“Fair is our lot--O, goodly is our heritage!”--KIPLING.
The _Danube_, as I have already stated, was a converted paddler, and in
our eyes loomed as a big ship. As we went to muster, Captain Baynton
casually drew attention to the fact that a few years ago they were
serving in vessels that were not as long, as from the taffrail to the
mainmast, and used his favourite expression: “It’s marvellous!” Now the
_Danube_ was about three hundred feet long, so that may give some idea
of the size of the vessels that the Union Company made a commencement
with. Baynton was one of the men who upheld the best traditions of the
merchant service. In person he was short and unduly stout, but the
possessor of great natural dignity, brave as a lion, and with an eye
that brooked no contradiction. He had me under arrest one morning for
a short time, and my fault so far as I could gather was that I had
looked at him in a manner he disapproved of. But we were afterwards
great friends and I had a most sincere regard for him. I think that the
earlier portion of his life had been spent in the service of the Royal
Mail, and he commanded the _Medway_ when she towed H.M.S. _Britannia_
in for the bombardment of the forts at Sebastopol. As he once told me,
his wife and a faithful attendant named Anne were with him on that
occasion, and he further explained that when he had finished with the
flagship and went to see about them, they were sitting on camp-stools
on one of the sponsons amused at watching the shots fall. It may be
mentioned here that when the question of towing the flagship under
fire was raised, the crew of the _Medway_ gladly acquiesced, with
the understanding that if fatalities occurred their families were to
receive the same consideration financially as if they had been serving
in corresponding rank in the Royal Navy.
Our chief, Sammy Valler, was quite a character in his way, but does not
call for comment specially; the third was a nice enough youngster but
as weak as water, and his own enemy. He took a great fancy to me, and
if we had remained shipmates I fancy his career might have been better
than it was. Altogether it was a good ship’s company, and I was very
glad to get to sea. As it was a first voyage we were naturally trying
what we could get out of the ship, and, going down-Channel the first
night out, I nearly ran over a sailing-ship which was going the same
way as ourselves without even showing a binnacle light over the stern.
I did call the captain, who came on the bridge and made a few cursory
remarks concerning the iniquities of sailing-ships generally, after
which he retired. If Baynton could not trust the officer of the watch,
he got some one he could trust. A master who is too much on the bridge
is not an unmixed blessing, for he lessens the sense of responsibility
in the officer of the watch, and, strange though it may seem to a
landsman, the bridge under ordinary conditions is not his place.
Baynton realised this and acted accordingly. The weather we experienced
for the first day or two was such as to cause the ship to roll heavily,
and the rigging, being new, stretched to an abnormal amount, so much
so that it had to be “swiftered in” until we could get into quiet
water. I watched this operation with some interest as it was carried
on under the supervision of the chief and the boatswain, and inclined
as I was to criticise steamboat sailors, I confessed to myself that it
was done in a seamanlike manner. I think it was the same night in the
middle watch that the wind came out fresh and free from the northward
and I was able to get the square canvas on her. It was a treat to do
so, for although lots of the gear was foul, sail never having been set
before, the way she showed her sense of the attention was beautiful to
see. In these days of twin screws and massive ships canvas would mean
little, but in well-sparred, fine-lined steamers, canvas was then like
water to a thirsty plant, and imparted a motion and buoyancy that were
delightful to experience. To the speed of the _Danube_ canvas would add
at least two knots.
The remainder of the voyage passed without any event of interest, and
in due course we got to Algoa Bay and commenced to load for home.
We had started a new plan of stowing our own cargoes of wool, and
naturally the second officer had charge of the business. This was
rather a novelty and I was taking a great interest in the entire job.
One day the chief and I wanted to go on shore to a ball to which we had
been invited, and the captain had given us free permission to do so,
saying with a certain amount of sarcasm, that if all the officers went,
and the boatswain as well, he thought we might find the ship afloat
when we returned. However, we made allowance for the fact that the
atmosphere was a little sultry. I was on that day just finishing the
stowing of the after orlop deck, when a voice from above gave notice
that the captain was coming down. He duly made his appearance, being
lowered in a big basket known as a cheese basket, variously used for
discharging small boxes of cheese and also for landing timid passengers
into boats in bad weather. There was a space into which I was
determined to get a bale of wool, but there was considerable trouble
in doing so, and Baynton, having comfortably seated himself in a chair
I had procured for him, expressed a decided opinion that the job was
impossible. His remarks continued to be of a very caustic nature, until
the bale being in its place, he observed: “Now I suppose you think you
are a dam clever fellow,” and as he did not patronise hold ladders,
shouted out for his return conveyance. There must be many still alive
who can picture this scene to themselves.
We went to our dance and had a splendid time, and I know that in
this season of the Coronation I shall meet stately ladies who though
unfortunately no longer young, helped on that occasion to make the sun
rise far too quickly. On our return to Table Bay, Nemesis overtook
me. I was far too comfortable and contented and consequently had to
turn over to the coasting steamer _Natal_, a little craft of under 500
tons. The man I relieved was named Borlase, commonly known as “handsome
Henry”; he was my senior and had managed to work the oracle with the
Company’s agents, and my skipper had not objected. My shipmates in the
_Danube_ gave me a very cheery farewell dinner and send off, and I
entered upon my new experience with a lot of curiosity, for the tales
of the coast were many and various.
