“The liner she’s a lady by the paint upon her face,
An’ if she meets an accident they count it sore disgrace.”
KIPLING
Good-bye to sail! The chance had come to make the plunge that was
rendered inevitable by the opening of the Suez Canal and the march
of modern invention. It was sad to realise that the sailing-ship
was becoming a back number and that the future for the sea lay with
steam--a means of propulsion that would for ever put in the background
the manly management of masts, yards and sails. To-day, the period in
which this country won its greatest triumphs on the sea is commonly
referred to (even in the Royal Navy) as the “stick and string time,”
but I am old-fashioned enough to believe that the seamen of the past
were in their way as clever engineers as the men that fit and drive the
modern turbine engines.
In the museum of the Royal United Service Institution is to be seen
a fully rigged model of the old _Cornwallis_. Stand by the side of
it and try to realise the exquisite skill that was necessary to rig
that vessel, and then keep the masts in her through all the varied
experiences that would befall. How, pitching in a head sea, every stay
must bear its due proportion of strain or something would go! Consider
the friction and chafe that would be constantly taking place with rope
rigging, and the unceasing vigilance that was necessary to preserve it
intact, and then, if you know enough to realise what it meant, sneer if
you will at the days of stick and string, but forgive those who look
back with regret at what was the inevitable eclipse of a notable phase
in a very noble calling.
The sailing-ship man had a little doubt in his mind as to how he
should properly rank the steamship man. I had on the previous voyage
heard engineer officers in a mail steamer speak disparagingly of the
seamanlike qualities of the ship’s officers--such, for instance, as
an order to the engine-room, “Half a turn sideways if you can; if
you can’t never mind.” Not to be believed for a moment, but still we
sailors doubted as to how they ought to rank in the hierarchy of the
sea. It was also said by the same engineers that they had a chief
officer who was worth anything in bad weather, for he could go round
the decks with such a beautiful command of language that nothing ever
went wrong with them, and so the conclave with whom I discussed the
matter concluded that there might possibly be an opening for one that
had graduated even in a hard school of seamanship. Need I say that, in
spite of chaff and theoretical leanings, I was unfeignedly thankful
to be offered the berth of third mate in the mail steamer _Roman_
belonging to the Union Steamship Company, of Southampton. I said
good-bye to Captain Gissing of the _Albuera_ with regret, and proceeded
with all due haste to take up my appointment.
It was in July 1870 that I first set eyes upon the _Roman_. It was
evening and she was deserted save by an old shipkeeper, who having been
an officer in the very early days of the company was willing enough to
gossip, and satisfy such curiosity as I was not backward to confess on
the subject of my new surroundings.
[Illustration: U.S.S. “ROMAN”]
[Illustration: U.S.S. “NYANZA”]
[Illustration: U.S.S. “AFRICAN”]
Naturally the first things that caught my eyes were the ship’s spars,
and there I was gratified; she being rigged with yards beautifully
squared, sail covers on, and royal and topgallant-yards up and down
the lower rigging in approved man-of-war fashion. Next, the decks
were clean, and there was a look of the old Blackwall liner about
the paintwork that spoke well for her. Altogether she bore an air of
prosperity that made me think my lines had fallen in pleasant places.
My first impression in this case was the right one, for I doubt if
I ever had an unhappy day on board that ship. She had originally
been built with a flush deck by Lungley of Deptford, on a so-called
unsinkable principle, but the exigencies of increasing trade had caused
the company to build a poop on her to a great sacrifice of good looks.
She carried it well, however, and years afterwards they even lengthened
and put a forecastle upon her, from which you descended by a ladder to
the bowsprit to get at the jib.
On the day after my arrival I reported myself at the office to the
Marine Superintendent, Captain R. W. Ker, R.N.R., and learned from him
that I was on a trial voyage, and that my tenure of office depended
upon my suitability for the company’s service. With this information
I was perfectly satisfied, and went down to the ship to present my
appointment to Captain Warleigh. Things were then done with a good
deal of form, and I trust I may be forgiven a certain amount of regret
that a system which gave excellent results has been departed from. The
policy of “hustle” is not the only one productive of good results.
