We were still on the direct Algoa Bay, Natal and Zanzibar route, which was out to Natal—then to the Cape—then Zanzibar and home via Cape Town. Calling at Delagoa Bay on the outward trip we took on board H. E. Governor Castilho, who was proceeding to Mozambique. He was a naval officer by profession (Portuguese) and had been well known for some years as Consul in Cape Town. He was a man of very marked ability, and spoke English perfectly. I once asked him how it was he spoke our tongue with such purity. His reply was “You learned to speak from your nurse. I learned my English from the Spectator.” I quite recently had a pleasant reminder of our old friendship, for he sent me his photograph. He is now an admiral, and I have to mention him more than once in these pages. There is always a certain rivalry between seamen, and it was not wanting in this case. Mozambique is a port that in those days was not entered during the hours of darkness, as there were no leading lights to ensure safe navigation. It was dark before we made the light on St. George’s Island, and Castilho observed to me that I should have to anchor outside. The spirit of opposition made me reply that I should go inside. To make a long story short I turned in just a little too soon, and the port lead gave “half four” just north of the Island light. It was coral formation and that meant very close to the bottom. Castilho, who was on the bridge said, “You are on the north side,” but I knew better, ported the helm, went full speed and was into safety once more. But it was touch-and-go. However, by this time I had got confidence on the bridge, and, thank Heaven, it never left me. I left my friend the Governor at Mozambique, for he told me he was going to the Cape en route for home with me on the downward trip.
Need I say that there are times when masters of ships are charged with delicate commissions? The trip under notice was a case in point. The agent of a company, if properly accredited, is supposed to exercise the powers of the owners if need arises, but the master is also the owners’ representative so far as his ship is concerned. The point is a nice one, as to how far it lies in the power of an agent to supersede the master’s authority, but the problem is not perhaps now so difficult when there are so many facilities for cabling information. In my time, however, our masters were not taking more orders from the smaller agencies than they could comfortably manage. Our Zanzibar agent was a man rather awkward to deal with, but he always consulted me before deciding any point concerning any ship. When I left Cape Town I was charged by our chief agent, afterwards Sir T. E. Fuller, K.C.M.G. (as to whose authority there was no doubt), to confer with the Zanzibar agent as to the Company’s accounts, which were apparently in a somewhat backward condition. This was rather a delicate matter, but I did my best and the affair passed off very well as I thought, and I received the assurance that the accounts should be forthcoming without more delay. H.M.S. London was the station ship at Zanzibar for the suppression of the slave traffic, and naturally we were on good terms with the various officers, and on the morning we were to leave I went to the Sultan’s levee with them. The preceding evening we had illuminated the ship with blue lights, as it was Ramadan time, and H.H. Seyyed Burghesh was kind enough to compliment me on the appearance of the African, for from his watch-tower he could see all that went on. The levee was over by 10 a.m. and I went on board in order to sail at noon.
About 12.30 the agent arrived with the ship’s papers, and I casually observed that I was very fond of punctuality, little dreaming of the mine I was setting fire to. Amongst other things he said something about wishing to send some particular sort of ox and a goat to Algoa Bay. I judged that he had intended to do so, and thought no more about it. We left the port and proceeded through the pass all right. But unknown to me, and while I was at the levee, the Sultan had sent on board (as it turned out eventually as a present to me in recognition of our fireworks) an ox and a goat, which I imagined when I saw them were the ox and the goat referred to by the agent to be landed in Algoa Bay. There that matter can rest for the present, but there is more to follow. At Mozambique we picked up both the old and the new Governors of Delagoa Bay and a Major Da Andrade who was to be landed at Quillimane. I think he has since played an important part in Portuguese East Africa. When we got to Quillimane there was no sign of craft coming out, so, after long waiting, we put the passengers, mails and specie on board an Arab schooner anchored outside, and left for Delagoa Bay. It may appear in these days a loose way of doing business, but there was then no help for it.
About this time Delagoa Bay was in a very poor state politically. There was government by an autocracy, not always a wise one at that, and the management of the natives was a source of considerable profit to the so-called emigration agents. In fact, affairs were in bad confusion and I scarcely think Castilho was sorry to turn his back on the scene of his late governorship, for events had been a little too hard to manage.
