CONTENTS
[A VOYAGE IN THE SUNBEAM.]
[HELENA, LADY HARROGATE.]
[WORK IN THE LONDON DOCKS.]
[PRETTY MRS OGILVIE.]
[BURNABY’S RIDE IN TURKEY.]
[WEDDING EXTRAVAGANCES.]
[CANINE CUNNING.]
[IN MEMORIAM.]
No. 750.
Price 1½d.
SATURDAY, MAY 11, 1878.
A VOYAGE IN THE SUNBEAM.
We have not for a long time perused a more lively and interesting book than that written by Mrs Brassey, purporting to be an account of her voyage round the world, in the yacht named the Sunbeam. The lady was accompanied by her husband, Mr Thomas Brassey, M.P., also her children and a few private friends. The yacht, a handsomely fitted up and commodious vessel, possessed three masts, and had a powerful sailing capacity, but was provided with a screw and steam-power, to be used as occasion required.
Though laying no claim to literary skill, Mrs Brassey writes pleasingly in the form of a diary; and she may be complimented on her untiring energy in bearing fatigue, and the good taste with which she describes the multiplicity of scenes and circumstances calling for observation. Mr Brassey, usually called Tom in the narrative, was his own navigator, which infers no small degree of nautical knowledge; and we are led to believe that this was not his first expedition with the Sunbeam. He was, of course, assisted by a sailing-master, a boatswain, and engineer, besides a crew of at least twenty able-bodied seamen; the full compliment being made up by a steward and stewardess, cooks, nurse, lady’s-maid, and other domestics.
One can fancy the pleasurable excitement in preparing for a year’s voyage of this kind, the arrangements to be made, the articles to be taken; the hopes probably predominating over the fears, the farewells on going on board. It is the fate of few to have so splendid a chance of making a tour of the globe, carrying from clime to clime not a few of the comforts of home—an elegant saloon for daily resort, a library of seven hundred volumes for amusing reading, nicely fitted-up cabins, baths, a first-rate cuisine and larder, everything else to make life pass away agreeably; letters of introduction, abundant means, liberty to sail where and when you like. What more could anybody desire? Such is yacht-life. It was brought to perfection in the Sunbeam. Looking to the elegant form of the vessel, and the large quantity of sail she carried, we can form an idea of her great speed when running before a favourable wind. The only drawback, it can be supposed, was the small draught of water, about nine feet, wherefore in rough weather there must have been a considerable tumbling about. However, that is what will be expected in yachting, which differs materially from performing a voyage in large sea-going ships.
The Sunbeam, sailing from the Thames, set out on the 1st July 1876, and steering westward by the Isle of Wight, suffered some rough weather in getting into the Atlantic. On the 13th there was a cry of a ‘sail on the port-beam;’ but on investigation it proved to be an abandoned vessel tossed about on the ocean, with masts gone, and the sea washing over the half-broken-up deck. This unfortunate derelict was visited; it had been laden with wine, of which several casks were carried away, and then it was left to its fate; though, had time permitted to take the hulk into port, a considerable salvage might have been realised. The party were beginning to settle down. At meals there was much pleasant talk; Mrs Brassey read and wrote a good deal, and learned Spanish; one of the gentlemen taught the children, and the commissariat department was satisfactory. The land first reached was Madeira. At Funchal, the vessel dropped anchor; and with jaunting about to see the island, there was a stay of several days. Many friends came on board before departure, and ‘all admired the yacht very much, particularly the various cosy corners in the deck-house.’
On the 20th July, off for the Canary Islands; and these being reached, there was an expedition on horseback to the Peak of Teneriffe. Tremendous as was the ascent of a mountain which rises eleven thousand four hundred and sixty-six feet above the level of the sea, Mrs Brassey did not shrink from the undertaking. She, however, did not attempt to climb the cone of five hundred and thirty feet, composed as it is of hot ashes, into which the feet sink at every step, while sulphurous vapours pour from the various fissures. View from the summit magnificent. Of the picturesque scenery drawings and photographs were taken. Teneriffe being exhausted, off went the Sunbeam, still holding in a southerly direction by the Cape de Verde Islands.