My new captain was somewhat of a revelation. He received me as one
gentleman would another, and when he chose he could be particularly
agreeable. His appearance was decidedly prepossessing, and he had a
pair of steely blue eyes that could on occasions show a very lurid
light. Let me say at once that I always found him a kind friend, though
years afterwards we had differences of opinion. Warleigh was a very
fine character and would have been an ornament to any service; he was
not, however, physically strong, having suffered greatly from fever
contracted on the Mauritius service. When he had asked me some few
questions as to where I had been and what I did there, he called to the
chief officer, whose name was Coathupe, and introduced me to him in the
following manner: “Curly, this is our new third, show him round and
help him feel his feet, will you?” The freedom of speech, I afterwards
learnt, was owing to the fact that Warleigh had only been promoted the
previous voyage, and as he and Coathupe had been great friends when
officers together, the skipper was on more free and easy terms with
his chief than would otherwise have been the case. Fred Coathupe was
one of those gifted mortals liked by every one; indeed, I cannot call
to mind any occasion on which I knew him to lose his temper. There was
little if anything of the sailor in his manner, but for all that he
was a smart officer and kept his ship in excellent order. We proceeded
in search of the second officer, whom we found in the shed tallying
cargo--or going through the form of doing so--for let me say here,
that to put a steamer’s officer on to do clerk’s work is both unfair
and a farce. I know that in some cases it is done to-day, but I feel
sure that the loss entailed by an imperfect record of cargo carried is
far more than would pay for the time of a clerk who has been properly
trained to the work. In sailing-ship days, when there was no hurry, the
mate could sit on the rail and do his tallying easily enough, but not
so now.
Reginald Leigh, the “second,” was a man with a very keen sense of
humour, never at a loss for a reply to any curious remark that might be
addressed to him, and altogether gifted with a flow of language that on
occasion compelled even the admiration of the victim to whom it might
be addressed. I could tell amusing stories on this subject, but think I
will refrain from details. Indications of them may appear, however, in
future pages. Leigh made my acquaintance with a humorous grin, observed
that “It was a good dog that barked when it was told,” that was his
motto, and would I just relieve him for a little time with the tally
book? He and I had to share the same cabin, and we were on very good
terms, the one difference of opinion being that he abhorred tobacco,
while I and my pipe were good friends. When the ship was not full of
passengers the captain gave permission for the third to use one of the
saloon cabins, and indeed the fashion in the service was for every one
to be made as comfortable as possible. The captain, throughout the
company’s service, was a very important personage. Under him the chief
officer was practically supreme in all matters. If, for instance, one
of the crew had a grievance and wished to represent it to the chief,
he had first to secure the attention and support of a warrant or petty
officer who would certify to his statement and accompany him aft to lay
it before the chief officer.
It may not be out of place here to say a few words about Southampton as
it then was--not the great home of mammoth liners it is to-day--but a
nice, quiet little place with just enough of the best sort of shipping
to make it of considerable importance. The people who lived there did
not seem very keen about encouraging shipping, they rather preferred
it to be considered the county town, and to rely upon the support of
the county families; at all events that is what the townsfolk used to
say if one pointed out the vast potentialities of the port. I confess
that to visit the place to-day makes me look back to the old times with
keen regret, for a Southampton sailor in the early ’seventies could
with truth take unto himself the thanksgiving of the Pharisee when he
contemplated the despised Publican.
Firstly, to mention the shipping companies in their order of
precedence, there was the Royal Mail Steam Packet Company. This was,
and is, I believe, the only steamship company incorporated by Royal
charter, and it had various quaint privileges denied to others. It is
difficult even now to arrive at them, but the tie between the Royal
Navy and the Royal Mail has been close, and undoubtedly the line was
at one time more or less under the active patronage of the government
of the day. Its ships were well officered, and there was fairly rapid
promotion, for the climate of the West Indies taken all round was not
very conducive to longevity, owing to the fevers that were at that time
very common.
The Union Company drew many of its officers from the Royal Mail, and
there was consequently a good deal of intercourse between the two
services. Antagonism existed, however, to a considerable extent between
the officers of the Royal Mail and the P. & O. service; they would not
foregather on any condition, the reason being that each was jealous of
the other. Either, however, would associate with us, for they could
and did say in a patronising tone: “Oh, yes, that’s a very nice little
company of yours, quite nice,” little thinking what it would grow to in
the very near future. At that time the Royal Mail was modernising its
fleet. It still had running such paddle steamers as the _La Plata_ and
_Shannon_, and the contrast between these and the new _Elbe_ was very
marked. I happened to know an officer named Teddy Griffiths who was
appointed to the latter ship, and he, in describing his first visit to
her, declared she was so spacious and intricate that he lost his way,
and sat down crying on a hatch until a boy came along and showed him
the way out. Be that as it may, we spent many a cheery evening on board
that ship, for we were young, we could sing a good song, and we had
the gift of good fellowship--which I regret is not always appreciated
at its proper value when one is its owner. It may lead you into undue
exuberance, but it’s a valuable possession to be able to see the best
that’s in your immediate surroundings.