It is not an easy matter after many years to put events in quite their
right perspective, especially when many things were happening at the
same time, but the history of that little ship was a fairly crowded
one. In the first place she had recently been sent home with the mails,
when the proper mail steamer had broken down. They had then greatly
increased her passenger accommodation by building a saloon on deck,
which was an advantage, and as at that time the Franco-German war was
on, there was a clause in the ship’s articles when they were opened at
Southampton that was unusual and, if I may say so, more’s the pity!
It ran as follows: “The said crew agree to fight and defend the ship
to the best of their ability, at the discretion of the said master.”
Advantage had not been taken of the chance to reboiler the ship, and
this was an endless source of trouble, for it always made sailing-day a
period of uncertainty. It was the old story of putting a new patch on
an old garment, and a patch on one place often caused a break-out in
another.
But, as in all the Company’s ships, the personnel of the officers was
of the best. Ballard was skipper; I have referred to him in connection
with a previous experience. He was a sailor, curiously quiet until
roused, when he could make the sparks fly with a vengeance; very
self-contained, but always ready and willing to do a good turn if he
could to any one. I am happy to say I won his confidence. The chief
was the ill-fated Edward Manning, afterwards lost in the _Teuton_.
His end was in keeping with his life, for probably no man ever
kept himself under more complete control than did Manning. Knowing
his work thoroughly, he seldom if ever raised his voice; nothing
ruffled--outwardly at least--the calm serenity of his temper. I only
saw him move hastily twice; once to get the helm over when I was
shaving a point rather closely, and again to fling me a rope’s end
when, in lifting the end of a buoyed cable, the boat was capsized and
we were all in the ditch. He was a very fine character, and a good
shipmate. Our third, Harrison, was a good man too, but after a short
time he was relieved by Jones, of whom more anon.
The duties of the _Natal_ were to make a trip monthly between Cape Town
and Durban, taking up the mail and passengers brought out by the mail
steamer coming to Cape Town, and feeding her in a similar manner from
Natal. It usually took about two days to accomplish the transhipment.
There was a certain amount of novelty in this work, for it was rather
out of the beaten track, and the eastern ports were in a very primitive
state of development. Take in the first place East London, then a
very difficult port to enter even with the smallest craft. The mouth
of the Buffalo river, which made the port, was closed by a sand bar
that at times was impassable even by a lifeboat. The method of working
was for lighters to haul out by surf lines laid over the bar and
extending a fair distance into the anchorage; the ship that had cargo
or passengers to discharge anchored as closely in as was prudent and
then ran a warp to the buoyed end of the surf line for the lighter to
reach the ship by; the work was rough, very, and the boatmen were in
perfect keeping with their surroundings. I should not like to do the
men an injustice, but they seemed to be the scourings of the roughness
and rascality of the world. Their lives were mostly in their hands,
and they did not attach much value either to them or the language
with which they adorned them. It was no uncommon thing when there
was a sea on the bar--and there mostly was--to see a breaker sweep a
surf boat from end to end. The men generally managed to hold on, but
fatal accidents were not infrequent. These boats would frequently land
passengers, who were carefully battened down and in almost complete
darkness while the passage was being accomplished. Both at this port
and Durban, passengers were put into the lighters in large baskets
lowered by the cargo whips, and if the ship were rolling it would be no
uncommon occurrence to see a basket containing perhaps three or four
men and women hoisted half way out and held fast by derrick and stay
until the roll had subsided. People got used to it, however, and no
improvement was made until the visit of the Empress Eugènie to South
Africa, when it occurred to some genius that a wicker cage might be
made with a door in the side which would obviate the necessity for
lifting the ladies into the basket. If, however, the ladies were young
and good-looking there was never much difficulty noticeable in finding
volunteers to take on this arduous duty.
Leaving East London the navigation of the ship was conducted on
different lines to that adopted to the westward. There one could steer
a course and be moderately confident of making it within reasonable
limits, but between East London and Natal you had to face the full
force of the Mozambique current, which mostly ran anything between
three and five knots to the south-west, unless you were close in shore,
when you were sometimes, but not always, favoured with a drain of eddy
current.
With a vessel steaming perhaps nine knots it was therefore necessary
to keep as much inshore as could be done with safety. To set a course
was not possible; during the daylight hours the ship was steered by
the coastline, and when darkness closed in a course was set which ran
parallel to the land by the chart, yet caught the current on the port
bow, with the result that when daylight came the ship would be thirty
miles out, or more, fighting the full strength of an adverse current.
The nett result was that passages between East London and Natal were a
very uncertain quantity.
I took to this sort of watch-keeping in the daylight very kindly. The
coast was mostly like English parkland, and I set myself to learn it as
thoroughly as possible; in this I was assisted in every possible manner
by the captain, who spared no pains to point out the various places by
name. It was interesting work, for it gave one a chance to exercise
one’s initiative which was in no way checked by my seniors.
