Notes By the Way in a Sailor's Life Part 3

Is There a Fatality Attaching to Men or Inanimate Things?

In another part of this book I have mentioned the ship "Northfleet." In regard to that vessel the above question might almost be answered in the affirmative. The vessel was launched at the place from which she took her name in 1852. She made her first voyage to New Zealand, thence to China, and from there to San Francisco, and back to China and London.

Then she went trooping for the Crimean War; then for some years ran between London and China carrying tea, for which she was originally built.

This ship never made a voyage without some one being drowned from her, and finally she was run into and sunk by a steamer, which was afterwards proved to be the Spanish vessel "Murillo." By this collision upwards of three hundred people were drowned. The "Northfleet" was carrying railway workmen to New Zealand, and when coming down the English Channel the weather was stormy and the pilot recommended the captain to anchor under a point called Dungeness. This was done, and the night came on very dark. At some time after midnight a steamer came in under the Point, apparently for the purpose of anchoring, as was afterwards reported by the crew of the tugboat which was at anchor. They saw the steamer moving about for some time. Then a crash was heard, followed by most heartrending cries. The steamer went out to sea, and did not heed the signal rockets which were sent up by the "Northfleet." The little tugboat had only four men and a small boat, which was at once launched, and the mate and the engineer, with one sailor, went to the rescue. When they arrived all that could be found was the captain's wife and an ordinary seaman. All the others had perished, through the dastardly act of the Spaniard in running away.

Captain Knowles of the "Northfleet" was newly married to a very beautiful lady, who was later on by command presented to Queen Victoria, who, after hearing her story, condoled with her, and later gave her a pension of fifty pounds a year as long as she remained a widow.

Some three years after this the widow was again married, to Captain Cawes, of the ship "Coriola.n.u.s." This ship came to Hankow to load tea and I had the pleasure to meet Mrs. Cawes, who had been saved from my old ship in which I had served for years.

The steamer that run down the "Northfleet" was twice arrested, but nothing definite could be proved until some two years later, when one of her officers was near dying, and he confessed that it was the steamer "Murillo," which was later proved to be true, and the vessel was confiscated.

Chinese Politeness.

Whilst running to Hankow with the steamer "Neimen" I had as sailors Malays. The firemen were seedy boys, or Nubians. The steward was a Goa Portuguese. The servants were Chinese, and the cook a Chinese who claimed to be an American, he having been trained by Captain John Parrott, of San Francisco, "a number one American man," who had taught him to swear quite neatly.

Well, on Christmas Day, 1862, we had a very hard gale and snowstorm, and early in the evening we had to anchor. Then we sat down to dinner, which we hoped to enjoy. There were several pa.s.sengers on board, and when the soup was served and tasted each looked at the other, and I looked at the steward and asked him what kind of soup it was. He said it was plain soup. I asked why some meat had not been used in its making, and he replied that the cook must have eaten the meat, as he was given plenty.

The cook was sent for, and when he was confronted with the steward he began to use the refined language taught him by Captain Parrott. I ordered the steward to put all the soup back into the tureen. Then I invited the cook to take a seat at the table and consume the soup, which he did. When he had taken it he rose and, bowing most politely, tucked the tureen under his arm like an admiral with his c.o.c.ked hat, and said, "Excusey, my sir; all hab finishee," and backed out of the saloon most politely.

A Brazilian Slaver.

In the year 1851 I was on a voyage to Melbourne, Australia, on the sailing ship "Severn." This was shortly after the opening of the gold mines. We left Southampton with about one hundred pa.s.sengers, and had a very fine run with fair weather. There was no incident to mar the enjoyment of the trip until we neared the coast of Brazil, when one morning we saw a smart-looking brig hove to, waiting for us to come up, and when we came near our pa.s.sengers became very much excited, as we could see there was an unusual number of men on her deck; the idea was that it was a pirate vessel.

When we came very near to her, a boat was put off from her, and an officer brought a letter from her captain asking for provisions and water, saying that the vessel was bound for the port of Santos, and had been blown off the coast in a pampero. Neither the officer nor the boat's crew could or would speak English. They could only ask in Spanish for "tabac." Some of our sailors protested that they were either British or--Americans. Well, they were supplied with salt beef and pork, canned meats, water, etc. Several trips were made by the boat, and when all was finished, and the boat was at some distance from us, these marauders stood up and gave us three rousing cheers in good plain English, and called out "Good-bye boys, and good luck to you for feeding the blackbirds." The brig was full of slaves.

