“Oh, we’re bound for Mother Carey where she feeds her chicks at
sea.”--KIPLING.
It was one thing to be assured by my friend the collector of Customs
that I should never be in want of employment, and quite another part
of speech to find a ship. I have a very distinct recollection of the
trouble I had to get suited. Without any influence in the shipping
world berths were not easy to obtain, and many a long day did I pass
prowling round the various docks before success attended my efforts.
What the procedure of others was I know not, but mine was to pick out
a good-looking ship and then get into conversation with some one on
board her to ascertain if she had a second mate. Of course this action
would be useless in well-established lines, for they would promote
their own men, but an outsider was all I could aspire to, as I was not
sufficiently pleased with my late owners to apply to them for help.
One day my eyes lighted upon a very handsome little iron ship lying
in the London Docks. I thought her a beauty, and on closer inspection
discovered her name to be _Lord of the Isles_; she was not the
celebrated tea clipper of that name, which ten years previously had
beaten the Yankee vessels in the race from Foo Chow to London. There
was this similarity, however, that she was built at Greenock by Steel,
while the earlier ship was built by Scott of the same place. Anyhow she
was a little beauty, and, when I went to try my luck, I was fortunate
enough to find the captain on board, and to get into conversation with
him. I think we took rather a liking to each other, for without much
trouble I secured the berth of second mate. The ship was loading for
Adelaide, and it transpired that the owner was anxious the ship should
make a quick passage, for I well remember Mr. Williamson of the firm
of Williamson and Milligan saying to me, “Mind, Mr. Second Mate, we
expect the ship to make the passage of the season.” I rather liked that
remark, for it seemed to give a share of responsibility to so very
humble an individual as myself, and, indeed, as a matter of policy, or
humbug, it might be well if people in authority realised more than many
of them do, how a junior is “bucked up” by a word of encouragement. I
can moralise over this now that the opportunity of putting the precept
into practice has passed away, but I cannot remember that I was ever
very sympathetic to my subordinates when I had them.
And while dealing with ethics, let me add the note of utility, and
suggest to any young man the desirability of keeping some notes of his
life’s events. There is no need to go into detail, but for one engaged
in such a calling as the sea a chronological note-book will in many
cases save an infinity of trouble. Even now as I pen these lines I find
the want acutely of some record that would fix dates and aid memory,
for it entails an enormity of trouble to get together the necessary
data.
My new captain was James Craigie, a Scotchman, I think, from the
kingdom of Fife, and there were two apprentices on board from the
same town. I remember their Christian names were “Wully” and Peter.
Occasionally the old man engaged them in broad Scotch conversation,
presumably lest they should forget their native dialect, for they
were _broad_ Scotch, and the skipper was proud of the fact. Captain
Craigie was a fine seaman and a skilled and scientific navigator. He
had no notion of what fear was, and although he suffered from an
absurd affliction that eventually killed him he was tireless in doing
everything that he conceived to be his duty to his owner. But--and it
was a big but--he had little notion of what discipline was, and perhaps
the education I got on that ship was useful to me afterwards. It is
all very well to be on familiar terms with those you control, but you
require to be very careful how you set about it. However, I think we
most of us learned things on that voyage.
The mate was a little Welshman named Jones, not a bad sort, but there
was a certain natural antipathy between him and that which was the
fact. He was a poor hand at keeping order amongst the men, and, all
things considered, it was hardly matter for surprise that we had the
trouble we did.
At that time there was a good deal of difficulty with the crews of
outward-bound ships. The glamour of carrying canvas was very great.
There were the traditions of the _Marco Polo_ with Bully Forbes in
command; the Black Ball liners such as the _Red Jacket_ and her kindred
ships; the _Donald McKay_, and others where it was the custom to say,
“What you can’t carry you must drag,” all of which entailed an immense
mastery over the crews. In the vessels I have mentioned there was a
lot of hard usage, and the masters and mates were mostly young men who
could fight, and occasionally use a belaying-pin with decent effect.
But, as with the western ocean men, there were certain able seamen who
habitually sailed in fighting ships by choice, and if they by chance
got with a peaceable crowd of officers they might or might not behave
themselves, as the fancy took them. Our crew contained a fine lot of
men physically, and there was no doubt that the old man intended to get
the utmost out of his ship, which was a smart craft and a good sailer.
