A BOY'S VOYAGE
ROUND THE WORLD
EDITED
BY SAMUEL SMILES, LL.D.
AUTHOR OF 'SELF-HELP,' ETC.
LONDON
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET
1905
[Illustration: OUTWARD BOUND. _See_ p. 27.]
PREFACE.
I have had pleasure in editing this little book, not only because it
is the work of my youngest son, but also because it contains the
results of a good deal of experience of life under novel aspects, as
seen by young, fresh, and observant eyes.
How the book came to be written is as follows: The boy, whose two
years' narrative forms the subject of these pages, was at the age of
sixteen seized with inflammation of the lungs, from which he was
recovering so slowly and unsatisfactorily, that I was advised by
London physicians to take him from the business he was then learning
in Yorkshire, and send him on a long sea voyage. Australia was
recommended, because of the considerable time occupied in making the
voyage by sailing ship, and also because of the comparatively genial
and uniform temperature while at sea.
He was accordingly sent out to Melbourne by one of Money Wigram's
ships in the winter of 1868-9, with directions either to return by the
same ship or, if the opportunity presented itself, to remain for a
time in the colony. It will be found, from his own narrative that,
having obtained some suitable employment, he decided to adopt the
latter course; and for a period of about eighteen months he resided at
Majorca, an up-country township situated in the gold-mining district
of Victoria.
When his health had become re-established, he was directed to return
home, about the beginning of the present year; and he resolved to make
the return voyage by the Pacific route, _viâ_ Honolulu and San
Francisco, and to proceed from thence by railway across the Rocky
Mountains to New York.
While at sea, the boy kept a full log, intended for the perusal of his
relatives at home; and while on land, he corresponded with them
regularly and fully, never missing a mail. He had not the remotest
idea that anything which he saw and described during his absence would
ever appear in a book. But since his return, it has occurred to the
Editor of these pages that the information they contain will probably
be found interesting to a wider circle of readers than that to which
the letters were originally addressed; and in that belief, the
substance of them is here reproduced, the Editor's work having
consisted mainly in arranging the materials, leaving the writer to
tell his own story as much as possible in his own way, and in his own
words.
S. S.
_London, November_, 1871.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER I.
DOWN CHANNEL. 1
AT GRAVESEND--TAKING IN STORES--FIRST NIGHT ON BOARD--"THE
ANCHOR'S UP"--OFF BRIGHTON--CHANGE OF WIND--GALE
IN THE CHANNEL--THE ABANDONED SHIP--THE EDDYSTONE--PLYMOUTH
HARBOUR--DEPARTURE FROM ENGLAND
CHAPTER II.
FLYING SOUTH. 10
FELLOW-PASSENGERS--LIFE ON BOARD SHIP--PROGRESS OF THE
SHIP--HER HANDLING--A FINE RUN DOWN TO THE LINE--SHIP'S
AMUSEMENTS--CLIMBING THE MIZEN--THE CAPE DE VERD
ISLANDS--SAN ANTONIO
CHAPTER III.
WITHIN THE TROPICS. 22
INCREASE OF TEMPERATURE--FLYING FISH--THE MORNING BATH
ON BOARD--PAYING "FOOTINGS"--THE MAJOR'S WONDERFUL
STORIES--ST. PATRICK'S DAY--GRAMPUSES--A SHIP IN
SIGHT--THE 'LORD RAGLAN'--RAIN-FALL IN THE TROPICS--TROPICAL
SUNSETS--THE YANKEE WHALER
CHAPTER IV.
THE 'BLUE JACKET.' 32
APRIL FOOLS' DAY--A SHIP IN SIGHT--THE 'PYRMONT'--THE
RESCUED 'BLUE JACKET' PASSENGERS--STORY OF THE BURNT
SHIP--SUFFERING OF THE LADY PASSENGERS IN AN OPEN
BOAT--THEIR RESCUE--DISTRESSING SCENE ON BOARD THE 'PYRMONT'
CHAPTER V.
IN THE SOUTH ATLANTIC. 41
PREPARING FOR ROUGH WEATHER--THE 'GEORGE THOMPSON' CLIPPER--A
RACE AT SEA--SCENE FROM 'PICKWICK' ACTED--FISHING FOR
ALBATROSS--DISSECTION AND DIVISION OF THE BIRD--WHALES--STRONG
GALE--SMASH IN THE CABIN--SHIPPING A GREEN SEA--THE SEA BIRDS
IN OUR WAKE--THE CROZET ISLANDS
CHAPTER VI.
NEARING AUSTRALIA--THE LANDING. 54
ACTING ON BOARD--THE CYCLONE--CLEANING THE SHIP FOR
PORT--CONTRARY WINDS--AUSTRALIA IN SIGHT--CAPE OTWAY--PORT
PHILLIP HEADS--PILOT TAKEN ON BOARD--INSIDE THE
HEADS--WILLIAMSTOWN--SANDRIDGE--THE LANDING
CHAPTER VII.
MELBOURNE. 60
FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF MELBOURNE--SURVEY OF THE CITY--THE
STREETS--COLLINS STREET--THE TRAFFIC--NEWNESS AND YOUNGNESS
OF MELBOURNE--ABSENCE OF BEGGARS--MELBOURNE AN ENGLISH
CITY--THE CHINESE QUARTER--THE PUBLIC LIBRARY--PENTRIDGE
PRISON--THE YARRA RIVER--ST. KILDA--SOCIAL EXPERIENCES IN
MELBOURNE--A MARRIAGE BALL--MELBOURNE LADIES--VISIT TO A
SERIOUS FAMILY
CHAPTER VIII.
UP COUNTRY. 76
OBTAIN A SITUATION IN AN UP-COUNTRY BANK--JOURNEY BY
RAIL--CASTLEMAINE--FURTHER JOURNEY BY COACH--MARYBOROUGH--FIRST
SIGHT OF THE BUSH--THE BUSH TRACKS--EVENING PROSPECT OVER THE
COUNTRY--ARRIVAL AT MY DESTINATION
CHAPTER IX.