Whether the Royal Mail or the P. & O. was entitled to the first place
might be a matter of debate, but there is no doubt that in the matter
of looks the P. & O. was an easy first. Their ships lay in the outer
basin and always presented a beautiful appearance. Vessels like the
_Mooltan_, _Poonah_ and many more of the same class were even then
being superseded by newer ships like the _Australia_, _Bangalore_ and
_Kaiser-I-Hind_, newer and more up-to-date, but not to be compared for
appearance with the older vessels. With rigging and sails in perfect
order they were all that the eye of a sailor could desire.
Mentioning that these vessels lay in the outer basin reminds me that
the rise and fall of tide at Southampton was considerable, and that at
times the bowsprits of these old-fashioned ships, extending as they
frequently did over the lines of rails on the quay at low water, were
level with the lines of railway trucks. One day an artist in mischief
quietly hooked a truck coupling to a neighbouring bowsprit bobstay. As
the tide rose so did the truck, and great was the interest taken in
the incident. I never heard that the culprit was discovered, and he
deserved immunity for his genius.
Beyond the Channel Mail steamers, a few grain ships, and the North
German Lloyd ships, there was little traffic to the docks. The German
ships were fine vessels, well managed, and the local pilots who
had the handling of them always spoke in the highest terms of the
qualifications of their officers. It struck me at the time in a vague
sort of way that it was curious the Germans should have such fine
craft. It is easy to see now that they were in the early stages of the
thirst for sea power. Apropos of this matter, I might mention that the
Union Company had just sent out their steamer _Dane_ (Captain Ballard)
with sealed orders, but as we afterwards learned on an expedition to
the Western Islands to warn a German training-ship for officers that
war had been declared between France and Germany.
No notice of Southampton in the early ’seventies would be complete
without the mention of Queen’s Terrace and the Canute Hotel. The
Terrace was, generally speaking, the abode of the officers of the
vessels in harbour. As a rule the landladies were a good sort, looked
after us well and did not unduly rob us. They were also fairly patient
and long-suffering where our misdeeds were concerned. For the days
were not long enough for all we tried to crowd into them, and the
nights were very short and bed was to most of us a last resort. The
experiences were many and varied, but there was mostly the charm of
novelty about them. Some officers rather favoured a ladder that would
afford an exit through the backyard from their bedroom windows when it
was undesirable for various reasons to make use of the front door. The
Canute Hotel was the general rendezvous of all officers in port for
lunch. It was kept by Mrs. Hyles, who in her way would have mothered
the lot of us. She supplied most excellent chops, the remembrance of
which and the appetites that devoured them lingers to the present day.
I have only one ground of complaint against that good lady and I may as
well state it now.
There was a music hall in Southampton called the Royal York which was
well attended by officers generally. When I had been in command about
two years, Mrs. Hyles was managing it. One night Charlie Hight, a most
respectable official of the National Provincial Bank, and myself
thought we would like to see the York once more if we could do so in
safety and with no loss of dignity. We consulted Mrs. Hyles, who said,
“You shall have my own private box,” and we went there. That was all
right, but she afterwards extended a similar favour to three young
doctors from Netley who had been dining very well if not too wisely. At
one period of the performance there was a lady on the stage known as
Jenny Hill, or the “Vital Spot,” and these young doctors commenced to
chaff her. She stood on the stage and dressed them down properly, for
which she was applauded by the audience, but as we were also occupants
of the box addressed, we tried to make ourselves as inconspicuous as
possible, I especially so, for I could see my third officer in the
stalls taking a great interest in the proceedings. Our box was at the
end of a long gallery, filled with people, which had to be traversed to
obtain exit, and when the doctors departed, the whole house rose and
howled at them. Charlie and I sat fast, thinking that we should slip
away later unobserved, but no such luck. After an hour we tried to go,
but got rather a worse doing than the actual culprits. It only shows
how accidents may happen to respectable well-meaning men if they stray
from the paths of strict propriety.
It was amusing at times to observe the feeling between the P. & O. and
the West Indian Mail men. For instance, one of the former would say,
“Now, Mrs. Hyles, when you have quite finished with those brass-bound
gentlemen will you spare me a little attention?” That was called for
because the uniform of the P. & O. men was conspicuously plain and neat
in contrast with the rather liberal use of gold lace by the West Indian
Co. I think it may be found that a history of the Royal Mail Company
would prove a valuable book if any one acquainted with the legends of
the Company would write it, for it seems a pity that such interesting
matter should be lost. Such stories, for instance, as permission being
given to wear epaulets, “any number above two,” and an authentic
statement as to when the white hat for full dress was finally dispensed
with. These may be trivial matters, but the traditions of the sea
service are precious to those who still love the Briton’s heritage, and
the records of the merchant service are as much part of the country’s
history as are those of the Royal Navy.