We had rather a dusting during the beat down-Channel. I got her into
one mess through hanging on too long to the topgallantsails, but a mild
reproof was all that I suffered, and a youngster must often pick up his
experience at the expense of some one else. We made very fair progress
on the way south, and the skipper stated his intention to go well south
and make a passage if possible.
One clear morning we were about due south of the Cape of Good Hope,
running under all the canvas we could carry and making about thirteen
knots, when we sighted our first iceberg. It was about eight bells, and
the whole of the forenoon we made towards it, passing it shortly after
noon. In size and shape it reminded me of St. Paul’s cathedral. Modern
Antarctic explorers tell us that the size of these southern bergs have
been greatly exaggerated, but as we saw this particular berg more than
fifty miles off it cannot have been a very small one.
For some days after this we constantly saw ice. One Sunday afternoon,
my watch on deck, it was misty, and we continually sighted the heads
of bergs in more or less close proximity. There was a strong following
wind, but the old man took in the mizzen-royal and crossjack, and,
telling me that he had snugged the ship down for me, went below to
sleep the sleep of perfect peace. With the gaudy confidence of youth,
however, this did not give me any immediate concern.
But we did carry canvas, and I should hesitate to say how many
topmast-stunsail-booms we carried away. We had got into a streak of
fair wind, varying from N.W. to S.W., and made the most of it. The
watch on deck was frequently occupied with draw knives helping the
carpenter make new booms to replace those that went, but after a few
days of this work it began to pall upon the crew, who lacked the
accustomed stimulus to their exertions as supplied by a “heftier”
school of mates, and for some days the men would not come out of the
forecastle. The ship in the meantime was worked by the apprentices and
afterguard. This was not an uncommon occurrence at the time, and should
have been cured by the administration or threat of a few leaden pills,
but before the old man made up his mind to apply this remedy the crew
turned to again. They had secured a store of biscuits, but were unable
to cook anything below, and this brought them to reason.
In the last chapter I mentioned the sort of custom that existed when
there was any serious friction between the men in the forecastle and
any particular officer. If action was deliberately decided upon, the
development would be something on the following lines. At 4.30 a.m. it
was the custom for the watch on deck to have their morning coffee. This
is a sustenance that is very greatly appreciated in all ships, and I
can remember that my friend Mr. Clark Russell enlarges more than once
in his inimitable books upon its advantages. At 5 a.m. when the watch
commenced to wash decks, one man would come aft to relieve the man at
the wheel to go and get his coffee. I have not previously mentioned
the custom of the sea which reserved the weather side of the poop for
the captain or officer of the watch, whichever might be in possession
(if the captain came on deck the officer of the watch would cross
over to the lee side), but by reason of this custom if a man were out
looking for trouble he would attempt to come aft on the weather side
of the poop to relieve the wheel. The officer of the watch would then
meet him at the head of the poop-ladder with, “Go up the lee side,
you ----;” that is left blank for the reader to fill in the precise
amount of profanity or warmth that had been previously generated,
and consequently brought about the breach of the peace which was now
certain to follow. Curious ways sailors have!
Well, in that telepathic manner in which news spreads on board ship,
the hands got to know that I was not a believer in half measures where
refractory men were concerned, and my watch laid themselves out to see
how much trouble they could give me. They really succeeded in a most
creditable manner, and the result of a little difference of opinion
that became manifest, concerning the setting of a lower stunsail
one middle watch, was that when the mate came on deck to relieve
me he found me insensible and covered with snow. I had been rather
badly manhandled, and when next I looked at my face in the glass it
was not by any means a thing of beauty; in fact, I carry the scars
to-day. Worst of all they were very manifest when I had to again face
my refractory watch, but there was no help for it; we were making a
splendid passage, and the old man was for peace at any price.
We made the run from the meridian of the Cape to Adelaide in twenty
days, which was very fair work, and duly docked the ship and started to
discharge cargo. There was, however, to be another unpleasant little
episode before the crew were finished with, and to this day I laugh
at the remembrance of the mate’s coat-tails streaming behind him as
he rushed forward one afternoon with a hammer in his hand, to take
vengeance on some man who had aroused his ire. I forget what it was all
about, but the men came aft in a body bent on mischief. The ship was
alongside the wharf, the old man was on shore, and there was a crowd
of onlookers from other ships, when the mate left to fetch the police.
