CHAPTER XXVIIHomeward Bound
CaptainBrown and I left the “Pelew” at Brisbane, he, because he did not care for the Solomon Island trips for the reason stated in the previous chapter, and I, because what I had seen and heard had satisfied any desire I had to visit those regions. We made our way to Newcastle, where Captain Brown had his home. Here I found letters awaiting me from England, which stirred within me a longing to see the old country once more. I had been away about eight years and seven months, and the strange part of this long absence was that I had promised those at home it should not be a long voyage, but circumstances, and my love of roaming had lengthened the months into years. I determined, however, that now I would go back, but before doing this I made up my mind to have a good time in Newcastle, and I did, for if you have money to spend, that is the place to get through it. For six weeks I went the pace, and had the jolliest time of my life, and spent my money like a real British sailor, or a fool, whichwas nearer the mark. I saw the Browns frequently, and parted from them with regret, for the captain and I had seen some ups and downs together, and he was a good comrade, one of the best. He smiled when I called to bid them good-bye, and told them I was going home to England.
“It’s about time you did, you mad-brained young beggar, at the pace you are going at you’ll soon be played out.”
“No jolly fear,” I replied, “so good-bye, good-bye, and good luck.”
The next day I engaged as second officer on the ship, “Tonquin,” bound for England, via San Francisco. The “Tonquin” was a smart double topgallant yard ship, and a fast sailer. She carried a crew of thirty-three hands all told. Most of these had been picked up in the colonies, as the old crew had deserted, for the gold-field rush was still on. They were a fairly decent lot of men. Captain McLellan was a hardheaded Scotchman, who hailed from Leith, and had been many years in command, and was great on discipline, proud of his ship and his company, both of which he counted as second to none. The first mate, Mr. Brown, was a Glasgow man, who had for years been doing his best to drown his brains in whiskey, and since their arrival in the colonies he had rarely been sober. When I reported myself to him on the following morning he was half-witted with drink, and instead of giving me full particularsabout the ship and the work in hand, also the work in prospect, he simply said “all right, go and look after the men, and get the ship ready for sea.” I hunted up the third officer, Mr. Smith, and found him working like a nigger, and as black as the ace of spades. He was young and inexperienced, but willing, and not afraid of work, he had also plenty of go in him, and I found he had in him the making of a thorough seaman when he had got a little more experience. He soon showed me where all the sails, stores, etc., were kept.
All hands were set to work bending sails, reaving the running gear, and getting the ship ready for sea. We saw very little of the first mate that day, he kept in his room and was drinking hard. The next morning the captain came to me before going on shore and told me not to bother about him, as he would be all right when we got to sea—that was all right as far as he was concerned—but his work had to be done by Smith and myself.
The crew, under Dan Kelly the boatswain, bent all the sails before dark, and the captain coming on board just as we had finished, expressed his pleasure and satisfaction at the good day’s work we had done, and ordered the steward to give each man a good glass of grog. This was done, and all hands seemed satisfied with themselves and their surroundings. I told them to go and get a good night’s rest, as we should haul out from the wharf at daylight, but somehow I felt in my mindthat the captain had made a great mistake in giving them the grog while lying at the wharf.
The coal tips were working all night, and at six a.m., the last truck load of black diamonds was tipped into the hold.
“Now turn out you fellows,” I heard the boatswain calling, as the steward brought my coffee to my room. “Now where are you, here show yourselves, you’re mighty slack at turning out this morning.”
Just then there was a knock at my door, and a voice called out, “are you there Mr. Farrer?” it was the boatswain.
“Yes, boatswain, what’s the matter.”
“Matter, sir, why half the blooming crowd has cleared out.”
“The dickens they have,” I cried as I ran along to the forecastle, where I found it was all too true. Rushing aft I told the steward to rouse the captain and let him know that most of the sailors had cleared out. Then, jumping ashore, I hurried up Hunter Street to the Police Office, and told the superintendent in charge, and received the information that he could give us no help until we took a warrant out against the men.
“But,” I replied, “the ship is going to sail out to-day, and if the captain has to take out a warrant for each man, look at the delay it will cause.”
“That’s no business of mine,” he replied, adding,“perhaps if you paid them better and fed them better they would not run away.”
I made no answer to this remark, as I felt it was only too true in many cases, so returned to the ship to find Captain McLellan in a towering passion. Lines were run out to the departure buoys, and the ship hauled off.
“Shackel the starboard cable on to the buoy, Mr. Farrer,” the captain called out.
“Aye, aye, sir,” I replied.
This was done and the captain went ashore to see if he could have the men arrested, and if not, to try and get others to fill their places, so that the ship would not be detained.
About two hours after the captain had left, a large colonial barque came slowly down the river in full sail, outward bound with a fair wind. She was a perfect picture, as she slipped along on a strong ebb tide. Mr. Smith and I were admiring her, when we saw to our surprise five of our runaway sailors leaning over her side and waving their caps at us in derision as they passed.
“The dirty mean skunks,” said Smith, in a towering passion, and before I could say a word he had darted into his room, snatched up a revolver, and rushing along the deck to the nearest point of the receding barque, fired at the men waving their caps. Fortunately for him the shots fell short, and in half an hour she was outside theNobbies, and bounding away toward New Caledonia.
It was very aggravating, but nothing could be done, so we had to make the best of it.
Shortly afterwards the boat returned with the captain and six sailors, all dead drunk, and lying like sacks at the bottom of the boat. Shangie Brown, as great a scamp as ever encumbered the earth was with them, to receive his share of the seamen’s advance. Two months advance at six pounds per month, each man received, but the boarding house master took it for them, the money to be paid when the men were safely on board. A bottle of drugged whiskey was given to them in the meantime, and by the time they came to their senses they were well out to sea, and the boarding-house master was back in Newcastle with their two months’ advance in his pocket.