To leave the shore details and come back once more to the _Roman_, it
was then the custom of the Company the day before the ship sailed to
muster the crew, and go through fire and boat drill, and a very good
custom too. It was a respectable show to see the men fallen in, dressed
in uniform and saluting in proper fashion as their names were called
over, the officers dressed in frock coats trimmed to the company’s
fashion. The captain’s uniform had evidently been copied from that of
the Trinity Masters, an excellent example, and it always appeared to me
that it was a mistake to too closely follow the uniform of the Royal
Navy. It is, I am aware, commonly done, but it would show better taste
if it were discontinued.
Naturally this condition of things appealed to me vastly, and I
may say gave a liking for the service which never departed. Years
afterwards when I had sought “fields afresh,” it was said of me that
“as well expect the planets to have left their orbits as me to sever
my connection with the company,” and I am more than ever sure now that
it was the biggest mistake in the many that I have to record. I firmly
believe that that service was the last stronghold of the conservatism
of the sea.
At the time of which I am now writing it was customary to leave
Southampton two days before the date of sailing from Plymouth. The
Company’s vessels were not powerful enough to make sure of their
passage against a strong adverse wind, and cases were frequent when it
was found necessary to put the vessel under fore and aft canvas, and
reproduce in a mild form the tactics of sailing-ships with a head wind.
We also took a Channel pilot who was ordinarily employed as the
Company’s pilot. His name was William Waters. He was a man of strong
character, and stronger language. There was little of the _suaviter in
modo_ about him, but he was a sailor, and could handle a ship for all
she was worth. Many are the stories that might be told of incidents
that occurred during those trips down-Channel, but they would lose
much of their point if their text were departed from, and as much of
it is unprintable, there is nothing to do save leave it alone. But
never shall I forget William’s language to the man in charge of a
small schooner without any lights that we found in close proximity to
us one dark night. In reply to a forcible question concerning lights,
the reply came up, “Sure, sir, they’ve gone out.” This reminds me of
another Irishman, Pat Malony, afterwards one of the Company’s captains,
who being in the hold when he was fourth officer, was asked, “How many
lights have you down there, Malony?” He replied, “Six, sir, but they’re
all gone out.”
The fore and aft canvas carried by the Union ships was peculiar to
those vessels. I never saw anything quite like it, though I believe the
P. & O. Company at one time had something very similar. The trysails
were set on very large booms, and the gaffs were hoisted by the steam
winches. They were quite easily handled if once people knew the way
to do it, but at first it required a good deal of faith to see a steam
winch tearing away with throat and peak halliards. I can’t say I ever
saw an accident, but years afterwards in the same ship with the same
spars and sails, it was sad to see how the old skill had departed from
the hands that worked them. They seemed to have lost the knowledge that
to work big fore-and-afters, the throat should always be higher than
the peak in hoisting, but that principle takes a lot of driving into
the heads of people. There was also another peculiarity in the rig of
these ships, the lower yards were fitted to lower across the rails when
steaming against a head wind. The Jeer falls were always kept rove, and
I have on occasion, when dealing with baffling winds about the line,
seen royal, topgallant and lower yards up and down three times in a
day. It took about twenty minutes to complete the job.
Nothing of special importance occurred on the way down-Channel on
this voyage, but it was a novel experience to be left in charge of a
steamer’s bridge for the first time. It was frequently the custom to
double the watches in narrow waters, but on this particular occasion
the captain did not do so. He left me entirely to myself, although
I had the impression that he kept a very careful eye on all that
transpired in that first watch. It was an excellent way to let a new
man feel his feet, but on no occasion did the captain interfere with me
when carrying on the duty of officer of the watch.
We did a thing leaving Plymouth that is not often done, we ran well
into Cawsand Bay to pick up a gentleman and his wife as passengers from
a shore boat. He had formerly been one of the Company’s captains, and
report, rightly or not, said that he being an old friend, Warleigh had
taken him away in this fashion to save him from his creditors. I dare
say it was likely enough, for there was no breach of the law in doing
as we did. The ex-captain afterwards made a fortune on the diamond
fields. Needless to say we were fairly filled with passengers, but
it is one of the difficulties in writing this story to know just how
much or how little one should say on that particular subject. There
was every inducement for passengers and officers to be on friendly
terms. We messed with them, and they were always treated as though they
were guests. There was a lot of spare time to get through, and it was
expected that the officers would take the lead in devising amusement to
pass the time. The contract speed for the mails was seven and a half
knots and the passage was seldom made under thirty-five days, and gave
one ample opportunity to acquire a very fair knowledge of whether one’s
fellows were amiable or otherwise.
The Cape Colony in those days was a small place, and I soon began to
discover that almost every one of our own nationality took an interest
in the officering of the mail steamers, and to do bare justice to the
hospitality universally extended to us on shore, we were generally
welcome guests wherever we went. Therefore, there was a great amount of
good feeling on all sides, and disagreeables were rare.
