CHAPTER XVII.
London. Thames tunnel. Bank of England. St. Paul's Church. Westminster Abbey. The tower. Sail for St. Johns. A storm. Proceed to Londonderry. Its description. Wolf Rock. Sail for Holland. Burial at sea. Arrive at Hamburg. Its description. Come near going upon the sands. Dover cliffs and castle. Pilots. Eddystone light. A ship in distress with a drunken captain. Return to my family. Go to New Orleans. Sail for Glasgow. Go to Edinburgh. Go to St. Johns resolved to quit the sea. Build a house. Go to Savannah. Meet an old school fellow. Appointed chief mate. Gulf stream. A storm. Go home. Sail to Cork. Belfast. Thence to London. Return home. Imminent danger and narrow escape.
London, the capital of England and metropolis of the British empire, is situated on the banks of the Thames, in the counties of Middlesex and Surrey, and within a day's journey of the southern shore of Britain.
On the spot now occupied by the city, or more ancient part of the metropolis, which is on the left or northern bank of the Thames, a town had been built and possessed by the Romans eighteen centuries ago, and from that period it has constantly been the seat of the increasing and busy population. Its chief increase and improvement, however, have been since the great fire in 1666, which destroyed a large number of the old streets and public edifices.
It is impossible by any written description to convey adequate ideas of the real magnitude of London. Indeed, it is not until after a person has been in the city for some months, that he begins to comprehend it. Every new walk opens to him streets, squares and divisions which he has never seen before. And even those places where he is most familiar, are discovered day by day to possess archways and thoroughfares within and around them, which had never been noticed before. Even people who have spent their whole lives in the city, often find streets and buildings, of which they had never before heard, and which they had never before seen.
The Thames Tunnel which is the medium for communication between the Surrey and Middlesex sides of the river, was designed and carried into execution by a joint stock company, which, however, has been largely assisted by government. The tunnel consists of two avenues or arched vaults, beneath the river. Each avenue is of such height and breadth as to afford a beautiful walk, and is lighted with gas. It is about two miles below London bridge, and was begun in 1822.
Standing in some measure behind the site of the Royal Exchange, facing Threadneedle street, are seen the extensive series of stone buildings containing the Bank of England. The whole buildings and courts include an area of about eight acres, and were completed in 1778. In 1832, there were employed in the bank 820 clerks and porters, and 38 printers and engravers. There were besides, 193 pensioners. The salaries and pensions amounted to £218,003; the house expenses, £39,187, and the allowance to directors, £8,000.
These statistics will give the reader a better opportunity to judge of the enormous amount of business that this bank transacts annually.
The hours at which the bank is open are from nine in the morning till five in the afternoon, holidays excepted.
St. Paul's Church, which is built in the form of a Greek cross, is the most prominent object in London. It measures 514 feet in length, 286 in breadth, and 370 in height, to the topmost pinnacle. There are three porticoes at as many entrances, on the north, west, and south. That on the west is the principal, with twelve lofty Corinthian pillars below, and the angles above crowned with handsome bell towers, the size of ordinary church towers or steeples.
The great bell of St. Paul's is only rung when a member of the royal family dies, and its fine deep tones can be distinctly heard at a distance of several miles. The great bell weighs four and a half tons, and is ten feet in diameter.
Westminster Abbey is situated nearly opposite the houses of Parliament, and is open to inspection on the north and east, but on the west it is much crowded upon by dwelling-houses.
In very early times this spot of ground was a small insular tract, surrounded by the waters of the Thames, and called Thorny Island. A monastic institution was founded here on the introduction of Christianity into Britain. An Abbey was raised upon the site of the ruined monastic building, under Edward the Confessor.
The ground plan, as usual, bore the form of the cross. Rights and endowments were granted, and the edifice assumed a great degree of architectural grandeur. It had become the place for the inauguration of the English monarchs, and William the Conqueror was crowned here with great pomp and solemnity, in 1066.
Henry III. enlarged the abbey, and the building continued in the state in which he left it until Henry VII. added a chapel, built in the florid Gothic style, on which the greatest skill of the architect and the sculptor was displayed; exhibiting the most splendid structure of the age, and so highly esteemed, that it was enjoined that the remains of royalty alone should be interred within its walls.
During the reign of Henry VIII., of its revenues, Henry raised Westminster to the dignity of a city, and its abbey was constituted a cathedral. It was, however, afterwards re-united to London in 1550.