Rio de Janeiro, on the coast of South America, was reached on the 18th August. A graphic account is given of excursions in Brazil. The eye everywhere was struck with the brilliant colours of the humming-birds, flowers, and butterflies. Palm, orange, lemon, and citron trees were among the common objects of vegetation. A variation in the general amusement consisted of a voyage up the River Plate and a journey on the Pampas. Splendid country, and well farmed, but under what an infliction—the locusts. Of these terrible creatures Mrs Brassey heard a good deal, and she longed to see them, and her wish was gratified. She says: ‘In the course of our ride we saw in the distant sky what looked very much like a heavy purple thunder-cloud, but which the experienced pronounced to be a swarm of locusts. It seemed impossible; but as we proceeded they met us, first singly, and then in gradually increasing numbers, until each step became positively painful, owing to the smart blows we received from them on our heads, faces, and hands.... As the locusts passed between us and the sun they completely obscured the light; a little later, with the sun’s rays shining directly on their wings, they looked like a golden cloud, such as one sometimes sees in the transformation scene in a pantomime.’ We pass over much that is described in the Argentine Republic, as of little or no interest in this country.
The Sunbeam set off in its course southwards on September 28th. While lying down to rest after breakfast, Mrs Brassey was summoned to come on deck to see a ship which had signalled being on fire. A boat being despatched to discover the condition of affairs, the vessel was found to be the Monkshaven, sixty days out from Swansea, bound for Valparaiso with a cargo of smelting-coal, which had taken fire by the spontaneous ignition of gases. As it was evident that the unfortunate ship could not be saved, prompt assistance was given in bringing the crew on board the Sunbeam. ‘The poor fellows,’ says Mrs Brassey, ‘were almost wild with joy at getting alongside another ship, after all the hardships they had gone through, and in their excitement they threw overboard many things which they might as well have kept, as they had taken the trouble to bring them. Our boat made three trips altogether; and by half-past six we had them all safe on board, with most of their effects, and the ship’s chronometers, charts, and papers.... While we were at dinner the ship was blazing like a tar-barrel.’ The last time the Monkshaven was seen, she was burned down nearly to the water’s edge. From the information given respecting the ill-fated ship, it was learned that a large American steamer had passed quite close to her, and disregarding signals of distress, had steamed away southward, leaving all on board to their fate. The kind attention shewn by Mr Brassey comes strongly out in contrast with such heartless conduct. The unexpected addition of the crew of the Monkshaven to those on board the Sunbeam proved a trial on the commissariat, but the difficulty was overcome. The inconvenience was fortunately for only a few days. The Ilimani, one of the Pacific Company’s mail-steamers, came in sight on the route for England, and to this vessel the crew of the Monkshaven were consigned. Besides affording this relief, ‘the captain of the Ilimani kindly gave us half a bullock, killed this morning, a dozen live ducks and chickens, and the latest newspapers.’
On the 6th October, the Sunbeam was off the coast of Patagonia; the rugged mountains of Tierra del Fuego rose on the sky, and now the yacht shaped its course for the Straits of Magellan. To get through these tortuous narrows is reckoned one of the clever feats in navigation. There are many sunken rocks to be avoided, and the natives scattered about the coast are not to be relied on. The scenery, which is described as singularly picturesque, is well represented in some beautiful illustrations.
