“One meets now and then with polished men, who know everything.”—Emerson.

I regretted to leave the Syria chiefly because I had grown to thoroughly appreciate the character of my captain, and to enjoy the many talks we had on subjects connected with the sea and matters relating to seamen. He was an exceptional man, as his after career has proved, but he was not liked by every one, and for the matter of that, what man worth his salt ever is? When I had arrived home, Captain Ker, the superintendent, asked me why I had not stayed on the coast, to which I replied that no man bade me do so.

“Then you will go out in the African as a passenger,” he retorted, “and relieve Mr. Owen.”

That passage to the Cape was memorable to me for many things that I need not here detail. Baynton was in command and Leigh was chief officer. The third I remember was one of those charming ne’er-do-wells that one occasionally meets. His name is suppressed. He soon disappeared, but he was talented, a good sailor, a good musician and a man who was the enemy of no one but himself. I found it very nice to have plenty of leisure with an exceptionally nice crowd of passengers. Some of them are my friends now, but time has played sad havoc amongst them. One of the best was Sutton Vane, the talented dramatic writer; he and I played principal parts in a farce enacted on the passage, and as Myles na Coppylene observed, “God be with thim good old days.” I make my best bow to you even now, my fair shipmates, even if I do not mention your names. Captain Baynton was kind enough to accept my help as a navigator, and as he was laid up for a great portion of the trip it was a pleasure to me to be of service to him. The officers in some cases might have resented the interference of an officer on passage, but somehow few people thought of opposing “old Ted,” as he was styled behind his back. In a similar way Vyvyan was usually called “Lord George,” while in after years I have been given to understand that I was commonly spoken of as “Buffalo Bill.”

We arrived at Cape Town in due course and went our respective ways; mine as it turned out was to be one of the most difficult I ever traversed, for it led me to the Basuto, and of all the heartbreaking ships that were, she was the worst. A north-country slop-built craft, of low power, with a long poop and a short well and forecastle, she could not be kept clean with the expenditure of labour that it was practicable to devote to that purpose, for be it remembered that the diamond fields had disorganised the usual steady routine of coast work, and there was considerable difficulty in keeping a crew at all. Thus discipline could not be maintained in the same manner that was possible on the home route. I know that had it not been for the unflinching support given us by the resident magistrate at Cape Town, Mr. John Campbell, we should have had a difficulty in keeping the ships going. I gladly bear my best testimony to his just and common-sense reading of the Merchant Shipping Act, and also to the manner in which he administered it. On sailing day it was no uncommon thing to be obliged to go up town in a hansom cab, find your men half drunk, and then sit upon them in the cab until you could get them safely on board and in irons until they were sober. The Basuto, with Captain Draper in command and Harry Owen as chief, had been rather a warm corner, so when I relieved Owen I knew pretty well what was in store for me, and truly I was in no way disappointed. There was always trouble with some portion of the crew, and it was no uncommon matter being obliged to use more than moral persuasion to carry on the work of the ship. Owen had been in the habit of carrying a shooting-iron, and had found it useful to encourage the belief that he had been schooled as a Yankee mate, but a pistol never seemed to me to be a necessary precaution.

In connection with the employment of physical force on board ship I and others were quite recently greatly amused by the experiences of a captain of one of the Irrawaddy flotilla steamers, recounted as follows: “The best peacemaker you can have is a sandbag about a foot long and an inch thick; I and my mate and engineer have one, and we never find it beyond us to clear the deck of a crowd.” I should think it would be better than a belaying-pin, which is at times an awkward thing to carry in your sea boot.

Be that as it may I found that practically everything was left in my hands on board the Basuto, and that suited me excellently. We spent our time between Cape Town and Zanzibar; there was no use hurrying, for the ship could only go a certain pace, and if we missed one mail we were in time for the next one, but nothing possible was spared to do our work well. We were fortunate in having as second officer a man I had the greatest respect for as a seaman, E.T. Jones, and further I found by practical experience that he was a good man in an emergency, and was to be absolutely relied upon. When in Natal we had the use of a large ship’s boat belonging to the Company, rigged as a cutter. It was a sight to see Jones sail her single-handed, but then he had served his time with the Trinity House.

For some reason it had been decided that Captain Ker should leave Southampton as marine superintendent, and reside at Cape Town as manager of the Company in South Africa. When he arrived in Cape Town he found the Basuto after a refit, looking very spick-and-span, and I suppose conceived the idea that that was her usual condition, which was bad luck for me. There had never been any great cordiality between us and there was to be less in future, for try as I might there was always something wrong about my ship in his view, and he resented, I think, meeting officers at houses where he visited, especially as ladies do not always pay that deference to superior position to which its owner may think himself entitled. But be that as it may the fact remains that there was no love lost between us.

From time to time we carried as passengers many distinguished men, or those who were in the way of becoming so. Especially do I remember two clerical dignitaries; Bishop Colenso was one. He once confessed to me a feeling of irritation because the new Bishop of Cape Town was to be enthroned by one who was his junior in the Church of England, he himself being precluded from officiating by reason of opinions he had put forward. In due time the new bishop also travelled with us, and when we got the usual dose of bad weather in consequence he declined to turn in, saying with a merry twinkle in his eye that it would be undignified if anything happened, for a bishop to be seen without his gaiters. He is an archbishop now, but at the time I write of his hair was black, and he was not above a bout at singlestick.