Durban harbour in those days was not the ample port it is now. Under
the best conditions there might be perhaps sixteen feet of water on the
bar at high tide. It was more often twelve or even less. Outside the
bar there were the remains of three attempts to improve the harbour,
but each one had been a failure. There was an impression that any
of them might have been a success if it had been persevered with,
but money had been too scarce to push the experiment to a successful
ending. There was, however, one man who even then had made up his mind
that Durban should be a port, and he lived long enough to realise his
ambition. His name was Harry Escombe, afterwards “Right Honourable.” If
Harry Escombe and Cecil Rhodes were alive to-day there would be some
backbone in the councils of the Empire. But this is a digression.
There was a good deal of formality about getting the little _Natal_
into the Bluff Channel, a dignified port captain, an oracular pilot,
lots of signalling and a final pointing for the bar. Whether we touched
or not I cannot remember; most likely we did, for it was a very common
occurrence--but anyhow we got in, moored in the Bluff Channel, and
looked around us with satisfaction. There was every reason to do so.
A beautiful harbour, a hearty welcome from all, and an utter absence
of anything approximating to bustle. Further it was the land of the
Zulu, who was relied upon to do all the hard work. I suppose that it
would be difficult to find finer specimens of muscular humanity than
were the Zulus who did the shipwork; their scanty raiment appeared
perhaps inadequate to the white ladies who were then making their
first acquaintance with the manners and customs of the country, but if
modernity has now insisted upon trousers in the towns of Natal, it has
destroyed a picturesque side of the national life.
Natal was absolutely different from any other part of South Africa,
inasmuch as it was mainly British! In Cape Town you heard as much Dutch
spoken as English, if not more. Towns like Stellenbosch or Wellington
might be called all Dutch, and I remember when I first visited those
places I wondered in a vague sort of way how it happened that the
British flag flew over them, by which it is evident that I had not
learned my history properly. But in Durban there was a different
atmosphere. It was essentially British and the inhabitants prided
themselves upon being up to date and live specimens of colonists. They
were, moreover, intensely loyal, and fully realised what their country
was going to be in the future.
I was sitting in the Durban Club one Sunday afternoon and certain men
were arguing as to the possibility of a railway between Durban and
Pietermaritzburg, the journey in those days being made by mail cart.
Escombe brought the matter to a head with the following words addressed
to a sugar planter named Tom Milner, a splendid fellow who had come
out with me on the first voyage of the _Roman_: “Look here, Milner,
I will give you a shilling a day until I go by train from Durban to
Maritzburg; after that you shall pay my butcher’s bill for life!--is it
a bet?” Milner said yes, and this being in 1872 he received his cheque
yearly until about eight years later when the railway was built and the
bet was compromised. I fancy he paid back two shillings for each one
received.
No one walked in Natal. If a man wished to go one hundred yards
down the street, the Kaffir boy invariably brought his horse. There
was never any difficulty in borrowing a mount. The people were most
generous and hospitable; but underlying it all there was the sure
knowledge that the great Zulu power in the north would some day have
to be reckoned with. There was one little incident that happened about
this time that should find a place here, for it shows that even then
the minds of Germans were fixed upon the great expansion of their
nation. There was a small German trading steamer on the coast called
the _Bismarck_. She was commanded by a very fine fellow named Staats,
who wore a magnificent beard. On one occasion he had a difference of
opinion with the Point boatmen, who were not quite as bad as the East
London men, although very nearly, and they declared they would cut off
his beard. Staats, however, set them at defiance, and declared that the
German flag was sufficient to prevent such an outrage even then, and
would be for all time. The men admired his pluck and cheered him, for
it took a bit of doing.
When I left the _Roman_, Leigh presented me with a suit of canvas
clothes which he had found useful. In the daytime I lived in them, for
the forehold of the Natal was not a place adapted for the wear of fine
raiment. The principal articles we took away were raw hides, sugar and
wool, and the smell of those hides was a thing to remember. There was
no trouble in getting cargo either stowed or discharged, but an officer
had to be there all the time, and in a canvas rig it was possible to
sit down. The Zulus would work well if you did not lose your temper,
and as they happened to approve of me I never had any trouble with them.
One voyage was much like another, but sailing day at Natal offered
considerable variety, for it depended upon the vagaries of the bar.
I have known passengers and their friends come down four days in
succession and be detained for want of water. Those days, however,
usually resulted in a sort of picnic on the bluff--and were most
enjoyable. It was a treat to see the way the girls could negotiate the
steep slope under the lighthouse, and if the idea was to go up town,
there would be a rush for the point, with not too much care exercised
as to whose pony you mounted to get there. Upon one occasion we stuck
on the bar for over half-an-hour, bumping fairly heavily, but she was
a well-built little ship and it did not seem to do much harm; it used
to jar the spars a good deal though. On the passage down the coast we
would call at the ports, weather permitting and pick up such passengers
and cargo as we could, transhipping to the mail steamer in Cape Town
Docks.
