Suddenly I received instruction to join the Danube, and went to Southampton once more, where I found my old skipper Draper in command and the ship taken up for troops. To the best of my belief it was the head-quarters of the 32nd and they were going to Queenstown, South Africa. Trooping is an experience that improves on acquaintance, but one was apt in those days to think that the embarkation officials were unduly fussy. In reality they were nothing of the sort, for to keep troops healthy too great care cannot be exercised. The naval captain who was inspecting told me that as he knew boats were a hobby of mine, he intended to leave that matter to me.
I think the officer in command of the troops, Major Rogers, V.C., was an unmarried man, for he was grimly satirical on embarkation day on the subject of officers looking after their wives’ band-boxes instead of seeing to their men. He and I became on very good terms. In point of fact they were all a most agreeable lot, if I except two junior officers whom I could not get on with at all. The ladies were charming, but it was a little amusing at times to hear them expressing their candid opinions of some of their colleagues. There was also as a passenger going to Natal, Major Mitchell, afterwards Sir Charles Mitchell, K.C.M.G., a very striking personality. I think he had been in the Marines. He made my acquaintance by approving of the manner in which the decks were cleaned in the morning. He used the expression that “they were like a hound’s tooth,” and as that smacked greatly of salt water, we took to one another and formed a friendship that lasted longer than differences of opinions. He had a most wonderful memory. I remember his sitting on the quarterdeck with a crowd of people (mostly ladies) round him, and reciting without a note the “Lay of the last Minstrel,” and doing it in such a manner as to hold his audience spellbound. I often met him, after the voyage was over, in various parts of the world. He showed ever the same courteous cheery personality so valuable to a public man.
There was nothing of exciting interest on the passage; things went smoothly, but the following incident deserves to be told. The officer commanding the troops visited the troops’ quarters every morning at eleven with his officers and me in attendance. There were sentries posted in different parts of the ship, and one was stationed by the principal hatchway. Some point was raised as we were going below, and the O.C. turned to the sentry and said, “Go and find Sergeant So-and-So.” The man, a youngster, flushed very red and said, “I must not leave my post, sir.” The O.C. turned red too and said, “But I tell you to go,” and again received the same reply. By this time the O.C. had got his breath, some one else was sent, and the sentry was told that he had done quite right. I observed to the O.C. when the inspection was over that I fancied that chap would soon get promotion and I found that the O.C. shared my view. It was an interesting case to me, for I wondered in the circumstances whether a sailor sentry would have hesitated to obey an immediate order from his C.O.
One other story of an entirely different nature. Fatigue parties were at times told off to clean paintwork about the decks, and they were usually in the care of an able seaman who put them in the way of doing it properly. One afternoon I was out of sight but within earshot of a party working with a seaman named McRae, a man I could trust to do anything, but an awfully wild scoundrel if he got out of hand. Said one of the young Tommies, “What would you do if you hadn’t got us to clean the ship for you?” Said McRae, “If it was not for the likes of you carrion there’d be no dirt to clean.” I retired to my cabin for a big laugh over that. I think we landed the regiment at East London, using cheese baskets to put the men into the lighters, and in due course we started homewards, but there was an incident in Algoa Bay that I should like to tell the truth about at last. At this time there was a good deal of rivalry between some of the ships, as to which had made the fastest passage, and some brilliant genius conceived the idea of making the image of a brass cock with his wings extended in the act of crowing. This was mounted on the jackstaff of the commodore’s ship the German, but many of us thought that she did not deserve the trophy, for even the old Roman, which was then in port, had made a wonderful run after a smart chief engineer had altered the lead of his slide valves. Be that as it may, it would be good business to score a point off the chief of the German, if we could manage to do so. There was one officer in the Danube who was born for mischief, his name was Samuel Pechell. Afterwards he came into a baronetcy and soon died. But at the time I write of he was third or fourth officer. There were many ships in the Bay, some belonging to the Currie fleet, so that suspicion would be divided as to the perpetrators of the robbery, especially as it was said that some people from the Conway Castle had made a previous attempt at Cape Town. It was a bright moonlight night, shortly after 3 a.m., when Sammy Pechell and McRae having covered our dingy with white sheets, started to paddle ahead of the American, and drop down to her bows hanging on by the cable. Like a monkey McRae was up the cable, and in less time than it takes me to write these lines was down again with the coveted bird. I had grave suspicions that the Melrose, one of the Currie coasters just coming in, had seen the job, but I suppose that a boat under the bow of an opposition ship did not interest them. There was a watch too in the German, for “seven bells” were struck just after the cock disappeared. We had intended to put it up on the Roman, but I vetoed anything further that night. The bird was afterwards packed in a game hamper and set to Wait, the chief officer, in Southampton. Next morning there was a fine hubbub all round the fleet; there may have been suspicions but no certainty, for many thought it had been done by some of the Currie men. In due course I told my skipper, who dwelt on the enormity of stealing the commodore’s bird and told me I ought to be sacked for encouraging such a thing. Dear old Captain Coxwell was the commodore, and his remarks to me the next time we met were picturesque, but never shall I forget distinctly seeing McRae cross himself before he shinned up that cable. All the people in the German were quite mad over the episode, and I am afraid that Pechell had a bad time of it afterwards when he had to sail with McLean Wait, who I fancy had got to the truth of the business.