Particularly fortunate in this respect were we on the occasion of my
first voyage in steam. We had a most agreeable set of passengers,
and at our first port of call, Madeira, we were put into quarantine.
We found the Company’s ship _Northam_ there, and as she was in a
similar plight, homeward bound, we foregathered with her officers
and passengers. I was greatly struck by the good tone that seemed to
pervade the Company’s ships, and was immensely pleased at my good
fortune in being able to take a share in it.
When Cape Town was reached, it was customary to fire two guns as an
announcement that the English mail had arrived. These were answered by
two fired from the castle, for in those days this was an event. Upon
this particular occasion we carried out the news of the outbreak of the
Franco-German War. This, however, did not seem to greatly interest our
visiting officials, who were then full of the discovery of the diamond
fields, and it may be said that we on our side did not realise the vast
importance of this new discovery. There was no cable in those days, and
the near interior of South Africa was an unexplored country. We landed
our Natal passengers, who were sent up the coast in a smaller vessel
called the _Natal_, and said good-bye with regret to one of the best of
fellows, a sugar-planter called Tom Milner, whose memory is still green
to old Natalians.
Cape Town docks were at that time open for sailing-ships and small
vessels, but we discharged our cargo in Table Bay to sailing lighters.
Little more than the commencement of the present magnificent breakwater
had been made, and it was not an infrequent occurrence for vessels to
drive on shore when it blew hard from the north-west. The Table Bay
boatmen were very splendid seamen. In the worst weather a well-fitted
anchor boat would keep the sea, and if a vessel was driving, or had
parted her cable, they were very clever at passing on board the end of
a big coir cable, the other end of which was fast to an anchor they had
let go to windward.
Before we left Table Bay, the homeward-bound mail steamer came in--the
_Briton_, afterwards H.M.S. _Dromedary_. She looked a small but
beautiful little ship, as she came in with yards squared to a nicety,
sail covers on, nicely painted, and generally speaking spick and span.
She looked thoroughly workmanlike and typical of her captain, by name
George Rawlinson Vyvyan, of whom more anon. On a preceding voyage the
_Briton_ had lost her propeller and had run into Vigo at the rate of
three hundred miles in a day under canvas only, which was plain proof
that sail was not carried in those ships for ornament only.
In due course we completed our trip to Algoa Bay, discharged our cargo
and loaded wool for home, calling at Table Bay on the way back to fill
up with cargo and passengers. We had amongst our passengers one very
accomplished man named Woollaston, who took great pains both to teach
me écarté and indicate the sort of reading that would be useful to me;
I retain grateful memories of him. On the passage home the S.E. trades
blew strongly. The _Roman_ on that voyage had a two-bladed propeller;
this we fixed up and down when the engines were stopped, and for two
days we ran over ten knots with no steam at all. As that was well over
contract speed it was thought desirable to save coal, but the pursuance
of that policy brought about the opposition which in time absorbed the
original line of mail steamers.
Captain Warleigh was naturally anxious to make the most of the sailing
powers of the ship, and as I was last out of a sailing-ship, I was
pleased to find that one and all permitted me to trim canvas to my
heart’s content, and I was encouraged to do so by every one except the
boatswain, who did not like the officer of the watch to interfere with
details. He was told, however, by the chief, that if other officers
left the work to him, that was no reason why every one should, and
after that there was no trouble, for he was a decent sailor man. This
business of canvas helped me materially with the captain, who told me
one evening he would do all he could to retain me in the Company’s
service, for which I was grateful. My advice to any young fellow
joining a new service would be to try how much they will let you do
even to the usurpation of what may be the work of other people--do the
work, and do it well--it pays.
When we got home the ship was immediately taken in hand to fit up for
an extra crowd of passengers. I was confirmed in my appointment, and
we got a new chief officer named Alex J. Garrett, a man as strong as
Hercules and as obstinate as a mule, a good sailor, and a good friend
where he took a fancy. He was very good to me, and gave me the run of
his father’s house in Southampton. I may say that the father was a
clergyman, but Garrett’s proclivities did not run that way much; he
had been trained in one of the old Blackwall liners of Smith’s, and
represented the type of officer capable of filling any position with
credit. He had a short and effective way of managing the crew, and
rejoiced in the nickname of “three-fingered Jack.” In the matter of
our crews the men often stuck by the same chief officer, voyage after
voyage. They were mostly a very decent lot and, in sharp contrast to
the present day, the firemen were probably the best men on board. They
as a rule had been seamen taken into the stokehold because of their
steady conduct. In those days the glands of the engines were made tight
by hempen or cotton packing, and this was made in the form of square
sennit by firemen, and they had to make lots of it. The pressure of
steam in the main engines was about fourteen pounds. There were no
spring safety valves, and at each moderate roll of the ship there would
be the escape of a large puff of steam brought about by decrease of
pressure on the weighted bar that controlled the safety valve. This
loss of steam was a very considerable item, but the time for reform
had not then arrived, and we were all content to pursue the old and
pleasant road of “as you were.”