After a few trips I got some knowledge of the upper part of the coast,
and experienced a dislike to being set off miles in the middle watch
by the current. I therefore sounded the skipper as to whether he would
let me exercise my judgment in keeping her in when I could see well.
I found he was agreeable that I should do so, and I used to report to
him every hour, and hand the ship over to the chief at 4 a.m. well in
shore. This led to a considerable shortening of the passage up the
coast; but it told against me in one way, for when I wanted to get home
the old man said, “No, the ship has made much better passages up since
you’ve been here and I shan’t let you go.” That was a bit hard, for
there was a lot of promotion going on at home, new men being taken in
as chief, and I out of it all, as was said, for lack of experience.
On one passage down we were anchored at East London, and a breeze of
wind came on from the sea. Seven sailing-ships went on shore that
night, one, a brig called the _Nant-y-Glo_, driving close past us. At
that we decided to slip and go to sea without loss of time; we did so,
but, picking up the cable next day when we were fast to the slip rope
in the cutter, the ship drifted down on us, fouled the rope with her
propeller and capsized us all into the water. That was one of the
occasions when I saw Manning run. Curiously enough, we let go another
anchor, and when we picked it up brought up the other cable that we had
slipped foul of it, so all was joy once more.
But the boilers were in that sad condition that it was necessary to
go in for thorough repairs. We had had to delay our sailing from Cape
Town for four days through bad leaks, on one occasion; and as the
Company had just got the contract for the Zanzibar mail we went in for
a thorough overhaul. This was towards the end of 1872, and a good two
months were spent over the operation. When it was finished, we found
the _Natal_ painted yellow, the better to withstand the anticipated
heat of Zanzibar.
Before we started the first voyage on the new route, we made a trial
trip to Saldanah Bay, and took up with us as visitors many of the
principal people in the Cape, including Mr. Molteno, the premier, and
his two sons. I wonder if one of those sons, now an M.P. and director
of a steamship company, remembers firing one of our twelve-pounder
signal-guns under my tuition? It was a very jolly trip, and we all
enjoyed ourselves immensely. We changed our chief officer about this
time, and got in his place an officer named Barker, a man of no
striking personality but a good fellow, who always went about the deck
humming, and had a most curious voice.
When we left Natal behind us on the first upward trip I think we all
felt like Columbus when he started on his voyage of discovery. The
East Coast of Africa was very imperfectly known, and the charts were
by no means reliable guides. It was a mercy that in those early days
the craft we were navigating were small, and drawing little water, or
I fear that there would have been a good few landmarks left by the
pioneers. Delagoa Bay, for instance, splendid harbour though it is,
was absolutely without a solitary buoy to give a friendly lead, and
the land in the immediate vicinity at the entrance is not conspicuous
enough to give any definite leading marks. No actual mishap occurred
either going in or coming out, but we had enough experience of the
various tides to show us that it was no place to take liberties with.
Quillemane, which is the port at the mouth of the Zambesi, was also
touched at; here again was a river entrance apparently big enough to
take in any ship, but there was the same failing--imperfect survey and
lack of competent pilotage. Presumably in the future this will be one
of the big ports of the world, but at that time it was considered as a
place to be avoided at all hazards.
It was a change to get to Mozambique, where there was a harbour with
plenty of water, and sufficiently well surveyed to make negotiation
easy; it was also a striking-looking place from the sea, with a
magnificent old fort built (so report had it) of stone brought from
Portugal early in the sixteenth century. The work accomplished by those
early navigators and settlers was simply marvellous; it made one wonder
why it was that people who had been so enterprising and splendid as
explorers should have so terribly deteriorated. May the Gods avert a
similar fate for Britain! So far as we could gather the country in
the immediate vicinity of the settlement was rich and fertile, but no
strong or satisfactory rule had then been established, and the entire
place seemed to be marking time.
A strong current sets down the coast past Cape Delgado, but we had fine
and favourable weather for the run into Zanzibar. The entrance to the
anchorage is narrow in one or two places, but in the absence of buoys
the ship could in the daylight be easily conned from aloft between the
coral reefs, though that indeed was hardly necessary. But it was not
advisable to attempt the narrow passes in the hours of darkness, and
consequently the mail steamer bound south usually left before noon.
Our first arrival at Zanzibar was on a Sunday, with a temperature of
ninety-seven degrees in the shade--not a breath of wind, and the water
so clear that the bottom could be seen in ten fathoms. We found H.M.S.
_Daphne_ at anchor, and also the B.I. steamer _Punjaub_, which was
concerned in the mail contract from Zanzibar northward.
About this time there was some excitement at home concerning slavery
at Zanzibar, and Sir Bartle Frere paid a visit to the place in the
_Enchantress_. He arrived the day we left. There was also fitting out a
Livingstone expedition under the leadership of Colonel Pelly. There is
no need here to go into any description of the place itself, except to
say that it was quaint, the people well disposed towards the British,
and that slavery as then practised, was on the whole a respectable
institution, although more than one black man swam off to the ship
and begged to be taken down the coast. Indeed, in after years we were
frequently asked by friends at the Cape and Natal to bring them down a
black boy for service, and there was never any difficulty in procuring
them. There were at times very strong winds of hurricane force, and the
previous year the island had been visited by one that did great damage.
