—John Masefield.
The Power of Gold.
FROM time immemorial the progress of the world, in colonization, in the Sciences (shipbuilding especially), and in the Arts owes its advance to the adventurous spirit of the pioneer. Particularly is this the case in the opening up of new countries and in the improvements in ship transport to those countries.
Kipling has sung the song of the pioneer and has laid stress on the pioneer spirit, but he has not touched on that great magnet which has ever drawn the pioneer on and dragged civilisation in his wake—the magnet of gold. Gold and its glamour has been the cause, one can almost say, of all the tragedy and all the evil in this world, but also of nearly all its good and all its progress.
It was the discovery of gold which opened up the fair States of Western America and brought about the building of the wonderful American clipper. In the same way the great Dominions of Australia and New Zealand owe their present state of progress and prosperity to that shining yellow metal; and without its driving power there would have been no history of the great Liverpool emigrant ships to record.
Emigrant Ships to Australia in the Forties.
Before the discovery of gold in Australia, the trade of that Colony was at a low ebb, suffering from want of enterprise and financial depression; whilst the emigrant ships running from Liverpool and other British ports, owing to the want of healthy competition, were of a very poor description. The horrors of the long five-months passage for the miserable landsmen cooped-up in low, ill-ventilated and over-crowded ’tween decks, were fit to be compared with those of the convict ship. The few vessels with humane owners and kindly captains were in a class by themselves. These, indeed, thought of the health and comfort of the wretched emigrants and did not content themselves with merely keeping within the letter of the Government regulations, which might more fitly have been framed for traffic in Hell.
For first class passengers the splendid Blackwall frigates of Green, Money Wigram and Duncan Dunbar, and the beautiful little clippers of the Aberdeen White Star Line, provided excellent accommodation and a comfortable and safe, if not a particularly fast, passage. But the ordinary steerage passenger had to content himself as a rule with a ship that was little better than a hermetically sealed box: one as deep as it was long, with clumsy square bows and stern, with ill-cut ill-set sails—its standing rigging of hemp a mass of long splices; and with a promenade deck no longer than the traditional two steps and overboard.