In addition to the main and second saloons we now had first-class
accommodation fitted up in the midship and after between-decks. The
ship had been built with a view to this being done if necessary;
there were consequently ports fitted that only required to be brought
into use to provide light and ventilation. These cabins were of the
rough-and-ready description, but they were eagerly snapped up by the
first crowd of adventurers making for the diamond fields. There were
names among those people that were well known in South Africa in after
years. Many of them did well, some came to grief, and one of the
brightest of them all, Albert Ward, had his career ended fighting for
his adopted country in the Cowie Bush. We also had on board the Roman
Catholic Bishop of Cape Town with several priests, who were mostly good
fellows. Their presence gave us, according to sea superstition, promise
of a good passage which was not falsified. It is a curious fact that
Anglican clergy are generally credited with bringing _bad_ weather.
We left Plymouth, leaving behind us various would-be passengers who
had come off in the vain hope of getting a passage. On the passage to
Madeira I was very friendly with a young man named Brett, who was going
to spend the winter there. He was, I believe, a great man afterwards in
the Isle of Wight. At all events I know he must have been known to the
police, for one evening some months later we had been dining together,
and then finding a stray horse wandering about the High Street,
Southampton, we took it to the police station and wished to give it in
charge for disorderly conduct. The sergeant in charge seemed disposed
to think it was we who were disorderly, but my companion took charge
and saved the situation in a masterly manner. I never looked him up
afterwards, but it was a pleasant friendship of young men while it
lasted, and the faculty for friendship does not improve with age.
The passage to Madeira was rather a rough one. Crossing the Bay the
wind was just abaft the beam, and Warleigh was disposed to make the
most of it. One first watch I had been hanging on to the canvas in the
good old-fashioned style, but it had taken a bit of doing to get her to
stand up decently when the squalls came down, and Leigh, when he came
on deck, would not take charge until the canvas was reduced. He did not
care to take the extra care necessary to carry it, and I dare say he
was right, but with a good ship and a good crew I loved the job. We got
to Madeira in good time, and there are few changes more striking than
the beauty of a fine morning at Madeira after you have had a dusting
across the Bay.
To my surprise when we anchored the skipper sent for me, and asked
whether I could ride? A reply in the affirmative brought me an
invitation to go on shore and ride with him, as he could provide a
mount. It did not take me long to get into riding clothes, and we had a
most delightful scramble over the hills. I am afraid we rather exceeded
the speed limit in the town, but the officials in Funchal were fairly
tolerant when once you were on shore, although inexorable over matters
of quarantine, and, moreover, the influence of the Blandy family,
which was very considerable, was always devoted to making things go as
smoothly as possible; in fact there was always a touch of old world
courtesy in all the business relations with our agents at Madeira.
Needless to say, that on our return to the ship it was every button on
duty once more.
With the number of people we had on board it was necessary to
duplicate each meal. I presided at first breakfast at 8 a.m., and first
dinner at 3.30 p.m. These meals were mostly attended by the younger and
more rowdy element, who naturally seemed to gravitate in my direction,
but the skipper was pleased on one occasion to express his approval of
the way in which I represented him at the head of the table, and that
gave me great pleasure. There is little need in these days to describe
what life on board ship was like; athletics, cards and sweepstakes
absorbed much time. Add to this a little music, and perhaps amateur
theatricals, and you obtain a fair list of the methods, mostly employed
successfully, to pass the time.
They were a lively crowd on that journey, and the officers of the watch
had to keep the quartermaster pretty much on the _qui vive_ to prevent
sheer mischief, for with a number of young fellows in a confined space
with nothing to do save to try how they can create diversion for
themselves, what one does not think of the other does. The passage
ended in a great spree at Cape Town, and the party separated to their
varying fortunes.
On this voyage we went into Cape Town Docks for the first time. It was
a very awkward entrance, and it is not given to every man to handle
a ship under steam in the vicinity of a pier. Warleigh, however,
acquitted himself well, and I can only say that his first performance
was a marked success in comparison with mine.