MAJORCA. 85
MAJORCA FOUNDED IN A RUSH--DESCRIPTION OF A RUSH--DIGGERS
CAMPING OUT--GOLD-MINING AT MAJORCA--MAJORCA HIGH
STREET--THE PEOPLE--THE INNS--THE CHURCHES--THE BANK--THE
CHINAMEN--AUSTRALIA THE PARADISE OF WORKING MEN--"SHOUTING"
FOR DRINKS--ABSENCE OF BEGGARS--NO COPPERS UP COUNTRY
CHAPTER X.
MY NEIGHBOURHOOD AND NEIGHBOURS. 96
"DINING OUT"--DIGGERS' SUNDAY DINNER--THE OLD WORKINGS--THE
CHINAMEN'S GARDENS--CHINAMEN'S DWELLINGS--THE CEMETERY--THE
HIGH PLAINS--THE BUSH--A RIDE THROUGH THE BUSH--THE SAVOYARD
WOODCUTTER--VISIT TO A SQUATTER
CHAPTER XI.
AUSTRALIAN WINTER--THE FLOODS. 107
THE VICTORIAN CLIMATE--THE BUSH IN WINTER--THE EUCALYPTUS
OR AUSTRALIAN GUM-TREE--BALL AT CLUNES--FIRE IN THE MAIN
STREET--THE BUGGY SAVED--DOWN-POUR OF RAIN--GOING HOME BY
WATER--THE FLOODS OUT--CLUNES SUBMERGED--CALAMITY AT
BALLARAT--DAMAGE DONE BY THE FLOOD--THE CHINAMEN'S GARDENS
WASHED AWAY
CHAPTER XII.
SPRING, SUMMER, AND HARVEST. 116
SPRING VEGETATION--THE BUSH IN SPRING--GARDEN FLOWERS--AN
EVENING WALK--AUSTRALIAN MOONLIGHT--THE HOT NORTH WIND--THE
PLAGUE OF FLIES--BUSH FIRES--SUMMER AT CHRISTMAS--AUSTRALIAN
FRUITS--ASCENT OF MOUNT GREENOCK--AUSTRALIAN WINE--HARVEST--A
SQUATTER'S FARM--HARVEST HOME CELEBRATION--AURORA
AUSTRALIS--AUTUMN RAINS
CHAPTER XIII.
BUSH ANIMALS--BIRDS--SNAKES. 131
THE 'POSSUM--A NIGHT'S SPORT IN THE BUSH--MUSQUITOES--WATTLE
BIRDS--THE PIPING-CROW--"MINERS"--PAROQUET-HUNTING--THE
SOUTHERN CROSS--SNAKES--MARSUPIAL ANIMALS
CHAPTER XIV.
GOLD-BUYING AND GOLD-MINING. 140
HOW THE GOLD IS FOUND--GOLD-WASHING--QUARTZ-CRUSHING--BUYING
GOLD FROM CHINAMEN--ALLUVIAL COMPANIES--BROKEN-DOWN
MEN--UPS AND DOWNS IN GOLD-MINING--VISIT TO A GOLD
MINE--GOLD-SEEKING--DIGGERS' TALES OF LUCKY FINDS
CHAPTER XV.
ROUGH LIFE AT THE DIGGINGS--"STOP THIEF!" 153
GOLD-RUSHING--DIGGERS' CAMP AT HAVELOCK--MURDER OF
LOPEZ--PURSUIT AND CAPTURE OF THE MURDERER--THE THIEVES
HUNTED FROM THE CAMP--DEATH OF THE MURDERER--THE
POLICE--ATTEMPTED ROBBERY OF THE COLLINGWOOD BANK--ANOTHER
SUPPOSED ROBBERY--"STOP THIEF!"--SMART USE OF THE TELEGRAPH
CHAPTER XVI.
PLACES ABOUT. 163
VISIT TO BALLARAT--THE JOURNEY BY COACH--BALLARAT
FOUNDED ON GOLD--DESCRIPTION OF THE TOWN--BALLARAT
"CORNER"--THE SPECULATIVE COBBLER--FIRE BRIGADES--RETURN
JOURNEY--CRAB-HOLES--THE TALBOT BALL--THE TALBOT
FÊTE--THE AVOCA RACES--SUNRISE IN THE BUSH
CHAPTER XVII.
CONCLUSION OF MAJORCAN LIFE. 179
VICTORIAN LIFE ENGLISH--ARRIVAL OF THE HOME MAIL--NEWS OF
THE FRANCO-GERMAN WAR--THE GERMAN SETTLERS IN MAJORCA--THE
SINGLE FRENCHMAN--MAJORCAN PUBLIC TEAS--THE CHURCH--THE
RANTERS--THE TEETOTALLERS--THE COMMON SCHOOL--THE ROMAN
CATHOLICS--COMMON SCHOOL FÊTE AND ENTERTAINMENT--THE
MECHANICS' INSTITUTE--FUNERAL OF THE TOWN CLERK--DEPARTURE
FROM MAJORCA--THE COLONY OF VICTORIA
CHAPTER XVIII.
ROUND TO SYDNEY. 190
LAST CHRISTMAS IN AUSTRALIA--START BY STEAMER FOR SYDNEY--THE
'GREAT BRITAIN'--CHEAP TRIPS TO QUEENSCLIFFE--ROUGH
WEATHER AT SEA--MR. AND MRS. C. MATHEWS--BOTANY BAY--OUTER
SOUTH HEAD--PORT JACKSON--SYDNEY COVE--DESCRIPTION OF
SYDNEY--GOVERNMENT HOUSE AND DOMAIN--GREAT FUTURE EMPIRE OF
THE SOUTH
CHAPTER XIX.
TO AUCKLAND, IN NEW ZEALAND. 202
LEAVING SYDNEY--ANCHOR WITHIN THE HEADS--TAKE IN MAILS
AND PASSENGERS FROM THE 'CITY OF ADELAIDE'--OUT TO SEA
AGAIN--SIGHT NEW ZEALAND--ENTRANCE TO AUCKLAND HARBOUR--THE
'GALATEA'--DESCRIPTION OF AUCKLAND--FOUNDING OF
AUCKLAND DUE TO A JOB--MAORI MEN AND WOMEN--DRIVE TO
ONEHUNGA--SPLENDID VIEW--AUCKLAND GALA--NEW ZEALAND
DELAYS--LEAVE FOR HONOLULU
CHAPTER XX.
