The Voyage Alone in the Yawl "Rob Roy" Part 17

The tide helps much, until the high ground near Chatham adds rock and sylvan scenes to the flat banks of the winding estuary.

Now we come on a busy industry of peculiar type, thousands of convicts working on the new seawall, closely guarded by armed keepers. These poor criminals are paid or privileged according to their good behaviour, and it has been found that their labour thus stimulated is very productive.

Once fairly up among the war-ships at Chatham, the Rob Roy anchors by the Powder Magazine, and while a waterman rows away for the usual supplies-"Two eggs, pat of b.u.t.ter, and the 'Times'"-we inspect the Royal Engineers as they are engaged alongside at pontooning, and are frequently pulled up by the command of a smart sergeant-"Eyes-right," for they _will_ take furtive glances at my dingey gyrating so as they had never seen boat spin round before. This comment on the dingey's shape was ventured, too, "It's for hall the world like 'alf a hegg."

Pushing on again, still up the river, the Rob Roy had to beat against an east wind all through the densely packed brigs and barges in the narrow bend at Rochester, where the difficulty of working her added zest to the journey, and now and then a resounding crash from some great barge drifting down against other vessels, told me that not every one of the craft was as fortunate in navigation as the yawl. Before us is the Cathedral, but it is far too stiff in its sharp outline to arrest the eye for a moment. On the other side, the fine old weatherworn and time-eaten Castle rears its great tower, and challenges a long and satisfying look, especially as this was the only ancient ruin we had seen in the tour, and so there had long been a yearning in the mind for such, just as there is when you travel in Norway or America, until at last the hunger for old things becomes ravenous and intolerable.

The yawl's mast will be able to pa.s.s under the bridge, for the tide is low, and beyond it now we are in sunny green fields, and sailing on smoothly amid quiet villages, rich pastures, and the exuberant hop-grounds of thoroughly English Kent.

Three boys bathing from a boat came near, and for a treat we took them on board, while their hair dripped wet and their teeth chattered fast after too long a swim, but they had read the name on my white flag, and they had also read two canoe books, and so for miles they devoured all that was said and shewn on the yawl; then thanking much because they were "awfully glad," and they rowed home. How pleasant it is to give pleasure to boys!

The Rob Roy got aground only once in this trip above the bridge, and that only for five minutes, which, except the b.u.mp on a rock at Bembridge, was her sole mishap of this sort, an immunity quite extraordinary from the seaman's dreaded foe, the sh.o.r.e. The barges that were now floating up the crowded Medway interested me exceedingly, and acquaintance was readily made with their inhabitants almost every day for the next three weeks, until it became evident that "Barge Life" is a stratum of society quite as full of character and incident as any other, and wide open for examination by those who would study a _genus_ of mankind very little known. Large and important duties are entrusted to these men; rich cargoes are committed to their honesty and skill; families live on barges by thousands, {280} and the coasting journey of a barge is by no means an easy thing or a dull one.

We must not judge of them by those great black boxes full of coals, that float on the water above London Bridge, with one man and a long oar, and yet even a coal barge is worth watching. In the dank mist of a dull November evening it will drift unseen past the Temple Gardens. Wonderful sounds launch into the fog from an invisible shouter on board, whose "Tom" or "Bill" on a wharf ash.o.r.e instantly knows the call, and answers.

Then there is a colloquy loud, and public in the extreme, yet utterly private in its meaning to any one besides the two who are talking. It is only paralleled by the shrill interjections of London street boys calling to each other across the Strand, of which the grown-up public cannot make out one syllable, but which the stratum below them, of three feet high, is perfectly contented with, discerning every word.

The barges that trade to the Medway are fine, strong sea-boats; their sailing qualities are excellent, and they are improved every year by a regatta specially for them, where forty gay-dressed, bluff and burly craft compete for prizes. In this match the utmost of skill, sharpened by years of river sailing, is shewn in the wind and tide, and knowledge of intricate channels, and among such compet.i.tors "fouling is fair."