Westminster Abbey, during the reign of William and Mary, was thoroughly repaired, and the towers added at the western entrance, under the direction of the celebrated Sir Christopher Wren, to whom London owes so much of its architectural grandeur.
The length of the abbey is 416 feet; breadth, at the transept, 203 feet; nave 102 feet; height of the west tower 225 feet. The exterior measurement, including Henry VII.'s Chapel, is 530 feet.
On entering the great western door between the towers, the magnificence of the abbey at once strikes the beholder with reverential awe. Nearly the whole of the interior appears in grand masses of towering Gothic columns of gray marble, connecting the pavement with the roof, and separating the nave from the side aisles. A screen divides the nave from the choir, which is surmounted by a noble organ, while beyond, the eye soars amid graceful columns, tracery, and decorated windows, to the summit of the eastern arch that overlooks the adjacent chapels.
The walls on either side display a great profusion of sepulchral monuments, among which are many finely executed pieces of sculpture, and touching memorials of those whose exploits or exertions deserve the notice of posterity.
There is probably no building in the world around which cluster so many varied and thrilling associations as the Tower in London. For centuries it had been the theatre of England's bloodiest deeds, and its gray old walls stand as the lasting monument of tyranny, despotism, and death. Every stone in that structure has a history to tell. Centuries have come and gone, whole dynasties disappeared, and yet that old Tower still rises in its strength. It is situated in the east part of the metropolis, and on the north side of the river Thames. Its area measures twelve acres. Its origin has been imputed by some to Julius Cæsar. Still, the generally received opinion is, that the White Tower which is the oldest and principal edifice, owes its beginning to William the Conqueror, about 1076. This noted tower is 96 feet in breadth, 116 in length, and 92 in height. Its walls are 14 feet thick. The mint and menagerie which formerly gave notoriety to the tower, have been removed. The common entrance of the tower is on the west side through four gates, which are daily opened with much form and ceremony. I saw nothing so interesting to me in the tower as the Horse Armory, which is a hundred and fifty feet long, and thirty-three wide, containing a line of equestrian figures, as if in battle array, stretching through the centre. A banner is over the head of each—the ceiling is covered with arms and accoutrements—the walls with armor and figures of ancient warriors. That row of twenty-two horsemen, large as life, armed to the teeth, with helmet and cuirass, and breastplate, and coats of mail, and lances, and swords, and battle-axes, and shields, sitting grim and silent there, is a sight one will not easily forget. They seem ready to charge on the foe, and their attitude and aspect are so fierce, that one almost trembles to walk in front of the steeds. Another object of curiosity is the immense store of fire arms, sufficient to equip one hundred and fifty thousand men, and beautifully arranged for show. Fee for seeing the Armory, sixpence; the Regalia, two shillings and sixpence.
The ship being ready, about the first of February, 1841, we set sail for St. Johns. After a good passage of seventeen days, we saw Mount Desert, on the coast of the United States. At night there were many indications of bad weather; the ship rolled carelessly over the long heavy swell—the light breeze whistled mournfully through the rigging; all at once the main-top-gallant sheet (being chained) parted. Men were sent to bind or fasten it again—while in the act of obeying that order, the main-topsail sheet, (being chained also,) parted. This was considered by the crew as ominous; some prophesied that the ship would be lost, others, that there was some one on board who had committed some awful crime on shore—all were in a state of consternation. At length the Captain went below, and in a moment came running back, saying, "Shorten the sails as fast as possible, for the barometer has fallen 4-10 in five minutes; bare a hand my good fellows, there is not a moment to lose." Every sail was soon clewed up to the yards, and lowered—there was no wind though it was cloudy, and all thought the barometer had deceived us, but we soon enough found that the truth was told; for while we were yet on the yards it came butt-end foremost, (as it is termed,) and blew with utmost fury. We were unable to get down, consequently were obliged to make the best of it by clinging fast to the rigging, and it was with difficulty that we did so. The water rushed over the deck, the scuppers would not allow it to run off. During this time the Captain was calling aloud with the trumpet, but its sounds did not reach our ears. The breeze lulled a little, and those in the rigging were enabled to get down, when it came with redoubled fury; our main-top-sail was carried away; then we lay twelve hours beating about by wind and waves, amid torrents of rain. At length the wind died away into a start calm; the sea at the same time running very irregular, the waves mounting to the height of twenty or thirty feet. Sail was made as quick as possible, which relieved the laboring of the ship; the fore and main top-sails which had been cleared away were repaired. The wind wore away into the South West. We shaped our course so as to shun the St. George's shoals which we were very near, and stood for St. Johns. The breeze freshened every moment until we found ourselves going at the rate of ten knots per hour. This was indeed cheering after the fearful situation we had but just escaped. But this was not always to last, for we were soon enveloped in a fog so dense, that it was with the greatest difficulty we could manage the ship. We shortened sail, hauled our wind, and according to our own reckoning stood across the bay to the rock known as the Old Proprietor, feeling our way along, we were nearing the Nova Scotia shore. Falling in with a fisherman, we found we were five miles below the grand passage; shaped our course up the bay. Having a fair tide we were soon above Grand Menan, and past most of our danger; firing a gun once in two or three minutes as a signal for a pilot. The fog cleared away a little so as to enable us to press more sail. Soon we saw Split Rock, and finding that we had not proceeded as far as we had supposed, we pressed more sail, setting studding sails on the starboard side, still keeping up the firing which soon brought a pilot, who speedily brought us to safe anchorage in the harbor of St. Johns.