UP THE PACIFIC. 212
DEPARTURE FOR HONOLULU--MONOTONY OF A VOYAGE BY
STEAM--DÉSAGRÉMENS--THE "GENTLEMEN" PASSENGERS--THE ONE
SECOND CLASS "LADY"--THE RATS ON BOARD--THE SMELLS--FLYING
FISH--CROSS THE LINE--TREATMENT OF NEWSPAPERS ON
BOARD--HAWAII IN SIGHT--ARRIVAL AT HONOLULU
CHAPTER XXI.
HONOLULU AND THE ISLAND OF OAHU. 220
THE HARBOUR OF HONOLULU--IMPORTANCE OF ITS SITUATION--THE
CITY--CHURCHES AND THEATRES--THE POST OFFICE--THE
SUBURBS--THE KING'S PALACE--THE NUUANU VALLEY--POI--PEOPLE
COMING DOWN THE VALLEY--THE PALI--PROSPECT FROM THE
CLIFFS--THE NATIVES (KANAKAS)--DIVERS--THE WOMEN--DRINK
PROHIBITION--THE CHINESE--THEATRICALS--MUSQUITOES
CHAPTER XXII.
HONOLULU TO SAN FRANCISCO. 237
DEPARTURE FROM HONOLULU--WRECK OF THE 'SAGINAW'--THE 'MOSES
TAYLOR'--THE ACCOMMODATION--THE COMPANY ON BOARD--BEHAVIOUR
OF THE SHIP--DEATH OF A PASSENGER--FEELINGS ON LANDING IN A
NEW PLACE--APPROACH THE GOLDEN GATE--CLOSE OF THE PACIFIC
LOG--FIRST SIGHT OF AMERICA
CHAPTER XXIII.
SAN FRANCISCO TO SACRAMENTO. 244
LANDING AT SAN FRANCISCO--THE GOLDEN CITY--THE STREETS--THE
BUSINESS QUARTER--THE CHINESE QUARTER--THE TOUTERS--LEAVE
SAN FRANCISCO--THE FERRY-BOAT TO OAKLAND--THE BAY OF SAN
FRANCISCO--LANDING ON THE EASTERN SHORE--AMERICAN RAILWAY
CARRIAGES--THE PULLMAN'S CARS--SLEEPING BERTHS--UNSAVOURY
CHINAMEN--THE COUNTRY--CITY OF SACRAMENTO
CHAPTER XXIV.
ACROSS THE SIERRA NEVADA. 255
RAPID ASCENT--THE TRESTLE-BRIDGES--MOUNTAIN
PROSPECTS--"PLACERS"--SUNSET--CAPE HORN--ALTA--THE SIERRAS
BY NIGHT--CONTRAST OF TEMPERATURES--THE SNOW-SHEDS--THE
SUMMIT--RENO--BREAKFAST AT HUMBOLDT--THE SAGE-BRUSH--BATTLE
MOUNT--SHOSHONIE INDIANS--TEN MILE CAÑON--ELKO STATION--GREAT
AMERICAN DESERT--ARRIVAL AT OGDEN
CHAPTER XXV.
ACROSS THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 265
START BY TRAIN FOR OMAHA--MY FELLOW-PASSENGERS--PASSAGE
THROUGH THE DEVIL'S GATE--WEBER CAÑON--FANTASTIC
ROCKS--"THOUSAND MILE TREE"--ECHO CAÑON--MORE
TRESTLE-BRIDGES--SUNSET AMIDST THE BLUFFS--A WINTRY NIGHT
BY RAIL--SNOW-FENCES AND SNOW-SHEDS--LARAMIE CITY--RED
BUTTES--THE SUMMIT AT SHERMAN--CHEYENNE CITY--THE WESTERN
PRAIRIE IN WINTER--PRAIRIE DOG CITY--THE VALLEY OF THE
PLATTE--GRAND ISLAND--CROSS THE NORTH FORK OF THE
PLATTE--ARRIVAL IN OMAHA
CHAPTER XXVI.
OMAHA TO CHICAGO. 275
OMAHA TERMINUS--CROSS THE MISSOURI--COUNCIL BLUFFS--THE
FOREST--CROSS THE MISSISSIPPI--THE CULTIVATED PRAIRIE--THE
FARMSTEADS AND VILLAGES--APPROACH TO CHICAGO--THE
CITY OF CHICAGO--ENTERPRISE OF ITS MEN--THE WATER TUNNELS
UNDER LAKE MICHIGAN--TUNNELS UNDER THE RIVER CHICAGO--UNION
OF LAKE MICHIGAN WITH THE MISSISSIPPI--DESCRIPTION OF THE
STREETS AND BUILDINGS OF CHICAGO--PIGS AND CORN--THE
AVENUE--SLEIGHING--THEATRES AND CHURCHES
CHAPTER XXVII.
CHICAGO TO NEW YORK. 287
LEAVE CHICAGO--THE ICE HARVEST--MICHIGAN CITY--THE
FOREST--A RAILWAY SMASHED--KALAMAZOO--DETROIT--CROSSING
INTO CANADA--AMERICAN MANNERS--ROEBLING'S SUSPENSION
BRIDGE--NIAGARA FALLS IN WINTER--GOAT ISLAND--THE
AMERICAN FALL--THE GREAT HORSE-SHOE FALL--THE RAPIDS
FROM THE LOVERS' SEAT--AMERICAN COUSINS--ROCHESTER--NEW
YORK--A CATASTROPHE--RETURN HOME
INDEX 301
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
The 'Yorkshire,' Outward Bound _Frontispiece_
Map of the Ship's Course, Plymouth to Melbourne _Page_ 50-51
View of Melbourne, Victoria 60
Map of the Gold-Mining District, Victoria 78
View of Sydney, Port Jackson 190
View of Auckland, New Zealand 202
Map of the Ship's Course up the Pacific 213
Maps of Auckland, and Sydney, Port Jackson 213
View of Honolulu, Sandwich Islands 220
Map of Oahu, Sandwich Islands 222
Maps of Atlantic and Pacific Railways 248-249; 276-277
View of Niagara Falls--American side 287
ROUND THE WORLD.
CHAPTER I.
DOWN CHANNEL.