As the yawl glides on the water among hayricks and whetting scythes, one of these gallant barges floated beside us with the name on its stern-S.E.C.P.T.E.R.-dubious in import, we allow, whether it means that the stout matter-of-fact lighter has been christened as a shadowy ghost, or a royal symbol. The veriest urchin steers her, with a little fat hand on the heavy tiller twelve feet long, and a hunch of good rye-bread in his other fist. Now and then he sings out in a thin soprano, "Fayther, boat's a'ead," and his father, (hidden below), answers deep-toned, from the cabin, "Keep 'er away, lad." From him I asked, "How old is your boy?" and the parent's head popped up to see, but it was the child that smartly answered, "Eight years old." He looked five. Round the next reach the barge bears down, and shakes her sails in the wind to arrest progress a little. They have come near home, but not to stop. It is only their country house, and up steps the bargee mother from out her small _boudoir_ in the cabin below, and jumping heavily into a boat, she pulls ash.o.r.e to where a little girl is meekly waiting ready for orders-"Get the fish directly, Hagnes," and the daughter runs off fleetly and back soon, and the mother is speedily aboard again-all this marketing being done while the barge has been drifting slowly past, and then her sails are filled to continue the voyage.

Night fell, and the yawl anch.o.r.ed by a soft green field, with the bowsprit among the rushes. Bright furnaces for lime and plaster works show here and there around, and they roared and blazed up fitfully with waving jets of flame, like the iron works in Shropshire, while the reflections glittered on the river, and reddened long reaches in a glow.

The barges kept streaming by in the dark laden with rich commerce, and merry, singing crews-a very curious scene. To them the Rob Roy, of course, looked quite as strange, and one hailed us gruffly-"Who're you?"

answer, "I'm the Rob Roy!"-"What in the world did you come here for?"

"To look at the beautiful lights on your river." In a murmuring grumble, he said to that, "Too many on 'em there is-we can't see where we're goin'

with them;" and this is indeed perfectly true, for the light of these furnaces dazzles by its brightness, which is not diffused, whereas if no lights were there at all, the men could see well enough, for it is marvellous how the eye will perceive at least the bounds between land and water, when practice sharpens keen vision and no false light is shining.

It is, however, quite true also, that the language of the barge-world is not to be found complete in Johnson's dictionary. It is far more powerful than elegant. Words that are unused ash.o.r.e except in anger or the coa.r.s.est abuse seem to be the gentle appellations of endearment between father and son afloat. But we must not forget that it is the meaning attached to a word by speaker and hearer, and not that given to it by a world outside of both, which the word will represent. {284}

From the highest point we could reach towards Maidstone, we soon ran down again to Rochester, and various were the conflicting verdicts of bargees as to whether or not my mast would now go under the bridge, for the tide was very high, and I sailed back and forward, getting opinions, and surveying the bridge on all sides. At length I determined it could be done, and my heart beat nervously as the yawl neared the centre arch-not as to danger, but the dishonour of breaking a goodly spar at the end of a cruise, and in so trumpery a feat. It pa.s.sed clear, however, by inches.

The evening was too fine at Sheerness to think of anchoring, so with a sudden resolve we set off again to Southend. Here the advice of a yacht lying near was followed foolishly (get _facts_ from experts and decide on deeds yourself), for I anch.o.r.ed without sounding, and too late found it was in shallow water, only eight feet by the lead, and the tide running out. To bed but not to sleep, for the water sunk to five feet, and, angry with myself, I roused at one o'clock, gave out all the rope, sheered off sh.o.r.e by the rudder, and then, again at rest, gained only six inches of depth; but once more sounding, there was only six inches to spare under the keel and with a strong breeze on sh.o.r.e. Therefore, now again on the move, we fastened the inner end of the cable to the larger anchor and heaved this out, and then payed out all the chain, and sheered with the rudder, but still she was in shoal water. Finally, as the wind increased, I had to haul in both anchors and shove out into the deep, and thus, by omitting to do right at once what was easy at the time, the whole night had been consumed by intervals of wet and needless trouble.

