Sailing day came, still blowing hard from S.E., and I had to back the ship out stern first. I did not look forward with any degree of confidence to the job, but kept a face of brass to all and sundry. Warleigh, who was there in dock, came and chatted just before I started, and pointed out with perfect accuracy just exactly how the ship would behave under stern way. It was very good of him and I told him so. We got out with no accident; in fact, I was satisfied, and I have frequently noticed that if I have that feeling, most people concerned share it with me.
An hour after the time fixed for our departure the Warwick Castle, Mr. Currie’s newest and fastest ship, was to leave. She was commanded by Captain Webster, who I was told had promised to make an exhibition of my ship. As soon as I was clear of the breakwater I got the canvas on and I rather fancy my chief engineer had got the needle too, for although we saw the Warwick come out of the Bay, gain on us she could not, and we saw her astern for a day or more, when we lost sight of her. The reason, of course, was that we had a spanking trade wind, and our canvas helped us. We carried a fair wind to Cape Verde and then I knew that our advantage was over. When we arrived at Madeira, the other ship had left some hours, but we were told that Captain Webster had spent some time in the stokehole of the Warwick, and was furious at his inability to pass us.
As showing the relative merits of Southampton and London as ports for southern-going steamers, let me mention that my ship was docked and discharging, and I had been to London and seen my directors before the Warwick Castle had passed Gravesend. There was nothing of special note that happened between Madeira and Plymouth, but I left the latter port at five on a December afternoon with a fog coming on. I kept her going, and was justified in doing so by the fact that I hit nothing. At last, getting into I think it was nine fathoms of water, I turned her round due west and saw the Needles light red on my starboard beam. I need say no more than that Providence perhaps showed partiality even to the end on my first voyage.
I should say that when I met my directors Mr. Mercer was kind enough to say that I had made a remarkable passage to Madeira.
CHAPTER VIII
“’Tis a pity ... that truth, Brother Toby, should shut herself up in such impregnable fastnesses.”—Sterne.
It was a very comfortable feeling, to find myself one of the circle that I had looked up to and envied so long, but it did not appear to me that I was in any way a different person to that which I had ever been. I mean that I experienced none of that feeling of proud omnipotence which I had always imagined to be part and parcel of a master. Perhaps this was partly due to the fact that my old crony Harry Owen was in port, preparatory to sailing for Natal in command of a tug built for the Company’s service. Certainly no one could be serious for long in his company.
The Union, as she was called, was a peculiar craft, for she had a propeller at each end, with a shaft extending from one end to the other, the object being to prevent racing on the short seas of Natal bar by always having one propeller in the water. Bernard Copp, now Captain Copp of Southampton, and one of the last of the old crowd, was chief officer, and I think that the events of that passage might have been chronicled with advantage as they were related to me, in language of extreme raciness. I passed her off Agullas on the next voyage, and she arrived at Natal in safety after many vicissitudes.