The Voyage Alone in the Yawl "Rob Roy" Part 13

Two centre-boards, like long narrow doors, placed diagonally between the web joinings of the tubes, dipped into the water, and served as a keel, so that when we cast her off from the steamer, the raft managed to sail a little over to windward. The whole raft being collapsible when the air is driven out, can be readily carried aboard ship, and for this it is valuable, but many other and better rafts compete with this for favour.

The actual _substratum_, or raft proper, seemed to be strong and substantial, but the sails and gear were miserably contrived, and worse executed, in preparation for a long dreary voyage of six weeks, drifting in wet and weariness, which I could not but contrast with the pleasant six weeks just pa.s.sed in the Rob Roy.

The most interesting thing on the raft was a pa.s.senger, who had come on board her when about a thousand miles away in the sea. This was an old hen, given to the crew by a pa.s.sing vessel. It was a common brown, dowdy, grandmother-looking hen, and in this prosaic state it was very odd and incongruous, tethered to the deck by a bit of tarred lanyard, and pecking away till you looked hard at it, then it c.o.c.ked up one eye with an air that said, "Why are you staring at _me_?"

Among the visitors to the raft was a wealthy gentleman, who surveyed the whole with interest, and at last fixed his eye upon the barn-door fowl, and asked if it was to be sold. "Yes, sir, for a hundred guineas," was the answer; but he deferred any immediate purchase by saying, "If I thought that eating that hen's eggs would make me as plucky as you are, I might buy it." As for being "plucky" in the matter, what will not men risk for money? The risks run by many sailors in the rotten coffins that bring our scuttles of coals round Yarmouth Sands are quite as great as the hazard on this raft, and their forecastles are about as comfortable as the tent upon it. If it were not on such a serious subject as risk to human life, one might well be amused to hear the wrong estimates of the dangers in various sorts of voyages which are so hastily expressed by benevolent people who are ignorant of the whole matter.

I advised the raft-men to take her to Berlin, for exhibition as "the German raft from America," for such she is; but they persisted in their scheme for showing her in London, where folks are already tired of "flotsam and jetsam" from the West. Their enterprise failed; and the poor Germans had to depart from England deep in debt instead of laden with money, and their raft was left for sale.

Since the 'Nonpareil,' there has come to England from America another floating monstrosity, a boat called the 'John T. Ford,' worse "found" in every sense than the others, and which had three men drowned on the pa.s.sage, and one nearly starved-a sad finale to the failures of the 'Henrietta,' 'Red, White, and Blue,' and 'Nonpariel,' as speculations.

Another craft came in with man and wife as crew. Finally in July, the two Andrews came in the 'Nautilus.'

Every day at Cowes the yawl Rob Roy was under way for a sail, and sometimes in good breezes she would thread in and out among thickly cl.u.s.tered yachts, so as to show her handiness. Certainly, without previous practice, it would be highly improper to attempt this sort of cruising; for the yachts, with bowsprits run out, and jiggers and mizen-booms projecting, are at anchor here on the implied understanding that no one will wantonly endanger a collision by sailing about in the crowd, merely for fun. After practice, however, for weeks in the same craft, the operation of guiding her safely through a maze of boats, and on a strong cross-tide, becomes like the unnoticed and nearly involuntary muscular efforts of the body which carry us safely through a crowd on sh.o.r.e. I recollect once seeing some very dignified Arab Chiefs, who for the first time in their lives had to go up-stairs, and their awkward stumbling, even in the ascent of a few steps, showed how much our nerves and limbs have to learn before we can do so ordinary a thing without even a thought.

One day the Rob Roy sailed to Portsmouth, and into all the creeks and crannies, and through all the channels and guts she could find in that complicated waterway, and then anch.o.r.ed near the 'Duke of Wellington,'

with the old 'Victory' close beside. There also was the 'Serapis,' one of the magnificent troop-ships, of a size and build found to be the best success of our last naval efforts. By the quay was the 'Warrior,' the first sea-going iron-clad, and of beauty indisputable, and the celebrated 'Wyvern,' with its tripod masts. Others later made, and always more and more stumpy and square, need a strong pressure of utilitarian conviction to restrain us from p.r.o.nouncing that they are downright ugly. But we shall soon become reconciled, and then enamoured, of forms that are a.s.sociated with proved utility, and the grand three-decker of our youth will look as clumsy then as the ships of Queen Elizabeth do now, which seem to have carried, each of them, a lot of toy guns, and a country mansion on its deck.

