CHAPTER IV
“Oh, we’re bound for Mother Carey where she feeds her chicks at sea.”—Kipling.
It was one thing to be assured by my friend the collector of Customs that I should never be in want of employment, and quite another part of speech to find a ship. I have a very distinct recollection of the trouble I had to get suited. Without any influence in the shipping world berths were not easy to obtain, and many a long day did I pass prowling round the various docks before success attended my efforts. What the procedure of others was I know not, but mine was to pick out a good-looking ship and then get into conversation with some one on board her to ascertain if she had a second mate. Of course this action would be useless in well-established lines, for they would promote their own men, but an outsider was all I could aspire to, as I was not sufficiently pleased with my late owners to apply to them for help.
One day my eyes lighted upon a very handsome little iron ship lying in the London Docks. I thought her a beauty, and on closer inspection discovered her name to be Lord of the Isles; she was not the celebrated tea clipper of that name, which ten years previously had beaten the Yankee vessels in the race from Foo Chow to London. There was this similarity, however, that she was built at Greenock by Steel, while the earlier ship was built by Scott of the same place. Anyhow she was a little beauty, and, when I went to try my luck, I was fortunate enough to find the captain on board, and to get into conversation with him. I think we took rather a liking to each other, for without much trouble I secured the berth of second mate. The ship was loading for Adelaide, and it transpired that the owner was anxious the ship should make a quick passage, for I well remember Mr. Williamson of the firm of Williamson and Milligan saying to me, “Mind, Mr. Second Mate, we expect the ship to make the passage of the season.” I rather liked that remark, for it seemed to give a share of responsibility to so very humble an individual as myself, and, indeed, as a matter of policy, or humbug, it might be well if people in authority realised more than many of them do, how a junior is “bucked up” by a word of encouragement. I can moralise over this now that the opportunity of putting the precept into practice has passed away, but I cannot remember that I was ever very sympathetic to my subordinates when I had them.
And while dealing with ethics, let me add the note of utility, and suggest to any young man the desirability of keeping some notes of his life’s events. There is no need to go into detail, but for one engaged in such a calling as the sea a chronological note-book will in many cases save an infinity of trouble. Even now as I pen these lines I find the want acutely of some record that would fix dates and aid memory, for it entails an enormity of trouble to get together the necessary data.
My new captain was James Craigie, a Scotchman, I think, from the kingdom of Fife, and there were two apprentices on board from the same town. I remember their Christian names were “Wully” and Peter. Occasionally the old man engaged them in broad Scotch conversation, presumably lest they should forget their native dialect, for they were broad Scotch, and the skipper was proud of the fact. Captain Craigie was a fine seaman and a skilled and scientific navigator. He had no notion of what fear was, and although he suffered from an absurd affliction that eventually killed him he was tireless in doing everything that he conceived to be his duty to his owner. But—and it was a big but—he had little notion of what discipline was, and perhaps the education I got on that ship was useful to me afterwards. It is all very well to be on familiar terms with those you control, but you require to be very careful how you set about it. However, I think we most of us learned things on that voyage.
The mate was a little Welshman named Jones, not a bad sort, but there was a certain natural antipathy between him and that which was the fact. He was a poor hand at keeping order amongst the men, and, all things considered, it was hardly matter for surprise that we had the trouble we did.
At that time there was a good deal of difficulty with the crews of outward-bound ships. The glamour of carrying canvas was very great. There were the traditions of the Marco Polo with Bully Forbes in command; the Black Ball liners such as the Red Jacket and her kindred ships; the Donald McKay, and others where it was the custom to say, “What you can’t carry you must drag,” all of which entailed an immense mastery over the crews. In the vessels I have mentioned there was a lot of hard usage, and the masters and mates were mostly young men who could fight, and occasionally use a belaying-pin with decent effect. But, as with the western ocean men, there were certain able seamen who habitually sailed in fighting ships by choice, and if they by chance got with a peaceable crowd of officers they might or might not behave themselves, as the fancy took them. Our crew contained a fine lot of men physically, and there was no doubt that the old man intended to get the utmost out of his ship, which was a smart craft and a good sailer.
We had rather a dusting during the beat down-Channel. I got her into one mess through hanging on too long to the topgallantsails, but a mild reproof was all that I suffered, and a youngster must often pick up his experience at the expense of some one else. We made very fair progress on the way south, and the skipper stated his intention to go well south and make a passage if possible.
One clear morning we were about due south of the Cape of Good Hope, running under all the canvas we could carry and making about thirteen knots, when we sighted our first iceberg. It was about eight bells, and the whole of the forenoon we made towards it, passing it shortly after noon. In size and shape it reminded me of St. Paul’s cathedral. Modern Antarctic explorers tell us that the size of these southern bergs have been greatly exaggerated, but as we saw this particular berg more than fifty miles off it cannot have been a very small one.