With the morning the gale had considerably abated, and as the barometer was on the rise, and the captain impatient to clear out, we put to sea. But clearly the weather was in a very unsettled state, and outside Amoy the glass again went down with a rising head sea. That we might put into Amoy for shelter, all the furnaces were called into requisition; so we lashed into and almost buried ourselves in seas rearing themselves up a-head of us like walls of solid glass. We brought up in the outer harbour just as the shades of night and the roar of the coming storm gathered around us. That night the wind and sea played fast and furious with our ship; again we had escaped a typhoon—it was subsequently ascertained that one did actually visit the adjacent coasts and sea; but, as this wind travels in a circle of many miles diameter, with its greatest force distributed near its circumference, its centre only passed over Amoy. On steaming seaward the next morning desolation, destruction, and wreck were everywhere manifest.
In due course we reached Nagasaki. In the bay was the Russian iron-clad, "Minin," a ship—if all we hear about her be true—capable of blowing the "Iron Duke" sky-high. She is, however, inferior to us in many desirable qualities, particularly in the essential one of being able to keep the sea, and fight her guns in all weathers. The "Comus," one of our handsome steel corvettes, was also here.
The hard steaming from Nagasaki, against exceptionally heavy winds, had pretty well cleared us out of coal, and, as there was not enough in store here to supply us with, we were ordered off to Kobé to fill up.
On our return, and just as we had cleared the strait of Simonoseki, we fell in with what sailors term nasty weather. The ship behaved so saucily that a seaman, Alexander Mann, whilst engaged lashing the anchor was washed completely overboard and borne away astern. Daniel Mutch, the captain of his top—a petty-officer who has already been instrumental in saving life at sea—observing the accident, at once rushed aft to the stern, plunged boldly into the turbulent waves and succeeded in rescuing his topmate. It is satisfactory to be able to state that the captain recognised Mutch's bravery by applying for the Humane Society's Medal, which honorable decoration was received shortly afterwards.
Next day an event of a similar nature, but unfortunately with a sadder termination, took place. In setting the starboard stunsail, John Irish, A.B., lost his hold of the scarping on the starboard fore-and-aft bridge, through the wood treacherously giving away with his weight, and, being unable to swim, the poor fellow soon sank exhausted, just as Joseph Summers had arrived on the spot. Irish had but lately come into a legacy from some of his friends at home.
Early in December we left Nagasaki for Hong Kong, touching at the Rugged Isles, on the opposite Chinese coast, on the passage. We spent about as uncomfortable a week in this delicious retreat as can be well conceived; our appetites sharpened to a keen edge by a north China winter—a week never to be forgotten. Opportunely the admiral came in at the expiration of time and terminated our miseries by ordering us to proceed.
December 20th.—To-day, and on the two subsequent days, the "one gun salute" at eight bells from the "Victor Emanuel" announced that somebody's fate was to be sealed. Three of our officers—the captain, staff-commander, and Lieutenant Clarke—are to be tried on a charge, preferred by the admiral, of negligently stranding Her Majesty's Ship "Iron Duke." Much interest naturally centred around this trial; the reporters from the local papers exerting themselves to the utmost for information on such an engrossing topic. On the third day the sentence of the court was announced:—the captain and Mr. Clarke to be reprimanded, and the staff-commander to be severely so.
December 25th.—To fulfil a promise of twelve months' standing, from the 20th to the 25th discipline was relaxed that we might prepare for our one festival; and as the admiral had again rendered us pecuniary help, and as this would be his last Christmas with us we were determined on making it a success. Meanwhile, whilst the decorations are pushing ahead, I must pause to notice the naval regatta of the 23rd, and especially the race which came about between our cutter and a similar boat of the "Lily," which it will be remembered we beat at Chefoo recently; but so confident were the "Lily's" that our victory on that occasion was the result of a "fluke," that they challenged us again to pull for sixty dollars. The race was conclusive to the "Lily's," and they handed over the "Mexicans" with the best grace a small ship's company can be supposed to exhibit—on the eve of Christmas, too.
An interesting feature in the regatta, and one which caused no end of fun, was the get-up of the copper punts. These naval abortions are, for the nonce, handed over to the funny fellows on board, who proceed to elect a "captain," and appoint themselves to the various offices connected with the proper management of their craft. With great rapidity and no little skill these punts are metamorphosed into brigs, full-rigged ships, paddle-wheeled steamers, and ram-bowed ironclads. The "captain's" get-up is the most gorgeous and elaborate thing possible—a profusion of gold lace, a monster cocked hat suitable for the top of the great pyramid, and a tremendous speaking trumpet whose bore would do very well for a tunnel. His crew generally attire themselves in the fantastic dress of niggers. Just as the proceedings for the day were about to begin, a pigmy paddler was observed bearing down on the flag-ship—her puffing funnel and foaming bows betraying no mean steam power. On closing she was made out to be one of the punt fleet come to pay a visit to the admiral. As she lay to she ran the St. George's Cross up to the main, and saluted it with seventeen guns (wooden ones), out of compliment to Admiral Coote, who shortly receives his promotion. She next asked permission (by signal) to part company, a request the admiral answered by hoisting the affirmative. It was indeed real fun.
By the 24th our lower deck looked a veritable fairy bower, but essentially English—a character which the arrival of the "Thèmis," on Christmas eve, modified somewhat. With characteristic good feeling and with, perhaps, a spice of national vanity, we determined on asking the Frenchmen to dine with us on the morrow—first, because having just come in from sea they would be unable to prepare for themselves; and, secondly, that we might shew them how Englishmen observe Christmas day. Our invitation asked that three hundred men might be allowed to come, but half that number only could be spared.