CHAPTER XV.
An agreeable Surprise--Ordered to Swatow--Pirates--The weary Anchorage again--Pay-day and Auction Sales--Relief at last--Happy Highflyers--Departure from Whampoa--Hurrah for Home!--Working with a Will--Departure from Hong-Kong--Caught in a Cyclone--The Trades--Glorious Sailing--The _Roman Emperor_--Do you want the Longitude?--Snarley-yow’s Growl--Simon’s Bay--Departure from the Cape--The Long Pig or the Short Pig?--The Bill of Portland--Anchor at Spithead--Wives and Sweethearts--Joys and Sorrows--The Chaplain’s Advice--Pay-day and Liberty--Home--Getting a Discharge--Conclusion.
September 26th.--We were quite surprised out of our inactivity, in the early morning, by a gun-boat steaming up the river, flying the signal, _Prepare for sea_. Soon all was hurry and bustle; we knew nothing of our destination, but the bare idea of going from this dull place was sufficient to make us work, and by seven o’clock we had sails bent, boats in, and were steaming down the river. Early on the 27th we arrived in Hong-Kong, and found we had to go to Swatow, to try to get back some Europeans from the hands of the Chinese, who had unlawfully taken them prisoners. Our instructions were, if we could not get them by fair means we were to use foul means, and administer a little punishment by way of wholesome admonition. So to Swatow we went, and lay there two or three days, and by the assistance of the Consul and his interpreter the captives were released.
Swatow is situated near the mouth of a river, in very flat country. It is a great resort of pirates, who ravage their neighbours and defenceless traders, and set everything but Englishmen and English courage at defiance. The place does plenty of trade, however. We left it on the 9th of November, and with a fair breeze away we went south for Hong-Kong, where we arrived after a run of sixteen hours.
Here we stayed a day or two, to get some few stores and provisions, and then up to our old anchorage off Whampoa, having been away the remarkable space of three weeks.
And so time jogged on wearily enough till Christmas Day, which was quite as jolly and noisy as in former years. I find it stands in my log thus: “State of ship’s-company, very drunk; state of myself, supremely wretched. Most of us had reckoned upon being in old England this time last year; and it’s very true that ‘Hope deferred maketh the heart sick.’”
If it had not been for pay-day and the arrival of the mail we should perhaps have gone mad. Once a month we were allowed to draw ‘compo,’ that is, a part of the past four weeks’ wages, according to our different ratings. A petty-officer, who got 3_l._ per month, could draw one pound ten, or half; an able seaman, at 2_l._ per month, drew one pound; boys and ordinary seamen, a smaller sum. On the first of every month the table would be placed on the break of the quarter-deck, and the paymaster and his clerk, with the captain or first-luff, to prevent mistakes, took their seats at the table, with sundry heaps of money before them. Then the hands would ‘lay aft,’ and according as they stood on the ship’s books, so they got paid. I often resolved before the first of the month that I wouldn’t take up my ‘compo’ this time, but save it. However, so certainly as the day came round, and the money chinked on the pay-table, so did my resolution forsake me, and my pay came into my hands; but not long to stay there. As a general rule, I noticed that those men who were married, or had been a long time in the service, were always the men who could save. Now and then young Topman would take a saving fit; but the money tempted him, and he found it too hard to “leave it behind,” as we used to say.
When a messmate or a shipmate dies, his bag and effects are taken in charge by the master-at-arms, a list made of them, and then they are stowed away for a month. At the end of that time they are sold, the proceeds going, with his wages, to his relatives.
On the quarter-deck and during the dinner-hour these sales take place; the master-at-arms acting as auctioneer. “D’ye hear, there?” pipes the boatswain’s mate. “You that wants to buy anything lay aft.” “Shall you go, Bill?” “Yes; go! my word, won’t I! just to run up the things for poor Dan’s old mother.” And ’tis surprising how every article is run up to a high price, in order to benefit the poor fellow’s relations. The men invariably say, “Well! I might want the same done for me, some day.”