I was being roughly handled, but putting up the best fight I could,
when, seeing the captain of another ship looking on, I shouted to him
to ask what I was to do. “Get a cutlass and smash their skulls for
them,” was the answer I got, and with one in my fist I escaped further
trouble. The police came down and marched the lot off to jail, and on
the next day I fancy they got three months a-piece. There was a Captain
Douglas, R.N., acting as one of the magistrates on the bench, and he
appeared highly interested in learning the manners and customs which
had obtained on board the _Lord of the Isles_.
Our stay in port after this was most agreeable; I renewed acquaintance
with many old friends, and when it was time to depart did so with
regret. There is a certain great artist alive to-day, who may remember
an episode concerning a letter and an old boot. Do you, Mortimer
Menpes? I have not forgotten.
Some pains were taken to get a decent crew together. We were towed to
the outer anchorage, there to await their arrival, for we were to sail
for Newcastle, N.S.W., in ballast and then take a cargo of coal for
Manilla, where we were to load for home. The mate and I had by this
time made up our minds that if there was to be any more hammering done
we were not intending to play the passive part.
It is very curious how these things happen. The cook was the only bit
of the old leaven that was left, and there was no love lost between
him and the steward. The first morning we were at anchor outside, the
steward, who was a very good-looking fellow, went forward to the galley
to get early morning coffee for the mate and me. While it was preparing
in the customary saucepan, the cook blew upon the rising steam to see
if the preparation was boiling.
“Don’t blow on the coffee, cook,” said the steward.
“Shall if I like!” replied the cook.
The steward gave a hitch up to his trousers, and the cook brought the
saucepan of hot stuff down on the steward’s head, cutting it open, and
sending him aft badly hurt and much scalded. The cook then proceeded
to sharpen his knife on the grindstone for the edification of those
whom it might concern. It did not help him much, however, for the mate
told me to put him in irons, and that I promptly did, using only such
arguments as were really necessary.
That day the old man came off with the crew, and we got under way,
settling all little unpleasantnesses as we went. To make a long story
short, there was only one more case of trouble during the voyage. I
found it necessary on one occasion to stretch a man out, and the old
man, who was looking on barefooted and dressed in his usual rig of
shirt and trousers, kept up by one brace, quietly knocked a broom off
the handle and giving me the stick observed, “Now baste him until
there isn’t a whole ‘bane’ in his body.” I did not altogether obey the
injunction, but that was the last of any trouble.
The experience of a coal cargo is not a pleasant one, but there were
quite a lot of fine ships in Newcastle on a similar errand to ours.
We got away with fair expedition and made the eastern passage up to
Manilla, where every basket of coal that came out of the main hatch
was tipped over the side by me. Work of that sort in a blazing sun is
a fair test of endurance; however, it was done, the holds cleaned, the
ship watered and loaded for home with sugar. Then we had a day’s leave
on shore. The place that all the skippers and mates who came to visit
us expressed a wish to see was the cigar manufactory, but it appeared
to be a difficult matter to obtain the necessary permission. When I got
on shore (I had a brass-bound coat, as was the fashion then for young
mates to wear if they fancied themselves) the comprador got me a pony
and I started out to the manufactory. There were soldier sentries at
the entrance, but no difficulty was made about admitting me. I was
shown into the presence of some high official, offered white sweet
cake and wine, then a cigar, and was taken over the factory. Whether
the same plan of manufacture is carried on to-day I know not, but the
pounding of the tobacco leaves with flat stones, by women or girls, on
thin wooden tables made a deafening noise, comparable to very noisy
machinery. Of the courtesy shown me I can only speak in the highest
terms.
I was also very successful in regard to my mid-day meal, to which I was
directed by a monk from the window of some religious house, who heard
me inquiring after the manner of Englishmen. When Admiral Dewey sailed
into Manilla Bay, I know that I remembered the stately courtesy I had
there experienced and felt sorry that the modern world had broken in
upon it. We all know that it is no trouble for a Spaniard to die as
a brave man should, but to have modernity thrust down his throat, at
the sacrifice of his life’s teachings, entitles him to the sympathy of
every Briton who cherishes his own hereditary rights and privileges.
