Well, sir, the next thing I thought of was to get a ship before the landsharks took all I had from me; and, with the assistance of Mr. Paul Forbes, I was soon in command of the ship "Royal Saxon," owned jointly by R. W. Cameron, of New York, and R. Towns, of Sydney. We sailed from New York for Melbourne, and arrived there safely, though in running down our easting about 42° south latitude we had continuous fogs.
Now, sir, to the point. The above firm despatched from New York each alternate week one vessel for Melbourne and one for Sydney. The week before I left, the ship "Eastward Ho," Captain Byrne, was despatched for Sydney, and apparently all went well until she got into latitude 37° or 38° south, and a little to the eastward of the Cape of Good Hope, when suddenly one night, when running before a strong gale, she came crushing into ice. The shock was so severe that her fore and main topmasts and mizzen-topgallant masts went by the board, and the foremast-head sprung. The hull was considerably shattered, and the main covering-board split up from forward as far aft as the main gangway.
After this, the captain thought he had better try to reach Simon's Bay or the Cape. For some days they were working through field-ice, getting a little to the north. Patching the vessel with canvas, and rigging jury-masts and sails, finally they got clear of ice, and with fine weather it was decided to stand to the eastward, with the hope of being overtaken by some other vessel (which never came). After many vicissitudes,—taking to the boats, then returning to the ship twice,—it was decided that the ship was the safest place, and she ultimately reached Sydney.
In passing through Bass's Straits, the "Eastward Ho" had been passed at a short distance by a steamer from New Zealand, and reported in Melbourne, but could give no name. This gave great offence to the people of Melbourne for passing a vessel in such a state and not finding her name or her wants, if any.
The "Eastward Ho" was repaired and loaded coals in Sydney for Hongkong, and misfortune again overtook her. In coming through the Eastern seas, her crew mutinied, and the vessel narrowly escaped wreck on one of the islands. Then, later, she got into a typhoon, and was very badly strained, but escaped for what might have been a worse fate—fire. Her cargo of coals caught fire, and after some days of hard work, the fire was extinguished; but when the vessel reached Hongkong and her cargo was discharged, it was found that the hull was a mere shell. Her frames and planking in many places were burnt nearly through.
The vessel was condemned, the crew were paid off, and the captain left Hongkong for New York and Syracuse, where was his home. When he had nearly reached his house he met an old friend who conveyed to him the sad news of his wife's death and of the funeral from which he was just returning. A sailor's life is not always a happy one. Is there a fatality attaching to certain men or things?
Beginning of the German Navy.
In the beginning of the year 1862 I was chief officer of the ship "Ballaarat," with Captain Henry Jones, of Far East fame. We loaded in the East India Docks, London, a full cargo of piece goods for Shanghai and for Taku Bar. We arrived at Shanghai, and, as the war was finished, we were ordered to proceed to Taku to discharge our cargo for Tientsin. In due time we reached Taku Bar, where we found several of the British warships anchored, and the South Forts occupied by British troops.
We anchored in the forenoon very near to a vessel flying the Prussian flag, and when we had furled sails and cleared up decks it was tiffin-time. To our surprise, a boat came from the Prussian, bringing the captain. I met him at the gangway, and reported him to our captain, with the result that he stayed to tiffin with us. And then he stated his business on board our ship. He said he wanted to buy provisions and stores of any kind, sailors' clothing, boots, or anything we could sell, which our captain laughingly agreed to do.