From the train, when nearing Fairfield, I saw two ships in the yard alongside one another; one appeared to be big, the other small, and I said to myself that the big one was mine. It was a vain surmise—the big one was the Cunard Etruria and the small one the Kaikoura, but she was a fine ship for all that. She was too far advanced in building for me to suggest any but minor alterations, but I was glad to see that many defects I had pointed out in the earlier ships had been remedied. She was not, however, nearly so far advanced as the advertised date of her sailing led me to suppose she would be, and after being with her some little time I wrote to London saying it was an utter impossibility for us to leave the Clyde on the date mentioned. A reply came back saying that Sir William Pearce (the head of the Fairfield firm) assured them she would be ready by the time specified. Then began a wonderful piece of work—a small army of workmen invaded the ship, each bringing some part of the ship’s internal fittings with him. For instance, you could see the panelling of the saloons grow as you watched, the pieces having all been fitted in the workshops, and only requiring to be fixed in place; further, the work was well done, for up to the time of my leaving the ship she showed no sign of hurried workmanship. The engines had all been erected and tried in the engine-shed before being placed in the ship. She arrived at completion without a hitch, and on the appointed day we went for our steam trials on the measured mile and made, as nearly as my recollection serves, nearly fifteen knots. Mr. Bryce Douglas, the engineer to the firm, represented the builders, and Mr. Strickland the Company. Mr. Bryce Douglas and I got on very well together, and I for one regretted greatly his death shortly afterwards.
It must not be supposed that the saloon or passengers’ quarters were in any way completed. We had, in fact, some scores of workmen going round to London in order to finish the work by the time she arrived there. There were also some dozen gentlemen with us, mostly scientific men who had been given a complimentary run round. In one respect there was a marked advance on former ships, for the electric light installation was a great improvement and scarcely ever gave any trouble; in fact it may be considered that by this time the problem of lighting ships by electricity had been satisfactorily solved. We left the Clyde on the morning of October 20, having on board a channel pilot in whom the builders had the greatest faith, for I scarcely think that the Company were to take the delivery before she arrived in London Docks in a completed state. On that point I am not certain. There was no doubt I was master, but the pilot was not in any way anxious to get orders from me. I had no great reason, however, to be dissatisfied. All went well until the evening of the 21st, when we were off Portland, a dark, clear night with a light westerly wind. We were passing many sailing ships standing off shore on the starboard tack, and, in attempting to clear a Danish barque, there unfortunately developed a difference of opinion on our bridge as to what was to be done, and we hit her very hard. Fortunately she was timber loaded and did not sink, although her crew left her and came on board my ship, seeing red, after the manner of excited Scandinavians. I was a little puzzled what to do, for I had no time to waste, so for the first and last time called a council of my officers, asking for suggestions. It was decided that we should send a lifeboat with a crew to stand by her, to keep a light burning to warn off other ships, and to see if she could be got into port. When we proceeded to carry out the plan the master and crew of the barque begged to be given the lifeboat and to go themselves, and I, very weakly as I now think, did as they wished. At all events it let us get on, and that was the all-important point just then, for we were in no way damaged and our paint on the bow was hardly scratched. The barque duly got through the Needles and I think put into Cowes, from which place our lifeboat was returned. We arrived in London without further adventure, and once again I had an experience of law. The short stay we had was fully taken up with depositions and consultations, but as I have already expressed my views on that subject I need not recapitulate further than to say it was “the same old game” to get clear of this matter. When the case was tried it was given against us, the truth, as I believe, being that they got scared at our close proximity and tacked the ship under our bows, thinking we were not giving way to them. I think the court was of this opinion also, but I can imagine that our ship, (a blaze of light being kept going for the workmen) and approaching a sailing ship at great speed, was perhaps a trial to weak nerves. At all events they were all in a howling funk when I saw them. That was No. 1 collision. We had all our work cut out to get the ship ready for sailing day. She was booked up full of passengers, and there was an apparently endless stream of stores and equipment coming down to the last minute. To the credit of the Company be it said that the work was done, and done properly. I cannot remember that anything was omitted.