There is just one remark I would make in passing, and that is on the liability to be caught at misdoing at any time. On the passage home entering the Channel, we were put into double watches of six hours each—and six hours is a long watch in cold weather, as it then was; Pechell was my junior, and was supposed to supervise the forecastle look-out, but really was a good deal on the bridge with me. I had the first watch, which ended at 2 a.m., and about one o’clock I said to Pechell, “Go down to my cabin, have a tot yourself, and bring me up a glass of hot grog, as soon as you can.” He went, and shortly afterwards the skipper came on the bridge and took possession of the weather corner under the screen. I heard my door open and up came Sam. Not seeing the skipper in the dark, he observed audibly, “There you are, sir, I made it stiff!” The reek of whisky on the night air was palpable as I drank it, and Draper made sarcastic comments. I must, however, do him the justice to say that he seldom troubled me, and I am certain would sooner have brought me refreshment himself rather than that I should put foot off the bridge.
When we got to Southampton that time it was on a Sunday, and my only regret was that Captain Dixon was not down to see the ship. She was in such order that she satisfied even me, and Draper, a very particular and natty man, could not offer even a suggestion, for her appearance represented the culmination of all the years I had served as chief in learning how to put and keep a ship in proper order. But I was growing dissatisfied, there were men being placed in command who were new comers compared with me, and as there was an old saying, “that modesty was a sweet thing in a woman but not worth a rap in a man,” I put such remnants as I had in my pocket and laid siege to Captain Dixon. My friend, Mrs. Baynton, had also been having a few simple words on my account with more than one of the directors, one of whom (Mr. Savage) had said to me some little time previously, “that I was all right, but that they thought I hardly carried ballast enough.” To this I retorted that I had a wife and surely that was enough to give one stability. Captain Dixon was most kind. I pointed out that I was fit for command and that I hoped he would help me, to which he replied that he would be pleased to make me Captain Crutchley, but that unfortunately he could not make ships. He would, however, keep me at home, so that I might be on the spot if a vacancy occurred. I do not remember who relieved me, but I left the Danube to make myself generally useful in various companies’ ships in port. At that time there were few men who considered it necessary to pass the Board of Trade examination in steam, but as I could make the time fit in I did so, and if such a certificate is useful to a master on even one occasion it is well worth the trouble of obtaining. It helped me materially on one occasion. There were two engineer examiners, and the experience was a new one for them, but they took no unfair advantage of their superior knowledge, and I had the satisfaction of seeing my certificate endorsed with the words “Passed in Steam.” My practical examination took place in the engine-room of the Asiatic, and curiously enough, two days afterwards I was ordered to act for her captain in taking the ship down the river. At this time there was another chief officer also on shore, A. McLean Wait, who had been chief of the German. I did not dream that other people might be pulling strings that might hamper me, but there was more going on than I was aware of. I should state that although Wait was actually my junior in the Company he had held a good command previous to joining it, and it was generally considered that he was marked for early promotion. He and I were good friends, and I had assisted him at a function in the German when she was a new ship. He was a man of considerable attainments, but somehow there was a something in his manner which did not attract people; he had lots of good friends, however, and nature had been kind to him so far as personal appearance was concerned.
One morning I had taken some specie that had been landed from one of our ships to the Bank of England, and having done so went to report the fact to the Company’s office in Leadenhall Street. When leaving I met Wait going in; I had a chat with him afterwards, going to spend an hour at the Aquarium before returning to Southampton. There were two things with which I was not acquainted. One was that there was a Board Meeting that day, the other that the command of the American was vacant and that Wait had been sent for with a view to giving it to him. He was called before the Board, and there some comment was made as to his having lost a ship; this appeared to go against him, for the word came out to ask for me. I was not to be found, and Wait was appointed, for the ship was shortly to sail. This shows on what trifles things hang, for the few weeks seniority he got by this gave him a series of chances which might well have formed part of my life’s story. It kept him in command when the Company’s fleet was reduced, and afterwards permitted him to become marine superintendent, and subsequently the Company’s agent in New York. We always maintained a cordial if casual correspondence.
There were a number of new ships being built for the Company’s service, and it was now the turn of the Pretoria to make her appearance. Great things were expected of her, and when the African came home George Larmer was taken from her and given command of the new vessel. This made another vacancy, and it was then my turn to be summoned to the directors. Sir Benjamin Phillips was chairman, and the chair on his right hand was always reserved for the master under dissection. On this occasion the experience was a pleasing one, for in his most courtly manner he observed, “Captain Crutchley, if you will always consider that the Company’s honour, so far as the African is concerned, is entrusted to your keeping, you will please and satisfy us: now, will you give us the pleasure of your company to lunch?”
It is strange, but though the remembrance of that day is very dim, I always recollect those words and the grave courtesy with which they were spoken. The directors were naturally men of varying temperaments. There had formerly been a director I never met, whom I will designate as H, whose business it was to rebuke a master whenever such a proceeding in the opinion of the Board became necessary. It was stated that he had a great talent for language, on which point I ought to tell a story. He was a merchant, and had in his business a nephew who was known as Mr. John (afterwards a cordial friend of mine) who, on some provocation, had told one of the clerks that he was a damn fool. The clerk complained to H, who looking him full in the face said, in his broad Scotch accent: “Whether Mr. John was right or wrong to call you a fool, I’ll no tak’ upon mysel’ to determine, but ye are a damn fool—ye are—ye are—ye are.” And the man fled.
When I come to think it over, that Board of Directors was good for a straightforward conservative policy, but as events proved was not well fitted to deal with the more exacting conditions entailed by the competition of modern shipowning. In fact it was not up to date, and it never took to itself the leaven that would enable it to cope with the situation created by the opposition of the Castle Company. It was the greatest of all pities when the flag of the Union Company was merged into that of the Castle Line. It was doubtless a proud day for Sir Donald Currie, but I shall always maintain it as discreditable to those who permitted the transfer, and particularly so to the chief actor in the surrender. The transfer did not take place during my term of service in the Company, but it was galling even to an old employé to see the armour of Achilles appropriated by a hated Trojan.