I had previously made a passage in the African, so that my first command was in no way a stranger to me. She was a pretty little ship of rather more than 2000 tons gross, with a fine long poop and comfortable accommodation for passengers. Her speed under steam alone was something over ten knots, but with the help of canvas and a strong fair wind she could touch 300 miles a day. That was not often, however. My cabin was in the poop right forward on the starboard side, and it had the disadvantage that, except in very fine weather, one could not sit there with the saloon door open. But to overcome this there were times when I had a canvas screen nailed up to overcome the trouble, for it was not necessary to stay on the bridge always. The worst thing about the ship was the compass. The standard was a large spirit compass that was always giving trouble, and the steering compass on the bridge was close to a mass of iron tanks, stanchions and disturbing matter generally, so that it was almost impossible to compensate for local disturbance. In every other way the ship was perfectly found, but this little matter of a proper compass, on which so much depended, was one that was driven to the background and slighted by every one. It was no part of my business either as a junior to find fault. I had to take that which had satisfied my predecessors, and as it happened she had been commanded by Captain Dixon before he was made superintendent, as well as Captain Baynton, the commodore. My policy was to lie low and get what I could as time went on. There was a story told of a certain captain, a very tall man, who mentioned to the deputy superintendent that his berth was not long enough for him to sleep in. This, it is said, was reported to Mr. Mercer, who replied in his usually dry manner, “If the man cannot fit into the berth, we must find one that can; fortunately the world is wide and the field is large.” The last half of the answer was often hinted at if inconvenient requests were made.
There were a very nice set of officers in the ship; but the chief was a senior man, and it is a little awkward to come the skipper over one of your colleagues. He was a Cape man named Chiappini, and was afterwards killed by an accidental fall when serving in the Arab. The third was a youngster named East, the son of Quartermain East of Tichborne claimant fame. First and last he sailed with me for many years, and there was a great friendship between us. The second, Walter Foster, was also a nice fellow, but very delicate, though plucky to the backbone. The engineers also were a good set. The chief, Ernest Gearing, is now I believe one of the leading lights in the engineering world, and it was easy to discover even then that his acquirements were of no common order. Lastly let me mention Henry Black, the second engineer. There was no great amount of sympathy between us at any time, but he sailed with me as chief engineer during the greater part of my sea career.
I have gone into this detail with a view to showing the sort of men the Company’s ships were manned with. Sailing day came at last; there were not many passengers, but one of our directors came down to see the ship off, bringing with him one of his very charming daughters, who was kind enough to wish me luck and a successful command. I took it as a good omen, and if I do not mention her name, it is in no sense that I have forgotten it, or the graceful kindness shown me on more than one occasion. We arrived at Plymouth in due course, and there I learned to my great satisfaction that my friend Harry Escombe had decided at the last minute to take a passage with me. He arrived on board in due course, and I started on a new experience—that of being my own master. This particular voyage we were on was a novelty also, for the people at Algoa Bay had been complaining they did not get their goods as quickly in proportion as the Cape Town people. We were therefore to call at St. Vincent to pick up the latest cable news and then to go to Algoa Bay direct, passing by Cape Town. We were also to go to Natal.
I rather think that some small smattering of commercial education should be imparted to holders of certificates, and one thing that should certainly be driven into their heads is that to send a letter on business without keeping a copy is little short of crime. I did not learn that lesson for a long time, but I wish now I had copies of the letters in which I gave the various incidents of the voyages to my chiefs at home. Captain Dixon had asked me to write to him fully, which I always did, even going so far as to relate gossip, but the letters to the secretary were necessarily of a more reserved order. For rightly or wrongly a secretary is usually considered by the staff afloat as the enemy of all mankind. It is natural enough, for as a rule the wiggings come through him, and he on his part gradually acquires the idea that he is quite competent to instruct a master upon any subject—that he is in short a vicarious person inheriting the combined wisdom of the board. This pretension is not in every case acknowledged. I regret to state that I rather carried with me the impression that masters had natural enemies, but when I consider the number of years I lived without keeping any journal, or record of events, I am not prepared to argue that they do not indirectly invite trouble. I know that the search necessary to make dates fit in for this narrative has been by no means inconsiderable, and the good offices of Admiral Inglefield of Lloyd’s has helped me to overcome past omissions. He caused a record of my commands to be made, thus helping me materially to put facts in the order in which they occurred.