When a ‘run’ man’s (a deserter) effects are sold, the money goes to Government, and the difference in the prices offered then is striking: a blue serge, which would have had a guinea bid for it at the dead man’s sale, now fetches seven shillings.
At last, on the 3rd of February, 1861, a day to be long remembered, our relief, in the shape of the _Simoom_ troop-ship, was signalled steaming up the river. Oh! what a hubbub of voices, dancing and capering for joy, and a shaking of hands. “Here she comes! Come at last!” Many of us rushed to the capstan and actually shipped some of the bars: in fact, it was a hard matter for us to keep from having a jolly good hip--hip--hip! hurrah! And we were all so surprisingly active and willing to get under weigh there and then. The next day was Sunday--a mizzly wet day. Service was dispensed with for the day; as some of us said, “D’ye hear, there? there’ll be no Sunday here this Sunday the parson’s gone to Tamerton;” and some thought ‘Holy Joe’ would be disappointed. We hove up the anchor about mid-day, and turning ahead full speed, soon lost sight of our weary anchorage and that everlasting Chinese town of Whampoa.
On arrival at Hong-Kong, we were glad to hear we were not likely to stop long, nor did we. “Go ahead!” said Admiral Jones to our skipper; “and get ready for sailing as soon as you like.”
And so we did; and at last, on the 8th of February, five days after getting our orders, we were reported ready for sea. The Admiral came on board and mustered us, and almost before he was over the gangway to leave, the capstan was manned, and we danced the heavy iron ‘killick’ up to the bows quicker than ever before, and with our long pendant, ‘homeward-bound,’ streaming away on the wind far astern of us, the band playing _Home, sweet home_, we steamed out of Hong-Kong harbour on our way home; all hearts beating joyously, and a bright and laughing sky overhead.
“Well, Tom, we’re off at last; how long d’ye give her?” “How long? eighty-four days!” “Yes, she’d ought to do it in that time! Hooray! Flare-up for Chatham!”
On the 28th, we had a heavy, favourable breeze, and a lumpy sea, and a very wild and vague look in the horizon; and the master said he thought we should have nasty weather, so we took in light sails and reefed. About noon the wind increased, and before midnight blew a perfect hurricane, we driving before it under close-reefed main-topsail and storm-staysail. By certain indications, and by the sudden veering of the wind continually, the master and captain knew we were in a cyclone, so we ‘wore ship’ and stood back. But now, having the gale right in our teeth, we could not make much headway, and the good little craft laboured so much, and shipped such green seas, that the order was given to ‘lay to.’ The wind was so furious we could not hear one another’s voices, and instead of raising great waves it nipped off their tops in one great mass of hissing and blinding foam; which made some of our old hands cry, “Ugh! this is one of the days we reads about. Just my clip, this is!”
On the 5th of March, the wind having dropped, we wore and stood upon our course again; glad enough to have escaped running into the vortex of the storm. It passed us twice, and the master said it extended over many degrees. I noticed that the wind shifted from and to the following points: S.W., N.W., S.S.W., S.S.E., and N.N.W.
By-and-by we got into the trades, which blew us along at the rate of two hundred and forty miles in twenty-four hours. There is no mistaking the real trade-wind sky; mottled and calm-looking generally, or white and fleecy, and sometimes wild tiers of clouds piled upon clouds, in every fantastic shape. And the deep blue waves chase after the ship with white, foaming tops, the good vessel herself booming along at full speed, knocking the water from her bows in one big sheet of foam. Beautiful to look at; but mariners call it soapsuds.
Now and then we would see a shoal of flying-fish, their scales and gauze-like wings glittering in the sun; or a lively shoal of dolphins; but these customers fought shy of hook and line. We saw nothing to break the sameness of the horizon, save now and then a sail; and often when I was up aloft I had a feeling of being alone with the blue waves and the sunshine. “If ’twas always like this,” said Jem W., one day, “I’d bring my big sister to sea with me.”