When the ship was safely moored, all hands were discharged. Feeling something of a desire to quit the seas, I resolved to remain on shore a while at least, and in pursuance of that resolution, obtained employment at rigging vessels, which business I followed nearly four months; when getting tired and uneasy of the monotony of such a life, I shipped as mate of the brig Comet, the last of July, bound, for Londonderry, (Ireland,) with plank for cargo. Nothing unusual occurred on our passage, and in due time arrived at Londonderry and discharged our cargo.
The little leisure time allotted us was spent in rambling around the city. Londonderry is situated on the west bank of the Foyle. The original town was built in 1603, but was burned in 1608. The wall of the city was about twenty feet high, and about eight thick, of splendid architecture, though somewhat ancient. The walls are mounted with towers at interval of two hundred and fifty or three hundred feet; these towers, and also the walls between them are mounted with cannon. The city is entered by four gates which are of iron, of the same height of the walls.
Among the objects of curiosity which we visited was Walker's monument, erected to the memory of Governor Walker.
In the Court House yard stands a cannon which is four feet and six inches round, and eleven feet long; it is called Roaring Meg, from the loudness of its report during the siege; it bears the following inscription:—"Fishmongers, Londond, 1642."
We also visited the Gothic Cathedral, which was erected in 1633, and is a most splendid edifice. There are also many other public buildings of which I cannot speak, as I had not time to examine them minutely.
With a fair wind we proceeded down Lough Foyle, and as we rounded Molin Head, set studding sails, and steered down the north channel through the Irish Sea, running near to the Irish coast. I have never before had so beautiful a view of the Irish scenery; though situated as I was I could get but a faint idea of it. In a few days we hauled around between Land's End and the Isle of Scilly. Here is situated the well known rock called Wolf's Rock, situated but a little distance from Land's End. Its name is derived from the Wolf-like roaring which is heard in calm weather to the distance of several miles. The rock is a wash, or half tide rock, and is hollow; the water of the swell with which it fills, soon disappears, which gives rise to the supposition that there is a passage through it; but whither this passage leads, conjecture does not tell.
We entered the English Channel and stood towards the Downs, where we came to anchor, and remained several days, in consequence of head winds.
The wind favoring us we stood into the North Sea. One of our men fell from the main-royal-yard, which killed him instantly. We kept the body a day or two hoping to be able to bury it on the island of Heligoland at the mouth of the Elbe. But that could not be done on account of the warm weather, and we were obliged to bury him at sea. We sewed him in his hammock, fastening weights at his feet sufficient to sink the body. The body was then placed upon a plank which rested on the rail of the vessel. The vessel was then hove to and her progress considerably checked. The burial service was then read, and as the reader came to—"We commit the body to the deep"—the plank was raised, and the body slipped from it. The water parted to receive it, and closed over him forever.
We braced full and stood for the mouth of the Elbe, where we remained at anchor during the night in consequence of the darkness.
In the morning a pilot came aboard and attempted to run us up to Cuxhaven, but on account of the strong tide he could make but little progress. We waited for a steamer to take us in tow, which soon had us at anchor at Cuxhaven, twenty miles from the mouth of the river. Here we were also detained two days, waiting for a steamboat to tow us to Hamburg, where were vessels of all nations at anchor.