We got down to the shoals as it was getting dusk and a heavy sea was breaking on many of the shoal patches. There were no marks or lights, so I put her at one of the dark patches of water and she came through all right, in fact it was about as safe a plan as could have been adopted. But I will admit it was rough-and-ready navigation, adapted to the needs of the time and also the circumstances of the case. We got to Cape Town in due course on the way home. There, to my satisfaction, I met my friend, Herbert Rhodes, and got up a little luncheon party on board to celebrate the occasion. I thought I had picked my party well, for I had Castilho and Rhodes, who sat opposite one another and next to me. There was F. St. Leger, “the Saint,” as the dear old editor of the Cape Times was commonly called, Peter van Breda, and others whose names do not now occur to me. I was greatly surprised to find that Castilho did not talk willingly to Rhodes, and that the latter had some reason for mirth which he did not impart to me at the time. When we left the table Castilho observed to me, “If I could have have laid hold of your friend in Delagoa Bay, he would have gone to jail for a long time.” I was a bit astonished, but the party then broke up. Here was the reason of it all. For some years past there had been a lot of young Englishmen coming to South Africa in search of adventure, and there was very little that was too hot or too heavy for some of them to tackle in one way or the other. Some were soldiers, I remember Major Goodall and Captain Elton in the early ’seventies; then there were young men such as Dawnay, Reggie Fairlie, Campbell, and others like Rhodes. They might be hunting, or transport riding, or exploring, but one was fairly confident that no piece of mischief was passed that could by any means be negotiated. Now, some little way up the river that runs into Delagoa Bay there lived a dusky potentate whose soul thirsted for the possession of some piece of artillery, be it ever so small, and as proof of his earnestness offered in return a tumbler full of diamonds. I never heard that they were to be of any fixed value, but they ought to have been, for the Portuguese strictly forbade the importation of artillery of any sort or kind, and it would go hard with any one engaged in smuggling. I am not certain who Rhodes’s companions were, but some of those I have mentioned were surely in the job. They chartered a little schooner at Natal, named the Pelham, then got a six-pounder old brass gun, which they smuggled on shore at Delagoa Bay one night and buried in the mangrove bushes above the town. They got their diamonds and, then, instead of getting on board their craft as sensible, or older, men would have done, they proceeded to paint Lourenço Marques red, in the brightest coloured paint procurable. There was a certain lady there with very sharp ears who, forming a conclusion, gave the game away to the authorities, and the young adventurers owed their freedom to the fact that there did not happen to be a Portuguese gunboat in Delagoa Bay, as there usually was. Doubtless, however, that absence had been taken into consideration. This was the last occasion but one on which I saw my friend Rhodes. The last was when he came off to my ship at Quillimane, a short time after this, to bring some ivory tusks for home, to get some Eno’s fruit salt, and if possible a toothbrush, and chiefly to see me. It seems that he had got some great shooting concession from a chief up country and was going the next day to take possession of it. We had a long yarn about mutual friends, and that was the last of him, for some accident happened at the camp fire the next day, and he was so burned that death in agony was the end of a man who in my mind always stands as an embodiment of Charles Ravenshoe.
About this time I had as passenger the late Arthur Sketchly, of “Mrs. Brown” fame, going out to write that lady’s adventures in South Africa. He was a man of great bulk and moved slowly. One night at dinner, some boys were very happy and jolly. He turned to me, saying, “Young men! Young men! they can run, jump, laugh, eat, make love, do anything. Ugh, I hate ’em!”
On my next passage from home we got a very severe dusting just south of the Bay of Biscay. I find by my notes that we lost a lifeboat, got the bridge rails smashed, man washed from the wheel, and various other damages; but these things will happen at times. We got to Algoa Bay on December 25, 1879, and there the fun began concerning the ox and goat being landed in an unauthorised manner, and I was liable for all sorts of fines. Further, I was told that the Zanzibar agent had written about a “buffalo and a calf,” and these were not as described. Given these circumstances there can be lots of correspondence and, as in this case, serious results. About this time I was in severe domestic trouble, such as shakes a man to his foundations, but fortunately, perhaps, if you happen to be a cogwheel of a machine you are kept grinding and so have less time to brood over the workings of fate. I was thankful for the companionship of two of my passengers, one Herbert De La Rue, and the other Fred Struben, both of whom are now well-known men. We got to Zanzibar, and there it was reported to me that the agent had been spreading reports concerning my sobriety when I left the port on the previous voyage. I did not concern myself about this until the agent made the statement to my chief officer. It was all over the “ox and goat,” for the statement was that I was told in good plain English by the agent that they were a present to me from the Sultan, but I was not in a fit state to comprehend what was said. Now on the morning in question I had been, as I have said, to the Sultan’s levee and had not touched intoxicants at the time of leaving port. The inference that coffee and sherbet had influenced me was of course unbearable. However, as the statement was persisted in there was no alternative but to take the matter before the Consul. There were numbers of independent witnesses from the shore to testify on my behalf, and the agent was fined and mulcted in costs. They had a fine expeditious way of doing business in that court, for a defendant is ordered to appear “forthwith.” To close the incident, there was some talk in the harbour about the “cheek” of a master putting an agent in the court, but I knew that unless I took immediate steps the lie might have lasted my lifetime. The next time I faced my board and the business came up, the chairman, Sir Benjamin Phillips, said to me, “We think that you acted quite rightly, sir,” and that was all that I required. I should like also to put on record my sense of appreciation of the kindness of Sir John and Lady Kirk, Sir John being at that time Political Agent at Zanzibar. The remainder of this voyage, so far as I was concerned, was uneventful, save that I found it quite necessary to really practise star navigation. I had then with me, as chief officer, Franz K. Thimm, an old Worcester boy, and he seconded my efforts by all the means in his power. Between us we came to the conclusion that we could be, if necessary, independent of daylight observations, and that state of things was useful on a coast where currents often run both strongly and in uncertain directions. But, apart from its usefulness during the whole of my sea career, I never lost a sense of wonderment that man could compile such a book as the Nautical Almanac. To step on deck, take three or four all-round shots at stars, and then go in and place the ship to a nicety, gives one cause for reflection and thankfulness for the work of the great discoverers who have so benefited those who came after them.