Just about this time there was a good deal of national unrest, extending from Zululand to East London. It was shortly after the Langalibalele trouble, and on our way down the coast we were ordered to call at the Kowie and tow to Algoa Bay an American ship called Tecumseh, which had lost her rudder. Captain Ker came up to supervise the operation, and we also took on board as a passenger Mr. J.A. Froude, the historian, who was then on his way to England. He had been touring the country in order to form his own opinion on the political situation for the benefit of his friend Lord Carnarvon, and one may be permitted the remark that it was a great pity he did not take a more careful survey of the situation, for South African politics were not then to be learned in a three months’ sojourn in the country, or for that matter in six either. At all events he failed to recognise the fact that the situation was summed up in lines from Alice through the Looking-Glass.

In my own mind I have always held Mr. Froude responsible for the Boer rising which culminated at Majuba.

Of course when it comes to doing an unusual job things cannot be expected to work quite smoothly, and they did not on this occasion. I had been on board the Tecumseh and rigged up a makeshift rudder with stream chain, and returned to my own ship to get the towing-gear ready for a start at daylight. In the morning, of course, I was up betimes, and had as I thought the situation to myself. There was one A.B. who was constantly giving me trouble when there was anything to do, and usually required correcting by some method before the day was out. On this particular occasion I thought I would make the correction before the day began, so as to have no further trouble, when looking round I found Mr. Froude paying me quite as much attention as I thought was necessary. He inquired whether that was my usual method of maintaining discipline, to which I replied in the affirmative, and the incident closed. We towed that ship to Algoa Bay all right, but two captains in one ship are quite unnecessary. Captain Ker, however, would interfere, and at the end of the towage drew down on himself the wrath and language of the Yankee skipper, expressed in a masterly manner, to which I listened with an unholy satisfaction.

On another occasion when he was taking a passage I remember him giving me an order to alter course without consulting Draper, that was an absolutely unwarrantable action, manager for South Africa though he was. His last exploit at sea was, however, splendid. Another manager was appointed, and he took command of one of the Company’s ships that went on the rocks at Ushant one winter’s night. He saved crew, passengers, mails and specie in twenty minutes, and it took a man to do that.

When we got to Cape Town there was an amusing incident. One Sunday Jones and I, with some cheery souls, went out to lunch at Coghills at Wynberg. Mr. Froude was at the table talking in loud tones about his great lady friends at home. There was also present Mr. Savage, one of our directors, whom Jones did not happen to know. In the midst of lunch Jones started to tell his friends how he had acquired some beautiful ostrich feathers from a bird he had travelled with. I could not stop him for my legs were not long enough, but I watched Savage’s face until he said, interrupting dryly, “I hope those feathers were not on freight, Mr. Jones.” Many at the table could see the joke and there was a peal of laughter.

I was not sorry when after about twelve months I managed to get a transfer home. I may mention here, however, the end of the Basuto. She had various peculiarities, one of which was a playful habit of half filling her after hold with water. Of course that never had anything to do with the tunnel or the engine-room, so said the engineers at least; I had my own opinion on the matter. Then, again, she was infested with rats, and we got into a habit of shooting at them with small revolvers in the evenings when we were in harbour. I say little of minor depravities such as the anchor always fouling the stem when we got it. Anyhow, she stayed on the coast about two years after I left her, and then came home and was sold to some Frenchmen. The rest of the tale about her is as it was told to me. The new owners did not understand all her little failings as we had done; one fellow pulled a broomstick out of a hole one morning, and that started an inrush of water which they could not cope with. I heard that when the crew left her they did not even stop the engines—but I do not vouch for the truth of this particular yarn.

I got my passage home in the Nyanza as supernumerary second. Warleigh was skipper, William Somerset Ward was chief and Henry Barnes was second. I forget the others. Now Ward was one of the men who had been brought in over my head when the yarn was that they wanted “more experienced men” (contrast that with the cry of to-day of too old at forty). He was one of Green’s men and a very fine officer. He had brought with him many of the old Blackwall fashions, one of which was that the men of both watches should answer to their names when the watch was relieved. That was a plan that I took with me from that ship for the rest of my sea career, but it was an unpopular proceeding though most useful from a disciplinary point of view. Barnes on the other hand I had known since my first voyage to sea, when he was in the Elphinstone. His appearance was fiery and his character did not belie it, but he was a really good fellow at heart and I liked him. Trouble soon arose. Warleigh wrote in the night order-book that the dinner look-outs were to be kept alternately by the second, supernumerary second, and fourth officers. As a rule they were kept by the third and fourth only, so Barnes got the idea that Warleigh was unduly favouring me, although I was actually Barnes’ senior in the Company. He accordingly walked into the captain’s cabin the next morning and shut the door. No one ever knew exactly what transpired. Barnes was a big noisy man, and Warleigh slight and quiet. There was doubtless plain speaking, for when Barnes reappeared he went to his cabin and remained under arrest until we arrived home, when he left the service. He told me afterwards that he had told Warleigh “he could make his bally chum second mate, and perhaps that would please him”; but it always struck me that he sacrificed his prospects for absolutely no reason.