At the time of year that we were at Manilla the wind blew pretty
constantly down the harbour; it was consequently a fair wind out, and
the custom obtained there to some extent of helping another ship to get
under way. There was one point of seamanship over which much argument
took place, and this was whether, getting under way with a fair wind,
it was the correct thing to leave the afteryards square, or to fill
them as soon as possible. I could argue it either way myself, but it
was a source of never-failing criticism whichever way was adopted. In
our case the afteryards were left square.
Our run down the China Sea was a pleasant one, through Gaspar Straits
and so down to Sunda, where we were becalmed for ten days, to the
intense exasperation of every one. Even the supply of the mangosteen
procured at Anger Point did not compensate for this. Lest it should
seem that I overrate the charms of fresh fruit, let me say that no
one who has not eaten mangosteen is qualified to form a fair opinion.
Unfortunately, the fruit is so delicate it hardly stands carriage, for
I have never seen one away from its place of growth. It is, however,
probably the daintiest and most delicious fruit that grows.
Once clear of the Straits, our good fortune returned to us and we
made a fine run across to the Cape. The ship was rapidly fouling, but
the old man hung on to the canvas with all his wonted pertinacity,
and very little wind got past us that could be put to any use.
As an instance, once in a morning watch I was keeping, I saw a
foretopgallant-studdingsail depart in its entirety; tack, sheet
and halliards parted at the same moment, and where the sail went I
never saw. It was the only time such an occurrence took place in my
experience, but it gives an idea of how canvas was carried.
In due course we got to Queenstown, and, getting orders for London,
arrived at St. Katherine’s dock without further incident. I was not
anxious to make another trip in that ship as I wanted to see other
fashions, so took my discharge and went down home once more. I parted
from Captain Craigie with regret, for I had profound respect for him,
and he had helped me on the passage home to coach myself for my first
mate’s examination.
That was the next thing to encounter, so once again to John Newton and
the Wells Street associations! This time I stayed at the Sailors’ Home
while passing, and spent my spare time looking for a ship. The details
of this examination do not seem to have left any lasting impression
upon me. I got through all right, and passed in seamanship before
Captain Domett, but I remember there were one or two critical moments
when my certificate seemed to waver in the balance.
Then began once more in earnest the search for a ship that was to my
liking. There was in those days a place frequented by shipowners called
the “Jerusalem.” I was never clear as to what went on there exactly,
but one of the officials was a Mr. Paddle, and to him I took a letter
from a friend. By this interposition I secured a berth as second mate
in a tea clipper called the _Omba_, belonging to the firm of Killick &
Martin.
The _Omba_ was a fine composite built ship of about eight hundred
tons, well found in all respects, and altogether I was not displeased
with my bargain. But she turned out to be by no means the ship of my
aspirations, for I often found myself wondering why it was not possible
for officers of a ship to carry out their duties in a gentlemanly
manner. I had seen that the officers in the _Essex_ were gentlemen and
could do their work, and I hoped it might be my good fortune to again
sail in a ship where the decencies of life might receive some little
attention. There was some show of refinement in the ship, but not much,
although nothing was wanting to secure it but the will.
The skipper was an Englishman hailing from close to Deal; the mate
was a Scotchman, herculean in size and apparently simple in manner on
first acquaintance. This simplicity, however, disappeared as the ship
left the dock, and he stood revealed as big a hustler as it had been my
fortune to come across--a voice like a bull, dauntless courage, and in
the technique of his calling with little if anything to learn. I have
seen him swing the deep sea lead (thirty-two pounds) over his head with
two fathoms of line for drift, and it will be realised that this was no
common accomplishment. At all events I could not do it; in fact I did
not try, nor did any other man in the ship, but when he started to go
aloft, _via_ the main tack and up the weather leaches to the main royal
yard, it became necessary for me also to acquire that accomplishment,
at all events if my end of the stick was to be properly supported. And
in the end I think that at that particular game I beat him. We were
never on cordial terms, for I was not his sort, and curiously enough
both he and the skipper resented my holding a certificate superior
to my rating. In fact, the old man once observed, “Look here, Mr.
Crutchley, you seem to think that mate’s certificate of yours makes
you a gentleman: there’s only one gentleman in this ship, that’s me;
if there’s to be another then it’s the mate, not you!” That statement
appeared to me to be quite adequate, and not to be controverted.
