While the riggers and carpenters were working on the ship, several charters were offered me: grain and flour in sacks to go to Montevideo and Argentine Republic, and another to go to Queenstown, Ireland, for orders. One morning the king charterer of all the grain ships, a Mr. Friedlander, a German, weighing over three hundred pounds and over six feet in height, sent for me. This man was well versed in his business, sharp, tricky, and as crafty as an Arabian trader. His character was well known, however, and I had been told about him in Cape Town by old Commodore Allen, the port captain.
At this time the Littleton was the only ship in Frisco ready to sail, and there was an urgent demand for flour in Montevideo. Old Friedlander fully intended that a cargo should be sent there at once, but hoped to profit by chartering a ship to Ireland or other European ports. All this was known to me, and as my owners had given me “carte blanche” I was ready to talk business with him and prepared to beat him at his own game. I met Friedlander at his office, and we talked and argued for half a day, but without agreeing on any terms. At last he said, “Well, there are plenty of ships due here, but if you will agree to close charter party today the captain will receive fifty pounds sterling as a gift.” We did not close any bargain, however, and I went aboard the ship. An hour after he came down aboard saying he had a telegram to close the charter at once if possible. I told him that my terms were four pounds a ton to any South American ports east of Cape Horn or ports down to the equator, preferring, however, to take European ports at five shillings extra rather than South American ports. The old champion was wild, had never heard of such prices; said he would split the difference and call it three pounds fifteen shillings a ton. I said, “Mr. Friedlander, yesterday you were sure you wanted to sign charter for Europe, and I am willing to sign to that effect, but to any South American ports it is four pounds or nothing. Also, I shall demand thirty running lay-days for discharging cargo, the lay-days to commence twenty-four hours after reporting to consignee, and will give you until tomorrow to accept, as I have several offers to consider.” At last he accepted the terms, and I agreed to have the ship ready in a week. The next day all the waterfront had the news that Friedlander had been beaten at his own game by the boy captain of the ship Littleton.
We proceeded to load at once with a cargo of flour in bags. It was a busy time; stevedores, riggers and carpenters all were working at once, and the ship was a regular beehive. My old friend, Commodore Allen, who had come to California in the early fifties, was in the business of a stevedore, and had been most successful and was now handling three-fourths of all the ships that entered Frisco. He was very popular with all the ship masters and entertained them in a royal manner. His carriages and horses were at all times at our disposal, and you may be sure the favor was appreciated.
The drive to the Cliff House was a popular drive at that time, even as it is today, and thousands of people would flock to the Golden Gate on a pleasant afternoon. The house stood on the western promontory of a very big cliff, at the southern entrance of the Golden Gate. There was a beautiful view of the bay and ocean from the verandahs, and one could see sea lions and seals sporting around the rocks. A band was playing on the piazzas, and everywhere men and women were enjoying themselves lunching, drinking, card playing and dancing. It was said that the old proprietor made his thousands. This famous hotel was later destroyed by fire, built up again on a grander scale, and then destroyed again by fire, and when I visited California again in 1908, the ruins still remained, although there were many places of amusement nearby. At the present time, instead of going to this place by carriage, as we did in ’69, one can take the electrics right to the Golden Gate, through a country beautifully laid out with streets and beautiful flowers.
The ship had finished loading, and with all fitted aloft we took a tug down to the outer bar, as wind was light from the S. W. Many of my friends, old sea captains, came to see me off. Captain Lunt of the ship Sacramento, Captain House of the Agbar, Captain Knowles of the ship Puritan, and Captain John Taylor of the ship Imperial, besides Captain Purdington of the Westward Ho. After crossing the bar, the tug came alongside and they all left, bidding us a hearty good-by and a prosperous voyage.
We made sail and stood off on shore on the wind with the port tacks aboard. Pleasant weather followed until we reached the latitude of Cape Horn, about 800 miles to the westward, when thick weather set in and strong winds, increasing to violent gales from W. S. W. to W. N. W. We ran under bare poles for forty-eight hours, no sun, and with terrific seas. At four p.m. on the forty-second day out from Frisco the ship was laboring heavily and the seas were running so high that they broke completely over her stern and filled the decks completely. The only choice was to risk bringing her to on the run, or to founder; all the sail we had on at the time was foresail and lower main topsail. We watched our chance for a smooth time and took in all sail and hove the wheel hard down, and then with the head spanker eased. She came to flying, but unfortunately, when abeam to the sea, an old roller came and we all jumped for the rigging. It struck us full force, filled her fore and aft, and she careened over on starboard side and fairly trembled, her lower starboard yard arms in the water, starboard bulwarks washed away and everything moveable about decks gone.
We finally got her head to the wind on the port tack, yet she lay very badly and shipped much water until we placed a piece of No. 1 canvas in the mizzen rigging. Then she lay easier, but the sea still ran so high that it was like being on a ledge. Our cabin was flooded, trunks and everything moveable was awash and a sorry sight things were. This, I believe, was the only time in my career at sea that I felt the end was nigh. By dead reckoning the great rocky promontory of Cape Horn was not more than 75 miles away, and the heavy gale was blowing us right on to it. There was no indication that the barometer would rise; the night was as black as ink, and things looked very dubious.
About eight bells, at midnight, the gale abated nearly one-half, and, being exhausted from long hours on duty, I went below for a sleep. It seemed scarcely ten minutes when Chief Officer Wessel woke me and said, “Captain Taylor, we are very near land; come right up on deck.” It was only too true; the ship was ahead of my reckoning, and the big, dark rocks loomed up dead ahead. Like a flash I sang out, “Hoist up the jib and heave your wheel hard up.” The ship answered like a charm, and there on our port quarter rose the high rocky cliffs 1000 feet high, with the breakers dashing up against the sides, and not over a quarter of a mile away. All hands made sail and the ship headed south without any but the deck watch realizing the danger we had been in. Now the land tends more easterly, and with clearing weather we were in a safe position. Good luck had certainly been with us, and I shook the hand of Mate Wessel, whose watchfulness had saved us from a watery grave. Those who have rounded Cape Horn can more than others realize our danger and narrow escape.
The next day was fine and clear, with a good breeze from the N. West, and with all sail set we headed east, passing Cape Horn inside the islands called the “Diego Ramirez.” After running an easterly course for a while, we shaped our course for Cape San Antonio, at the mouth of the River Plate.
We arrived safely at Montevideo, anchored as near the city as we could, and reported to my consignee, a Mr. Costello, that I was ready to discharge cargo on the following morning and that my “lay days” would commence from that date. He said, in the old Spanish way, “Manana, Capitano, Manana,” meaning tomorrow. Now, two barques had arrived just before we did from New York, loaded with flour, so they had plenty and wanted to use our ship as a storehouse until they had disposed of the other cargoes. So our “lay days” expired and they had taken no cargo out of our ship.