We reached Southampton with no incident calling for special note, and in due course I was sent for by the managing director, Mr. Mercer, who informed me that I had been sent home by Captain Ker as my ship was always behindhand with work, and I was constantly putting my men in prison. “But,” said he in his most kindly manner, “as this is so different a report from that which you have always had I am going to send you out as chief of the Roman.” I thanked him to the best of my ability, and was delighted with the change. My new skipper was A.W. Brooke-Smith, with whom I never had any unpleasantness, and whose friendship I value to-day. He told me confidentially that he was delighted to have me for chief; but that we should have a warm time on the coast as Ker hated me and would be sure to find fault. Before we sailed Warleigh came to see me one morning to offer a bit of advice. It was “Don’t do so much yourself; make the other officers do more.” Ever after I acted upon this; it did not increase my popularity with my fellows, but the counsel was good. Popularity may be paid for too dearly, and after all it is our superiors that we should try to please. Brooke-Smith was a great stickler for orders being obeyed to the letter without any consideration as to discretionary power. He also was given to making unreasonable demands upon one’s power of performance. For instance, on Saturday at 9 a.m. he would give an order to send down topsail-yards, and then expect the ship to be as fit for inspection at 11 a.m. as if nothing extra had been done. Lower and upper yards were all in the day’s work, but topsail-yards were an innovation, and hardly fair play for Saturday morning. However, it was done, and all went off well. When in that ship I had the good fortune to make many friends, one of whom was Herbert Rhodes (brother of the Colossus). What a splendid character that man had—a head to plan, a hand to execute and the heart of a child. I think I was the last of all his friends to see him before his untimely end.

Then again, one passage home there was Lord Rossmore and his brother the Hon. Peter Westenra. Very lively companions they were—I never met their equals in that respect. They never seemed to want to sleep, and if there was any mischief to be done there was no need to call for volunteers. They were cheery shipmates and left a pleasant remembrance behind them. Also do I well remember Captain Byng, R.N., the commander of the Active, Admiral Hewitt’s flagship. He also was a cheery soul, and we habitually spent our evenings together. I learned from him many tricks in the trade of managing men.

I now had rather more time to attend to my personal affairs, and one important matter was to get my master’s certificate. I could now ask for leave to go to town to pass, and was furnished with excellent references both from the Company and my captains. We had as marine superintendent at this time Captain Walter Dixon, who had commanded the Company’s ships for years. He was a very excellent man for the post, kind, courteous and considerate. But in spite of agreeable qualities there was never any doubt as to his ability to enforce his will, and his word went a long way with the Board of Direction. In addition he was the keenest of sportsmen. He simply loved horses and sport, and rather affected a horsey style of dress. He did me many a good turn, as it will give me pleasure to relate.

Passing for master at the time I write of was no great ordeal, but it was a somewhat tricky one for this reason—the examiners in seamanship were necessarily old sailing-ship men. It may be presumed that they considered a steamship man as a sort of inferior being, or shall we say a hybrid being—at best a makeshift seaman. The fact was that many officers who had grown up in steamers had not had my experience in sail, or the opportunity of picking up the old art of sailoring, and it will be realised that there were times when they might find themselves a little uncomfortable in the examination-room. I was to see an instance of this. Naturally, I went again to John Newton for a final rub up, although I had been coaching myself for some time past, for there were always new fads to be prepared for on the part of the examiners. But I greatly fear that I was again the bad boy of the class, for Newton would at times look at me with grave eyes, and did not commit himself to any optimistic view of my chances of success.

The eventful day at length came round when our fates were to be decided. I remember that I made a mistake in my figures which I was given an opportunity to correct, for every possible bit of fair play was given. The examiner in this particular matter sat next me at a recent Trinity House luncheon, a younger brother like myself, and I reminded him of ancient times with pleasure. But after the navigation came the seamanship and that was “quite another story.” Captain Steel was my examiner and he proceeded to put me through the mill in a most thorough manner. At last he got on the topic of handling a sailing-ship under short canvas in heavy weather. He proceeded on a system which supposed various changes of wind, and finally asked me what I would do under certain conditions. I was nonplussed. Then he brought in Captain Dommett who was engaged in the next room examining a chief officer from the Royal Mail and told him where I was puzzled. Finally he left me with a diagram to study while they both went into the next room to put the same question to the West India Mail man. Suddenly the right answer came to me. It was only catchy in a room, it would have been palpable at sea in practice, and when Captain Steel returned I merely told him that the answer was “Wear ship.” That was the conclusion of the examination, and I was complimented upon having done well, but the man in the next room was not so fortunate. To pluck a chief officer of tried ability in a first-class line is a serious matter, and rightly before doing so the examiner took a second opinion. The unfortunate officer in this case had got through his figures without a mistake, and far better than I had, but for want of sailing-ship experience he was sent back to sea in a steamer “to gain experience” to answer such a question as had nearly done for me. That was one of the bright days of my life, for I thought the ball was at my feet as I sped to the telegraph office to send a wire to Captain Dixon, who took considerable interest in the careers of his officers. He used to consider that he could put his hand on men suitable to perform any service, and was proud of it. After that I went to John Newton, where there was a gathering of plucked ones. Newton was surprised at my success and asked me if I was a Freemason, to which I replied in the negative, for the absurd belief was entertained that my passing was due to the correctness of that surmise. I wished him a cordial good-bye with many thanks for the trouble he had taken over me.

