Soon after Ballard left the Natal to join the Basuto we met her in Natal harbour, and I arranged to change into that ship for the run to Cape Town, and the transfer to a home ship. Here for the first time I met a notable character in the person of Harry Owen, who was chief of that ship, and one of those who had been put over the heads of many. He was in those days one of the cheeriest of companions one could well find, and also a reckless dare devil. We first foregathered over the matter of firing a royal salute on the Queen’s birthday. We had two big guns in the Natal, the Basuto had three little ones, but as the ships were alongside each other the combined salute was done in a fairly respectable manner. I can’t say more than that, but no one was killed or hurt, and after all that counts for a little. Here also I first met Bishop Colenso, who would come on board our ships in the Bluff Channel and simply delight us with his charming companionship; he was shipmate with me afterwards and was fond of sailors, but it always seemed strange to me to be on even conversational terms with the man whose book on algebra had given me as a boy so much trouble to master. I transferred to the Basuto as second officer and thus came under Owen’s orders. He was the worst man at relieving a watch I ever knew. We dined at 6 p.m., and if I had the dinner look-out, he never showed up on the bridge before 7.30 p.m., for the chief was always relieved for dinner. This was rather a tax on the second, who had to turn out at midnight, but it came to an end in a few days, and I turned over to the European for the passage home, acting as third officer. About this period the Roman had had an accident and returned to Cape Town for repairs. She had had a difference of opinion with some rocks off Dassen Island, and the European was instructed to make the best passage home with the news, for there was no cable in those days. She was for her time a fast ship, steaming a good twelve, which was exceptional for us, and every one was delighted; she was comfortable and there was a nice crowd of passengers on board. Our skipper was named Jeffries, a curious compound, who did not make friends easily, but where he did, stuck to them. I should like to tell many stories about him, but refrain. His great hobby was whist, and he played a fair game, but his main fault was that he had little tact in dealing with awkward people, and this on one occasion, coupled with his having also a tactless chief officer, led to a lot of reckless young passengers throwing overboard a great portion of his cabin furniture, including various embroidered covers by which he set great store. I personally got on well with him, and I adopted when my time came many hints that he gave me as to various duties that the officer of the watch should perform.
We made a good passage home. I was favourably received, and after a spell of sick leave, which I had asked for to enable me to leave the coast, I was sent down to Dundee to join the American, the newest ship then fitting out. My application for sick leave was not humbug, however; I had had a touch of the sun one afternoon riding from the point to Durban, and the particular way the ailment should be treated caused a marked difference of opinion between two celebrated London physicians.
There was a very delightful old Scotchman who kept an hotel where we stayed in Dundee. His family were as hospitable as himself; I think the house was called the Globe, but anyhow it was close to the dock where the American was fitting out. One remark of his impressed itself upon my memory: “Ye ken we have a’ things in season in the good toon o’ Dundee,” and it seemed as if a good time was specially in season at that period. The builders of the ship, Stevens & Co. and some of their connections named Crowdace, were particularly attentive and civil to us all, but I entirely fail to remember who was chief officer of that ship. Baynton was in command and Mrs. Baynton was also with him. She came round to Southampton in the ship, and it was a fortunate day for me when she did so, for it enabled me to make a friendship that, apart from the pleasure it gave me, was of infinite value as far as my future prospects were concerned. To any young man I would say that if you come in touch with the ladies connected with your seniors or superiors, use your best efforts to interest and be agreeable to them, for apart from the advantage you derive from association with women possessing presumably “the knowledge of life,” you never know where it may not possibly be in their power to put in a word in the home circle that may be of benefit to you in your professional career. Some men may sneer at this advice, but my experience is that it is good. At all events Mrs. Baynton was a good friend to me.
When we got to Southampton there were many changes going on in the officering of the ships, and in the midst of it stood out the fact that there was a captain and a chief officer short who would have to come from somewhere. The manager of the Company in Southampton at that time was Mr. G. Y. Mercer; he had been with it from its creation, and possessed great power. He was a far greater man even than the marine superintendent. Now Mrs. Mercer and Mrs. Baynton were great friends, and it may be mentioned that the latter lived in a very charming house at Shirley, called Trafalgar Lodge; it was an ideal place for the people living in it. I was invited to dine there one evening, and doing so met Mr. and Mrs. Mercer. It was fairly evident to me afterwards why I had been invited, for after the ladies had left the table and the men were discussing things generally Mr. Mercer made the casual remark that “Nothing was certain in this world, not even that Crutchley would go out as second of the American.” Very shortly after this I was appointed to the Syria as chief, and my skipper was Garrett, late of the Roman, his first voyage in command. This opened up to me a new vista of boundless possibilities, for the ship was one of our best. Both the skipper and myself were new brooms and most anxious to sweep clean. Our second was named Merritt, a nice fellow who came from Cape Town. Garrett liked him very much, and when a year or so afterwards Merritt died as the result of an accident, was inconsolable for months.
