At the back of the world

by George Pugh; Jennie Pugh

Very little work was done except trimming the sails during the first two weeks, the wind and sea were so boisterous, and the men gradually fell into their proper places. Nothing out of the ordinary ship’s life occurred on the passage, and after a run of fifty-seven days we arrived in San Francisco.

However, as soon as the anchor was down, a crowd of Yankee boarding house runners and crimps boarded us. Many of them even went aloft and helped the men to furl the sails. Of course each of them had the usual flask of whiskey in his pocket to help their persuasive powers in getting the men to clear out of the ship. It was simply useless we officers ordering them ashore from the vessel, they just laughed at us and tapped the revolver in their hip pocket. My blood boiled, and had it not been that Mr. Brown came along just then, and advised me not to put myself out over the dirty low beasts, I should have tumbled a few of them over the side, regardless of what followed.

“Don’t fash yer-self laddie,” he said, “they’re not fit for a decent man to dirty his hands on, and the men are aye like a lot of silly sheep when they’ve had a glass o’ their poison inta them, a’ll nay call it by the decent name o’ spirits for it isna ony such.”

We hauled into the wharf during the day, and the following morning all that was left of the sailors were Jack Anderson, Charlie Partridge, and Charlie Hogg, they had all cleared out.

The stevedores started at once to unload the coal, soon we were up to our eyes in coal dust.

For a fortnight I explored and saw all the sights good, bad, and indifferent that were to be seen in that go-a-head city of the west. I found too that it was very risky work to pry into the dark corners of this revolver-ruled city of palaces, prisons and hells, and many a narrow shave I had in seeking to know Who’s Who and What’s What.

At last our coal was all out, and the ship cleaned down, and thankful we were to see the last of the coal dust washed off the ship and ourselves. We then received orders to proceed up the river to Vallaya to load wheat for the United Kingdom. Although we were so shorthanded the trip up to Vallaya was a treat. To describe the scenery would require the pen of a poet and an artist, for it is without rival in being the finest in the world.

The cargo was all waiting for us stored up in the great sheds near the wharf, and we were no sooner alongside than the carpenters came aboard and commenced lining the ship fore and aft with boards covered with Gunnie Sheeting. It was contract work, so you may be sure no time was lost over it. The following morning the grain was pouring into the hold from the elevators in a steady stream, and one could almost see the ship sinking lower and lower into the water, as the grain poured steadily in, like water down a spout, and in thirty-six hours from the time of starting, the ship was loaded. None of the officers or apprentices were allowed on shore at Vallaya. We were all kept too busy attending ship under the elevator shoots. I was disappointed at this, but it could not be helped, and on the third day the “Tonquin” was towed down the beautiful river again, and came to anchor in San Francisco Bay.

We found San Francisco en fête, as President Grant had just arrived from his tour round the world.

All the syrens, steam hooters, fog horns, ship’s bells, and steam whistles in the district were clashing and clanging for all they were worth to celebrate his safe arrival.