The church service on board old 'Victory' was most interesting to take part in when Sunday came round, and next day her captain came to visit us in his well-manned gig, which, indeed, was longer than our boat, and he said that the Rob Roy "fulfilled a dream of his youth." This from a "swell of the ocean" was a high compliment to our little yawl.

A boat full of boys, from the Portsmouth Ragged School, sang hymns on the water in the lovely evening.

Among the other remarkable visitors to the yawl was a pleasant young lady, who sat in a very pretty boat, rowed by a trusty man. She had hovered round and round the Rob Roy with a cautious propriety, which, however, could not conceal a certain wistful gaze as the narrowing spiral of her course brought her nearer at each turn. My little dingey was the attraction, and the lady confessed boldly that she "would _so_ like to have a boat like that to row in." Next she consented to see dinner cooked on the Rob Roy, and-just because she was a lady-she complied with the request not to fly away when I began to eat. Finally, as curiosity increases by gratifying it, the good-humoured girl (with the full consent of the trusty guardian) accepted one mouthful of the newly cooked rations, stewed steak, on Rob Roy's fork, and then suddenly it had become "very late, and time to join papa."

The variety of life during a fortnight here, yet all afloat, was abounding. One day sailing in company with other small boats up the winding Medina, or tacking about, close-reefed, in rough water; the next day cruising in some splendid schooner away and away towards the Needles.

Every one was kind and hospitable, and often dipping their ensigns to the yawl. Surely we have named her cruise wrongly as "the voyage alone;"

and, indeed, I could scarcely get time in my cabin for a glance at a paper, to see the news and doings of the land folk, bricked up ash.o.r.e: their wars and congresses and the general rasping they get for it all by a hard squeeze in the press at the end of every week, to keep them from forgetting their own discomforts or their neighbours' ills, for Parliament being dispersed in vacation, there is the fourth estate to legislate by public acclaim.

Most remarkable it is, and commendable, and a feature only a few years old, that the princ.i.p.al morning and evening papers should take up one after another of philanthropic inst.i.tutions, and even of individual cases, and advocate them vigorously, while they spare no wrong from censure, and freely discuss remedies, which are much harder to talk of than any wrongs. Philanthropy is made popular by the press, and many a good worker is cheered by this powerful help. Blessings on their type!

But on the other hand, lest we should subside into doing good, hoping better, and making the best of things in a practical way, the whole has to be reviewed at the end of each week by a hard hebdomadal board, on which a dozen clear thinkers sit aside and criticise all the rest of us.

Perhaps it is a part of the irreverence of our times that one should gradually lose awe in the presence of this weekly printed wisdom. Or is it that experience finds types are just as fallible as tongues for telling truth, and that years give us hardiness even in the presence of that most mighty, wise, and impudent of all earthworms,-man, that judges the very G.o.d of Heaven.

However, the brilliancy of these critics flares out and attracts, and it ought to attract, though it need not dazzle, even if it be the brilliancy of the electric light, warming as little, and darkening one side as much.

Their thoughts reach thousands, and without the answers: thus to thousands they are judgments, not arguments. It is a tremendous responsibility to wield such powers, and perhaps it is not felt by a corporate body as each one of them would acknowledge for himself.

It is a good sign of them, or of the age, that they should yield to man's innate love of continuous detraction?

Is not their own shibboleth the hardest of all, the most shifting, the most inaudibly p.r.o.nounced by themselves, if it be not a universal "No,"

and yet the most rigorously insisted upon? Is there not a "cant" of the vague and complacent denial, quite as bad as that of the too positive and a.s.sumed belief? Will it cure the weakness of the milk-and-water they complain of to pour in mustard and vinegar? and would not any one man, with all these bristling points of sarcasm, dispraise, and bitterness, be about as pleasant in social life as a porcupine? Surely this powerful literary lever could be plied to raise heavier stones, and to settle them in goodly order. Let others grub in the rubbish; but the leading organ of the week could sound with a grander harmony, more pleasant, and not less piquant if it gave rhythm to the mind of England in a forward march against misery.

Perhaps to write thus is too daring; for while Saturn masticates his own offspring it is a bold child that complains to his face; but it is better to be called rash than to be proved timid.

Meantime we are nearing Cowes in our sail from Portsmouth, and must mind the rocks and beacons rather than soliloquies, for this one question may be put after all:-Is it right to moralize at all in a log-book? and will not the reader say, that when there is not a storm in the yawl, or a swamp, there is sure to come a sermon?

