After about eight months of this coasting work we were ordered home, for we had a defective crank-shaft, concerning which I might point a moral were it desirable to do so, but as we reached Southampton without mishap it is as well to let by-gones be by-gones. My connection with the African was not severed until March 1883, but the preceding twelve months were of considerable interest to me. I was married for the second time at the Cape, and all the ships in port displayed as much bunting as they possessed, Mr. Currie’s ship dressing with the Union flag in the place of honour. My directors also gave me permission to take my wife home in the African; for which favour I hope I was sufficiently grateful, and as we now regularly ran to Hamburg to pick up cargo for the Cape I had to thank Mr. Mercer for more than one similar favour on this continental trip. But the time arrived when I came across a junior in a better ship than I had, and I changed to the Nubian.
She was a much bigger ship than my last one, but there was no great difference in their respective speeds. She had two funnels, however, and the captain’s cabin was situated between them, which did not make for comfort in hot weather. Generally speaking she was a fine, comfortable craft. We were taking out guns and stores to Simon’s Bay in addition to our other cargo, and amongst our passengers was Captain Warton (of cricket fame), and a very charming lady of the theatrical profession about whose flaxen locks I should dearly like to tell a story. But woman-like it may be said, she emerged victorious from a considerable ordeal, so let it pass at that.
I was instructed to make coal consumption trials, and that I did to the best of my ability. The passage out was uneventful, and in due course we left Cape Town at noon for the trip round to Simons Town. A number of people had been given a passage for the trip, which was of about four hours’ duration, and I remember that I took the ship inside the Bellows Rock. There was, of course, no risk in doing so, but it was not usual for big ships. We picked up a nice anchorage in close proximity to H.M.S. Boadicea, the flagship of Admiral Sir Nowell Salmon, V.C., etc., the Commander-in-Chief on the Cape station, from whom, as from his officers, I received the greatest kindness and courtesy. Sir Nowell, however, would not permit any Sunday work, and that delayed us a little, but the stay was quite a pleasant one.
In due time we got to Algoa Bay, where the Mexican, our newest ship (then on her first voyage), lay at anchor. She was commanded by the Commodore of the Fleet, Captain Coxwell, who at that time was laid up unwell on board her. I should say that my fair-haired passenger was still on board, bound for Natal. One evening after dinner it was commencing to freshen from the S.E. and a nasty toss of a sea was on. Coxwell sent me a message asking that I would go over and see him as he had something particular to say. I proceeded to do so, and in response to the wish of the before-mentioned lady, but against my wish, I took her with me. We got to the Mexican all right, the wind freshening all the time, but when it was time to return there was some sea on, and prudence would have dictated remaining for the night. To this, however, my passenger would not listen, and taking me on one side observed, “If I am drowned in the attempt, you must take me back tonight, for I’ve no chalk to do my eyebrows with tomorrow.” Yielding to this force majeure we shoved off, and after a considerable dusting got safely on board my own ship again. I was glad to have seen the Mexican. She was then the last word in fine ships on the Cape route, and it filled me with longing to be master of such a splendid craft.
We made a decent trip home, and on arrival at Southampton found that Captain Coxwell had been invalided and that the command of the Mexican was vacant. Better still, there was no one at home senior to myself, and it was not long before I got a hint that my chances were rosy. Sure enough I got the command, hardly believing in my own good luck. That ship was a beauty. It is true she was only square-rigged on the foremast, but her lower yard was ninety-seven feet long, and that sufficed to give a spread of square canvas of no inconsiderable proportion—in fact, there were four reefs in her topsail. Contrasted with the ships of to-day she might not show to advantage, but she was beautifully fitted, and when it came to handling under steam she was a dream of delight. Although only a single-screw ship, her turning powers were marvellous, and I made use of them to the fullest extent. John Tyson was chief officer. He is now one of the senior captains of the Union-Castle line, and it goes seriously against the grain to write those words, for it seems to me that the Union Company is absorbed by the newcomer and its old identity lost. I never could see the necessity for the amalgamation, and think it was a sad day when the old Company’s flag was merged into that of the Castle line. My lament being absolutely sentimental does not of course carry the least weight in an age when commercialism is of the first importance, but I think that in the long run it will be found that the punishment will fit the crime, for there is no instance of one great company being successful in retaining a mail service which on public grounds should be shared by two. For a chief engineer there was Charles Du Santoy, than whom there were few better men afloat. We had been shipmates in the old Roman, and consequently I was well satisfied with everything. On the day we left Southampton there was quite a gathering of my friends to see the ship off and to wish us luck. Being the crack ship of the line we were of course full of passengers, and a very pleasant crowd they were, but on the way to Madeira the ship rolled to such an extent as to in some measure disgrace herself. There was a cross swell, it was true, but she had been badly stowed, and given too great a metacentric height. It was a quantity of cement which had been put quite low down in ship which caused her to misbehave on that occasion. As showing how ships are affected by their treatment I may mention that on that passage home an old gentleman came up to me, (it was William Acutt of Natal, Uncle William he was commonly called). “This is a funny ship, captain,” he said; “when I let go my cabin door it does not slam,” for she scarcely had any motion.