We had a slight specimen of this sort of thing. One morning we had
just commenced working cargo in the usual manner, taking it in from
lighters, when a dense cloud gathered to the N.W., and occasional
flashes of lightning were seen. About 7.30 a.m. down came the squall
with great fury. We got up steam, but had no occasion to use it
although a small dhow full of cargo that was made fast to us went down,
and the beach was strewn with dhows driven from their moorings. I saw
a roof--part of the Sultan’s palace--lift at one side, roll up like a
piece of paper and blow over into the courtyard with a mighty crash,
but I did not hear it if killed many people. By noon the weather had
changed, the wind was gone, and people commenced to pick up the pieces
and resume the ordinary routine of life.
Shortly afterwards we left for Natal, passing H.M.S. _Briton_ on the
road. One trip on this route was much like another, but we spent a very
fair portion of every month in Natal harbour. The last voyage I made
was under somewhat altered circumstances, for Captain Ballard had been
appointed to the _Basuto_, and Barker was in acting command of the
_Natal_. I, of course, got an acting appointment as chief which tended
to stir up in my mind a taste or longing to participate in that stream
of promotion that was flowing at Southampton, but which did not flow my
way. I tried vainly for some time to get home, but as long as Ballard
commanded the _Natal_ I could not manage it, for he would not let me
go. He was very good-humoured, however, in granting leave.
On one occasion I greatly wanted to go to a dance at Maritzburg to be
held on a Monday night. A great friend of mine, and one well-known and
liked by all, named Manisty, offered to find me the necessary mounts
and to ride with me. We started off on Sunday afternoon, arriving at
Maritzburg at 9 a.m. on Monday, sleeping some hours on the road. After
a bath and breakfast we rode to a place fifteen miles out, and in again
to a dinner and the dance, which was kept up till 5 a.m. Then I changed
my clothes, got on my horse, and started for Durban, arriving on board
by 6 p.m. in time for dinner. My companion on the road down was a
cheery soul named Innes. It rained heavily all the time, but it was
the most enjoyable ride I ever had. It was fifty-seven miles between
the towns, and the journey totalled 144 miles in just over two days,
but I had relays of horses to do it, although there were some of all
sorts amongst them.
Soon after Ballard left the _Natal_ to join the _Basuto_ we met her in
Natal harbour, and I arranged to change into that ship for the run to
Cape Town, and the transfer to a home ship. Here for the first time I
met a notable character in the person of Harry Owen, who was chief of
that ship, and one of those who had been put over the heads of many.
He was in those days one of the cheeriest of companions one could well
find, and also a reckless dare devil. We first foregathered over the
matter of firing a royal salute on the Queen’s birthday. We had two
big guns in the _Natal_, the _Basuto_ had three little ones, but as
the ships were alongside each other the combined salute was done in
a fairly respectable manner. I can’t say more than that, but no one
was killed or hurt, and after all that counts for a little. Here also
I first met Bishop Colenso, who would come on board our ships in the
Bluff Channel and simply delight us with his charming companionship; he
was shipmate with me afterwards and was fond of sailors, but it always
seemed strange to me to be on even conversational terms with the man
whose book on algebra had given me as a boy so much trouble to master.
I transferred to the _Basuto_ as second officer and thus came under
Owen’s orders. He was the worst man at relieving a watch I ever knew.
We dined at 6 p.m., and if I had the dinner look-out, he never showed
up on the bridge before 7.30 p.m., for the chief was always relieved
for dinner. This was rather a tax on the second, who had to turn out
at midnight, but it came to an end in a few days, and I turned over to
the _European_ for the passage home, acting as third officer. About
this period the _Roman_ had had an accident and returned to Cape Town
for repairs. She had had a difference of opinion with some rocks off
Dassen Island, and the _European_ was instructed to make the best
passage home with the news, for there was no cable in those days.
She was for her time a fast ship, steaming a good twelve, which was
exceptional for us, and every one was delighted; she was comfortable
and there was a nice crowd of passengers on board. Our skipper was
named Jeffries, a curious compound, who did not make friends easily,
but where he did, stuck to them. I should like to tell many stories
about him, but refrain. His great hobby was whist, and he played a fair
game, but his main fault was that he had little tact in dealing with
awkward people, and this on one occasion, coupled with his having also
a tactless chief officer, led to a lot of reckless young passengers
throwing overboard a great portion of his cabin furniture, including
various embroidered covers by which he set great store. I personally
got on well with him, and I adopted when my time came many hints that
he gave me as to various duties that the officer of the watch should
perform.
We made a good passage home. I was favourably received, and after a
spell of sick leave, which I had asked for to enable me to leave the
coast, I was sent down to Dundee to join the _American_, the newest
ship then fitting out. My application for sick leave was not humbug,
however; I had had a touch of the sun one afternoon riding from the
point to Durban, and the particular way the ailment should be treated
caused a marked difference of opinion between two celebrated London
physicians.