AT GRAVESEND--TAKING IN STORES--FIRST NIGHT ON BOARD--"THE ANCHOR'S
UP"--OFF BRIGHTON--CHANGE OF WIND--GALE IN THE CHANNEL--THE ABANDONED
SHIP--THE EDDYSTONE--PLYMOUTH HARBOUR--DEPARTURE FROM ENGLAND.
_20th February: At Gravesend._--My last farewells are over, my last
adieus are waved to friends on shore, and I am alone on board the ship
'Yorkshire,' bound for Melbourne. Everything is in confusion on board.
The decks are littered with stores, vegetables, hen-coops, sheep-pens,
and coils of rope. There is quite a little crowd of sailors round the
capstan in front of the cabin door. Two officers, with lists before
them, are calling over the names of men engaged to make up our
complement of hands, and appointing them to their different watches.
Though the ship is advertised to sail this evening, the stores are by
no means complete. The steward is getting in lots of cases; and what a
quantity of pickles! Hens are coming up to fill the hen-coops. More
sheep are being brought; there are many on board already; and here
comes our milk-cow over the ship's side, gently hoisted up by a rope.
The animal seems amazed; but she is in skilful hands. "Let go!" calls
out the boatswain, as the cow swings in mid-air; away rattles the
chain round the wheel of the donkey-engine, and the break is put on
just in time to land Molly gently on the deck. In a minute she is snug
in her stall "for'ard," just by the cook's galley.
Passengers are coming on board. Here is one mounting the ship's side,
who has had a wet passage from the shore. A seaman lends him a hand,
and he reaches the sloppy, slippery deck with difficulty.
It is a dismal day. The sleet and rain come driving down. Everything
is raw and cold; everybody wet or damp. The passengers in wet
mackintoshes, and the seamen in wet tarpaulins; Gravesend, with its
dirty side to the river, and its dreary mud-bank exposed to sight; the
alternate drizzle and down-pour; the muddle and confusion of the
deck;--all this presented anything but an agreeable picture to look
at. So I speedily leave the deck, in order to make a better
acquaintance with what is to be my home for the next three months.
First, there is the saloon--long and narrow--surrounded by the cabins.
It is our dining-room, drawing-room, and parlour, all in one. A long
table occupies the centre, fitted all round with fixed seats and
reversible backs. At one end of the table is the captain's chair, over
which hangs a clock and a barometer. Near the after end of the saloon
is the mizen-mast, which passes through into the hole below, and rests
on the keelson.
The cabins, which surround the saloon, are separated from it by open
woodwork, for purposes of ventilation. The entrances to them from the
saloon are by sliding doors. They are separated from each other by
folding-doors, kept bolted on either side when one cabin only is
occupied; but these can be opened when the neighbours on both sides
are agreeable.
My own little cabin is by no means dreary or uninviting. A window,
with six small panes, lets in light and air; and outside is a strong
board, or "dead-light," for use in rough weather, to protect the
glass. My bunk, next to the saloon, is covered with a clean white
counterpane. A little wash-stand occupies the corner; a shelf of
favourite books is over my bed-head; and a swing-lamp by its side.
Then there is my little mirror, my swing-tray for bottles, and a
series of little bags suspended from nails, containing all sorts of
odds and ends. In short, my little chamber, so fitted up, looks quite
cheerful and even jolly.
It grows dusk, and there is still the same bustle and turmoil on deck.
All are busy; everybody is in a hurry. At about nine the noise seems
to subside; and the deck seems getting into something like order. As
we are not to weigh anchor until five in the morning, some of the
passengers land for a stroll on shore. I decide to go to bed.
And now begins my first difficulty. I cannot find room to extend
myself, or even to turn. I am literally "cribbed, cabined, and
confined." Then there are the unfamiliar noises outside,--the cackling
of the ducks, the baa-ing of the sheep, the grunting of the
pigs,--possibly discussing the novelty of their position. And, nearly
all through the night, just outside my cabin, two or three of the
seamen sit talking together in gruff undertones.
I don't think I slept much during my first night on board. I was lying
semi-conscious, when a loud voice outside woke me up in an
instant--"The anchor's up! she's away!" I jumped up, and, looking out
of my little cabin window, peered out into the grey dawn. The shores
seemed moving, and we were off! I dressed at once, and went on deck.
But how raw and chill it felt as I went up the companion-ladder. A
little steam-tug ahead of us was under weigh, with the 'Yorkshire' in
tow. The deck was now pretty well cleared, but white with frost; while
the river banks were covered with snow.
Other ships were passing down stream, each with its tug; but we soon
distanced them all, especially when the men flung the sails to the
wind, now blowing fresh. At length, in about three-quarters of an
hour, the steamer took on board her tow-rope, and left us to proceed
on our voyage with a fair light breeze in our favour, and all our
canvas set.
When off the Nore, we hailed the 'Norfolk,' homeward bound--a fast
clipper ship belonging to the same firm (Money Wigram's line),--and a
truly grand sight she was under full sail. There were great cheerings
and wavings of hats,--she passing up the river and we out to sea.
I need not detain you with a description of my voyage down Channel. We
passed in succession Margate, Ramsgate, and Deal. The wind kept
favourable until we sighted Beachy Head, about half-past five in the
evening, and then it nearly died away. We were off Brighton when the
moon rose. The long stretch of lights along shore, the clear star-lit
sky, the bright moon, the ship gently rocking in the almost calm sea,
the sails idly flapping against the mast,--formed a picture of quiet
during my first night at sea, which I shall not soon forget.
But all this, I was told, was but "weather-breeding;" and it was
predicted that we were to have a change. The glass was falling and we
were to look out for squalls. Nor were the squalls long in coming.
Early next morning I was roused by the noise on deck and the rolling
of things about my cabin floor. I had some difficulty in dressing, not
having yet found my sea legs; but I succeeded in gaining the
companion-ladder and reaching the poop.
I found the wind had gone quite round in the night, and was now
blowing hard in our teeth, from the south-west. It was to be a case of
tacking down Channel,--a slow and, for landsmen, a very trying
process. In the midst of my first _mal de mer_, I was amused by the
appearance on board of one of my fellow-passengers. He was a small, a
very small individual, but possessed of a large stock of clothes,
which he was evidently glad to have an opportunity of exhibiting. He
first came up with a souwester on his head, the wrong end foremost,
and a pair of canvas shoes on his feet,--a sort of miniature Micawber,
or first-class cockney "salt," about to breast the briny. This small
person's long nose, large ears, and open mouth added to the
ludicrousness of his appearance. As the decks were wet and the morning
cold, he found the garb somewhat unsuitable, and dived below, to come
up again in strong boots and a straw hat. But after further
consideration, he retired again, and again he appeared in fresh
headgear--a huge seal-skin cap with lappets coming down over his ears.