About this time I received my commission as a sub-lieutenant in the Royal Naval Reserve, and to this day I am uncertain whether it was a good day’s work or a bad one when I did so. I also got married.

The command of the Roman was now changed to Captain S.R.P. Caines, a man of considerable character, but of no great discretion. He was probably his own greatest enemy, for as a shipmate I found him all that could be desired. He did not care much to associate with passengers, except at meal times, and usually spent his evening in my cabin, or rather I should say came and smoked for two hours when I came off watch. Needless to say that when skipper and chief were on these terms the work of the ship went on well, and we rather fancied ourselves in the old Roman and thought we could show other ships how to do things properly.

We were nearly always lucky in our crews, for the men got to know what was expected of them, and I know that I egged the skipper on to many an innovation. For instance, one day in Algoa Bay I was curious to see how long it would take to get all boats out to abandon ship. This we did suddenly one day, with the result that including fire drill and rehoisting all boats, forty minutes was the time taken. I also learned there to pay attention to boats. One time, leaving Southampton, a fireman (drunk) got on the rail, and saying that he was going back to his wife, jumped overboard in the Needles passage. The second officer (Pybus), the third, two quarter-masters and myself, jumped into the boat fitted with Clifford’s gear, dropped her into the water, picked up our man, and were hoisted up and proceeding in eight minutes; that was pretty smart work, but I had personally seen that boat was in order half-an-hour previously. I fear that Clifford’s patent is no longer as popular as it was. True that it is a little expensive to keep up, and requires care if used with a heavy boat, but with it a boat may be dropped in the water with perfect safety, no matter what the speed of the vessel may be, and I know that I stuck to it for the time I was at sea. Then again, it was our custom habitually to strip the ship as much as possible when steaming against the S.E. trade. I was anxious to find out what difference it would make if in addition to sending down yards, we housed our topmasts. When this came to be done, however, I found out what I had let myself in for. It was a heavy job to carry out at sea, but as it made the difference of a quarter of a knot in speed, I had to do it each voyage. On the last occasion we did the job between 7 and 9 a.m. and had a day’s work afterwards, but getting the topmasts up again was at times a ticklish operation. However, we never killed any one.

There is an incident that I may mention when on one occasion most of the crew got drunk and out of hand at sea. It was one Saturday night and a beautiful moonlight one at that. Where the men got the drink from we never knew, but there was violence and a free fight more or less before getting some of them in irons and tied up to the mainboom for security until they were sober. We had a young parson on board, the Rev. R.H. Fair, a Cape boy, who had been a Cambridge athlete, and is now rector of West Meon. His distress was great at having no legitimate excuse for taking part in the scrum, but he had a share in it after all. While it was at its height I was forced backward over a door-sill, and had it not been for Fair’s action in pulling off my assailant I should have had the worst of it. It all ended without serious consequences and the men were heartily ashamed of themselves next morning. We punished some of them when we got to Southampton. About this time, August 1877, I took long leave, and left the old ship with regret. I wanted to put in some Naval Reserve drill and to the best of my recollection there was then no drill ship at Southampton. Anyhow, I had to stay in London in order to drill on board H.M.S. President, and of it I will only say here that while the instructors were possibly the best that could be found in the navy and the teaching of the first order, there seemed always to be an under-current of indifference so far as the officers were concerned. I was anxious to learn, and did not get nearly enough to satisfy me. I got on my certificate “has been energetic and very attentive,” but had acquired a taste for the Queen’s service, which very often caused me to pay less attention than I might have done to things more intimately connected with money-getting.

Suddenly I received instruction to join the Danube, and went to Southampton once more, where I found my old skipper Draper in command and the ship taken up for troops. To the best of my belief it was the head-quarters of the 32nd and they were going to Queenstown, South Africa. Trooping is an experience that improves on acquaintance, but one was apt in those days to think that the embarkation officials were unduly fussy. In reality they were nothing of the sort, for to keep troops healthy too great care cannot be exercised. The naval captain who was inspecting told me that as he knew boats were a hobby of mine, he intended to leave that matter to me.