There was a very delightful old Scotchman who kept an hotel where we
stayed in Dundee. His family were as hospitable as himself; I think the
house was called the Globe, but anyhow it was close to the dock where
the _American_ was fitting out. One remark of his impressed itself
upon my memory: “Ye ken we have a’ things in season in the good toon
o’ Dundee,” and it seemed as if a good time was specially in season at
that period. The builders of the ship, Stevens & Co. and some of their
connections named Crowdace, were particularly attentive and civil to
us all, but I entirely fail to remember who was chief officer of that
ship. Baynton was in command and Mrs. Baynton was also with him. She
came round to Southampton in the ship, and it was a fortunate day for
me when she did so, for it enabled me to make a friendship that, apart
from the pleasure it gave me, was of infinite value as far as my future
prospects were concerned. To any young man I would say that if you come
in touch with the ladies connected with your seniors or superiors,
use your best efforts to interest and be agreeable to them, for apart
from the advantage you derive from association with women possessing
presumably “the knowledge of life,” you never know where it may not
possibly be in their power to put in a word in the home circle that may
be of benefit to you in your professional career. Some men may sneer at
this advice, but my experience is that it is good. At all events Mrs.
Baynton was a good friend to me.
When we got to Southampton there were many changes going on in the
officering of the ships, and in the midst of it stood out the fact
that there was a captain and a chief officer short who would have to
come from somewhere. The manager of the Company in Southampton at that
time was Mr. G. Y. Mercer; he had been with it from its creation, and
possessed great power. He was a far greater man even than the marine
superintendent. Now Mrs. Mercer and Mrs. Baynton were great friends,
and it may be mentioned that the latter lived in a very charming house
at Shirley, called Trafalgar Lodge; it was an ideal place for the
people living in it. I was invited to dine there one evening, and doing
so met Mr. and Mrs. Mercer. It was fairly evident to me afterwards why
I had been invited, for after the ladies had left the table and the
men were discussing things generally Mr. Mercer made the casual remark
that “Nothing was certain in this world, not even that Crutchley would
go out as second of the _American_.” Very shortly after this I was
appointed to the _Syria_ as chief, and my skipper was Garrett, late of
the _Roman_, his first voyage in command. This opened up to me a new
vista of boundless possibilities, for the ship was one of our best.
Both the skipper and myself were new brooms and most anxious to sweep
clean. Our second was named Merritt, a nice fellow who came from Cape
Town. Garrett liked him very much, and when a year or so afterwards
Merritt died as the result of an accident, was inconsolable for months.
[Illustration: U.S.S “SYRIA”
(_From a painting by Willie Fleming of Cape Town_)]
The passage out was uneventful, but when we got to Algoa Bay we had
some time to spend there. The ship was in beautiful order, even to the
satisfaction of the skipper, who took a delight in trying to find out
something amiss out of sheer mischief and for the love of tormenting
me. Not that I minded in the least--it was good training--but for some
reason or other it came to the front that there were one or two anchors
and chains on the bottom in the vicinity of where we were anchored,
and Garrett told me to find them and pick them up. I started to sweep
and soon got fast to something heavy, and the work of recovery began.
I picked up an anchor and chain, claimed as belonging to one of the
Castle line, another anchor and chain, and also heavy moorings laid
down for the company’s ships some years before. On the last day I
was engaged in this operation, Garrett took Merritt on shore to the
races, leaving me with a pious adjuration to be sure not to kill any
one. It’s rather a mercy we had no accident, for we were dealing with
heavy weights with makeshift gear. However, it was done, though when we
got home the skipper was asked his reason for picking up the company’s
moorings. There is no doubt, however, that it was a good piece of work,
for it cleared a large space of the best anchoring ground; they were
moorings that would have held a liner of today, but the place was not
suitable for them.
On the passage home we called at St. Helena, and as there was some
spare room in the afterhold, we took in a great number of casks of
whale oil for Southampton. They were old and leaky and made an awful
mess of my beautifully clean teak deck before we could stow them in the
after lower hold. I had grave misgivings about them from the first, but
had to do as I was told. When we got off Ushant there was a heavy beam
sea and the ship rolled badly, with the result that they all collapsed
and not a single cask was landed. It took days to clean the hold, and
there had to be an extension of protest and all sorts of trouble to get
clear of the liability for loss, and to put it on the shoulders of the
insurance people.