It would not have been possible to get a finer start than we had on that voyage, with a beautiful fine N.E. wind that took us well down to St. Vincent. I find that we were running close upon 300 miles for several days, and then came the job of taking the ship into port on a fair moonlight night, not by any means a difficult matter when you are used to it, but if you permit it to get upon your imagination, curious results are at times obtained. I had made up my mind from past experiences that show irresolution on the bridge I would not! I had seen so many skippers wandering into an anchorage, and driving every one mad in the course of getting a berth, that I was determined not to lay myself open to such a reproach. I once sailed with a man who if he had the whole anchorage to choose from would go and give a solitary vessel a foul berth, simply because he did not know where he wanted to go. I saw him do it once in Natal Roads. Again, constantly stopping or easing the engines by guesswork ought to be avoided when coming to an anchorage, but I am talking of long ago, and I dare say the men of today know exactly when to ease their engines so as not to lose time.
On this particular occasion I thought I knew where I wanted to go, and was going there in a hurry. I anchored rather sooner than I had meant to do, but it was all right, and Escombe came to congratulate me on the way I had brought the ship in. I had, however, already discovered that there was a much better berth than the one I was in, and had given orders to get the anchor and shift at once, which I did, carefully keeping my reasons to myself for so doing. I may remark that in most places steamers anchor closer inshore than sailing ships. In St. Vincent they reverse this order of things.
We coaled up and left in due course. There were not many saloon passengers, but we were a very cheery party. It was distinctly the commencement of a liberal education to have the intimate acquaintance of a man like Escombe, who in addition to great natural gifts had acquired an omniverous appetite for knowledge. Especially keen was he upon astronomy, and his store of information was always open to draw upon. Even in the intricacies of a seaman’s calling he was well versed, for his practice at the bar had put many strange cases before him to unravel.
There was not much else that called for comment before we reached Algoa Bay. Here Escombe transhipped to a coasting steamer in order to reach Natal sooner than we should, for we had to discharge a portion of our cargo. He did so against my advice, and as he did not save the time he anticipated, forfeited a bet to me of the best pair of binocular glasses to be got at Baker’s of Holborn. They lasted me for my time at sea, and I never saw a better pair. In Algoa Bay the Dunrobin Castle was at anchor. She was commanded by Alec Winchester, who was a splendid seaman and a marvel at handling his ship. My old friend, Barnes, was also chief officer there, for Mr. Currie, as he then was, was always pleased to snap up any good officer who was leaving our service. By this time there was a little better feeling between the two services, and I know that Alec Winchester put me up to many things concerning a ship which few learn save by actual experience, and I am glad to acknowledge the obligation. We went on to Natal, finished our discharge and loading, and in due course arrived at Table Bay on the homeward trip one Sunday afternoon.
As it was getting dusk and there was more than a bit of a south-easter blowing, I should like to pass over this incident, but cannot in fairness to the truth of this story.
The entrance to Cape Town dock in those days bore a resemblance to a donkey’s hind leg, inasmuch, as there was a crook in it. The inside of this crook was formed by the end of a stone wall and a small jetty, and it was arranged that we were to stay in the lock or entrance until we sailed. I started to get in, but as the two insides of the crook were to leeward of me, I found myself hitting the end of the stone pier rather hard while the stern of the ship rested gracefully on the jetty. The African, I thank Providence for it, had a clipper bow. “Go forward,” said I to the third officer, “and see how much of her is smashed up.” He returned with the information that the ship was intact and uninjured. She had only run up the stone wall a little, and displaced a big stone or two. By this time we had got out hawsers and warped her to windward (where we remained until sailing day), and an hour afterwards were sitting at dinner. I thought many kind things concerning Providence, but even then I fear I did not realise to the full what my obligations were.