Hamburg is seventy-five miles from the sea on the northern side of the Elbe. Its location is partly upon a great number of small islands formed by the Elbe and the Alster. It is divided into old and new town, and is surrounded by lofty ramparts and a broad ditch. The streets are very narrow generally, and the houses, being six and seven stories high, render them dark and dreary. The churches are mostly of Gothic architecture, having lofty spires, which are covered with copper.
Perhaps there is no country in the world where the means of education can equal those of the North of Germany. At Hamburg there are over an hundred thousand volumes of books, in only two libraries. The universities of Germany are attended by students from all parts of Europe and oftentimes from America.
Our cargo consisted of wheat, flour, Gin, &c. We hoisted sail and proceeded down the river. When abreast Cuxhaven we clewed up and let go the second bower. The current was so strong that this was no sooner fast than the cable parted and we ran near to the quicksands, that lay under our stern at the distance of half a mile. We immediately let go another and veered away until she was checked of her progress. By this time we had out about 90 fathoms of cable, and were within a stone's throw of the sands. Here we lay four hours momentarily fearing this cable would also part, and our destruction be sure. The tide beginning to turn, we manned the windlass and hove the ship to her anchor, which was soon lifted, and we dropped away to the eddy of Cuxhaven.
The next morning another anchor was sent from the shore. We then weighed anchor and stood out to sea, passed Heligoland, where we left our pilot.
With a fair wind we ran along the coast of Holland, and spoke several English, French and Dutch fishermen. Setting studding-sails alow and aloft we ran through the fleet, which is always at anchor at the Downs; had a delightful view of the coast along from Margate to Beachy Head; and passed the high Chalk Cliffs of Dover, which rise almost perpendicularly to the height of two or three hundred feet.
Here is situated the famous castle of Dover. There are many tiers of windows or loop-holes for musketry worked in the cliff, and the subterranean barracks and passages are extensive. The besieged can retreat through these passages at pleasure. The barracks are sufficient for the accommodation of three or four thousand men.
This was formerly the place of confinement of criminals, and is now so used for debtors.
The town of Dover is situated on a low marshy soil, scarcely visible from the sea, and is principally inhabited by pilots for London and the north sea.
Life-boats are stationed there at the expense of the government, to render assistance to those to whom accident may befall. One third of the money obtained from ships' crews goes to government, while the remaining two-thirds is retained by the crew of the life-boat. Each pilot is obliged to serve seven years before he can take a boat, and only a few can obtain an appointment at that time.
The appointments are made by the Admiralty of England, which is composed of old men who have spent long lives at sea, and are supposed to thoroughly understand navigation, and extricating ships from all possible difficulties.
When a person has completed his term of apprenticeship, he goes before the admiralty, who suppose a ship to be placed in the worst possible dilemma, and then ask him his plan of extricating her, or the course he would pursue, were he master of it.
If he fails to agree with them, he is sent back to complete his apprenticeship, though they seldom appear the second time, usually hiring out to some other person who may get an appointment.
The pilot-boats are nicely constructed and dance and bound over the wave as fearlessly as the fish of the sea.
We passed the Eddystone lighthouse, which is situated about fourteen miles from the English coast and in one of the most tempestuous places in the known world. Several houses have been built on the same spot and could not withstand the heavy sea. One builder said, on the completion of his work, that the winds might blow and the waves might beat against it, but he should be as safe there as upon the highlands of Scotland. But in a night, he and his works were lost. The present one is built upon the very neck of the rock, and dove-tailed to the rock, and each piece to the other. The lantern is about 90 feet high, and yet the water at times beats over it. Three men are stationed there at a time to avoid all suspicions of ill in the case of a death or any accident which may befall any one of them. At a time when there were only two, one died from some sudden cause, and the other fearful that suspicion would rest upon him, should he throw the body into the sea, kept it many days hoping for an opportunity to have the body examined, and thus remove all grounds of suspicion. The weather was such that no boat could reach him to whom he could communicate his situation, and there he remained "alone with the dead," amid the roaring of the elements, till the stench that arose from the body filled the whole house.
In a short time, before a fine breeze, we were out of sight of land, when we saw a barque standing to the westward apparently in distress, with her masts and bowsprit gone. We ran close to her and hailed them, asking them if in want of any thing. One of the fore-mast hands answered, and said they were in want of bread and water. We offered them bread and told them to come for it. He said all of their boats were gone to Davy Jones' locker, and they could not.