There was, however, a third mate with whom I did associate. Tom Boulton
was a nice boy, and we had much in common. Further, he liked the same
books that I did. It is many years since I saw him, but I know he rose
to the command of fine sailing-ships, afterwards setting up in some
business on shore. Of all those I knew in the sailing-ship days he is
the only survivor that I have recently been in touch with. As for the
rest of the crew, there were some boys living in the half-deck with
the warrant officers. I think they were special lads, more or less
friends of the owners and well born, but long years afterwards, when I
commanded a steamer, I saw a certain foolish expression on the face of
my boatswain, and my mind went back, prompting the question, “Were you
ever in the _Omba_?” I knew I recognised that expression. He was one
of the boys; his father was a doctor, but he himself only a waster who
could never do any good for himself or any one.
About this period the theory of compass compensation for local
attraction was understood by the few, and composite ships were supposed
to be more difficult to adjust than iron or steel ones. So we made fast
to the buoys off Greenhithe while the operation was being gone through,
afterwards making the best of our way down-Channel in charge of a pilot
whom we landed off the Isle of Wight. The wind soon after this came out
from the westward, and we had the pleasure of working her down-Channel
in company with many other biggish ships. I remember one we were often
in company with--she was called the _Liberator_, and she sailed well.
We had the misfortune to knock the mast out of a trawler somewhere off
the Start; I do not think it was our fault, though I doubt not the ship
paid.
It fell to me to write the letter to the owner describing the
circumstances, and how it occurred, for the old man was not fluent with
his pen. I shall later on give an instance of how letter-writing was
regarded by many masters.
During the first part of the passage out there was no particular
incident, save that we boarded a little schooner in order to send
home letters. She was a Spaniard, and the skipper was as polite as
his countrymen usually are, begging me to accept the present of a box
of cigars, which, needless to say, I was glad to do. It was my first
experience of boating on a line swell, and it came as a surprise.
We made a fair passage through the Trades and commenced to run the
Easting down. The skipper decided to run through the Straits of Sunda
and up the China Sea in preference to the eastern passage, but that
did not hinder him from getting well down into the “roaring forties.”
As a general thing no one minded much being up to the waist in water,
but higher than that was unpleasant, for it induced a suggestion of
swimming that had its drawbacks.
The ship had fine bulwarks, nearer six feet high than five, and she was
fairly deep in the pickle too, but the way she took the water over in
heaps when she was running was uncomfortable. There was no fuss about
it, but just one steady cataract, that at times gave the relieving
ports all they could do to get clear of it before another lot came
along. I am not going to say that at any time she was filled up to the
top of the bulwarks, but it seemed very much like it, and I do not
believe we took the maintopgallantsail in while we were down south,
for the old man carried canvas like a hero. Our best day’s run was 335
miles--a very respectable performance, but it was fortunate there was
no ice about.
Up through the Straits of Sunda and the smooth tract of sea immediately
north of them, which always struck me as being so eminently quiet and
peaceful. The passage through Gaspar Straits was not looked forward to
by many masters with much pleasure, but I suppose that with steam all
its difficulties have disappeared. We had only to anchor once, but when
we got higher up the sea into the Bashee Channel we caught something
that was worth having from the point of view of experience.
I cannot state the exact position of the ship when this happened,
seeing that I did no navigation save an occasional star latitude when
the skipper wanted one, but it was somewhere in the Bashee Channel
and the wind blew from one direction only--I think it was N.N.E. We
took in bit by bit every scrap of canvas down to a lower maintopsail
and a mizzen-staysail; in due course both these sails disappeared in
rags, and it was a brand-new maintopsail too. It was blowing far too
hard for a big sea to get up, but at times a vicious one would come
along and smash something; for instance, one hit her on the starboard
bow and started the knight-heads--a very curious accident. There she
lay for the better part of twenty-four hours without a rag of canvas,
and heeling over about a steady forty-seven degrees--(I may say that
a clinometer I had rigged early on the trip was regarded as one of my
fads). I suppose the rain also helped to keep the sea down, but on
one occasion I saw the watch at the pumps fairly overwhelmed, and I
scarcely expected to find any of them left.
At last it ended. The ship came upright, we got canvas on her, and
found that we were not very far from land. It is really comical the
manner in which sailors take things for granted. I should not have
dared to ask the skipper to see the chart, and had we all known of the
danger it would have done no good, so perhaps it was for the best.