When lying in Algoa Bay loading for home, the ship was rather well
thought of. The skipper was very particular as to the stowing of the
sails, and the chief was quite as keen. We lay there with royal yards
across and fancied ourselves no end. I should mention that along the
rails forward, all our ships in those days carried an immense coir
spring for putting on the cables if riding out a south-easter. It was
probably ten inches in diameter, and in use would stretch and take up
like a bit of elastic, but I do not now feel sure by any means that the
plan of riding out a gale in shallow waters, as we then did, was the
best course. Far better weather is made in fifteen to seventeen fathoms
of water.
As showing the vagaries of sea-sickness, the skipper, Leigh, Trotman,
the chief engineer, myself and four men pulled out one day to fish on
the Roman rock. We duly anchored upon it, and at the expiration of an
hour, when we had caught many fish, every soul in the boat was sea-sick
with the exception of the chief engineer. The motion of a boat at
anchor under some circumstances is disgusting, very, but Trotman fairly
had the laugh of us all.
On the return trip from Algoa Bay we went into dock to complete
loading, and there occurred an incident I shall always remember with
amusement. Leigh had taken under his protection a curious specimen of a
pariah dog that used to prowl round the docks, and the poor beast was
rather at a loss to understand the vast amount of consideration shown
him. He was permitted to sleep in his master’s cabin and generally
was made a pet of. One night after dinner, when we had a young fellow
named Hanbury dining with us, Leigh had retired to his cabin, got into
his pyjamas and prepared to go to sleep, attended by the faithful
hound. Now, as it happened, Hanbury had a dog also, a bull terrier,
and as Garrett, Hanbury and I went to say good-night to Leigh, the dog
came also. No sooner did he catch sight of the stray dog than he went
for him, and the next moment the two were on the top of Leigh in his
bunk, indulging in a wonderful scuffle. It was a trifle difficult
to differentiate between barks and yells, for Leigh under the dogs
was yelling to Garrett to take the dogs away, and that was eventually
done--when we were able to stop laughing. That was the finish of the
good time of the pariah dog.
We had a fine passage home, a lovely run across the Bay with a strong
fair wind. I find in a note-book certain caustic comments on the
wisdom or otherwise of running under whole topsails, and taking in the
foresail, but age brings a certain amount of charity with it, and the
skipper might possibly have had reasons for his actions which he did
not impart to us. I remember the matter rather well, for some of the
gear of the foresail had parted, and I lost some of the skin off my
fingers in helping to furl the sail. They had, I suppose, become soft
for want of work. There was no need to have gone aloft, but it was a
stiffish job, and I fancied myself if there was anything out of the way
to be done. “Zeal, Mr. Simple, zeal!”
When we got to Southampton the skipper had to change over to the
_Briton_, a very quick turn round, and I never again had the pleasure
of sailing with him.
Our next captain, I am glad to say, is still alive and well, honoured
and respected by all who know him. He is now Sir George R. Vyvyan,
K.C.M.G., the late Deputy Master of the Trinity House, and it was my
great good fortune to sail with him more than once.
If I were to attempt to record events of separate voyages this
reminiscence would run to an intolerable length, therefore I think
that I will mention only certain occurrences that impressed themselves
on me during the time I served as third officer, and so bring this
chapter to an end. Let me place on record my thankfulness that I was
never deprived of my watch-keeping privilege. It was the custom in some
ships in narrow waters to give the watches to the chief and second
officers only. Both my captains held, however, that if a man was not
fit to keep a watch in one place, he was not fit in another, and really
this reasoning is the true one, for once in charge of the bridge of a
steamer you have to deal, as a rule without notice, with whatever may
happen, and it is a little lowering to the self-respect of even a young
officer to infer that he is not at all times capable of taking charge
of the ship.
Now it is not pleasant to find fault with anything in that service, but
the days of steam were comparatively young, and there were numbers of
things that were not rated at their real importance. I will mention two
only. There was no engine-room telegraph and orders were shouted down
the engine-room skylight; and secondly, and of still more importance,
there was no recognised standard compass. The ship was steered right
aft on the poop, and there was a binnacle on either side; the starboard
one was that by which the ship was navigated, and that speaks so
eloquently that no further comment is necessary. If any captain had
proposed expenditure to provide a suitable navigating instrument such
as a well-placed standard compass, I doubt if his wishes would have
been listened to. He would have been told that surely he could do as
others had done. It was reserved for Sir W. Thompson, afterwards Lord
Kelvin, to first convert the shipbuilders on the Clyde to the belief
that it was necessary to provide a suitable location for a standard
compass, and then to confer that greatest boon that was ever given to
seamen, a really sound and effective compass.
This voyage was the last one on which the mail steamer called at
Plymouth on the outward trip. For some years after this there was a
good deal of see-saw about calling at that port to take or land mails.
Now that steamers have such power that they can be certain of landing
mails at Southampton by a stated time, there is no reason why the
western port should be visited, but at the time of which I write a trip
down-Channel to Plymouth in a low-powered steamer was a hard experience
in the winter time.