Our boats were lowered away and I went in charge to the ship with a quantity of bread.
Never before had I seen a ship in so bad a condition. The fore-mast was gone by the board, which in its fall killed the mate; the bowsprit by the night-heads; on the larboard side the forecastle was stove in, near the water's edge, and almost every swell would wash overboard. The pumps were kept in constant action. To add wretchedness to the scene, the captain was so drunk that he was obliged to hang on the companion to keep himself from falling. Soon as we were aboard, the captain, intent upon his liquor, asked if we would have some brandy. Some of the crew went with him.
As he came up, I asked him if he did not consider it altogether unsafe to be in such a miserable craft. He replied in an inarticulate manner, "Miserable craft; she's better than all your white pine ships, now," and reeling, fell back on the companion.
We returned to our ship and left him to enjoy his peaceful security, and with a favorable breeze we lost sight of him.
What his fate was I know not, but I fear he speedily went to his rest, where he will remain "till the sea shall give up her dead."
We had a fine voyage, with no unusual occurrence. We reached Partridge island where we took on a pilot, who soon landed us safely at St. Johns about the last of March, 1841. Here I remained several months, determined to abandon the seas. At length getting again discontented, I left my family and went to Boston to get a situation. From thence I went to New Orleans, where I remained some weeks, and shipped myself on board the Clyde, Capt. Reed, bound for Glasgow, Scotland.
Nothing save the usual occurrences of sailing attended the voyage, which was speedily terminated. Arriving at Glasgow we were paid off.
Glasgow, situated upon the Clyde, is the largest city in Scotland and owes its rapid and still prosperous increase to its manufacturing interest, principally, which is vast indeed. The streets are wide and generally well paved.
The Cathedral is a massive building of gothic architecture, and stands upon a hill in the center of the city. The buildings are blackened by the coal smoke which hangs over the city in clouds and renders the general aspect indeed gloomy.
Having nothing to do and tired of wandering around Glasgow, several of us proposed going to Edinburgh, a distance of forty miles, which was performed by stagecoach, over a hilly, though an excellently well worked road.
Edinburgh is situated upon the southern shore of the Frith of Forth, two miles from the sea. Its situation is indeed fine, occupying high ridges of land, and is surrounded, except on the north side, by high, craggy rocks.
The streets of the old town, which is built on the two southern ridges, are narrow and dirty. The houses are often ten and eleven stories high.
Those of the new town, built upon the northern ridge, are different, being unsurpassed by any in the world in regularity and elegance. A high bridge over the ravine connects the two towns.
Edinburgh is chiefly the residence of lawyers and men of literature. It has the most flourishing University in all Europe, having about forty professors connected with it, and has at times two thousand students. There are a great number of libraries, and in one connected with the University are 100,000 volumes.
In the neighborhood of Edinburgh is a huge rock, which attracts the attention of visitors, called Sampson's ribs.
Returning to Glasgow, I shipped as mate of the Windsor Castle, bound for St. Johns, N. B. We proceeded down the Clyde and ran out the North Channel into the Atlantic, having fifty passengers. The time passed very finely indeed, until we made the Newfoundland banks, when we were met by a stormy head wind, which delayed us very much.
Our stores got short, the passengers got discouraged, the crew became dissatisfied, attributing the scarcity to the bad calculation of the captain. Their dissatisfaction was of short duration, as the wind shifted, and soon we were safely anchored at St. Johns.
Again I resolved to leave the sea altogether and live with my family which were now growing up around me, and needed me very much at home. I hired or leased a piece of land, and built a small cottage. This occupied six or eight months.
Again time passed tediously, probably more so from the fact that all of the men belonging to the middle and lower classes are mariners and generally gone from home, so that a person of those classes finds but few associates. I remained on shore but a short time after the completion of the house.
Shipped on board the barque Duncan, bound for Savannah, Geo., for lumber, cotton, &c. I had as shipmates the only two brothers of my wife. On our arrival at Savannah, one was taken sick and carried to the hospital, where after ten days' sickness he died and was buried in the ground belonging to the hospital. A few days after the other was drowned and also buried there.
We lay at Savannah about two months waiting a cargo, which was at last procured, of timber. Difficulties arose between the captain and second mate, which resulted in the discharge of the latter. I was appointed to fill his place. A few days after the chief mate applied for a discharge as he could get better wages on some other voyage, which was granted him, and I was still promoted.