Life in the yawl had now become such a pleasant life, that to leave it was a duty deferred as long as possible. We ranged several times up and down the Thames, visiting many an old nook, well known in former days; Holy Haven for instance; it is now thirty-three years since we first harboured there in a little sailing-boat and spent a night with a collier captain, and learned more of coals and colliers than one could read in a week. This was done by keeping him resolutely on the point the man knew all about until he was quite pumped dry. This nice little refuge-harbour is the one I like best in all the river, with only one house-no bother from sh.o.r.e folks, deep channel, and clean sand to anchor in. If it were not for this narrow and safe retreat, there would often be hard times in stormy days between Gravesend and Sheerness.

The first time the Rob Roy went into Holy Haven, we found a yacht there with a lady and gentleman on board, who of course (invariable and excellent custom) were hospitable when they read my flag. Tiny ripples were the only sounds of the evening, and on looking out on a new day, the round smooth sand was bare beside me, with a lonely gull preening its soft white wing, and its calm eye unfrightened, for no one could have the heart to harm the pretty creature there. The next time of a visit to this peaceful haven, there was another little craft at anchor, and in five minutes after we stopped the owner of it sent his card, with the customary invitation, to come on board. He was a sailor solicitor who lives on the water in summer (being wise), but does not venture out of the Thames (being prudent), and he has a boy "Jim" who hands out cooked things from an inscrutable forecastle, where he sleeps at night in a sort of coal-scuttle. Nevertheless the two together seemed perfectly happy.

By way of variety, the Rob Roy on leaving Margate the next time set off in the dark night, to sail away under the stars, and by some curious good luck we managed to pa.s.s as close to the buoy at Reculver as ever one could do in the light. Next time we came to Margate the place was gay with its Regatta, on a fine breezy day. It was one of the best managed regattas one could see, with always something going on, and always the requisite confusion that prevents anybody from knowing exactly what _is_ going on. However, the Rob Roy had a charming sail among the yachts as she towed at her stern the dingey and a canoe, for the members of our Club are ubiquitous, {287} so two of them are at Margate.

CHAPTER XXI.

Worcester-Swedish lesson-English boys-A prophecy-Letter-Request-Reply-The 'Dolphin.'

Margate has often been abused, laughed at, and snubbed, but it has never yet been properly described. How shall I describe Margate? It is too difficult to do well, and it has been too often done badly to do it again.

The men's bathing here from boats with steps, like those at Malta, is sensible enough. Fine bold swimmers struck out well beside me in the water while I had my morning dip from the yawl. As for the epicene bathing-masculine women and womanish males who partake of "sea-bathing by machinery"-separate machines, but that is all-let us ignore them.

Come rather back to France, and let us look at Her Imperial Majesty the Empress Eugenie in the water, as we have seen her years ago.

It was at Biarritz, and one day a commotion in the town was evident, but "What is about to happen?" we asked, being ready for any response as a traveller ought to be.

"Her Majesty is going to bathe."

British modesty urged a quiet retreat, but French system being different, we spectators to the number of some hundreds were ranged along the sands in two long lines, with a narrow lane clear between, and grave Gendarmes keeping the ranks in order.

The usual proceedings one sees at French bathing towns were all in action round about us. Ladies dressed to the highest pitch, mingled with others in bathing costume. Gentlemen walking quite composed and dripping wet with ladies just come out of the sea and just going in again. Young girls in canoes boldly paddling, and gaily upsetting the little craft, while they swam alongside. Rafts with men and women, half-floating as they held by the sides, and chattered and basked in the sun. All this difficult interlude on dry-land manners was conducted with perfect decorum, a telling lesson to Britons who bathe.

Perhaps, however, we should not like to see our Royal Family follow the example of what came next. First there marched out of the Imperial Villa a number of tall, liveried footmen, each with a tray or basket piled up high with feminine finery, and this procession wended its way to two pretty little tents hard by the sea.

Next there appeared the Empress and four maids of honour, who came also to the tents, the Empress going alone into one with a tasteful blue and silver drapery round it. See, now the ladies emerge from their disrobing rooms, and walk slowly down to the water between the double line of inquisitive but respectful visitors. Each lady has a coat, vest, and trousers of black silk, with the neatest of little boots, and the most winning of large-brimmed black straw hats-that of the Empress being trimmed with a narrow band of red.