The following story I believe to be true, it was told me by Captain
Ballard, C.M.G., in these words: “Once in a cyclone the ---- was off
Mauritius; we could not help ourselves, and I saw we must be swept upon
---- Island, when it would all have been over. I went aft to tell the
people in the saloon, but stopped half-way; I thought it could do no
good, and would only worry them before it was necessary; but she was
either swept over the island by the tidal wave or else we missed it.”
But what an awful mess that ship was in; as a rule she was spic and
span, the acme of neatness, but now a survey of our state was pitiable.
The laniards of the lower rigging on the lee side were so chafed that
it was doubtful if they would last to port, and altogether the rigging
had suffered greatly. But Providence was good to us, and we got in
without much more trouble, although it was a beat up the China Sea.
When I speak of the customary neatness of our rigging I in no way
exaggerate. As an instance of my meaning, most people know that to
save chafe on the backstays in the way of the lower yards, wooden
battens are usually seized to the backstays. That was far too rough a
method for us. We had the backstays served with unlaid strands of wire
rigging, and if any one wishes to try his hand at putting that on, he
is welcome to the job so far as I am concerned, for it came to my lot
frequently to have to show men that the operation of serving with stiff
wire was a possible one.
It was early winter when we arrived at Shanghai and fairly cold.
There were a lot of ships in the harbour, and among them was the
_Lauderdale_, of which George Davies was now mate. We renewed our
friendship, and had lots to talk over. I think he obtained command of
that ship on her next voyage, and was never again heard of. There was
also a ship called the _Loudoun Castle_, whose skipper had the dire
misfortune to incur the enmity of our mate, which led to disagreeables
for the following absurd reason. A party of skippers were with our old
man talking in the cabin, and the topic of discussion was the writing
of letters home to the owner, an operation sometimes considered a
difficulty. One of the guests happened to say that when he wrote home
he turned the mate out of the cabin, imagined he had the owner opposite
him, and then wrote as if he were speaking to him. There was no great
harm in that, one would say, but our mate heard it, and attributing it
rightly or wrongly to the captain of the _Loudoun Castle_, made it a
personal matter that a mate should be asked to leave the cabin. There
was considerable trouble over the matter, and I very stupidly went to
a lot of trouble to make peace in a business in which I had no concern
whatever.
We discharged our cargo in due course, and in spite of the bucketing
we found there had been no leaking or damage to speak of. Then we
commenced preparing for the homeward cargo of tea. Now, as all people
know, tea is a very light commodity, and the ship had to be ballasted
to stiffen her. The second mate is supposed to supervise the stowage,
but in this case the mate did. To save space he did not leave a
sufficient thickness of ballast on the turn of the bilge, and so some
tea was spoiled. I heard afterwards it was put down to the fault of
“that second mate,” although I had nothing whatever to do with it. It
is one of the prettiest operations conceivable to see Chinamen stowing
a cargo of tea--great heavy mallets are used, and the tiers are built
up with almost mathematical accuracy.
We carried several boats bottom upwards on skids, and these were filled
with every article we could bring up from any place below where tea
could be stowed, and with the cargo work went on the repairing of the
rigging. Here I can illustrate how splendid a sailor the mate was. We
rove new laniards to the lower rigging fore and aft. It was bitterly
cold weather, yet such care was taken over the business that they
did not require to be set up again when we got into warm weather,
or touched for the remainder of the voyage, and let no man say he
stretched the rope to ruin, for it was not so, but the strain was put
on properly.
We had rather a good day’s leave on shore there. Pony-riding seemed
the correct thing to do, and most of us were duly shot off by the
sudden swerve of the beast into some haunt of seamen with which we were
unacquainted. We also foregathered with some of the officers of the old
P. & O. paddler _Ganges_. Nothing of note occurred, however, and in due
course the ship was fully loaded, all the officers were given the usual
bounty of tea as a present, and we prepared to make the start homewards.
We had taken on board three passengers, a clergyman and his wife and
child. A lady at table was a novelty for us, but they were nice people,
and I in my spare time got the loan of many books, and for the first
time made acquaintance with a series of back numbers of the _Saturday
Review_. I can remember a lot of the smart and caustic writing they
contained even now.