This "slave" business was then near its end in Brazil, and, probably this vessel had been chased off the coast by a British war-vessel, as every possible effort was being made by the British Government to suppress the slave trade.

Mary Ann Gander.

On this voyage we had a Mr. and Mrs. Gander and their eight children.

Poor Mrs. Gander used to suffer terribly from seasickness, and was totally unfitted to do anything but scold, whilst poor unfortunate Gander used to promenade the deck with a child on each arm and a couple of others tagging on to his coat-tails. He was a wonderfully good-natured fellow, was Gander; otherwise I do believe he would have jumped overboard, for whenever he came near to where Mrs. Gander was, she used to call to him to go to the captain and tell him to put her on sh.o.r.e immediately; she would not go any further in that ship,--no, that she wouldn't. "Now, Mary Ann, what's the use your talking that way; you know that we are a thousand miles from any land and the captain cannot put you on sh.o.r.e." "Now, Gander, don't you talk to me. How dare you? You just go to the captain at once. Oh! you catch me going to sea again. No, that you won't. When I go home I'll go overland, if I have to walk every step of the way." Poor Gander! Mary Ann and the children all survived the trials of the voyage and arrived safe in Melbourne, where Gander was very fortunate, and in three years made sufficient money to enable him to retire, and as the English Mail Steamer Company, or the P. & O.

Company had put on a line from Ceylon to Australia in 1852, the Gander family were enabled to go home by the overland route, as Mrs. Gander had wished to go.

Hard Times.

In June, 1854, I left Melbourne on the barque "Junior," bound to Callao, in Peru. We had a fine voyage, and on arrival, being free, I went to Lima, the capital. I found this was a very interesting old city, with beautiful surrounding country, which I enjoyed very much, and spent nearly a month there. Then I had a week in Callao, which was a pretty wild place. I used to sail around the bay, and in sailing near the sh.o.r.e I could look down, at the bottom of the sea, on the houses of old Callao, which was swallowed by an earthquake in the latter part of the last century. And, strange to say, when the town disappeared an island came up out in the bay. This island is very high and is called "San Lorenzo," after a lone fisherman who had been out in his boat fishing on the night when the earthquake took place, and in the morning poor old Lorenzo found himself in a boat about a thousand feet up on a mountain and no town in sight.

Well, I joined the barque "Tropic," loaded with guano, bound for Cork, in Ireland. This vessel was a very rotten old thing, and in getting round Cape Horn we all had a very hard time, and did not know how soon the vessel would sink with us; but we got round the Cape and into the South Atlantic, where we had better weather and proceeded pretty well till in the North Atlantic, when provisions began to get short. When we were off the Azores, watching the beautiful sh.o.r.es and harbours of St.

Michael, we came near a Dutch brig from Brazil loaded with coffee. The captain hailed us and asked us for some biscuits. A boat was sent to us bringing us a half-bag of coffee. We had less than a hundred pounds of biscuits. Our captain consulted with us about giving any of it away. It was finally agreed that we would divide with the brig. This was done, and we had to be very careful with so little bread among twelve people.

We had plenty of salt beef and pork, and a half-barrel of flour, but no beans or peas or sugar.

We had a fair run till we saw Cape Clear, at the south end of Ireland, on the 30th of January, 1855. We all were in high hopes that a few hours more would see us at anchor in Queenstown; but that night came on an easterly gale, and we were driven out into the Atlantic, where for weeks we were buffeted about, and to our dismay our last fresh-water cask we found had leaked and was empty. We were surrounded with many other vessels in the same plight--short of provisions. We had plenty of snow, with which we could make coffee, but were reduced to salt meat only, which is pretty hard fare. The hardest part was, that the captain had his wife and two children on board, and for the youngest child a goat had been provided to supply milk. This became a scarce article as there was no food for the goat. So every day the carpenter used to plane up a piece of wood to make shavings for the goat to eat. It got along as well or better than any of us.

Finally, on the 10th of March, in the morning early, we had reached near to the Old Head of Kinsale, and near to Cork, when we saw a boat pulling off to us. This proved to be a pilot-boat. The pilot got on board, and told us that ours was the first vessel that could be boarded in six weeks, the weather having been so bad, and that only a few days before the mail-carrier between Clonakilty and Cork had been frozen to death on his journey. The pilot brought us a few potatoes, which gave us one each and two for the captain's wife, and the next morning we got safely into Queenstown, where we were able to get a good supply of milk, bread, b.u.t.ter, and eggs, of which we all made pretty free use, and with a few days' rest we forgot all our late cares, as sailors usually do.