The narrow channels were got through on the 12th October; the sun pierced through the clouds, and the broad Pacific was in view. What a triumph in navigation to have piloted ‘the yacht through the Straits, for it would do credit, not only to any amateur, but to a professional seaman.’ Sails were hoisted; and now begins what we deem to be the most amusing part of the work; for after touching at Valparaiso, the voyaging was among the groups of islands which, dotting the Pacific, lie basking in the profuse beauty of the tropics. Valparaiso, the most important trading town of Chili, left some agreeable impressions. Several English gentlemen were solicitous that the party should stay for a few days; and there were excursions in the neighbourhood. An emporium of Panama hats was visited. These hats are a curiosity, and are worn by almost everybody on the coast. They are made of ‘a special kind of grass, split very fine,’ and are sold at an extraordinary price; fifty to sixty guineas being not an unusual price for a single hat, though some are sold at a cheaper rate. Their recommendation is that they are light, pliable, and so enduring that they will almost last for ever. Very wonderful hats, as Mrs Brassey thinks, but gravely adds, that where ‘so many hats are lost overboard, they would prove rather an unprofitable investment.’ Some curious details are given respecting the abundance of eggs, which are offered in profusion at meals. Eggs on all occasions are the order of the day, and poultry in superlative abundance. Valparaiso, in short, is the paradise of eggs. It is stated that there are good shops, but everything is ‘frightfully dear.’ We can at all events say that there is a considerable import of English books and periodicals.
The route adopted from Valparaiso was westward to the Society Islands, lying in nearly the twentieth degree of south latitude. They may be said to be at the very middle of the Pacific, and out of the way of general navigation. It was a charming sail, but rather slow work; and looking to the great stretch of ocean to be traversed, there were qualms of feeling as to how provisions and water would last—fear that there will have to be a dependence on potted meats; and talking of these meats, we are assured that none at all equal those of American preparation. Slipping on at the rate of five miles an hour under sail, but sometimes accelerated by a breeze, the Sunbeam went onward night and day with nothing to look at but the ocean and sky. Much time was spent in reading, and there was some amusement in noticing the paroquets, monkeys, and other pet animals that had been domesticated on board. On Sundays, as was customary throughout, all hands were summoned for Divine service, just as at home in England. The length of the service depended on the weather. When circumstances permitted, Mr Brassey read a sermon in addition to the usual prayers. One likes to read of these continued acknowledgments of Divine care by a whole ship’s company, amidst the perils of the deep.
The Society Islands were reached on the 26th November. For the very interesting account of these islands we must refer to what is described by Mrs Brassey. But for the rise of coral reefs, these islands would scarcely have an existence. This is one of the wonders of nature. Our authoress is at a loss to describe the beauty of the scene. ‘Submarine coral forests of every colour, studded with sea-flowers, anemones, and echinidæ, of a brilliancy only to be seen in dreamland; shoals of the brightest and swiftest fish darting and flashing in and out; shells, every one of which was fit to hold the place of honour in a conchologist’s collection, moving slowly along with their living inmates: this is what we saw when we looked down from the side of the boat into the depths below.’ On landing at one of the islands, the party were hospitably received by the natives. Piles of cocoa-nuts, fish, and fowls were laid down as presents at their feet. From the cocoa-nuts they were refreshed by a drink of cool milk offered for their acceptance. For these gifts there was a proper requital. Mrs Brassey says: ‘The women were gentle and kind, and were delighted with some beads, looking-glasses, and knives I gave them; in return for which they brought us quantities of beautiful shells.’ At the island of Tahiti there was a similar exchange of courtesies. Papiette is described as quite a town, with a market affording an immense choice of articles for sale.
The pleasures of a tropical clime are unfortunately apt to be marred by certain torments. During the rainy season, water falls in solid masses which no temporary shelter can withstand; that, however, is nothing in comparison with the invasion of insects. A small party which set out in an American wagon for a drive of two days round Tahiti, passed the night at an inn where the insect pest was experienced in an unmistakable way. The rooms were swarming with cockroaches ‘about three inches long’, which climbed the walls and were seen in every crevice. ‘Then there were the mosquitoes, who hummed and buzzed about us, and with whom, alas! we were doomed to have a closer acquaintance. Our bed was fitted with the very thickest calico mosquito curtains, impervious to the air, but not to the venomous little insects, who found their way through every tiny opening in spite of all our efforts to exclude them.... Amidst suffocating heat, in the moonlight, were seen columns of nasty brown cockroaches ascending the bed-posts, crawling along the top of the curtains, dropping with a thud on the bed, and then descending over the side to the ground.’ Being unable to stand it any longer, Mrs Brassey rose, emptied her slippers of the cockroaches, seized on her garments, and fled to the garden; whence, however, she was driven back by torrents of rain. Such is a picture of certain inconveniences in these tropical islands. Prodigious beauty of vegetation, flowers magnificent, all seemingly a kind of paradise—but the plague of insects.
