenly manner, called
down immediate reproof and punishment--which usually meant doing it
again in a watch below. In modern times it may sound strange to talk
about reefed stunsails, but we carried them, and night or day not a
moment was lost in making or trimming sail as it was required.
It was when we were nearing the Cape of Good Hope that the mate going
aloft one afternoon discovered that the mainmast was sprung, and
reported it to the captain in the words, “The mainmast is a sprung
mast, sir, just below the futtocks.” In fact, as was afterwards
discovered, the mast was pretty rotten. All hands were immediately
turned to splice a big spar up the after side of the mast, and so well
was this done by lashings of rope and chain, tightened up by wooden
wedges, that it lasted the remainder of the trip without giving any
trouble. When the mast was taken out in London every one marvelled that
it had lasted as it had.
When we sighted the land about the Cape, the first view of Table
Mountain was most impressive, and it is one of those great natural
features that never loses its grandeur or becomes stale by constant
acquaintance. I little thought that at that time there was a little
maiden two years old toddling about an old garden there that in after
years was to be my wife. So it was, however, and indeed I ultimately
grew to regard the Cape quite in the light of a home country.
The remainder of the passage home was uneventful. The next thing I
remember was being at the wheel on a bitterly cold June morning, when
we made the English land, and the feeling of exhilaration that it gave
all hands was a thing to be remembered. Then the run up-Channel in
company with many other vessels was a pure joy. The old man walked the
poop snapping his fingers; as soon as we got the pilot off Dungeness,
and a tug, we commenced to furl the canvas and put the finishing
touches on the ship’s harbour toilet. Once in the London Docks the ship
was soon deserted by the crew and left to the care of the apprentices,
who were not supposed to have any desire to get away. It happened,
however, on this occasion that Captain Hole was subjected to a raid by
my sisters, chaperoned by that kind, gracious and beautiful lady, the
late Mrs. G. E. Dering, whose wealthy and eccentric husband recently
achieved posthumous fame as “The Hermit of Welwyn.” As they desired to
take me away at once for at least six weeks the old man surrendered at
discretion, and in all the glory of gilt buttons I was borne away.
That brings to a close my maiden voyage, but one thing that struck me
when I got home was the pleasure with which one remembered familiar
details--even such insignificant things as old cracks in paving-stones.
It seemed almost wonderful that one had been so far away and yet come
back to find everything just the same, even to the same old boatmen
lounging on the pier apparently in the same position they had occupied
from one’s earliest recollections.