The worst part of the business was that I had in the main a new set of officers, although my chief engineer from the last ship was with me. It is of the greatest advantage in a case like this to have people with you that you know you can depend upon, and with the best intentions in the world you cannot have this feeling with strangers. It must be remembered that a new ship is always something in the nature of a surprise-packet. On the afternoon of October 25 we left the dock, and by the time we got to Gravesend it was quite dark with a strong ebb tide running, and the reach full of ships, mostly at anchor. As we were to stay there the night it was necessary to turn the ship round, and when we got across the river there was not a great deal of room for anything to get past us. This was discovered by one of the Aberdeen steamers called the Ban Righ, for in sweeping past and under our stern she cleared the whole of her starboard side of bridge, deckhouses, bulwarks, etc., and she also dented our stern and carried away rudder chains and some of our ornamental gilt work. There were circumstances connected with this that would have made a cat laugh, but a very stiff upper lip had to be kept, and I greatly admired the admirably cool way in which the incident was treated by Mr. Strickland, the London manager, who had come down the river with us and alluded to the collision as “a river bump.” I went down the river in a tug to see the extent of the damage to the other ship, and the next day we left for Plymouth. This collision No. 2 was, I believe, settled by both parties bearing their own damages, for not even a bench of judges could have rightly apportioned the blame in this case. I find by abstract that we left Plymouth at 7.30 a.m. on the morning of the 28th, after a fairly strenuous week’s work.
The ship, as I have said, was full of passengers. In the saloon we had a number of representative Christchurch people, and they were very nice to get on with. In every community there is nearly always some prominent spirit that will give the rest a lead, and this is especially the case on board ship on a long voyage. From extended observation I would venture the remark that nineteen days is about the maximum period for which people will dwell together in unity. After that time a great deal of forbearance and tact is required to make things go smoothly and well. As may be imagined there were in this case little shortcomings that might with some degree of justice have been found fault with, but there was one man who was determined that all should go well. His name was Tom Acland, and we became great friends. He has now, alas, gone to join the majority, but his memory remains a pleasant one with many. He ensured peace in the saloon, but in the second cabin it was another business. There were a lot of old Australians bound for Hobart, and nothing was right so far as they were concerned. On more than one occasion it was necessary to talk very straightly to some of the ringleaders, and eventually they sent a letter to the directors complaining of my conduct to them, the result of which was a unanimous vote of confidence in me by the Board. We got to the Cape without any incident calling for special mention, this being the first time I had called there since joining the new Company. It was pleasant to see the old faces once more and, further, to find they were glad to see me. As we had to take in a lot of coal the people travelling had a fine chance for a run on shore, added to which the ship was steaming well and giving every satisfaction. This, unfortunately, was not to last, but still, when we got away once more, she began to show me what she really could do when she got the canvas on her. I find there was one day’s run of 369 miles for a day thirty-six minutes short of the twenty-four hours, and that was faster travelling than I had ever done before. One day it became necessary for some reason to open up the high-pressure cylinder. I had been down in the engine-room having a look at what was going on and saw nothing very out of the ordinary for a new ship, but I had noticed that something was being done to the escape valve at the lower end of the cylinder. When the engines were again started there was a great crash and they immediately stopped. This was a twenty-fours hours’ job, for a piece was broken off the rim of the high-pressure piston, and the explanation I accepted for the accident was that a small spanner had been left in the steam port by the builders and that it had just rolled out. There are some explanations that it is well to accept even when they may not be altogether satisfactory. I thought in this case the main thing was to get the damage repaired, and let those immediately concerned fight it out when they got home. The engineers made a good job of the repairs and in due course we proceeded gaily. There had been a fine fair wind during the stoppage of the engines and we had sailed 155 miles.
There were various incidents between this and Hobart more or less unpleasant, one in particular. A young married couple had the misfortune to see a child of theirs die of some infantile ailment and it had to be buried that evening. There was in the saloon a very charming elderly lady who was great on evangelism and preaching, appealing to the emotions after the style of the Salvation Army. While I was reading the Burial Service this lady had got an audience of women in the saloon and was rapidly making a scene. The burial had been kept as quiet as possible, but after it was over the doctor came up to me and said, “I wish you would come down to the saloon, sir, and say a few words, or else Mrs. —— will have every woman in the ship in hysterics.” I did so, and many speedily recovered sufficiently to suggest that I was a brute for stopping the proceedings—very funny the ideas that strike people under certain conditions.
It was always my endeavour to have the men prepared for emergencies, and many have thought at times that I was unduly particular in this matter. The crew, for instance, never knew when they would be called to fire quarters. Saturday was of course the most convenient day, but the objection to a fixed day was that every one had a fair surmise that the bell rang for drill only, and that was not the same thing as calling upon people unexpectedly. When it came to the actual test my scheme worked well. Again, when boats were manned, they were always provisioned, for stores were kept in a portable state in order to facilitate this matter. I found that boats could be provisioned and swung out ready for lowering in four minutes, and that as a general thing without taking any undue risks; I have only seen one man go overboard at boat drill. That was in the African during a fresh breeze, but we soon had him again. There is more harm done by undue haste than by the trifling delay in first seeing that things are properly prepared for the work to be done. Another very good spirit to introduce is to make the crew fancy themselves and take a pride in their ship. It seemed to me that this plan also worked excellently.