After being in port a few days we all left the "Tropic," and I spent a couple of weeks in seeing Cork and the beautiful country where the people are so genial and hospitable. After seeing all I wanted to see, I took steamer from Cork for Bristol, spent one day there, and then left by train for London. The train left in the evening, and here a rather amusing incident occurred. I had taken a second-cla.s.s ticket, and after taking my seat, it being cold weather, I prepared to make myself comfortable for the night. In my valise I had a rough sealskin or Esquimau jacket with a hood to it. I put this on and was nice and warm, sitting in the corner of the carriage. Shortly afterwards a man in livery came in and sat in the corner opposite to me. Then came an old lady and her husband, an Irish army officer returning to India. The old lady was helped in by the gentleman, but as soon as she saw me she cried out, "O Lord!" and fell back. Then the old gentleman boosted her in again, saying, "Go in, you old stupid!" and after the second attempt she gave it up, saying she wouldn't travel in a menagerie. She had taken me for a bear, and the man in livery for my keeper. The old gentleman got in, and she remained on the platform until I a.s.sured her that there was no danger. Then she came in very reluctantly and sat as far away as possible until we reached Bath, where the man in livery alighted. After that the old lady, her husband, and I became good friends for the remainder of the journey.

Memory For Voices.

After the bear incident I spent some time in London, then joined the emigrant ship "Oriental," bound to Adelaide, South Australia. I was third officer. We took on board about one hundred families of excellently selected farm labourers, shepherds, and ploughmen, and after having made a good voyage arrived safely in Adelaide. The Immigration Commissioners came on board and inspected the pa.s.sengers. The result was most satisfactory. There was no complaint of ill-treatment or deficiency in supplies, and in less than thirty-six hours every family was engaged and sent into the country. And the Commissioners awarded to our doctor fifty pounds sterling, the chief officer fifty pounds for his supervision, and myself fifty pounds for the supervision of the commissariat department.

After a short stay in Adelaide, we sailed for Madras, in India, and after a good voyage we arrived and anch.o.r.ed in the evening when it was quite dark. There was quite a number of native business men came off in catamarans and "mussulah," or surf-boats. Among the number was one n.o.ble-looking man, who stepped up near to our captain and, addressing him, said, "How do you do, Captain Mackintosh?"

"How do you know my name is Mackintosh?"

"By your voice, sahib. When you were here in the 'Lady Mary Harrison,'

eighteen years ago, I was your dubash."

This was quite correct. This man recognized the captain's voice after all these years.

In 1879 I had a similar experience in my own case. I was travelling in Scotland, and in Edinburgh I met some friends and inquired for an old lady whom I had known as a child. I found that she was living at a place called Aberladye, on the seacoast. I decided to go to see her, and was directed to take the train to Dreme Station, and there I should find a conveyance to take me to Aberladye. When I arrived the conveyance was filled with local travellers and I started to walk three and a half miles to my friend. After I had gone about half a mile I pa.s.sed by a magnificent entrance to a fine estate. Soon after this I heard a carriage coming, and when it caught up to me the gentleman who was driving in the dog-cart pulled up and asked if I was going to Aberladye and invited me to take a lift. I thanked him and mounted beside him. He asked where I wanted to go. I told him to Rose Cottage, when we entered into general conversation. He learned that I was from China, so we had quite a pleasant time, and, arriving opposite to Rose Cottage, he pulled up and graciously pointed to the house, bade me good-bye, and hoped we might meet again.

I went up to the door and rang the bell, and the old lady herself answered it all in a flutter, as she had seen me set down from the trap, which was driven by Lord Rosebery himself. Well, I asked if Mrs.

McKippen lived there. She replied, "Yes; I am she." I said, "Perhaps you don't remember me?" She said, "No; but I know your voice." I told her that I was Arthur Knights. "Aye, laddie," she cried, "I heard that you was drowned at sea twenty-five years ago." Well, I need hardly say that I was welcome to her and her husband, who was a retired business man. Poor old gentleman, he cried as a child when she told him of my taking the trouble to come and see her, and how when I was a small boy at a juvenile party I was sore distressed by my dancing slippers being too big and that they kept slipping off. Then she came to the rescue and took me to one side and st.i.tched them to the heel of my stocking to enable me to have a good time.

I spent a couple of days with my friends and then went on my way, and I have often wondered whether that lady could possibly have connected my manhood voice with that of my childhood.

An Incident of the Great Taiping Rebellion.