Making a run northwards, the Sunbeam reached Hawaii, one of the Sandwich Islands, on the 22d December. Here was the same profusion and beauty of flowers. The women and girls are described as being gaily decorated with wreaths and garlands, and wearing a dress of a very simple yet not inelegant fashion, consisting of ‘a coloured long-sleeved loose gown reaching to the feet’—no tying at the waist, all flowing and free, with no restraint in walking or sitting down. Our space does not permit us to follow the movements of the party in their excursions through interesting scenery. Hawaii, like all the other islands in the group, is of volcanic origin. Kilauea, which is still raging, is reckoned to be the largest volcano in the world, for its crater is nine miles in circumference. This extraordinary volcano, situated at the top of a mountain six thousand feet above the level of the sea, was visited by Mrs Brassey, although the journey to it is fatiguing, and the approach to it is attended with some peril. There happens to be a comfortable inn near the brink of the crater, at which travellers are accommodated and are furnished with guides to conduct them with safety to points of interest.
According to Mrs Brassey’s account, the scene was horribly grand. ‘We were standing on the extreme edge of a precipice, overhanging a lake of molten fire, a hundred feet below us, and nearly a mile across. Dashing against the cliffs on the opposite side, with a noise like the roar of a stormy ocean, waves of blood-red, fiery, liquid lava hurled their billows upon an iron-bound headland, and then rushed up the face of the cliffs to toss their gory spray high in the air. The restless heaving lake boiled and bubbled, never remaining the same for two minutes together.... There was an island on one side of the lake, which the fiery waves seemed to attack unceasingly with relentless fury, as if bent on hurling it from its base. On the other side was a large cavern, into which the burning mass rushed with a loud roar, breaking down in its impetuous headlong career the gigantic stalactites that overhung the mouth of the cave, and flinging up the liquid material for the formation of new ones. It was all terribly grand, magnificently sublime; but no words could adequately describe such a scene.’
Perhaps the specimens now presented will incline readers to undertake a thorough perusal of this unique and interesting work, which (published by Longman) we doubt not will be found at all the libraries. The route homewards of the Sunbeam from Hawaii was by way of Japan, the China Sea, the Straits of Malacca, Ceylon, the Bay of Bengal, the Red Sea, the Suez Canal, and the Mediterranean, about all which there are many amusing details. As regards the traffic on the Suez Canal, the gratifying fact is mentioned, that on the day the Sunbeam entered the Canal, the sum of six thousand pounds was taken as dues at the Suez office alone. The climate of the Mediterranean, which we are in the habit of extolling as beneficial to invalids from northern countries, suited badly, as we are told, with the delicate constitution of the pet animals brought from the South Pacific and other warm regions. Although tended with great care, several pined and died, from the effects of acute bronchitis or other ailments, after passing Malta. All these victims to a change of climate ‘were placed together in a neat little box, and committed to the deep at sunset, a few tears being shed over the departed pets, especially by the children.’
Mrs Brassey with her family and friends reached home—a palatial mansion on the south coast of England, near Hastings—on the morning of the 27th May 1877. In the whole voyage round the world, no hitch nor any misadventure had occurred. We can imagine that the expedition will have left an agreeable topic of conversation for life, and that its surprising success will inspire others equally qualified to follow the brilliant example offered by ‘A Voyage in the Sunbeam.’