This important and dressy little individual was a source of
considerable amusement to us; and there was scarcely an article in his
wardrobe that had not its turn during the day.
All night it blew a gale; the wind still from the same quarter. We
kept tacking between the coast of England and the opposite coast of
France, making but small way as regards mileage,--the wind being right
in our teeth. During the night, each time that the ship was brought
round on the other tack, there was usually a tremendous lurch; and
sometimes an avalanche of books descended upon me from the shelf
overhead. Yet I slept pretty soundly. Once I was awakened by a
tremendous noise outside--something like a gun going off. I afterwards
found it had been occasioned by the mainsail being blown away to sea,
right out of the bolt-ropes, the fastenings of which were immediately
outside my cabin window.
When I went on deck the wind was still blowing hard, and one had to
hold on to ropes or cleats to be able to stand. The whole sea was
alive, waves chasing waves and bounding over each other, crested with
foam. Now and then the ship would pitch her prow into a wave, even to
the bulwarks, dash the billow aside, and buoyantly rise again, bowling
along, though under moderate sail, because of the force of the gale.
The sea has some sad sights, of which one shortly presented itself.
About midday the captain sighted a vessel at some distance off on our
weather bow, flying a flag of distress--an ensign upside down. Our
ship was put about, and as we neared the vessel we found she had been
abandoned, and was settling fast in the water. Two or three of her
sails were still set, torn to shreds by the storm. The bulwarks were
pretty much gone, and here and there the bare stanchions, or posts,
were left standing, splitting in two the waves which broke clear over
her deck, lying almost even with the sea. She turned out to be the
'Rosa,' of Guernsey, a fine barque of 700 tons, and she had been
caught and disabled by the storm we had ourselves encountered. As
there did not seem to be a living thing on board, and we could be of
no use, we sailed away; and she must have gone down shortly after we
left her. Not far from the sinking ship we came across a boat bottom
upwards, most probably belonging to the abandoned ship. What of the
poor seamen? Have they been saved by other boats, or been taken off by
some passing vessel? If not, alas for their wives and children at
home! Indeed it was a sad sight.
But such things are soon forgotten at sea. We are too much occupied
by our own experiences to think much of others. For two more weary
days we went tacking about, the wind somewhat abating. Sometimes we
caught sight of the French coast through the mist; and then we tacked
back again. At length Eddystone light came in view, and we knew we
were not far from the entrance to Plymouth Sound. Once inside the
Breakwater, we felt ourselves in smooth water again.
Going upon deck in the morning, I found our ship anchored in the
harbour nearly opposite Mount Edgcumbe. Nothing could be more lovely
than the sight that presented itself. The noble bay, surrounded by
rocks, cliffs, cottages--Drake's Island, bristling with cannon,
leaving open a glimpse into the Hamoaze studded with great hulks of
old war-ships--the projecting points of Mount Edgcumbe Park, carpeted
with green turf down to the water and fringed behind by noble woods,
looking like masses of emerald cut into fret-work--then, in the
distance, the hills of Dartmoor, variegated with many hues, and swept
with alternations of light and shade--all these presented a picture,
the like of which I had never before seen and feel myself quite
incompetent to describe.
As we had to wait here for a fair wind, and the gale was still blowing
right into the harbour's mouth, there seemed no probability of our
setting sail very soon. We had, moreover, to make up our complement of
passengers, and provisions. Those who had a mind accordingly went on
shore, strolled through the town, and visited the Hoe, from which a
magnificent view of the harbour is obtained, or varied their bill of
fare by dining at an hotel.
We were, however, cautioned not to sleep on shore, but to return to
the ship for the night, and even during the day to keep a sharp
look-out for the wind; for, immediately on a change to the nor'ard, no
time would be lost in putting out to sea. We were further informed
that, in the case of nearly every ship, passengers, through their own
carelessness and dilly-dallying on shore, had been left behind. I
determined, therefore, to stick to the ship.
After three days' weary waiting, the wind at last went round; the
anchor was weighed with a willing "Yo! heave ho!" and in a few hours,
favoured by a fine light breeze, we were well out to sea, and the
brown cliffs of Old England gradually faded away in the distance.
CHAPTER II.
FLYING SOUTH.
FELLOW-PASSENGERS--LIFE ON BOARD SHIP--PROGRESS OF THE SHIP--HER
HANDLING--A FINE RUN DOWN TO THE LINE--SHIP'S AMUSEMENTS--CLIMBING THE
MIZEN--THE CAPE DE VERD ISLANDS--SAN ANTONIO.
_3rd March._--Like all passengers, I suppose, who come together on
board ship for a long voyage, we had scarcely passed the Eddystone
Lighthouse before we began to take stock of each other. Who is this?
What is he? Why is he going out? Such were the questions we inwardly
put to ourselves and sought to answer.
I found several, like myself, were making the voyage for their health.
A long voyage by sailing ship seems to have become a favourite
prescription for lung complaints; and it is doubtless an honest one,
as the doctor who gives it at the same time parts with his patient and
his fees. But the advice is sound; as the long rest of the voyage, the
comparatively equable temperature of the sea air, and probably the
improved quality of the atmosphere inhaled, are all favourable to the
healthy condition of the lungs as well as of the general system.
Of those going out in search of health, some were young and others
middle-aged. Amongst the latter was a patient, gentle sufferer,
racked by a hacking cough when he came on board. Another, a young
passenger, had been afflicted by abscess in his throat and incipient
lung-disease. A third had been worried by business and afflicted in
his brain, and needed a long rest. A fourth had been crossed in love,
and sought for change of scene and occupation.
But there were others full of life and health among the passengers,
going out in search of fortune or of pleasure. Two stalwart,
outspoken, manly fellows, who came on board at Plymouth, were on their
way to New Zealand to farm a large tract of land. They seemed to me to
be models of what colonial farmers should be. Another was on his way
to take up a run in Victoria, some 250 miles north of Melbourne. He
had three fine Scotch colley dogs with him, which were the subject of
general admiration.