We had to beat out to sea, and in doing so discovered that the ship
was rather tender with a beam wind, the royals made an appreciable
difference, but thus it was and we had to make the best of it. To beat
out was fairly hard work, for we had to tack so frequently that there
was no time to coil the braces down; as they came in, so they went out.
But the pilot was a smart fellow and handled the ship beautifully.
Once outside there was a fair wind down the China Sea and we started
to make the best of it. We carried royal stunsails and let very little
wind get past us. The canvas was good, the gear was good, not a moment
was lost in trimming or making sail, and we did well.
One morning, it was my watch, I had rather a scare, for I suddenly made
out breakers on the port bow and I had not the least idea that there
was land in the vicinity. I yelled down the skylight for the skipper,
and at once began to brace up and haul off. The old man came on deck in
a hurry, and was graciously pleased to consider that I had done well
to avoid running on top of the Pescadore Islands, which with a slack
look-out might easily have happened.
There was a certain amount of confusion in getting clear, and to make
matters more complex we heard a great riot going on in the cabin, and
clouds of steam were arising therefrom. It seems that as we came to the
wind, the cabin stove fetched way to leeward and capsized, scattering
the lighted coals. The crash brought the parson out of his cabin and
he promptly made use of all the liquids he could lay hands upon, thus
creating a condition combining safety with a filthy smell.
The skipper was good enough to say that we kept a very good look-out in
my watch, even if the proverbial second mate’s slackness was apparent
in other matters, but looking back at this little episode after the
lapse of years, it seems to me there was no excuse for not warning the
officer of the watch that there was a possibility of the ship making a
bad course. I trust that a different order of things now exists, but in
that ship it would have been little short of sacrilege to ask to see
a chart, or to inquire as to the ship’s position. I should have been
informed with biting sarcasm, “When I want you to navigate the ship,
Mr. So-and-So, I will let you know, meantime, _I_ am quite capable.”
We had great luck down the China Sea, through the straits and as far
as St. Helena, which we made in sixty days from Shanghai. But when
we reached the line our troubles began. There we ran into a stark
calm that lasted for three weeks, and tried the patience of all. More
especially did it affect the captain, as was but natural, and his
extravagances were at times very comical. On the first part of the
trip, when all had gone well, no one concerned themselves about the
proverbial ill-luck which attends the carriage of parsons by sea, but
it now seemed to have improved by keeping. It had been the custom of
the skipper to make up a dummy whist party with the parson and his
wife, but this was now discontinued, and the old man’s text as he
tramped the poop was loudly spoken and often. “Oh, if the Lord will
only forgive me this once for carrying a parson I’ll never do it any
more.” One night he solemnly brought up a pack of cards and consigned
them with many varied and choice imprecations to the deep. I cannot,
however, consider that he was an artist in the use of language--there
was too much sameness and repetition about it.
Whether it was owing to the foregoing incantation I do not know, but
we did eventually get away from the line. Our passage, however, was
completely spoiled, and at the end of it we were shamefully outsailed
by that celebrated clipper the _Jerusalem_. We were going up-Channel
with a fine southerly wind that was about a-beam, but, as I have
said before, we were a bit tender and could not usefully under those
conditions carry all the sail we should have wished. The _Jerusalem_
passed us to windward under all plain sail, and we felt the beating
badly, for we could not carry our royals without burying the lee side
to the detriment of our speed. Off Beechy Head, however, we took on
board a hoveller as a Channel pilot, and I can hear even now the sigh
of relief the old man gave as he welcomed him on board.
There is nothing more to chronicle of that ship; I had made up my mind
she did not suit me--nor I her--so we parted with scant regret on
either side.
There was in the East India Docks a vessel called the _Albuera_. She
belonged to the firm of John Willis & Co., and rejoiced in a double
row of painted ports. To her I transferred my services. Her captain,
Gissing by name, was a nice fellow, and we should have got on together,
but my fortune was now in the ascendant, and I left her to take up the
berth in steam that was then becoming the ambition of all young seamen.
The Suez Canal was open, and it required no great prescience to foresee
the end of sails. The modern sailing-ship that was then being built,
however, was very beautiful. Let me instance one as an example, the
_Lothair_; she was afterwards commanded by Tom Boulton, but she was
built on the lines of a yacht and was as beautiful, although the modern
ship never had the stately grace of the old frigate-built Indiaman.