Man on the Ocean: A Book about Boats and Ships

by R. M. Ballantyne

In 1813 the Argyle was launched. This vessel was the first European steamer that pushed out into the more dangerous navigation of the open sea-coast. She was purchased by a company in London. On her passage up, she was as nearly as possible wrecked on a lee-shore, but, by her steam-power, was enabled to go straight against the wind, at the rate of three and a half knots an hour, and so escaped.

One of the passengers has left us an interesting account of this interesting voyage, from which we cull one or two paragraphs:

“The weather had now become so stormy and bad that our captain determined to put in to the port of Wexford, his great object being to navigate the vessel safely to London, rather than, by using great despatch, to expose her to unnecessary risk. We put to sea again at two o’clock p.m., on May 30th, and steered for Saint David’s Head, the most westerly point of Wales. During our passage across Saint George’s Channel, one of the blades of the starboard paddle-wheel became out of order; the engine was stopped, and the blade cut away. Some hours afterwards, a similar accident happened to the other wheel, which was remedied in the same manner.

“About two-o’clock in the afternoon, twelve hours after leaving Wexford, we reached the pass of Ramsay. We remained there for three hours, to oil the engine, and to give the stoker, who had not quitted his post an instant since leaving Wexford, a little rest. In a short time several boats were seen coming to our assistance, the idea prevailing here, as at Wexford, that our vessel was on fire. We landed on the island of Ramsay, a most desolate spot, containing only one habitation; we, however, procured some bread, butter, milk, cheese, and ale, with which we returned to the vessel, and commenced steaming through the straits, and across Saint Bride’s Bay.

“The weather had now become unfavourable, and the sea ran alarmingly high in the bay. On the south side of Saint Bride’s Bay, between Skomar Island and the mainland, is a nasty passage called Jack Sound. Our pilot warned us of the danger of attempting this passage, excepting at high-water and with a favourable wind, as there were several formidable whirlpools, which would seize the vessel and carry her on the rocks. Captain Dodd, however, who knew the power of his engine, insisted on going through the sound, in order to save five hours and another night at sea. The pilot repeated his remonstrances, at the same time trembling for fear; but we passed through all the whirlpools with the greatest ease. Nothing, however, can be conceived more frightful than the aspect of some of the rocks, and especially of those called the Bishop and his Clerks. Had we been in a sailing vessel, our position would have been most perilous; but our steam was all-powerful, and brought us safely to Milford Haven.

“We put to sea again late on the evening of the 31st, and on Friday morning we were in the middle of the Bristol Channel, with no land visible; but towards evening we discovered the high coast that terminates England in the west. As the weather, however, again assumed a gloomy aspect, our new pilot judged that it would be imprudent that night to double Land’s End, so we shaped our course towards Saint Ives.

“On approaching the shore, we perceived a crowd of small vessels making towards us with all possible rapidity, by means of oars and sails. Here, as elsewhere, the alarm was taken, on seeing a vessel, judged to be on fire, steering towards the town, and all the disposable craft immediately put to sea. All the rocks commanding Saint Ives were covered with spectators; and when we entered the harbour, the aspect of our vessel appeared to occasion as much surprise amongst the inhabitants as the ships of Captain Cook must have produced on his first appearance amongst the islanders of the South Seas.

“Another night passed, a night of storm and danger, but the little Thames (the vessel had been renamed by the new company who purchased her) behaved nobly, and next day reached Plymouth. Here,” continues the narrative, “the harbour-master, who had never seen a steam-vessel before, was as much struck with astonishment, when he boarded the Thames, as a child is on getting possession of a new plaything. He steered the vessel, and we passed round several ships of war in the sound. The sailors ran in crowds to the sides of their vessels as we passed them, and, mounting the rigging, gave vent to their observations in a most amusing manner.

“We left Plymouth at noon on the following day, and steamed without interruption to Portsmouth, where we arrived on Friday, June 9th, having accomplished one hundred and fifty miles in twenty-three hours. At Portsmouth astonishment and admiration were, if possible, more strongly evinced than elsewhere. Tens of thousands of spectators were assembled to gaze on the Thames; and the number of vessels that crowded around us was so great, that it became necessary to request the admiral to give us a guard to preserve some degree of order.

“We entered the harbour in the most brilliant style, steaming in, with the assistance of wind and tide, at the rate of from twelve to fourteen miles an hour. A court-martial was at the time sitting on board the Gladiator frigate; but the novelty of our steamboat presented an irresistible attraction, and the whole court came off to us, excepting the president, who was obliged by etiquette to retain his seat until the court was regularly adjourned. On Saturday, June 10th, the port-admiral sent his band and a guard of marines at an early hour on board; and soon afterwards he followed, accompanied by three admirals, eighteen post-captains, and a large number of ladies. The morning was spent in steaming amongst the fleet, and running over to the Isle of Wight. From Portsmouth we proceeded to Margate, which we reached on Sunday morning. Here we remained until the following day, when we embarked for our final trip, at half-past eight in the morning; and about six in the evening arrived at Limehouse, where we moored.”