When we arrived at Southampton, Garrett was relieved of his command and
so far as I remember was appointed to a new coasting steamer. With him
he took Merritt, who was succeeded by Dacre Bremer, an old Wigram’s
man and a very nice fellow. The new captain was H. E. Draper, and even
now after a lapse of years I find a difficulty in rightly defining
his character. I was with him a long time in various ships, and found
him kind and considerate; he had, however, a caustic wit that was
very telling, and which was perhaps nourished at the expense of other
more important qualities. I fail to remember anything of particular
note that occurred either on the outward passage or on the coast, but
homeward bound in the S.E. trades one beautiful Sunday afternoon I,
with many others, was having a delightful sleep. I woke up feeling an
awful vibration with the impression that the end of the world was upon
us. As I tumbled out on deck the masts seemed to be bending together,
and the first thing I remember was seeing the chief engineer making for
the engine-room and driving before him some firemen who were trying
to escape. The vibration soon ceased, and then we were informed that
the main shaft had broken well aft in the tunnel, that it had very
nearly gone through the side of the ship, that what remained was bent
in the stern tube, and that we must stop the ship’s way until it was
so secured that the propeller would not revolve. Now we were too far
north to fetch St. Helena under canvas, for although the ship was
brig-rigged and sailed fairly well, it was no use trying conclusions on
a wind with the S.E. trade, so when the shaft was secured we set course
for Ascension, and in due course made the island dead to leeward. The
trouble was to get the ship before the wind, but it was done by a
little scheming, and we rounded the east side of the island and luffed
up for the anchorage in quite the approved sailing-ship fashion. The
skipper, however, would not risk going into the proper anchorage,
so we put the anchor down some distance out, and warped further in
next day, in charge, much to my disgust, of a Naval lieutenant whose
interference was to my mind quite unnecessary. Beggars, however, could
not afford to be choosers. After a considerable amount of consultation
it was decided that we should endeavour to trim the ship by the head
so that we could unship the propeller, and that we should try and do
this before the arrival of the _American_, which was expected in about
a month, in the hope that she would give us a tow home. We had a fair
number of passengers on board, but fortunately they could spend lots
of their time on shore, where they were very welcome. Many of them, in
fact nearly all, were ultimately transhipped to the _Northam_, which
came in before the _American_, but it was no use looking to her for a
tow; it took her all her time to get about herself. She did, however,
bring Captain East, R.N., the new captain of the island, who, had he
come earlier, would, I fancy, have advised other steps than those we
had taken. It was then too late, however, for we had failed to trim
the ship sufficiently by the head to get at the propeller, and had had
to content ourselves with securing it with a length of stream chain,
replacing all the cargo we had shifted and leaving the ship on an even
keel. Thinking it all over, it seems rather a mercy that she did not
capsize with us, for we took a good many liberties with her.
One evening Captain East was detained on board as the “rollers” were
in, and a vessel in the offing was seen making signals. As they could
not get off from the shore, I went in our gig to see what they wanted.
She was the barque _Dione_ short of provisions, and the skipper was
very glad to avail himself of my assistance and that of the boat’s crew
to get into the anchorage. I stood well over to the eastern point,
tacked ship close in shore and then steered for the stern of the
_Syria_, luffed up as I rounded it, and then, laying everything flat
aback, put the anchor down in a beautiful inshore berth, where she got
what she wanted the next day and went on her way rejoicing. That was
the last sailing-ship I handled.
While waiting for the _American_ we proceeded to get ready our towing
gear, and for this purpose we got from the naval stores two big
hawsers. One was a thirteen inch and a beautiful bit of rope, the
other one as it turned out was afflicted with dry rot and gave a lot
of trouble at odd times. We had none of us had any experience in the
towing of ships, and I am greatly afraid the preparations we made
were of an unsatisfactory nature, for we provided for four tow-lines,
and that was three too many. By the light of experience it is easy to
see that one large hawser shackled on to a bower cable which could be
veered to any extent required by the ship being towed, would have given
all the elasticity required to prevent breakage, and the towing ship
could have slipped her end at any time she thought it necessary. In due
time the _American_ arrived, with Captain Baynton in command. She had a
fair number of passengers too, who were not overjoyed when they learned
that their passage would be delayed by towing us. But Baynton decided
he would do it, and the hawsers were passed. We sent some firemen on
board her, but before we got under way Baynton hailed us to send for
them back, which we did, as he observed, “They want a nursemaid to
look after them.” What the poor devils had done to offend him I know
not, but he was of a very peppery nature, and had little patience with
any obstruction. The scene getting those ships out of the roadstead
must have been a source of high entertainment to the onlookers, and
it was in no way creditable even as a first rehearsal. There are two
things necessary to those carrying out such an operation--patience and
moderation of language. Unfortunately we were none of us burdened with
either, but we managed to get away after indulging in comments on all
and sundry, to which the Commination Service would have seemed mild.
We parted hawsers and generally made as big a mess of things as was
possible. That scene, however, had its use, for when we could think it
over it was a fine object lesson for the future. It all arose from the
fact that there were two masters, and that was the weakness which was
evident on many future occasions.