Getting ready for sea, a pilot came aboard. Weighed anchor and stood out to sea.
Hearing the captain accost the pilot by a name familiar to me, I was induced to believe him an early acquaintance, though I could not recognize in him the least familiar feature. So fully was I impressed with the idea of finding an acquaintance of earlier days that I was induced to speak to him, and a happy recognition of old school and play-fellows ensued.
The captain by this means found me to be a yankee, having till that moment supposed me to be an Englishman.
The scenes of other days were rapidly recalled. Having heard nothing from home since I left in 1830, I most anxiously questioned him, but could learn nothing.
At the time I left home I resolved that the sea of forgetfulness should wash over me and them, and for a long time I kept my parents in ignorance of my whereabouts.
This feeling at last wore away and I addressed my mother, but no welcome messenger returned to me—again and again I wrote, still they remained silent.
At last feeling myself an outcast and entirely forgotten by them, I resolved to write no more, and gave up all idea of ever again seeing them, meaning to spend my days, and lay my bones, on foreign soil.
But the accidental meeting of this friend of my youth dispelled the idea and I requested him to notify them of my situation.
Soon we were abreast Tyber's island, and the pilot left us and pulled for the shore.
Standing north with a fair wind, we soon reached the Gulf Stream. Having often spoken of this stream without giving the reader an account of it, I propose doing it here.
The Gulf Stream derives its name from a remarkable current in the Atlantic, running from southwest to northeast along the coast of America, from Florida to Newfoundland, supposed by many to be caused by the trade winds which blow the waters of the Atlantic into the Gulf of Mexico, and they seeking their level rush out, finding a passage between the Bahama isles and the American coast, thus continuing around to the coast of England, decreasing in velocity with the extension of its surface and distance from the gulf. Others suppose it is caused by the current of the Atlantic, which is to the southwest, meeting the continent by which a part of its waters are repelled and forced into a counter current along the shore through the gulf.
Some very few suppose that the waters of the Pacific rushing through under the continent and coming up in the Gulf of Mexico, and thus on in course, are the cause of it. Were this the case there would be a vortex or whirlpool in the Pacific and a monstrous boiling in the gulf which would have long ago have been discovered. The first reason or cause given is the generally accepted one.
In continuing, with the reader, on with the voyage, I would say we encountered a most violent gale, attended with violent rain accompanied to an alarming degree with lightning and thunder.
We ran eight days before the wind under close-reefed top-sail and fore-sail. The wind blowing from the south, which with the current kept a long and heavy swell. With two men at the helm we were scarcely able to keep her before the wind. She being heavily loaded with lumber labored tremendously.
About twelve o'clock one night a big sea pooped us, (a heavy sea striking against the stern or quarter of the vessel when she is scudding before the wind) bursting the bulwarks from their stanchions, carrying away most of our provisions that were lashed to the deck. The water-casks that were lashed each side of the long boat had their heads knocked in, leaving the sides standing unhurt.
Most of the crew seeing the swell sprang into the rigging and thus saved themselves from harm. The captain being at the helm, assisting in controlling the vessel, was struck and carried forward with great force, as must be supposed from the effect upon the water-casks.
The second mate and myself both seeing the situation of the vessel sprang from the mizzen-rigging and seized the helm before she had time to broach to, which had she done, all would have been lost. The water when we left the rigging was up to our arms upon deck, and running over the rail of the vessel. Our vessel was apparently sinking, but was relieved by the bulwarks giving way, clearing the decks. The captain coming aft with bruised head avowed his determination of never scudding a vessel again.
The second mate and myself kept the wheel three days and two nights, for the captain thought no others competent. As the wind abated sail was made, and an observation taken, which was the first taken since leaving Savannah, and we found ourselves on the northern side of St. George's Banks at the mouth of the Bay of Fundy.
The wind, blowing fresh from the northeast, was in our teeth (as it is termed) obliging us to beat about for several days, when it shifted into the northwest enabling us to run up the American coast. We sighted Grand Menan, when the wind dying away to a start calm, we were carried back by the tide about forty miles, when a favoring breeze springing up, we squared our yards and set studding-sails and soon had a pilot on board and were at St. Johns.