CHAPTER XVII.

Continental sailors-Mal de mer-Steam-launches-Punt chase-The ladies-Fireworks-Catastrophe-Impudence-Drifting yachts-Tool chest-Spectre ship-Where am I?-Canoe _v_. yawl-Selfish-Risk and toil-Ridicule.

The regatta days opened with wind and rain; but even at the best of times, the sight of a sailing match from on sh.o.r.e is like that of a stag hunt from on foot,-very pretty at the start, and then very little more to see. It is different if you sail about among the competing yachts. Then you feel the same tide and wind, and see the same marks and buoys, and dread the same shoals and rocks as they do, and at every turn of every vessel you have something to learn.

No one can satisfactorily distribute the verdict "victor" or "vanquished"

in a sailing-match between the designer, the builder, the rigger, and the course, the weather, the rules, the sailor of each craft, and chance; though each of these will conduce in part to the success or failure in every match. Still there is this advantage, that the loser can always blame, and the winner can always praise, which of these elements he finds most convenient. But if a sailing-match has little in it quite intelligible, even when you see it, the account of a past regatta is well worth keeping out of print-so be it then with this one, the best held at Cowes for many years.

The large crowds that attended, and their obstinate standing in heavy rain, were in marked contrast to the phlegmatic and meagre interest of the few French who came to the regatta at St. Cloud. But it is such occasions that remind us of England being a land of seamen, while continental sailors are at best of the land, except in northern nations.

Once it was my lot to sail in a small screw-steamer along the coast of Calabria. Of the four pa.s.sengers one was a Neapolitan officer, who embarked in full uniform; and with light tight boots and spurs, and clanging sword, he stalked the quarter-deck, that is, he took three steps, and was at the end, and three steps back.

In going out of Messina I saw we should have a tough bit of sea outside, and was soon prepared accordingly. He did not so, and the first bursting wave wet him through in a moment, and down he went below. Some hours afterwards I descended too, and a melancholy sight was there, with very lugubrious sounds.

In the cabin was a huge tub full of water, and the officer (spurs, boots, and all) was sitting in it with his legs out of one end and his head groaning and bellowing from the other. This was his specific for sea-sickness, and for three days he behaved about as well as a fractious child who sadly wants a good whipping. It is no discredit to a man to be sea-sick. Nelson, we are told, was so far human. But it is somewhat unmanly for an officer to whine and blubber like a baby, and yet we have several times seen this phenomenon abroad. When we came into Naples this lachrymose hero was again in full feather, boots, spurs, and sword, stalking the quarter-deck as if no tub and tears had intervened.

Some excellent rowing-matches, after the Regatta in Cowes, were varied by a "punt chase,"-an amus.e.m.e.nt thoroughly English; when one man in a punt is chased by four in a low-boat, who have to catch both him and his boat within ten minutes.

Of course his path is devious and tortuous on the water, his resort being quick turns, while the chasers gain in speed. After numerous close escapes he leaps into the water. Then if the pursuers catch and hold his boat it clogs them in following him, and if they follow him while his boat is left free, he manages to escape round some tangled ma.s.s of shipping, and so regains his boat for a new start.

This is the sort of thing that tries both swimming and pluck in the water, as well as mere muscle or wind in rowing. It is to racing proper what a hunt is to a flat race. Rowing is only one small part of boating, and it is apt to monopolise our favour chiefly because many can row for one that can _boat_.

In one of these punt chases at Cowes the punter had several times plunged into the sea, and amid shouts and cheers he was always closely followed by one of his chasers who swam almost equally well.

At length the brave punter swam over to the 'Alberta,' one of the Queen's steam-yachts, which had several of the royal Princesses and others on board, who kindly thus patronized the races, and their presence was thoroughly appreciated by us all. The hardy sailor scaled the yacht, and actually ran among the ladies,-who doubtless were much amused, and indeed they t.i.ttered vastly. Then he mounted the lofty paddle-box, closely followed by his resolute pursuer, who would not be shaken off. With one moment of hesitation the punter took a splendid "header" into the sea, and as he was thus descending from the paddle-box the gun filed, showing that the ten minutes had expired. The pursuer could then, of course, have given up the chase as done. He had lost and could not win now. But there was still in him that fine free boldness which superadds brave deed to stern duty, and, amid a burst of cheers, he too leaped down into the sea.

[Picture: The Punt Chase]

The first diver, however, had heard the wished-for gun as he fell and so he claimed his prize when he came up, all red and watery, and both had well gained the applause of the spectators.