There was no further incident on that passage, but on arriving at Port Chalmers we discovered that our misfortunes were not quite over. There was a Government tug assisting to get us alongside the jetty, and by some bad management on its part it ran into our propeller, which cut through its side as though it had been a piece of paper. The tug consequently made the best of her way to the beach, getting lower in the water as she proceeded, but she eventually reached the shore. This was the third smash I had had in just over seven weeks. I was about tired of being made a cockshy of, and the occurrence generally had not improved my equanimity.
When we had made fast I went on the jetty, and having had the turning gear put in, was watching the blades of the propeller to ascertain what, if any, damage had been done to them, when an elderly man whom I did not know came fussing up to me asking, “What’s the matter?” I replied, I am afraid rather shortly, that I did not see what business it was of his, on which he informed me that he would soon let me know all about that, and took himself off. I then discovered that he was a Government engineer surveyor, but one of the very old school. There was no great damage done to anything, and we soon made arrangements to repair the damage done on the passage, but I did not consider it a casualty, nor did I think it necessary to report it as such to the customs. But gossip spreads, and the next day I received a little note from the collector of customs asking me to go to Dunedin and see him. I did so, and found in the room my friend of the previous morning. The collector, who was a very nice man, liked and respected by every one, told me he had heard I had had a casualty on the outward passage, and had not reported it. I replied that I did not consider there had been a casualty and therefore no need to report anything, as the damage was slight and to be easily repaired. Upon this the engineer broke out that he considered there had been a casualty and “What did I know about it anyway?” This elicited the reply from me, as I considered under extreme provocation, that “I had a steam certificate and he had not.” This closed the conversation and I was not further molested. How it was finally settled I really forget, but my engineer opponent and I were afterwards very good friends. I write of this incident because I have frequently been put to considerable trouble by Custom House officials who have pressed for unnecessary details, and in fact have told me that if even so small a thing as a piston-spring breaks it should be entered in the official log as a casualty, but this I always stoutly refused to do, claiming in this a reasonable amount of discretion. And again, in colonial ports a ship’s name is nearly as delicate as that of a woman, and as easily damaged. A report of a casualty at the Custom House is good copy for every newspaper reporter that can get hold of it, embellishing what may have happened with every fanciful idea that it can possibly bear. There is yet a graver aspect in which this subject may be viewed—it reduces the discretionary power of the master of the ship, and that appeared to me to be a thing quite worth fighting for.
During the remainder of our stay in New Zealand we went the round of the big ports and left Wellington finally for home. I find that I had not adopted then a high southern route to the Horn, for although we made an average speed of 13½ knots we did not make a good passage to Rio. We passed the Horn, however, in broad daylight and I came to the conclusion that there were several matters connected with hydrographical details that would be better for being looked into. The old stagers had gone on their way accepting everything on the chart for granted. I was navigating so far as I could to learn. Here is a case in point. I was passing Cape Horn at what I believed to be a mile’s distance. I took the danger angle at its recorded height and immediately hauled out, for the angle put us apparently too close in, and I could trust my eyes. That was jotted down for future investigation, as were my compass deviations nearing the Horn, which, if the variation lines on the chart were correct, I could not account for. We made the passage home under forty days total or thirty-eight days actual steaming time, but I hoped we should some day do a great deal better than that. We were given a fair spell at home this time, for there was a lot to put in order, and as it happened our collision case had to be tried. I did not like the ordeal, nor do I think I came well out of it. We lost the case, but not one word of fault-finding was said to me. About this time Sir W. Pearce commenced to take more interest in the Company and various changes began to manifest themselves, but they did not at that time detract in any way from the efficiency of the ship or cause any inconvenience.
On our next voyage we started with the best of luck and made a fine passage out to Santa Cruz. We had on board a great number of single women emigrants, who were berthed right aft in the ship, and were really in charge of the matron and the doctor. I was not supposed to have anything to do with them, save inspect their quarters once a day, and to settle differences if the matron and doctor could not do so. On more voyages than this one it happened that the said matron and doctor would goad the women into rebellion over some trifle, and when they had become unmanageable would send for me to put matters straight. I had learned by experience that you could lead a crowd like that by dint of a little judicious humbug, but drive them you could not. By the time I had sat and talked for ten minutes, the row was always over, but it was necessarily at the sacrifice of some apparent or fancied dignity on the part of the officials in direct charge of them. Scarcely to be wondered at, for matrons are given rather to domineer, and young doctors mostly are green as cabbages outside their own particular job.