It was a glorious passage from Madeira outward. The weather was fine, the passengers were contented and happy, and altogether we were sorry when we got to the Cape and each went their separate ways. There had been some discussion on the previous voyage as to whether the ship could lay in the Company’s berth, or whether she was not too big to do so. There was only one way to settle this, and that was to put her in it and try. This I did, and I remember there were some complimentary notices in the Cape papers on the transaction. We went up the coast that time as far as East London, and had the best of luck in getting rid of our cargo. I profited greatly by the study of a little work on South African coast weather by my friend Captain Hepworth, who had obtained a wonderful insight into it. To know what the weather on that coast is likely to be is no small advantage in taking up an anchorage. Further, I began to discover that Harry Escombe was more than right in his remarks, and that to keep pace with the time there could be no resting on your oars, but a constant search for, and acquisition of knowledge. On the road back to Algoa Bay my old coasting knowledge saved me some miles, for time was short to save daylight. She was doing fourteen knots, and I slipped along inside Bird Island with happy results.
H.M.S. Boadicea was there, and we resumed former acquaintance, but when sailing day came Admiral Salmon expressed a wish that we should not leave before midnight, as a ball was to take place and a young lady friend of his wished to see a little of it. He promised to put her on board by midnight, observing that mail steamer captains were only like “so many tame cats,” and as the agent was agreeable we stayed until that hour, when we left for the Cape. In the early hours of the morning, however, we had an accident. The strap of the high-pressure eccentric got hot and seized to the sheave, the result being a breakdown which might have been very considerably worse. This, however, was just one of those cases when my chief engineer was at his best. He hung up the end of the link with a piece of chain, and a screw to adjust its proper length, and in a short time was ready to proceed, but was not prepared under any conditions to turn the engines astern. We got into Table Bay the next evening, but had to creep in very cautiously to get the anchor down. We were visited from the shore, and arrangements were made to repair damages, we remaining in the bay until they were completed. This was dreadful; it meant delay in final loading and coaling, and also meant things being in a mess on sailing day. I went to bed considering the matter. Daybreak brought one of those beautiful fine mornings when it is a pleasure to be alive. I had had all night to think over the problem and had made up my mind as to what was the proper thing to do. I ordered steam to move, and sent for John Tyson, my chief. To him I said, “Get the stern anchor ready for letting go (we had a stern davit) and bend on to it the biggest hawser we have; see that the hawser is taken to the bitts so that it can be veered, and let me know when it is ready.” In due course this was done, and shortening in the bower cable I steamed the ship round on her anchor until she was pointed for the dock entrance, but as she had swung a little too far before I got the anchor, I had to let it go again and repeat the operation, this time with success. As soon as the ship’s nose was inside the entrance I let go the stern anchor, and veering on the hawser and holding on as required we got to our berth without the least trouble or damage. I ought, however, to have buoyed the stern anchor, for it gave some trouble to trip to the boat that picked it up. All went on now swimmingly, and we were spick and span when sailing day came. I think the evolution I had performed was considered to have been a little risky by the powers that were, but as it came off all right nothing was said to me. The Cape Times, however, in commenting upon it said that as far as they knew this was the third time in history that such a thing had been done, the other two instances being St. Paul on the occasion of his shipwreck, and Admiral Lord Nelson at the Battle of the Nile! We made a very fine passage home, something just over eighteen days; it was not a record but something very close to it. There are upon my bookshelves now some very pleasant mementoes of kindly souls who helped to make a delightful and memorable trip for me.
I come to the conclusion that it is possible to say too much to your directors, unless you make it exceedingly clear what the point is you wish to bring out. I was being questioned as to the cause of the excessive rolling on the outward passage, which some of the passengers had written home about, and tried to explain that when a ship with a great beam started to roll, she naturally swung through a big arc of space, and that consequently people felt it more. This was construed into a criticism on my part of the build of the ship, than which nothing was further from my thoughts, and I was told afterwards it did not do me any good when the question arose as to my giving up the ship to a senior man. It is on such accidents, if there are such things, that human destinies hang. We had a very nice time in Southampton. I was able to pass my mornings at drill on the old Trincomalee, and one afternoon I was successful in taking the all-comers prize at the Hampshire rifle meeting. This gave me great pleasure, for the volunteers were very wroth at being beaten by a sailor.
On the next passage out we called at St. Helena, and I had my first opportunity of visiting Longwood. It was a morning I shall never forget. As we got up to the high land the weather was misty, with a drizzle of rain, and it was not possible, to me at all events, to avoid the thought of the torture it must have been to that great master mind who ended his days there on that weather-swept spot. The house in which he had lived gave me the impression of having only recently been vacated, and the bust of the Great Emperor by Thorswalden seemed to dominate the place with his personality. No work of art that I have seen has impressed me in the manner that did, for the grandeur of the face is most imposing, and surely not one ever to be rivalled in marble. Resist the feeling as one might, the very place seemed permeated with the being of the mighty spirit that sped from within those humble walls.
There was nothing more to call for comment on the outward trip. There were many nice people and several sportsmen who arranged all sorts of sports and pastimes. I remember one remarkable boxing-match. In the final bout there came together a big bluejacket and a little featherweight of a man, which recalled the meeting of David and Goliath. When the word was given to begin, the little fellow rushed in to close quarters and set up no end of a mill, doing this with extraordinary impunity, for the big fellow could have knocked him silly if he had got home. When the bout was over, the referee, a military officer of proved knowledge of boxing, awarded the prize to the big man as being the best boxer, the little man getting a prize as a good fighter.