U.S.S “SYRIA”
(From a painting by Willie Fleming of Cape Town)
The passage out was uneventful, but when we got to Algoa Bay we had some time to spend there. The ship was in beautiful order, even to the satisfaction of the skipper, who took a delight in trying to find out something amiss out of sheer mischief and for the love of tormenting me. Not that I minded in the least—it was good training—but for some reason or other it came to the front that there were one or two anchors and chains on the bottom in the vicinity of where we were anchored, and Garrett told me to find them and pick them up. I started to sweep and soon got fast to something heavy, and the work of recovery began. I picked up an anchor and chain, claimed as belonging to one of the Castle line, another anchor and chain, and also heavy moorings laid down for the company’s ships some years before. On the last day I was engaged in this operation, Garrett took Merritt on shore to the races, leaving me with a pious adjuration to be sure not to kill any one. It’s rather a mercy we had no accident, for we were dealing with heavy weights with makeshift gear. However, it was done, though when we got home the skipper was asked his reason for picking up the company’s moorings. There is no doubt, however, that it was a good piece of work, for it cleared a large space of the best anchoring ground; they were moorings that would have held a liner of today, but the place was not suitable for them.
On the passage home we called at St. Helena, and as there was some spare room in the afterhold, we took in a great number of casks of whale oil for Southampton. They were old and leaky and made an awful mess of my beautifully clean teak deck before we could stow them in the after lower hold. I had grave misgivings about them from the first, but had to do as I was told. When we got off Ushant there was a heavy beam sea and the ship rolled badly, with the result that they all collapsed and not a single cask was landed. It took days to clean the hold, and there had to be an extension of protest and all sorts of trouble to get clear of the liability for loss, and to put it on the shoulders of the insurance people.
When we arrived at Southampton, Garrett was relieved of his command and so far as I remember was appointed to a new coasting steamer. With him he took Merritt, who was succeeded by Dacre Bremer, an old Wigram’s man and a very nice fellow. The new captain was H. E. Draper, and even now after a lapse of years I find a difficulty in rightly defining his character. I was with him a long time in various ships, and found him kind and considerate; he had, however, a caustic wit that was very telling, and which was perhaps nourished at the expense of other more important qualities. I fail to remember anything of particular note that occurred either on the outward passage or on the coast, but homeward bound in the S.E. trades one beautiful Sunday afternoon I, with many others, was having a delightful sleep. I woke up feeling an awful vibration with the impression that the end of the world was upon us. As I tumbled out on deck the masts seemed to be bending together, and the first thing I remember was seeing the chief engineer making for the engine-room and driving before him some firemen who were trying to escape. The vibration soon ceased, and then we were informed that the main shaft had broken well aft in the tunnel, that it had very nearly gone through the side of the ship, that what remained was bent in the stern tube, and that we must stop the ship’s way until it was so secured that the propeller would not revolve. Now we were too far north to fetch St. Helena under canvas, for although the ship was brig-rigged and sailed fairly well, it was no use trying conclusions on a wind with the S.E. trade, so when the shaft was secured we set course for Ascension, and in due course made the island dead to leeward. The trouble was to get the ship before the wind, but it was done by a little scheming, and we rounded the east side of the island and luffed up for the anchorage in quite the approved sailing-ship fashion. The skipper, however, would not risk going into the proper anchorage, so we put the anchor down some distance out, and warped further in next day, in charge, much to my disgust, of a Naval lieutenant whose interference was to my mind quite unnecessary. Beggars, however, could not afford to be choosers. After a considerable amount of consultation it was decided that we should endeavour to trim the ship by the head so that we could unship the propeller, and that we should try and do this before the arrival of the American, which was expected in about a month, in the hope that she would give us a tow home. We had a fair number of passengers on board, but fortunately they could spend lots of their time on shore, where they were very welcome. Many of them, in fact nearly all, were ultimately transhipped to the Northam, which came in before the American, but it was no use looking to her for a tow; it took her all her time to get about herself. She did, however, bring Captain East, R.N., the new captain of the island, who, had he come earlier, would, I fancy, have advised other steps than those we had taken. It was then too late, however, for we had failed to trim the ship sufficiently by the head to get at the propeller, and had had to content ourselves with securing it with a length of stream chain, replacing all the cargo we had shifted and leaving the ship on an even keel. Thinking it all over, it seems rather a mercy that she did not capsize with us, for we took a good many liberties with her.