There is little need for me to go into daily detail. We carried the
S.E. trade well north, and one morning we were informed by means of a
black board exhibited over the stern of the _American_ that we were to
go into Goree for coal, and this we did. When we got there it was found
that there was very little to be obtained, in fact only enough to take
us to St. Vincent in the Cape Verde Islands. It would have been well
if the _American_ had gone there alone, filled up with coal and come
back for us to tow in the comparatively smooth water near the land, but
that was no part of Baynton’s idea. He had towed us so far, and did not
intend to lose sight of us until he saw us safe so far as salvage was
concerned, so over we went to St. Vincent, where the N.E. trade nearly
always blows half a gale. There we found lots of ships and transports,
for the Ashanti War was just over and the troops were being sent
home. I seem to remember also that there were certain complications
concerning anchorages, differences of opinion in fact, but before we
had been there long in came the _Roman_ homeward bound with Garrett in
command, and to her the _American_ transhipped such of her passengers
as could be accommodated. We also, as did the _American_, took on board
some of the returning troops, mostly the married men. Incidentally
I may mention that the trooper _Tamar_ was at anchor to windward of
us, and I saw one afternoon a young lieutenant do the best bit of
boat-sailing it was ever my good fortune to witness. I wish I could
remember his name. When matters had been arranged we started again on
our homeward way. It was blowing hard from the N.E., and as we left the
harbour the tow-ropes at times stood out stiff as the ships pitched
to it, but, as we found in time, it is easier to tow with a head wind
than with a fair one. There were incidents in that trip that would have
made the fortunes of a comic writer and artist, but they would run to
too great length here. We called at Madeira for coal and set out on the
last stage of the journey. There was a S.W. gale in the Bay of Biscay
in which the ships parted company, and we were lost sight of for some
time, but picked up again the next day, and again taken in tow for the
run up-Channel. It was a Sunday, and remarks had been passed that we
only wanted a really good collision to make our experiences complete,
and as it happened we got it.
It was a fine cold night in March, and the Portland lights were in
sight. I was in my cabin asleep, for all was going well, when in
rushed the chief engineer asking for my tomahawk to cut the tow-ropes.
I grabbed it myself and jumped on deck habited in a scarlet flannel
sleeping suit, such as some of us rather affected at the time. There
I found that a large sailing-ship had struck the _American_ on the
port side, making a big hole in her, and knocking down the engine-room
skylight on top of the engines, so that they could not be moved. The
_Syria’s_ helm for some reason had been starboarded and we passed the
stern of the sailing-ship dragging our tow-ropes with us; when these
tightened the two steamers drew alongside one another and the _Aracan_,
as the sailing-ship was called, lay across our two sterns. No one that
was playing an acting part can describe a scene such as that. I can
only record certain, impressions--I looked over the side and saw the
interior of the ladies’ saloon of the _American_ through a great hole
in the side, a stewardess standing with a candle in her hand in blank
amazement. On the quarter-deck of the _American_ was Baynton as cool
as a fish, with his chief beside him, saying that there were plenty to
do the running about, all _he_ wanted was his engines cleared. At the
after end of the _Syria_ was a crowd trying to board the _American_,
thinking we were sinking. At the fore end of the _American_ another
crowd were coming on board us under similar delusion, and to add to it
all some Irish women were yelling blue murder either from fright or
devilment, I know not which. I got some of our boats in the water by
the skipper’s orders and then went on board the _Aracan_, whose crew
had left her, to get her clear of our stern. This I succeeded in doing.
She drifted a short distance away and went down by the head, her masts
crashing as the sails felt the water on her downward plunge. She had
been loaded with ammunition for Hong Kong, and it was rather a mercy
that nothing caused an explosion, for her bow was flattened in like a
wall where she had sailed into the _American’s_ side. When I got back
to the _Syria_ I got orders to hoist the boats, and, hailing one to
come alongside, I asked who was in charge, “Sergeant Dighton, sir,”
came back the reply. She was manned mostly by volunteers from marine
artillery, passengers, and that incident always struck me as being
comical. By this time they had cleared the _American’s_ engines, and
Baynton, seeing that the tow-ropes hung clear of his propeller, went
full speed ahead like the fiend he was. Any other man would have got a
spring out to separate the ships, but he meant to be out of it at the
first minute at all costs--it was rather a mercy that we did not have
some of the sticks down. Beyond a few breakages, however, little harm
was done to us, and one of the tow-ropes held, so that we proceeded on
our way to Southampton I cannot say how, but we got there the next day
and I for one was not sorry.
There is a good deal of incident, even when you get on shore, over
a collision case. The solicitor’s clerks are very busy collecting or
procuring evidence of sorts. I believe there is more honest perjury in
collision cases than in any other. It appears to me that no two men
view the same thing in exactly the same light. Thus--
(_a_) There is the thing as it happened.
(_b_) The thing as each individual thought it happened.
(_c_) The thing that you state in court, after your solicitor has
persuaded you the particular manner in which it ought to have happened.
After we got a new crank-shaft and repaired damages we had a change
of captains. Draper had to stay behind for the law business, and I
was once more shipmate with Vyvyan. The voyage passed pleasantly and
without incident. I had been warned before leaving Southampton to hold
myself in readiness to transfer to a coasting steamer, but as no one
gave me positive orders to go I made the complete trip, one of the
most pleasurable of all, the passage home being very jolly, with nice
passengers.
I was ordered out as a passenger in the _African_ to serve on the
coast, and was told it was a compliment to be selected for the post,
but that will need another chapter.