I think the officer in command of the troops, Major Rogers, V.C., was an unmarried man, for he was grimly satirical on embarkation day on the subject of officers looking after their wives’ band-boxes instead of seeing to their men. He and I became on very good terms. In point of fact they were all a most agreeable lot, if I except two junior officers whom I could not get on with at all. The ladies were charming, but it was a little amusing at times to hear them expressing their candid opinions of some of their colleagues. There was also as a passenger going to Natal, Major Mitchell, afterwards Sir Charles Mitchell, K.C.M.G., a very striking personality. I think he had been in the Marines. He made my acquaintance by approving of the manner in which the decks were cleaned in the morning. He used the expression that “they were like a hound’s tooth,” and as that smacked greatly of salt water, we took to one another and formed a friendship that lasted longer than differences of opinions. He had a most wonderful memory. I remember his sitting on the quarterdeck with a crowd of people (mostly ladies) round him, and reciting without a note the “Lay of the last Minstrel,” and doing it in such a manner as to hold his audience spellbound. I often met him, after the voyage was over, in various parts of the world. He showed ever the same courteous cheery personality so valuable to a public man.

There was nothing of exciting interest on the passage; things went smoothly, but the following incident deserves to be told. The officer commanding the troops visited the troops’ quarters every morning at eleven with his officers and me in attendance. There were sentries posted in different parts of the ship, and one was stationed by the principal hatchway. Some point was raised as we were going below, and the O.C. turned to the sentry and said, “Go and find Sergeant So-and-So.” The man, a youngster, flushed very red and said, “I must not leave my post, sir.” The O.C. turned red too and said, “But I tell you to go,” and again received the same reply. By this time the O.C. had got his breath, some one else was sent, and the sentry was told that he had done quite right. I observed to the O.C. when the inspection was over that I fancied that chap would soon get promotion and I found that the O.C. shared my view. It was an interesting case to me, for I wondered in the circumstances whether a sailor sentry would have hesitated to obey an immediate order from his C.O.

One other story of an entirely different nature. Fatigue parties were at times told off to clean paintwork about the decks, and they were usually in the care of an able seaman who put them in the way of doing it properly. One afternoon I was out of sight but within earshot of a party working with a seaman named McRae, a man I could trust to do anything, but an awfully wild scoundrel if he got out of hand. Said one of the young Tommies, “What would you do if you hadn’t got us to clean the ship for you?” Said McRae, “If it was not for the likes of you carrion there’d be no dirt to clean.” I retired to my cabin for a big laugh over that. I think we landed the regiment at East London, using cheese baskets to put the men into the lighters, and in due course we started homewards, but there was an incident in Algoa Bay that I should like to tell the truth about at last. At this time there was a good deal of rivalry between some of the ships, as to which had made the fastest passage, and some brilliant genius conceived the idea of making the image of a brass cock with his wings extended in the act of crowing. This was mounted on the jackstaff of the commodore’s ship the German, but many of us thought that she did not deserve the trophy, for even the old Roman, which was then in port, had made a wonderful run after a smart chief engineer had altered the lead of his slide valves. Be that as it may, it would be good business to score a point off the chief of the German, if we could manage to do so. There was one officer in the Danube who was born for mischief, his name was Samuel Pechell. Afterwards he came into a baronetcy and soon died. But at the time I write of he was third or fourth officer. There were many ships in the Bay, some belonging to the Currie fleet, so that suspicion would be divided as to the perpetrators of the robbery, especially as it was said that some people from the Conway Castle had made a previous attempt at Cape Town. It was a bright moonlight night, shortly after 3 a.m., when Sammy Pechell and McRae having covered our dingy with white sheets, started to paddle ahead of the American, and drop down to her bows hanging on by the cable. Like a monkey McRae was up the cable, and in less time than it takes me to write these lines was down again with the coveted bird. I had grave suspicions that the Melrose, one of the Currie coasters just coming in, had seen the job, but I suppose that a boat under the bow of an opposition ship did not interest them. There was a watch too in the German, for “seven bells” were struck just after the cock disappeared. We had intended to put it up on the Roman, but I vetoed anything further that night. The bird was afterwards packed in a game hamper and set to Wait, the chief officer, in Southampton. Next morning there was a fine hubbub all round the fleet; there may have been suspicions but no certainty, for many thought it had been done by some of the Currie men. In due course I told my skipper, who dwelt on the enormity of stealing the commodore’s bird and told me I ought to be sacked for encouraging such a thing. Dear old Captain Coxwell was the commodore, and his remarks to me the next time we met were picturesque, but never shall I forget distinctly seeing McRae cross himself before he shinned up that cable. All the people in the German were quite mad over the episode, and I am afraid that Pechell had a bad time of it afterwards when he had to sail with McLean Wait, who I fancy had got to the truth of the business. There is just one remark I would make in passing, and that is on the liability to be caught at misdoing at any time. On the passage home entering the Channel, we were put into double watches of six hours each—and six hours is a long watch in cold weather, as it then was; Pechell was my junior, and was supposed to supervise the forecastle look-out, but really was a good deal on the bridge with me. I had the first watch, which ended at 2 a.m., and about one o’clock I said to Pechell, “Go down to my cabin, have a tot yourself, and bring me up a glass of hot grog, as soon as you can.” He went, and shortly afterwards the skipper came on the bridge and took possession of the weather corner under the screen. I heard my door open and up came Sam. Not seeing the skipper in the dark, he observed audibly, “There you are, sir, I made it stiff!” The reek of whisky on the night air was palpable as I drank it, and Draper made sarcastic comments. I must, however, do him the justice to say that he seldom troubled me, and I am certain would sooner have brought me refreshment himself rather than that I should put foot off the bridge.