I remained with my family but a few days when I left St. Johns, and entered upon the duties of commander of the Warrior, a vessel of 120 tons burden, laden with plank, lath, &c., bound for Cork. We sailed from St. Johns the first of September, 1842, had a very fine passage, and at the expiration of thirty-four days we were safely at Cork, when leaving the vessel in charge of the mate I went on shore for orders respecting my cargo.
Cork is situated at the southeast side of the island on the river Lee, fourteen miles from the sea. Its harbor called the cove is elegant, and strongly fortified. The city presents something of a Venitian appearance, the several channels through which the river empties itself into the harbor being quayed.
There are a great number of elegant buildings, public and private, situated on the hill which overlooks the town. Those more worthy of note are the bishop's palace, the custom-house, and court-house which has in front a pediment supported on six Corinthian columns surrounded by a group of colossial figures.
I was ordered to proceed to Belfast with my cargo. Stood up the channel on a bowline. After rounding the Tuskar light we had a fine wind, till abreast the Isle of Man, when in consequence of a head wind we were put back. For three days I never left the deck except to my regular meals. The wind veering around we again stood up the channel and weathered the South Rock light fifteen miles before Belfast. Tacked and stood over to the Scotch side, dodging about during the night. Daylight found us abreast the Copeland light. Seeing a pilot boat I hoisted the Union Jack as a signal, which soon brought him on board, and we found a safe anchorage at Belfast. Procured a berth and hove her to it. Discharged my men, most of them having been paid at St. Johns, to run thither.
I remained on board four days and sold the ship for £700 sterling, received a check on the bank of London for the amount. Proceeded to Liverpool by steamer, from thence to London by railroad. Obtained the money and returned to Liverpool. Shipped on board of the Duncan and sailed for St. Johns with the money, early in November, 1842. The wind blowing fresh up channel, the captain concluded to run out of the north channel. Had a fine passage until we were abreast Tory island, on the northwest coast of Ireland, when the wind shifted into the northeast, and blew a fresh breeze. Running down the coast at night we were all greatly alarmed at the cry from the lookout, "Breakers ahead." The helm was instantly put hard up, which the ship immediately answered and came around upon her keel. Although under double-reefed-top-sails, they were trimmed in a few moments, and the ship began to gather headway, and stood offshore till daylight, when we made sail and stood to the westward. Without any thing of particular note we reached the Newfoundland banks, and saw and spoke the ship Thetis of St. Johns. She had the night previous run down a fishing schooner, seeing nothing of her until she struck her midships. Soon as possible the ship was brought to and boats lowered, but not a vestige was seen. Their loud shrieks were heard as they sank to rise no more. Anxious friends have no doubt long awaited their return and are still ignorant of their doom. Thus many a ship's crew have been swallowed up in a moment, with the waves their winding sheet, the howling winds their requiem.
One day we fell in with a large iceberg whose spiral top towered far above our mast head. With this we sailed some time. About 9 P. M. it shut in with a heavy fog from the southeast so dense that we could not discern objects the length of the ship ahead of us. This rendered our situation the most unpleasant, floating as we were with so formidable a companion among such a host of fishermen as ever throng that place, with no means of testing our proximity to them.
At length the sharp cry of the looker-out, "Hard port the helm," aroused all hands. The order was quickly obeyed, but not quick enough to avoid a severe blow from the ice. The shock aroused the captain, who came quickly upon deck. The pumps were rigged and every thing clewed up except the fore and main-top-sails, the yard lowered down and the reef-tackles rolled out; and thus we ran the remainder of the night. Heard the report of a gun mingled with the surf dashing, as we supposed, against the iron bound coast or against the ice. From the situation we were in we had much to fear, and in fact our terror could not be told, expecting each successive moment would bring us on to the rocks, or ice which would be even more certain destruction.
Another gun was discharged, and the dashing grew still louder. Whither to steer we knew not. Every ear and eye was called into requisition. Hope could hardly point us to a safe deliverance. All were certain that a most dreadful crisis was rapidly approaching. Another gun was fired which sounded but a half stone's throw from us, and the flash gleamed through the fog, and all was dark as before. Attentively listening I thought I could distinguish the strokes from the large paddle wheels of some Steamer, and a moment after our fears were greatly relieved by the rapid passing of one of the Liverpool line of steamers.
Daylight appeared and we made all possible sail, notwithstanding the fog had cleared away but very little.
Wind and weather favoring, we were soon safely anchored at the docks of St. Johns, and I was again in the bosom of my little family, where I remained working at rigging until the summer of 1843.