Hornecastle was sorry to see me go. He and several comrades saw me off as the anchor went up and I sailed away. I felt sad enough, for I had seen some strange times and a good deal of life in those lovely Isles of the Pacific.
I can still see the outrigged canoes following our ship across the bay out to sea; they were filled with Samoans waving their hands and crying bitterly as their departing relatives, all huddled round me on the deck, sobbed loudly as they too waved their farewells, wiping their eyes with their hands and tail ends of their scanty clothes, old sailor shirts and cast-off European underclothes. It was a sad sight to see them moaning by the ship’s rail and those who saw them off paddling away to keep in sight as long as possible—daughters and sons, fathers and mothers, bobbing about in the sunset water, some with their babies perched on their backs, as the ship’s screw thundered full speed ahead and they faded away.
Those emigrants were innocent Islanders, who I have no doubt had been promised fine rewards to entice them to leave their native Isle for a term of three years, where to go I did not know. Some of the sailors said their destination was New Guinea, others the Queensland sugar plantations; anyhow I am quite sure the best of the bargain was not on their side. One of the women made an attempt to leap over the ship’s side and escape, but her friends held her back, but they all continued to wail and howl like children as they fully realised that they were really off on the big ship bound for other lands! Some of them lay on the deck flat on their bellies, beating it with their hands; the elder men gazed with tears in their eyes across the wake at their home-staying friends, till the following canoes and their native shores died away. I doubt if many of them ever saw their native Isle again. I hope they did. They were stuffed down in the forepeak just by the fo’c’sle all together, women and men.
In a few days they were all themselves again, pattering along the decks singing away, cursing the cook’s life as they took their food to him to cook, bread-fruit, stuff which he baked for them in the galley, also jams which tasted something like dried-up baked turnips. I shall never forget the surprise of those Samoans as we entered Sydney Harbour. As soon as Circular Quay came in sight round the bend they lost control of themselves completely, waving their arms about in their excitement pointing to the big buildings, opening their mouths, showing their white teeth and shining eyes agog, just like little children at their first Lord Mayor’s Show.
Two days after I met them walking down George Street dressed up in robes and sandals, all close together looking at the shops. They stay in Sydney a few days and then they are shipped off to their final destination.
I was glad to be in Sydney again, where I met chief-mate Poppy, who afterwards was an officer on one of the clipper ships whereon I too voyaged. He was a fine fearless sailor, square built, and had merry grey eyes. I spent a lot of time with him for I had a little cash left and took things easy for a few days.[[8]] I went to the post office and found two letters from home and some cash. I immediately wrote to England asking forgiveness for not writing before and assured them all that I was getting on well. I forget now what I really said in that letter, but I know that I gave myself a leg-up, as they say, and did a bit of blowing on my own account. Anyway whether all I said was true or not it made them happy and I was very pleased also when the reply came telling me how proud they all were at my success in life, and two or three pages of good advice how to keep the success going.
[8]. Mr Poppy later became captain on a clipper ship, and was lost with all hands off Cape Horn.
Ah! dear English people, do not believe all the wonderful things you hear from your children abroad. Did you hear the real truth you would not call round on your relatives reading that letter over and over till your voice got husky, but it may be that you would sit on your bed and weep your heart out. I’ve seen your successful sons, have sat by them in the dirty lodging-house attic and watched them write those things that made you happy. I have also been their solitary visitor in the hospital as they died of disease and then I have sent the last letter home and felt too wretched to write home myself. Of course some do get on and do very well, but some of the adventurous boys are weak with their passions, and so go to the wall. I could say a good deal on this subject, but I will leave it for someone else. But while I am on the subject I must say it would be well if fathers took their sons aside and told them of those temptations and the awful results before they sent them across the world alone. I will tell you this much—hundreds of fine young fellows have found themselves stranded in the colonial cities, slept out, got into bad company and yielding to the temptations of despair have never been heard of again for five or even ten years, as most of the Australian gaols are away in the bush many miles up country and the prison notepaper arriving in England would tell the tale. So time goes on and the bright English lad, the pride of the school and the mother’s joy, emerges from the gaol door, embittered by confinement, his only comrades the convicts who were released before him and whom he naturally seeks in sympathy and so becomes that which he never in his wildest dreams dreamed of becoming. But I must not get into the habit of moralising over the downfalls and temptations that meet the emigrant youth who arrives in the colonies as I did, expecting to see a workless world and a life before him of charming adventure. So I will proceed with my own immediate experiences.
I am by nature very lazy while I have got money in my pocket, and this failing impeded my progress in the times I am telling you about. Nevertheless I enjoyed myself, went up George Street and purchased a good rig-out, and then went round sight-seeing and very soon I was on my beam ends again. I was lucky enough to fall in with an English fellow who lodged with me in a side street out at “The Glebe.” He and I became good comrades and as soon as he got to understand my position and dubious future he took me also into his confidence and we eventually became partners in the flower seed business which he carried on from an office in “The Royal Arcade.” It sounds a big address, but it was only a small office. I think the rent was eight shillings a week. In that little office we packed up the flower seeds together and I myself blossomed into a real business youth once again, but it was not half as lonely as that teashop of mine which I have told you about.
Off we would go each morning out into Sydney suburbs, each with a little bag crammed to the brim with choice seeds of English flowers. I at once wrote home a letter pouring over with enthusiasm about my dreams of future wealth, coming from a prosperous business, but the hard work soon began to tell on my temperament, and my resolution to get on in the world by doing work oozed away as I perspired at the doors of the wooden houses out in Burwood and Paramatta, while my chum stood illustrating to the open-mouthed colonial women the height and beauty of the flowers that would glorify their gardens if they bought our seed.