When we got to Southampton that time it was on a Sunday, and my only regret was that Captain Dixon was not down to see the ship. She was in such order that she satisfied even me, and Draper, a very particular and natty man, could not offer even a suggestion, for her appearance represented the culmination of all the years I had served as chief in learning how to put and keep a ship in proper order. But I was growing dissatisfied, there were men being placed in command who were new comers compared with me, and as there was an old saying, “that modesty was a sweet thing in a woman but not worth a rap in a man,” I put such remnants as I had in my pocket and laid siege to Captain Dixon. My friend, Mrs. Baynton, had also been having a few simple words on my account with more than one of the directors, one of whom (Mr. Savage) had said to me some little time previously, “that I was all right, but that they thought I hardly carried ballast enough.” To this I retorted that I had a wife and surely that was enough to give one stability. Captain Dixon was most kind. I pointed out that I was fit for command and that I hoped he would help me, to which he replied that he would be pleased to make me Captain Crutchley, but that unfortunately he could not make ships. He would, however, keep me at home, so that I might be on the spot if a vacancy occurred. I do not remember who relieved me, but I left the Danube to make myself generally useful in various companies’ ships in port. At that time there were few men who considered it necessary to pass the Board of Trade examination in steam, but as I could make the time fit in I did so, and if such a certificate is useful to a master on even one occasion it is well worth the trouble of obtaining. It helped me materially on one occasion. There were two engineer examiners, and the experience was a new one for them, but they took no unfair advantage of their superior knowledge, and I had the satisfaction of seeing my certificate endorsed with the words “Passed in Steam.” My practical examination took place in the engine-room of the Asiatic, and curiously enough, two days afterwards I was ordered to act for her captain in taking the ship down the river. At this time there was another chief officer also on shore, A. McLean Wait, who had been chief of the German. I did not dream that other people might be pulling strings that might hamper me, but there was more going on than I was aware of. I should state that although Wait was actually my junior in the Company he had held a good command previous to joining it, and it was generally considered that he was marked for early promotion. He and I were good friends, and I had assisted him at a function in the German when she was a new ship. He was a man of considerable attainments, but somehow there was a something in his manner which did not attract people; he had lots of good friends, however, and nature had been kind to him so far as personal appearance was concerned.

One morning I had taken some specie that had been landed from one of our ships to the Bank of England, and having done so went to report the fact to the Company’s office in Leadenhall Street. When leaving I met Wait going in; I had a chat with him afterwards, going to spend an hour at the Aquarium before returning to Southampton. There were two things with which I was not acquainted. One was that there was a Board Meeting that day, the other that the command of the American was vacant and that Wait had been sent for with a view to giving it to him. He was called before the Board, and there some comment was made as to his having lost a ship; this appeared to go against him, for the word came out to ask for me. I was not to be found, and Wait was appointed, for the ship was shortly to sail. This shows on what trifles things hang, for the few weeks seniority he got by this gave him a series of chances which might well have formed part of my life’s story. It kept him in command when the Company’s fleet was reduced, and afterwards permitted him to become marine superintendent, and subsequently the Company’s agent in New York. We always maintained a cordial if casual correspondence.

There were a number of new ships being built for the Company’s service, and it was now the turn of the Pretoria to make her appearance. Great things were expected of her, and when the African came home George Larmer was taken from her and given command of the new vessel. This made another vacancy, and it was then my turn to be summoned to the directors. Sir Benjamin Phillips was chairman, and the chair on his right hand was always reserved for the master under dissection. On this occasion the experience was a pleasing one, for in his most courtly manner he observed, “Captain Crutchley, if you will always consider that the Company’s honour, so far as the African is concerned, is entrusted to your keeping, you will please and satisfy us: now, will you give us the pleasure of your company to lunch?”

It is strange, but though the remembrance of that day is very dim, I always recollect those words and the grave courtesy with which they were spoken. The directors were naturally men of varying temperaments. There had formerly been a director I never met, whom I will designate as H, whose business it was to rebuke a master whenever such a proceeding in the opinion of the Board became necessary. It was stated that he had a great talent for language, on which point I ought to tell a story. He was a merchant, and had in his business a nephew who was known as Mr. John (afterwards a cordial friend of mine) who, on some provocation, had told one of the clerks that he was a damn fool. The clerk complained to H, who looking him full in the face said, in his broad Scotch accent: “Whether Mr. John was right or wrong to call you a fool, I’ll no tak’ upon mysel’ to determine, but ye are a damn fool—ye are—ye are—ye are.” And the man fled.

When I come to think it over, that Board of Directors was good for a straightforward conservative policy, but as events proved was not well fitted to deal with the more exacting conditions entailed by the competition of modern shipowning. In fact it was not up to date, and it never took to itself the leaven that would enable it to cope with the situation created by the opposition of the Castle Company. It was the greatest of all pities when the flag of the Union Company was merged into that of the Castle Line. It was doubtless a proud day for Sir Donald Currie, but I shall always maintain it as discreditable to those who permitted the transfer, and particularly so to the chief actor in the surrender. The transfer did not take place during my term of service in the Company, but it was galling even to an old employÉ to see the armour of Achilles appropriated by a hated Trojan.