When we arrived home there were some changes made. Wait, who I have explained was my senior in command by a few days, was in port in the American, and there was then building on the Clyde the Trojan, to which it was necessary to appoint a master, to finally supervise her fitting out, and bring her round to Southampton.
One day Wait was ordered to go north—and I to the American, then Wait was ordered back to his old ship and I to the Trojan. This was rather a fortunate thing for me, as on the passage out, when on the line, the American broke her screw shaft and sank. Fortunately all hands were saved, to the infinite credit of her captain and officers. Captain Hepworth, R.N.R., C.B., of the meteorological office, was then chief officer, and my old friend Jones of the Basuto was the second. I came to hear of the accident in the following manner. I was in my lodgings one afternoon when the office messenger, Fancourt, came in with a face of great importance, “Captain Dixon’s compliments, and he would like to see you at once.” Those who have known Fancourt will realise the manner in which the message was delivered, for I really believe he thought he ran the Company, in the same manner that the limelight man dominates the stage. I went to the office of my chief, who paid me a great compliment or else was pulling my leg. The table was covered with charts, and he said, “The American has sunk in lat. —— long. ——. All hands saved in the boats. I want you to tell me where we should look to find these boats, for I conclude you know more about it than any of us.” As it happened I was wrong in my estimate, for the boats were picked up by ships, but the currents, both the Guinea and Equatorial, might have played a part in their destination. Some of the passengers had a second shipwreck in the vessel that picked them up and there were fatalities. I cannot quite remember how the news first reached home, but several details stood out rather prominently. One was that the theatre on the poop, where theatricals had taken place the preceding evening, was conspicuous as she sank, and also that the second officer had been seen getting the butcher’s water-tank into his lifeboat. That was typical of Jones, essentially a practical seaman. I asked him afterwards to tell me about it, and whether he had any trouble at all. “When I got down in the boat,” he said, “to get things in order I chucked out several bundles of things that were no use and took up room, one of which belonged to the cook, who resented my action. I just told him that if he said more I would see that he followed his bundle, and there was no more trouble.” It has always been a matter of congratulation to me that I escaped being in that business. Captain Wait was very justly highly complimented for his action, and his officers, too, received their meed of recognition.
I duly went north to take over the Trojan. She was a ship of something under four thousand tons, but that was big for us in these days. Taken all round she was one of the nicest little ships I ever had to do with, and curiously enough she was the second ship that carried an electric light. I fancy the City of Berlin was the first, but the Trojan was the second. It was merely an arc lamp in the saloon, and Captain Dixon referred to it as “one of the chairman’s fads.” A special cabin also was being fitted up to bring home the Empress Eugenie from the Cape. She had travelled out in the German. I found the two brothers Thompson, who built the ship, very agreeable, and they did their best to make my stay pleasant. Leaving Clydebank on the top of high water we actually bridged the Clyde, by accident it was true, but we might easily have been in a very awkward fix. We went into the Gareloch to adjust our compasses, and there I first had the pleasure of meeting Sir William Thompson, afterwards Lord Kelvin. Seamen should be eternally grateful to him, for in addition to a perfect compass, he gave us also a sounding machine which, if fairly used, is simply invaluable. I once asked him, some years after this, for I am pleased to say that I retained his friendship, why he could not give us a reliable log that would register the ship’s speed accurately. He replied that there would be no difficulty in doing that, but as it would engender a false confidence he thought it better left alone, for surface currents that could not be accounted for would falsify the correctness of any log. We did not run our official trials in the north, but at Stokes Bay. On the way round Captain Dixon was with us, and I learned that I was to take the ship out. This, I thought at the time, was a little too good to be true, for I knew some senior would come along and hustle me out of her, and after we had our speed trial in Stokes Bay, sure enough Travers had managed to so work it that he came home in the Asiatic and the exchange was duly effected. My connection with the Trojan was not a long one, but for many reasons it was eminently pleasant. For instance, it had given me an opportunity to meet, unofficially as it were, most of my directors, and it convinced me that there were times when they could behave as human beings. I should specially like to mention the unvarying courtesy of Mr. Giles, who had succeeded to the chair. He was then member for Southampton, and his dinner-parties at Radleys, to which all our captains in port were invited, were functions much appreciated by those asked to attend.