It is not for one who has rowed fifty races with pleasure to underrate, far less to disparage, mere rowing; but still we maintain that for the encouragement of pure manliness, and the varied capacities useful in a sailor's life, one punt chase is far better than ten of the others.

The rapid introduction of steam-launches into use for our large English yachts adds quite a new feature to every grand regatta. Here again, however, the French navy led the way, and England follows somewhat tardily. The French fleet at the Cherbourg review, some years ago had a swarm of these fussy little creatures buzzing about the great anch.o.r.ed iron-clads. English steam-launches were built to carry each a gun, and so they are bluff and slow. Our Admiralty declined to allow a race between these and the French launches in Paris, else, no doubt, the superior speed of the French boats would have astonished John Bull. All this has lately changed, so that launches and torpedo boats in England can steam twenty miles an hour.

The "voyage alone" had culminated at Cowes when the splendid exhibition of fireworks closed the grand show of British yachting. It was a beautiful sight those whizzing rockets speeding from wave to sky, and scattering bright gems above to fall softly from the black heaven; those glares of red or green that painted all the wide crescent of beauteous hulls, and dim, tall masts with a glow of ardent colour, and the "bouquets" of fantastic form and hue, with noise that rattled aloft, while thousands of paled faces cheered loud below. To this day the deck of the Rob Roy (which is now in Australia) bears marks of the fire-shower falling quietly, gently down, but still with a red scar burned in black at the last.

Luggage is all on board again, and our tiny "Blue Peter" flies at the fore, for the Rob Roy will weigh anchor now for her homeward voyage. The Ryde Regatta was well worth seeing, and she stopped there in an uneasy night, but we need not copy the log of another set of sailing matches.

Thus in a fine evening, when the sun sank ruddy and the breeze blew soft, we turned again to Brading harbour, and, just perhaps because we had come safely once before, there was listless incaution now, as if Bembridge reef could not be cruel on such a fine evening as this.

Various and doubtless most true directions had been given to me as to entering this narrow channel:-"Keep the tree in a line with the monument; that's your mark." But when you come there and see the monument, there are twenty trees; and which then is _the_ tree to guide by? Here, therefore, and in mundane things on land too it is alike, the misapprehension of a rule was worse than the chance mistake of undirected mother-wit. A horrid crash brought us suddenly to rest; the Rob Roy had struck on a rock. Though I was lax at the time, and lolling and lazy, yet presence of mind remained. Down came the sails, out leaped the anchor, and shoving, and hauling, and rowing did their best; but no, she was firmly berthed on one of the north-west rocks. Presently a malicious wave lifted her stern round and the rudder soon b.u.mped on another sharp ledge, until by sounding and patience I at last got her free, and rowed out through a channel unconscionably narrow, and then ran the sails up, and the yawl was safe again, sailing smoothly, with a deep sigh of deliverance.

A sailing-boat had put off from the sh.o.r.e to help, seeing the catastrophe, but I signalled to her, "Thanks-all right now," and she went back.

Soon another boat that had rowed out came near, and the man in her determined to be a _salvor_ whether or no, and leaped on board the yawl.

I made him get off to his boat; I had not invited him, nor had he asked permission to board me. He could see it was the other man's job, and he ought to have obeyed the signal, as the other did. Grumbling heavily, he at length asked me to tow him in. "Well," I said, "why, yes, I will give you a tow, though you have been very impudent." But the moment he came near he jumped on board again, resolved "to save me," though I might protest ever so hard. Once more, then, I bundled him into his boat, and this time rather by deeds than words. He kept up a volley of abuse all the way to the sh.o.r.e, and there I gave my yawl in charge of the first man, who had acted right both in coming out and in going back when signalled. A hospitable Captain R.N. offered me his moorings (as a good bed for my yawl), and asked me to breakfast next day, which was accepted, "subject to the wind," especially as the entertainer was of the clan "Mac," like his guest.

Calm night falls on the Rob Roy, in a little inland lake, profoundly still, more quiet indeed, in respect of current, tide, or wind, or human being than any night of the voyage. It was very difficult to turn in below with such a moon above, and water quite unruffled. So there was a long lean-to on propped elbows, and reverie reeled off by the yard.

Daybreak grey, with a westerly breeze, at once dissolved the breakfast engagement, and carried the Rob Roy to sea, with her own kettle briskly boiling; and now we are fairly started on our voyage to the Thames again.