I had previously made a passage in the African, so that my first command was in no way a stranger to me. She was a pretty little ship of rather more than 2000 tons gross, with a fine long poop and comfortable accommodation for passengers. Her speed under steam alone was something over ten knots, but with the help of canvas and a strong fair wind she could touch 300 miles a day. That was not often, however. My cabin was in the poop right forward on the starboard side, and it had the disadvantage that, except in very fine weather, one could not sit there with the saloon door open. But to overcome this there were times when I had a canvas screen nailed up to overcome the trouble, for it was not necessary to stay on the bridge always. The worst thing about the ship was the compass. The standard was a large spirit compass that was always giving trouble, and the steering compass on the bridge was close to a mass of iron tanks, stanchions and disturbing matter generally, so that it was almost impossible to compensate for local disturbance. In every other way the ship was perfectly found, but this little matter of a proper compass, on which so much depended, was one that was driven to the background and slighted by every one. It was no part of my business either as a junior to find fault. I had to take that which had satisfied my predecessors, and as it happened she had been commanded by Captain Dixon before he was made superintendent, as well as Captain Baynton, the commodore. My policy was to lie low and get what I could as time went on. There was a story told of a certain captain, a very tall man, who mentioned to the deputy superintendent that his berth was not long enough for him to sleep in. This, it is said, was reported to Mr. Mercer, who replied in his usually dry manner, “If the man cannot fit into the berth, we must find one that can; fortunately the world is wide and the field is large.” The last half of the answer was often hinted at if inconvenient requests were made.

There were a very nice set of officers in the ship; but the chief was a senior man, and it is a little awkward to come the skipper over one of your colleagues. He was a Cape man named Chiappini, and was afterwards killed by an accidental fall when serving in the Arab. The third was a youngster named East, the son of Quartermain East of Tichborne claimant fame. First and last he sailed with me for many years, and there was a great friendship between us. The second, Walter Foster, was also a nice fellow, but very delicate, though plucky to the backbone. The engineers also were a good set. The chief, Ernest Gearing, is now I believe one of the leading lights in the engineering world, and it was easy to discover even then that his acquirements were of no common order. Lastly let me mention Henry Black, the second engineer. There was no great amount of sympathy between us at any time, but he sailed with me as chief engineer during the greater part of my sea career.

I have gone into this detail with a view to showing the sort of men the Company’s ships were manned with. Sailing day came at last; there were not many passengers, but one of our directors came down to see the ship off, bringing with him one of his very charming daughters, who was kind enough to wish me luck and a successful command. I took it as a good omen, and if I do not mention her name, it is in no sense that I have forgotten it, or the graceful kindness shown me on more than one occasion. We arrived at Plymouth in due course, and there I learned to my great satisfaction that my friend Harry Escombe had decided at the last minute to take a passage with me. He arrived on board in due course, and I started on a new experience—that of being my own master. This particular voyage we were on was a novelty also, for the people at Algoa Bay had been complaining they did not get their goods as quickly in proportion as the Cape Town people. We were therefore to call at St. Vincent to pick up the latest cable news and then to go to Algoa Bay direct, passing by Cape Town. We were also to go to Natal.

I rather think that some small smattering of commercial education should be imparted to holders of certificates, and one thing that should certainly be driven into their heads is that to send a letter on business without keeping a copy is little short of crime. I did not learn that lesson for a long time, but I wish now I had copies of the letters in which I gave the various incidents of the voyages to my chiefs at home. Captain Dixon had asked me to write to him fully, which I always did, even going so far as to relate gossip, but the letters to the secretary were necessarily of a more reserved order. For rightly or wrongly a secretary is usually considered by the staff afloat as the enemy of all mankind. It is natural enough, for as a rule the wiggings come through him, and he on his part gradually acquires the idea that he is quite competent to instruct a master upon any subject—that he is in short a vicarious person inheriting the combined wisdom of the board. This pretension is not in every case acknowledged. I regret to state that I rather carried with me the impression that masters had natural enemies, but when I consider the number of years I lived without keeping any journal, or record of events, I am not prepared to argue that they do not indirectly invite trouble. I know that the search necessary to make dates fit in for this narrative has been by no means inconsiderable, and the good offices of Admiral Inglefield of Lloyd’s has helped me to overcome past omissions. He caused a record of my commands to be made, thus helping me materially to put facts in the order in which they occurred.

It would not have been possible to get a finer start than we had on that voyage, with a beautiful fine N.E. wind that took us well down to St. Vincent. I find that we were running close upon 300 miles for several days, and then came the job of taking the ship into port on a fair moonlight night, not by any means a difficult matter when you are used to it, but if you permit it to get upon your imagination, curious results are at times obtained. I had made up my mind from past experiences that show irresolution on the bridge I would not! I had seen so many skippers wandering into an anchorage, and driving every one mad in the course of getting a berth, that I was determined not to lay myself open to such a reproach. I once sailed with a man who if he had the whole anchorage to choose from would go and give a solitary vessel a foul berth, simply because he did not know where he wanted to go. I saw him do it once in Natal Roads. Again, constantly stopping or easing the engines by guesswork ought to be avoided when coming to an anchorage, but I am talking of long ago, and I dare say the men of today know exactly when to ease their engines so as not to lose time.

