No sooner had I reached the deck than a fearful squall struck us and the rain fell in torrents and the ship fell rapidly off her course. I yelled out to let go the top-gallant halyards, fore and aft, and then she payed off on her course again. By this time the captain had reached the deck, and oh! how he jawed me for lowering those top-gallant sails. I immediately ordered them hoisted again, and inside of ten minutes she had the best of the helmsmen and came to several points before she answered her wheel. An old comber of a sea now struck her on the quarter, and tons of water flooded the decks, burst through the after companion-way doors, and the water rushed into our main saloon, filling it two feet deep. Then the passengers commenced to yell, “We are sinking.” They were soon pacified, however, and returned to their berths. In the meantime Captain White had ordered the top-gallant sails down and the ship was riding easier. I had felt pretty badly over the blowing up the captain had given me, but he now stretched out his hand to me and said, “Accept my apology, Mr. Taylor; you were all right, and the drinks are on me.”
Well, Captain White made his last voyage in the old Blue Jacket in the early seventies from Melbourne, Australia, with a valuable cargo and many passengers and a large shipment of gold. Neither the captain nor the ship has ever been heard of since. Some think the crew mutinied, scuttling the ship, killing the passengers and escaping with the gold, who knows? But I never forgot his mania for carrying all sail, no matter how windy, and believe that she was wrecked in mid-ocean after she had become dismantled in some heavy gale, and then went down with all hands. A fitting end for an old sea-dog, but hard for the passengers and crew.
I now had a good opportunity to roam about the great city of London and visit the places of interest. The Crystal Palace was at that time one of the chief centers of attraction, and thousands were visiting the place.
London is and always has been one of the world’s greatest centers, and for commerce, crimes, customs and culture has no equal. Other cities that I have visited have had many attractions, but great, dark, gloomy London, with its ever-flowing tide of humanity, always interested me more than any.
I now took passage for America on a small Allan Line steamer for Montreal and came to Boston by rail, putting up at the old Bromfield House, at that time a great place for sea-faring men. Presenting myself at 15 Kilby Street the next morning, where my owners had their offices, I was paid off and ordered home to await further orders.
As I had been out to New Zealand for several years, you may be sure that I was glad enough to be able to get back to the old homestead once again.
Thus ended my little experience on one of the greatest American built sailing ships that was ever launched, and whose sailing records have never been beaten.
THE AMERICAN BARQUE OTAGO.
The barque Otago was one of the finest crafts that ever rested a keel on the water. She was of clipper build, had a carrying capacity of about 1500 tons, was an able sea boat, and with a breeze of wind that was suitable to her taste would reel off 15 knots easy.
On my first voyage as captain of this barque we sailed from Boston bound for the East Coast of Africa, via Cape Town, Port Elizabeth, Port Natal and other small ports. We had a general cargo with ploughs, hoes, shovels, rakes and other articles too numerous to mention, which were intended for the Dutch farmers or native Boers.