We had now lots of passengers both ways, and the ship was a very
comfortable one to be in. There was no great change in the routine, and
the ship was always kept in apple-pie order. The Saturday inspection
was as thorough as it was possible to be. The Southampton ships were, I
think, unique in the matter of the inspection of the crews’ quarters.
Whether the fashion was set by the Royal Mail or the P. & O. I hesitate
to say, but it was the custom, and a good one.
There was one little matter that made a great impression on my mind
on that voyage, and I have never forgotten it. On the visit to Table
Bay homeward bound we did not go into dock, but finished loading in
the bay. One morning at lunch time the skipper came into the saloon in
his riding togs. I suppose I looked at him hungrily, for he asked me
if I would like to go with him, saying he would mount me. When I had
quite got my breath, of course I said yes, and hurried off to change
into suitable clothes. Well, we went on shore and had a glorious ride,
visiting his friends at Bishopscourt and Newlands. Such kindness was
not a common occurrence. It set me an example as to the way junior
officers might be treated where the opportunity arose, and in after
years I tried to do likewise.
On that passage home we had as passengers Mr. Molteno (afterwards
Sir John Molteno, the first premier of Cape Colony under responsible
government) and two of his charming daughters. When they returned to
the Colony I was always welcomed at Claremont by the family, and some
time later, when I was in command of the _Mexican_, I had the great
pleasure and pride of entertaining some of the family in the finest
ship of the line.
Do any of my readers know what “coal fever” is? It is a nasty disorder
prevalent in small-power steamers, when a doubt arises as to the
sufficiency or otherwise of the coal on board to take the ship into
port. It was rather common in some of our ships, but I never saw it
arrive at the crisis when the ship’s woodwork had to be sacrificed,
an occurrence which has been known to take place. In some cases
preparation has been made to cut up derricks and every available thing
that would burn. I should say that the worst evil that can befall a
ship-master is to be cursed with a chief engineer who cannot keep a
correct account of coal expended.
I propose to relate one incident more that occurred during my service
as third, for it has its amusing side.
When in Cape Town dock on one occasion it was blowing hard outside,
and there was a nasty run in the dock causing the ship to strain at
her moorings and bump heavily against a shoulder in the dock wall that
took us about the main rigging. Unknown to any of us we started some
rivets in the side. On the way round to Algoa Bay we had bad weather,
and arriving at the anchorage, went in rather further than was usually
done, causing the lighthouse-keeper to say we were on shore. The ship
did not touch, however, and had ample water under her.
When the captain was asked if he had been on shore, he said no, and his
word was, of course, taken; but a day or so afterwards it transpired
that we had made water in the afterhold, and people knowing nothing
about the dock episode revived the story of our grounding. The port
captain, Skead, a really good fellow, again approached our captain,
saying that as an accident had occurred would he formally deny that the
lighthouse-keeper’s story was true? That was enough to set the skipper
going. He stated in incisive language that he had already done so,
but that if the port captain chose to accept the word of a “reptile”
against his, he was at liberty to do so and take what steps he pleased.
The result was a court of inquiry, at which about half the ship’s
company attended and swore we had not touched the bottom. The ship was
acquitted, but the port captain afterwards observed to me, “To my dying
day I shall believe you were all perjurers.”
On the homeward trip on one occasion we met the outward-bound steamer
_Celt_, one of ours, and passed within hailing distance. Before the
captains could get a word in there was a chorus from our passengers:
“What won the Grand National?” Answered from an equal chorus: “The
Lamb.” We had one or two breakdowns, between that and the Channel, and
on one occasion I remember hoisting the mainyard by the passengers
only, the inducement to help being that if we did not hurry up they
would not see the Derby. That was Favonius’ year.
When the time came to leave the _Roman_, I was pleased to get my
promotion, but sorry to lose my shipmates. I was rather lucky, two of
my seniors had just resigned in order to try their luck at the diamond
fields. One was named Johnson, and I don’t know what eventually became
of him; but the other was Doveton, who, as Major of the Imperial Horse,
was killed at Wagon Hill. At one time serving in the _Cambrian_ when
she put into Saldana Bay short of coal, he rode to Cape Town for help
in record time, for he was one of our best riders, and a first-class
all-round man.
The Company had bought from the Royal Mail their paddle steamer,
_Danube_, had converted her into a screw, and generally made a very
nice little ship of her. She was commanded by Captain Baynton, who was
commodore. She was, therefore, the best ship in the Company, and I was
very proud when I mustered on her as second officer. It was true that
I was told I should have to change with a senior then serving on the
coast ship, but that in no way detracted from my satisfaction.