On this particular occasion I thought I knew where I wanted to go, and was going there in a hurry. I anchored rather sooner than I had meant to do, but it was all right, and Escombe came to congratulate me on the way I had brought the ship in. I had, however, already discovered that there was a much better berth than the one I was in, and had given orders to get the anchor and shift at once, which I did, carefully keeping my reasons to myself for so doing. I may remark that in most places steamers anchor closer inshore than sailing ships. In St. Vincent they reverse this order of things.

We coaled up and left in due course. There were not many saloon passengers, but we were a very cheery party. It was distinctly the commencement of a liberal education to have the intimate acquaintance of a man like Escombe, who in addition to great natural gifts had acquired an omniverous appetite for knowledge. Especially keen was he upon astronomy, and his store of information was always open to draw upon. Even in the intricacies of a seaman’s calling he was well versed, for his practice at the bar had put many strange cases before him to unravel.

There was not much else that called for comment before we reached Algoa Bay. Here Escombe transhipped to a coasting steamer in order to reach Natal sooner than we should, for we had to discharge a portion of our cargo. He did so against my advice, and as he did not save the time he anticipated, forfeited a bet to me of the best pair of binocular glasses to be got at Baker’s of Holborn. They lasted me for my time at sea, and I never saw a better pair. In Algoa Bay the Dunrobin Castle was at anchor. She was commanded by Alec Winchester, who was a splendid seaman and a marvel at handling his ship. My old friend, Barnes, was also chief officer there, for Mr. Currie, as he then was, was always pleased to snap up any good officer who was leaving our service. By this time there was a little better feeling between the two services, and I know that Alec Winchester put me up to many things concerning a ship which few learn save by actual experience, and I am glad to acknowledge the obligation. We went on to Natal, finished our discharge and loading, and in due course arrived at Table Bay on the homeward trip one Sunday afternoon.

As it was getting dusk and there was more than a bit of a south-easter blowing, I should like to pass over this incident, but cannot in fairness to the truth of this story.

The entrance to Cape Town dock in those days bore a resemblance to a donkey’s hind leg, inasmuch, as there was a crook in it. The inside of this crook was formed by the end of a stone wall and a small jetty, and it was arranged that we were to stay in the lock or entrance until we sailed. I started to get in, but as the two insides of the crook were to leeward of me, I found myself hitting the end of the stone pier rather hard while the stern of the ship rested gracefully on the jetty. The African, I thank Providence for it, had a clipper bow. “Go forward,” said I to the third officer, “and see how much of her is smashed up.” He returned with the information that the ship was intact and uninjured. She had only run up the stone wall a little, and displaced a big stone or two. By this time we had got out hawsers and warped her to windward (where we remained until sailing day), and an hour afterwards were sitting at dinner. I thought many kind things concerning Providence, but even then I fear I did not realise to the full what my obligations were.

Sailing day came, still blowing hard from S.E., and I had to back the ship out stern first. I did not look forward with any degree of confidence to the job, but kept a face of brass to all and sundry. Warleigh, who was there in dock, came and chatted just before I started, and pointed out with perfect accuracy just exactly how the ship would behave under stern way. It was very good of him and I told him so. We got out with no accident; in fact, I was satisfied, and I have frequently noticed that if I have that feeling, most people concerned share it with me.

An hour after the time fixed for our departure the Warwick Castle, Mr. Currie’s newest and fastest ship, was to leave. She was commanded by Captain Webster, who I was told had promised to make an exhibition of my ship. As soon as I was clear of the breakwater I got the canvas on and I rather fancy my chief engineer had got the needle too, for although we saw the Warwick come out of the Bay, gain on us she could not, and we saw her astern for a day or more, when we lost sight of her. The reason, of course, was that we had a spanking trade wind, and our canvas helped us. We carried a fair wind to Cape Verde and then I knew that our advantage was over. When we arrived at Madeira, the other ship had left some hours, but we were told that Captain Webster had spent some time in the stokehole of the Warwick, and was furious at his inability to pass us.

As showing the relative merits of Southampton and London as ports for southern-going steamers, let me mention that my ship was docked and discharging, and I had been to London and seen my directors before the Warwick Castle had passed Gravesend. There was nothing of special note that happened between Madeira and Plymouth, but I left the latter port at five on a December afternoon with a fog coming on. I kept her going, and was justified in doing so by the fact that I hit nothing. At last, getting into I think it was nine fathoms of water, I turned her round due west and saw the Needles light red on my starboard beam. I need say no more than that Providence perhaps showed partiality even to the end on my first voyage.

I should say that when I met my directors Mr. Mercer was kind enough to say that I had made a remarkable passage to Madeira.