When they reached the water five big fellows approached, all dressed in red flannel. These bathing men each proceeded to tie an empty gourd, like a water-bottle, a sort of life-preserver, round the waist of a lady, and then, first politely bowing, he lifted the lady in his arms, as a nurse catches up a little child, and so with his fair burden he marched into the waves.

When they were at about four feet deep the man allowed the lady to float on her back, and with his arms under her arms he supported her as each wave rose and fell.

All the time of these strange doings there was a large boat close to the merry party, and with several men in it, who kept beating the water with long poles-What is that for? To keep away the sharks. {291} Such is Majesty afloat. Yes, they do these things better in France!

[Picture: The Empress in the Sea]

And now, near the end of our voyage alone, came the pleasantest part of it all, because the most useful to others. We had anch.o.r.ed often beside these three ships for boys, and always with more delight:-the 'Worcester,' for gentlemen cadets; the 'Chichester,' for homeless boys; and the 'Cornwall,' for lads sent to her as a Reformatory ship.

Many of the youngsters now on board the first or the second of these might have been qualified for the third vessel, but for the conventions of life and the machinery of education that tries to keep all "wild boys"

from being cla.s.sed as criminals.

Both you and I might have easily strayed into the police dock or the gaol cell but for a guiding hand, a mother's care, a sister's love, a father's rod, a home, a competence, a somebody caring for us, if not a friend. So don't be hard on the boys in the 'Cornwall'; they are our natural shipmates, and if by G.o.d's grace we are not yet with them, thank Him, help them, and be humble.

Brave lads, there is still a chance for you here. England is to blame as well as you that you have been sucked by the eddies of life into criminal streams. England also rescues you. It is but _dragging_ out indeed, but you are out of the mire. Take heart, you may carry the British flag proudly yet; the career of the sailor is open to _you_ also, and who shall say that some gallant three-master may not yet be commanded by a sailor bred in the 'Cornwall' Reformatory school-ship at Purfleet?

As for the 'Worcester,' the lads there are already well up on the ladder of life. Sometime, if things go on thus well, we shall have Christian gentlemen as our sea-captains, for already in many things the waves are better than the sh.o.r.e.

When the Rob Roy returned from France, we had put on board of her some fireworks to amuse the 'Worcesters' at Erith, and in a quiet night the rockets sped aloft, and the Roman candles e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed fireb.a.l.l.s, and the Chinese floats spat flame as they blazed on the flowing tide, and the red light made our sails blush deeply, and the "jack in the box" fizzed and caracoled over the deck scorching us all inordinately.

When everything pyrotechnic was burned out on the yawl, the show was yet to begin.

'Worcester' was not to be beaten by Rob Roy. Up sprang the blue-lights from her tops and yards. Ports blazed with lamps, and skyrockets whizzed into the ether. Then came best of all from young and gladsome hearts those ringing cheers, and the lively band roused up the quiet night waves with "Rob Roy MacGregor O!"

If I know a lad for the Merchant Navy, he shall go to it best taught by companions as well as by officers, in the school for sea life aboard the 'Worcester.'

At Greenhithe the 'Chichester' and her sister ship the 'Arethusa'

(presented by the Baroness Burdett Coutts) are for poor lads without home, without friends, nay, without hope from man unless you and I will help them. Can we refuse so strong a plea from England's little sons?

Patriotism, Religion, Duty, and the most unthinking Love say, No!

Our country just at this time wants more seamen and better seamen. The Royal Navy needs young England, and the Commercial Navy _will_ have him, bad or good, ignorant or well taught. Our Government finding this to be so had thought of placing Training ships at various ports for the very purpose of supplying the demand for sailor boys. Doubtless they would have done this well, but it is better still if by private effort we can fill the ships. At any rate let us empty the prisons, the dens of penury, and the kerb-stones, where the young and prime material, spoiling by ignorance and neglect, wastes the vigour of our land, pesters this generation with beggars, poor-rates, and gaols, and infects and ruins the generation to come after.

Sweden does better by her sons. She teaches them every one, and, as a Swede told me, "Sweden is not rich enough to keep ignorant children until they are criminal men." Therefore she gives every one the priceless boon of education as a national gift, so that every Swede owes at least one debt to his country, and there are no Fenians there.

In England no one is allowed to appear in public without some clothes.