We had also a young volunteer on board, who had figured at Brighton
reviews, and was now on his way to join his father in New Zealand,
where he proposed to join the colonial army. We had also a Yankee
gentleman, about to enter on his governorship of the Guano Island of
Maldon, in the Pacific, situated almost due north of the Society
Islands, said to have been purchased by an English company.
Some were going out on "spec." If they could find an opening to
fortune, they would settle; if not, they would return. One gentleman
was taking with him a fine portable photographic apparatus, intending
to visit New Zealand and Tasmania, as well as Australia.
Others were going out for indefinite purposes. The small gentleman,
for instance, who came on board at Gravesend with the extensive
wardrobe, was said to be going out to Australia to grow,--the
atmosphere and climate of the country being reported as having a
wonderful effect on growth. Another entertained me with a long account
of how he was leaving England because of his wife; but, as he was of a
somewhat priggish nature, I suspect the fault may have been his own as
much as hers.
And then there was the Major, a military and distinguished-looking
gentleman, who came on board, accompanied by a couple of shiny new
trunks, at Plymouth. He himself threw out the suggestion that the
raising of a colonial volunteer army was the grand object of his
mission. Anyhow, he had the manners of a gentleman. And he had seen
service, having lost his right arm in the Crimea and gone all through
the Indian Mutiny war with his left. He was full of fun, always in
spirits, and a very jolly fellow, though rather given to saying things
that would have been better left unsaid.
Altogether, we have seventeen saloon passengers on board, including
the captain's wife, the only lady at the poop end. There were also
probably about eighty second and third-class passengers in the forward
parts of the ship.
Although the wind was fair, and the weather fine, most of the
passengers suffered more or less from seasickness; but at length,
becoming accustomed to the motion of the ship, they gradually emerged
from their cabins, came on deck, and took part in the daily life on
board. Let me try and give a slight idea of what this is.
At about six every morning we are roused by the sailors holystoning
the decks, under the superintendence of the officer of the watch. A
couple of middies pump up water from the sea, by means of a pump
placed just behind the wheel. It fills the tub until it overflows,
running along the scuppers of the poop, and out on to the main-deck
through a pipe. Here the seamen fill their buckets, and proceed with
the scouring of the main-deck. Such a scrubbing and mopping!
I need scarcely explain that holystone is a large soft stone, used
with water, for scrubbing the dirt off the ship's decks. It rubs down
with sand; the sand is washed off by buckets of water thrown down, all
is well mopped, and the deck is then finished off with India-rubber
squilgees.
The poop is always kept most bright and clean. Soon after we left port
it assumed a greatly-improved appearance. The boards began to whiten
with the holystoning. Not a grease-mark or spot of dirt was to be
seen. All was polished off with hand-scrapers. On Sundays the ropes on
the poop were all neatly coiled, man-of-war fashion--not a bight out
of place. The brasswork was kept as bright as a gilt button.
By the time the passengers dressed and went on deck the cleaning
process was over, and the decks were dry. After half an hour's pacing
the poop the bell would ring for breakfast, the appetite for which
would depend very much upon the state of the weather and the lurching
of the ship. Between breakfast and lunch, more promenading on the
poop; the passengers sometimes, if the weather was fine, forming
themselves in groups on deck, cultivating each other's acquaintance.
During our first days at sea we had some difficulty in finding our sea
legs. The march of some up and down the poop was often very irregular,
and occasionally ended in disaster. Yet the passengers were not the
only learners; for, one day, we saw one of the cabin-boys, carrying a
heavy ham down the steps from a meat-safe on board, miss his footing
in a lurch of the ship, and away went our fine ham into the
lee-scuppers, spoilt and lost.
We lunched at twelve. From thence, until dinner at five, we mooned
about on deck as before, or visited sick passengers, or read in our
respective cabins, or passed the time in conversation; and thus the
day wore on. After dinner the passengers drew together in parties and
became social. In the pleasantly-lit saloon some of the elder subsided
into whist, while the juniors sought the middies in their cabin on the
main-deck, next door to the sheep-pen; there they entertained
themselves and each other with songs, accompanied by the concertina
and clouds of tobacco-smoke.
The progress of the ship was a subject of constant interest. It was
the first thing in the morning and the last at night; and all through
the day, the direction of the wind, the state of the sky and the
weather, and the rate we were going at, were the uppermost topics of
conversation.
When we left port the wind was blowing fresh on our larboard quarter
from the north-east, and we made good progress across the Bay of
Biscay; but, like many of our passengers, I was too much occupied by
private affairs to attend to the nautical business going on upon deck.
All I know was, that the wind was fair, and that we were going at a
good rate. On the fourth day, I found we were in the latitude of Cape
Finisterre, and that we had run 168 miles in the preceding 24 hours.
From this time forward, having got accustomed to the motion of the
ship, I felt sufficiently well to be on deck early and late, watching
the handling of the ship.
It was a fine sight to look up at the cloud of canvas above, bellied
out by the wind, like the wings of a gigantic bird, while the ship
bounded through the water, dashing it in foam from her bows, and
sometimes dipping her prow into the waves, and sending aloft a shower
of spray.
There was always something new to admire in the ship, and the way in
which she was handled: as, for instance, to see the topgallant sails
hauled down when the wind freshened, or a staysail set as the wind
went round to the east. The taking in of the mainsail on a stormy
night was a thing to be remembered for life: twenty-four men on the
great yard at a time, clewing it in to the music of the wind
whistling through the rigging. The men sing out cheerily at their
work, the one who mounts the highest, or stands the foremost on the
deck; usually taking the lead--
Hawl on the bowlin,
The jolly ship's a-rollin--
Hawl on the bowlin,
And we'll all drink rum.
In comes the rope with a "Yo! heave ho!" and a jerk, until the "belay"
sung out by the mate signifies that the work is done. Then, there is
the scrambling on the deck when the wind changes quarter, and the
yards want squaring as the wind blows more aft. Such are among the
interesting sights to be seen on deck when the wind is in her tantrums
at sea.