“Get a slip rope on the buoy, and unshackle the chain,” called out the captain.
“Aye, aye, sir,” replied Dan Kelly, and soon had the cable off and shackled on to its anchor, and then all hands went to dinner. During that interesting meal, the sailors, as sailors will, got counting their numbers, and found they were short of four men.
“Look here boys,” said Humphreys, a big lump of a fellow, who looked strong enough to do two men’s work with ease, “I’m not going out in this hooker short handed, there’s plenty of work in herfor the lull complement of men, and we ought not to go out without the other four, let’s go aft, and see the old man.”
At that moment Captain McLellan was on the poop talking to the ship-chandler, whose boat was alongside.
“Well, what do you fellows want,” he said, as the men came to a standstill near the break of the poop, “what’s wrong now?”
“We’re short-handed, sir,” said Humphreys, touching his cap, “and we won’t go in the ship until you get four more men.”
The captain looked at them one by one as they stood there just at the break of the poop.
“Oh, you’re not going, aye. Ah, well just step into the cabin every one of you, and I’ll read you the ship’s articles, and perhaps you will be satisfied then.”
As the crowd marched stolidly into the cabin, and the captain whispered to me, as he turned to follow them, “Get the end of the tug’s rope on board and tell him to go ahead at once. The pilot will look after her.” While the captain detained the men in the cabin, the ship was cast off the buoy, and the tug pulling for all she was worth, soon had her outside the entrance. When the sailors came out of the cabin they realized that they had been tricked, then they showed fight, at least the leaders did, but that was soon taken out of them, and the few that were sober and willing,loosed and set the square sails, and when the ship had a good offing, the tug was cast off, and blowing her syren as a good-bye salute, steamed back to Newcastle, and we stood out on our long run to San Francisco.
Very little work was done except trimming the sails during the first two weeks, the wind and sea were so boisterous, and the men gradually fell into their proper places. Nothing out of the ordinary ship’s life occurred on the passage, and after a run of fifty-seven days we arrived in San Francisco.
However, as soon as the anchor was down, a crowd of Yankee boarding house runners and crimps boarded us. Many of them even went aloft and helped the men to furl the sails. Of course each of them had the usual flask of whiskey in his pocket to help their persuasive powers in getting the men to clear out of the ship. It was simply useless we officers ordering them ashore from the vessel, they just laughed at us and tapped the revolver in their hip pocket. My blood boiled, and had it not been that Mr. Brown came along just then, and advised me not to put myself out over the dirty low beasts, I should have tumbled a few of them over the side, regardless of what followed.
“Don’t fash yer-self laddie,” he said, “they’re not fit for a decent man to dirty his hands on, and the men are aye like a lot of silly sheep whenthey’ve had a glass o’ their poison inta them, a’ll nay call it by the decent name o’ spirits for it isna ony such.”
We hauled into the wharf during the day, and the following morning all that was left of the sailors were Jack Anderson, Charlie Partridge, and Charlie Hogg, they had all cleared out.
The stevedores started at once to unload the coal, soon we were up to our eyes in coal dust.
For a fortnight I explored and saw all the sights good, bad, and indifferent that were to be seen in that go-a-head city of the west. I found too that it was very risky work to pry into the dark corners of this revolver-ruled city of palaces, prisons and hells, and many a narrow shave I had in seeking to know Who’s Who and What’s What.
At last our coal was all out, and the ship cleaned down, and thankful we were to see the last of the coal dust washed off the ship and ourselves. We then received orders to proceed up the river to Vallaya to load wheat for the United Kingdom. Although we were so shorthanded the trip up to Vallaya was a treat. To describe the scenery would require the pen of a poet and an artist, for it is without rival in being the finest in the world.
The cargo was all waiting for us stored up in the great sheds near the wharf, and we were no sooner alongside than the carpenters came aboard and commenced lining the ship fore and aft with boards covered with Gunnie Sheeting. It was contractwork, so you may be sure no time was lost over it. The following morning the grain was pouring into the hold from the elevators in a steady stream, and one could almost see the ship sinking lower and lower into the water, as the grain poured steadily in, like water down a spout, and in thirty-six hours from the time of starting, the ship was loaded. None of the officers or apprentices were allowed on shore at Vallaya. We were all kept too busy attending ship under the elevator shoots. I was disappointed at this, but it could not be helped, and on the third day the “Tonquin” was towed down the beautiful river again, and came to anchor in San Francisco Bay.
We found San Francisco en fête, as President Grant had just arrived from his tour round the world.
All the syrens, steam hooters, fog horns, ship’s bells, and steam whistles in the district were clashing and clanging for all they were worth to celebrate his safe arrival.
The sky was lit up with rockets and fireworks, pandemonium reigned, and the whole city seemed to have gone mad.
The following day we filled up the vacancies in our crew, and in the company of five other clippers set sail for Liverpool. A good deal of speculation was rife as to who should reach the Channel first, and a good number of bets were laid amongst the various captains and officers.
The “Tonquin” as I said before, was a very smart sailer and Captain McLellan was just the man to get all the speed he could out of her.
The “City of Madrid,” “Khersonese,” and the “Mallowdale” all left San Francisco within a few hours of the “Tonquin,” but during the long run of fourteen thousand miles, we never got a sight of each other after the first day.
We arrived at Falmouth one hundred and seventeen days after leaving San Francisco, and got orders to proceed to Liverpool, this taking us seven days beating round to accomplish, and I arrived home just nine years from the day on which I sailed on the “John Kerr,” so here I part from my readers, as the stone has once more rolled home, not to settle, oh, no, but should this have interested my readers, I have no doubt that the further rollings of this restless stone will be found in another volume.
FINIS