On the fifth day the wind was blowing quite aft. Our run during the
twenty-four hours was 172 miles. Thermometer 58°. The captain is in
hopes of a most favourable run to the Cape. It is our first Sunday on
board, and at 10.30 the bell rings for service, when the passengers of
all classes assemble in the saloon. The alternate standing and
kneeling during the service is rather uncomfortable, the fixed seats
jamming the legs, and the body leaning over at an unpleasant angle
when the ship rolls, which she frequently does, and rather savagely.
Going upon deck next morning, I found the wind blowing strong from the
north, and the ship going through the water at a splendid pace. As
much sail was on as she could carry, and she dashed along, leaving a
broad track of foam in her wake. The captain is in high glee at the
speed at which we are going. "A fine run down to the Line!" he says,
as he walks the poop, smiling and rubbing his hands; while the middies
are enthusiastic in praises of the good ship, "walking the waters like
a thing of life." The spirits of all on board are raised by several
degrees. We have the pleasure of feeling ourselves bounding forward,
on towards the sunny south. There is no resting, but a constant
pressing onward, and, as we look over the bulwarks, the waves, tipped
by the foam which our ship has raised, seem to fly behind us at a
prodigious speed. At midday we find the ship's run during the
twenty-four hours has been 280 miles--a splendid day's work, almost
equal to steam!
We are now in latitude 39° 16', about due east of the Azores. The air
is mild and warm; the sky is azure, and the sea intensely blue. How
different from the weather in the English Channel only a short week
ago! Bugs are now discarded, and winter clothing begins to feel almost
oppressive. In the evenings, as we hang over the taffrail, we watch
with interest the bluish-white sparks mingling with the light blue
foam near the stern--the first indications of that phosphorescence
which, I am told, we shall find so bright in the tropics.
An always interesting event at sea is the sighting of a distant ship.
To-day we signalled the 'Maitland,' of London, a fine ship, though she
was rolling a great deal, beating up against the wind that was
impelling us so prosperously forward. I hope she will report us on
arrival, to let friends at home know we are so far all right on our
voyage.
The wind still continues to blow in our wake, but not so strongly; yet
we make good progress. The weather keeps very fine. The sky seems to
get clearer, the sea bluer, and the weather more brilliant, and even
the sails look whiter, as we fly south. About midday on the eighth day
after leaving Plymouth we are in the latitude of Madeira, which we
pass about forty miles distant.
As the wind subsides, and the novelty of being on shipboard wears off,
the passengers begin to think of amusements. One cannot be always
reading; and, as for study, though I try Spanish and French
alternately, I cannot settle to them, and begin to think that life on
shipboard is not very favourable for study. We play at quoits--using
quoits of rope--on the poop, for a good part of the day. But this soon
becomes monotonous; and we begin to consider whether it may not be
possible to get up some entertainment on board to make the time pass
pleasantly. We had a few extempore concerts in one of the middies'
berths. The third-class passengers got up a miscellaneous
entertainment, including recitals, which went off very well. One of
the tragic recitations was so well received that it was encored. And
thus the time was whiled away, while we still kept flying south.
On the ninth day we are well south of Madeira. The sun is so warm at
midday that an awning is hung over the deck, and the shade it affords
is very grateful. We are now in the trade-winds, which blow pretty
steadily at this part of our course in a south-westerly direction, and
may generally be depended upon until we near the Equator. At midday of
the tenth day I find we have run 180 miles in the last twenty-four
hours, with the wind still steady on our quarter. We have passed
Teneriffe, about 130 miles distant--too remote to see it--though I am
told that, had we been twenty miles nearer, we should probably have
seen the famous peak.
To while away the time, and by way of a little adventure, I determined
at night to climb the mizen-mast with a fellow-passenger. While
leaving the deck I was chalked by a middy, in token that I was in for
my footing, so as to be free of the mizen-top. I succeeded in reaching
it safely, though to a green hand, as I was, it looks and really feels
somewhat perilous at first. I was sensible of the feeling of fear or
apprehension just at the moment of getting over the cross-trees. Your
body hangs over in mid-air, at a terrible incline backwards, and you
have to hold on like anything for just one moment, until you get your
knee up into the top. The view of the ship under press of canvas from
the mizen-top is very grand; and the phosphorescence in our wake,
billow upon billow of light shining foam, seemed more brilliant than
ever.
The wind again freshens, and on the eleventh day we make another fine
run of 230 miles. It is becoming rapidly warmer, and we shall soon be
in the region of bonitos, albatrosses, and flying fish--only a
fortnight after leaving England!
Our second Sunday at sea was beautiful exceedingly. We had service in
the saloon as usual; and, after church, I climbed the mizen, and had
half an hour's nap on the top. Truly this warm weather, and monotonous
sea life, seems very favourable for dreaming, and mooning, and
loafing. In the evening there was some very good hymn-singing in the
second-class cabin.
Early next morning, when pacing the poop, we were startled by the cry
from the man on the forecastle of "Land ho!" I found, by the direction
of the captain's eyes, that the land seen lay off our weather-beam.
But, though I strained my eyes looking for the land, I could see
nothing. It was not for hours that I could detect it; and then it
looked more like a cloud than anything else. At length the veil
lifted, and I saw the land stretching away to the eastward. It was the
island of San Antonio, one of the Cape de Verds.
As we neared the land, and saw it more distinctly, it looked a grand
object. Though we were then some fifteen miles off, yet the highest
peaks, which were above the clouds, some thousands of feet high, were
so clear and so beautiful that they looked as if they had been stolen
out of the 'Arabian Nights,' or some fairy tale of wonder and beauty.
The island is said to be alike famous for its oranges and pretty
girls. Indeed the Major, who is very good at drawing the long bow,
declared that he could see a very interesting female waving her hand
to him from a rock! With the help of the telescope we could certainly
see some of the houses on shore.
As this is the last land we are likely to see until we reach
Australia, we regard it with all the greater interest; and I myself
watched it in the twilight until it faded away into a blue mist on the
horizon.
CHAPTER III.
WITHIN THE TROPICS.
INCREASE OF TEMPERATURE--FLYING FISH--THE MORNING BATH ON
BOARD--PAYING "FOOTINGS"--THE MAJOR'S WONDERFUL STORIES--ST. PATRICK'S
DAY--GRAMPUSES--A SHIP IN SIGHT--THE 'LORD RAGLAN'--RAIN-FALL IN THE
TROPICS--TROPICAL SUNSETS--THE YANKEE WHALER.
_17th March_.--We are now fairly within the tropics. The heat
increases day by day. This morning, at eight, the temperature was 87°
in my cabin. At midday, with the sun nearly overhead, it is really
hot. The sky is of a cloudless azure, with a hazy appearance towards
the horizon. The sea is blue, dark, deep blue--and calm.
Now we see plenty of flying-fish. Whole shoals of the glittering
little things glide along in the air, skimming the tops of the waves.
They rise to escape their pursuers, the bonitos, which rush after
them, showing their noses above the water now and then. But the poor
flying-fish have their enemies above the waters as well as under them;
for they no sooner rise than they risk becoming the prey of the ocean
birds, which are always hovering about and ready to pounce upon them.
It is a case of "out of the frying-pan into the fire." They fly
further than I thought they could. I saw one of them to-day fly at
least sixty yards, and sometimes they mount so high as to reach the
poop, some fifteen feet from the surface of the water.
One of the most pleasant events of the day is the morning bath on
board. You must remember the latitude we are in. We are passing along,
though not in sight of, that part of the African coast where a
necklace is considered full dress. We sympathise with the natives, for
we find clothes becoming intolerable; hence our enjoyment of the
morning bath, which consists in getting into a large tub on board and
being pumped upon by the hose. Pity that one cannot have it later, as
it leaves such a long interval between bath and breakfast; but it
freshens one up wonderfully, and is an extremely pleasant operation. I
only wish that the tub were twenty times as large, and the hose twice
as strong.
The wind continues in our favour, though gradually subsiding. During
the last two days we have run over 200 miles each day; but the captain
says that by the time we reach the Line the wind will have completely
died away. To catch a little of the breeze, I go up the rigging to the
top. Two sailors came up mysteriously, one on each side of the
ratlines. They are terrible fellows for making one pay "footings," and
their object was to intercept my retreat downwards. When they reached
me, I tried to resist; but it was of no use. I must be tied to the
rigging unless I promised the customary bottle of rum; so I gave in
with a good grace, and was thenceforward free to take an airing
aloft.
The amusements on deck do not vary much. Quoits, cards, reading, and
talking, and sometimes a game of romps, such as "Walk, my lady, walk!"
We have tried to form a committee, with a view to getting up some
Penny Reading or theatrical entertainment, and to ascertain whether
there be any latent talent aboard; but the heat occasions such a
languor as to be very unfavourable for work, and the committee lay
upon their oars, doing nothing.
One of our principal sources of amusement is the Major. He is
unfailing. His drawings of the long bow are as good as a theatrical
entertainment. If any one tells a story of something wonderful, he at
once "caps it," as they say in Yorkshire, by something still more
wonderful. One of the passengers, who had been at Calcutta, speaking
of the heat there, said it was so great as to make the pitch run out
of the ship's sides. "Bah!" said the Major, "that is nothing to what
it is in Ceylon; there the heat is so great as to melt the soldiers'
buttons off on parade, and then their jackets all get loose."
It seems that to-day (the 17th) is St. Patrick's Day. This the Major,
who is an Irishman, discovered only late in the evening, when he
declared he would have "given a fiver" if he had only known it in the
morning. But, to make up for lost time, he called out forthwith,
"Steward! whisky!" and he disposed of some seven or eight glasses in
the saloon before the lamps were put out; after which he adjourned to
one of the cabins, and there continued the celebration of St.
Patrick's Day until about two o'clock in the morning. On getting up
rather late, he said to himself, loud enough for me to overhear in my
cabin, "Well, George, my boy, you've done your duty to St. Patrick;
but he's left you a horrible bad headache!" And no wonder.
At last there is a promised novelty on board. Some original Christy's
Minstrels are in rehearsal, and the Theatrical Committee are looking
up amateurs for a farce. Readings from Dickens are also spoken of. An
occasional whale is seen blowing in the distance, and many grampuses
come rolling about the ship,--most inelegant brutes, some three or
four times the size of a porpoise. Each in turn comes up, throws
himself round on the top of the sea, exposing nearly half his body,
and then rolls off again.
To-day (the 20th March) we caught our first fish from the
forecastle,--a bonito, weighing about seven pounds. Its colour was
beautifully variegated: on the back dark blue, with a streak of light
blue silver on either side, and the belly silvery white. These fish
are usually caught from the jiboom and the martingale, as they play
about the bows of the ship. The only bait is a piece of white rag,
which is bobbed upon the surface of the water to imitate a
flying-fish.
But what interests us more than anything else at present is the
discovery of some homeward-bound ship, by which to despatch our
letters to friends at home. The captain tells us that we are now
almost directly in the track of vessels making for England from the
south; and that if we do not sight one in the course of a day or two,
we may not have the chance of seeing another until we are far on our
way south--if it all. We are, therefore, anxiously waiting for the
signal of a ship in sight; and, in the hope that one may appear, we
are all busily engaged in the saloon giving the finishing touches to
our home letters.
Shortly after lunch the word was given that no less than three ships
were in sight. Immense excitement on board! Everybody turned up on
deck. Passengers who had never been seen since leaving Plymouth, now
made their appearance to look out for the ships. One of them was a
steamer, recognizable by the line of smoke on the horizon, supposed to
be the West India mail-boat; another was outward-bound, like
ourselves; and the third was the homeward-bound ship for which we were
all on the look-out. She lay right across our bows, but was still a
long way off. As we neared her, betting began among the passengers,
led by the Major, as to whether she would take letters or not. The
scene became quite exciting. The captain ordered all who had letters
to be in readiness. I had been scribbling my very hardest ever since
the ships came in sight, and now I closed my letter and sealed it up.
Would the ship take our letters? Yes! She is an English ship, with an
English flag at her peak; and she signals for newspapers, preserved
milk, soap, and a doctor!
I petitioned for leave to accompany the doctor, and, to my great
delight, was allowed to do so. The wind had nearly gone quite down,
and only came in occasional slight gusts. The sea was, therefore,
comparatively calm, with only a long, slow swell; yet, even though
calm, there is some little difficulty in getting down into a boat in
mid-ocean. At one moment the boat is close under you, and at the next
she is some four yards down, and many feet apart from the side of the
ship; you have, therefore, to be prompt in seizing an opportunity, and
springing on board just at the right moment.