A few days before we got to the Cape, we passed and spoke the ship _Roman Emperor_. We had sighted her early in the morning, and it was soon manifest which vessel was the better sailer; but as a stern chase is always a long one, we did not overhaul her till nearly eight P.M., and soon we were within hailing distance, and we could see the people moving about on her decks and hear the straining of the yards as they ‘gave’ to the roll of the ship, while the bright moonlight enabled us to trace every inch of her cordage high aloft. She was a fine sight, with every stitch of available canvas set; ‘stunsails’ alow and aloft, and everything showing out in good relief. By this time we could have pitched a biscuit on her deck. At last our skipper hailed, “Ship ahoy!” “Halloo,” came back very plainly, as if somebody had hailed from the belly of her topsail. “Do you want the longitude?” “If you please.” Then a pause, during which we heard nothing but the splashing of the water against the bows of the two vessels, the creaking of wheezy blocks, and the melancholy sough of the wind among the cordage. Presently, “31 degrees 41 minutes at seven o’clock,” from our side, breaks the pause. “Thank you, much obliged,” is the answer. Again our skipper shouts, “Where are you from?” “Akyab; bound home;” and so we parted, she gradually dropping astern and to leeward, and we dashing away on our separate course, and the briefly-broken monotony again reigned. In two hours she was out of sight, and we were again quite alone.
The next day the wind shifted, and for several days after we had light head winds, and frequently tacked. Some of our men grumbled at this, or rather at the captain and master, something after this style: Snarley-yow and his chum Curtis were sitting in the gangway, smoking: “Well,” said Curtis, puffing hard and blowing out his blue clouds, “I’d like to know when we’re agoin’ to get in! I don’t think, Snarley, as how he knows where he is, ’cause I heard him tell the captain so.” “Not he!” rejoins Snarley; “I’d go aft and manage her a great deal better than he do.” “You’d have to be heaps smarter than you are now, before you could,” said I, quietly; whereupon Snarley recommended me to shut up, and be willing to know a little less than everything, but with a seaman’s usual freedom of speech and vigorous expletives.
We arrived early on the morning of the 30th of March in Simon’s Bay. The cutter--the boat to which I belonged--was the first for the shore; and my feelings were joyous in the extreme to set foot on land again among English people and English faces, especially in the fine weather of an African autumn. But, as on our former visit here, my hopes of seeing Cape Town were disappointed.
During this homeward voyage my time was much employed in the ‘sick-bay,’ helping the surgeon in his attendance on the men who were on the sick-list. The chaplain had spoken of me to ‘the doctor,’ as we used to call him, and I got many a kind word from him, and now and then the loan of a book. In return I tried to do my best in assisting him and waiting on the sick, for which he was good enough to give me an acknowledgment, when about to leave the ship at Portsmouth, in a testimonial letter, which I preserve for his sake.
We sailed again on the 4th of April, and were speeding along in the Atlantic trades, when, one bright evening in May, up came the butcher, in a great huff, to the officer of the watch, who was a Prussian lieutenant taking a passage home in our ship: “Please, Sir, one of the captain’s pigs is dead.” Now the skipper set great store on these pigs, because they were Chinese. “What!” exclaimed the officer, in his imperfect English; “you vas not say so; the captain vas very nearly mad before, he vas be quite mad now!” However, he went below, as was his duty, and reported it to the captain, who, quietly and contrary to expectation, said, “Thank you, Waldersee; thank you.” The Prussian came on deck again, and was talking to the middy of the watch, when the skipper darts up the companion-ladder: “Waldersee! Waldersee!” (“I vas catch it now,” said the lieutenant, running aft), “which pig is it that’s dead, the long one or the short one?” For the life of him the lieutenant did not know; but he hazarded a guess, “The long one, Sir!” “Oh! thank you,” rejoined the skipper, snapping his fingers; “what’s she going now?” “10.2, Sir!” “Oh! yes, just so; clap the lower stunsail on, Waldersee;” and he dived again down the ladder.
Sailors’ pets are numerous, but monkeys and birds hold the pre-eminence. We brought home about eighty canaries. Pigeons, fowls, hawks, and even seagulls, are made so tame in a short time, as almost to surpass belief; but sailors have a saying, that “anything can be tamed in a man-o’-war in a week; a lion would be, let alone a bird.” This is alluding to the rough fare and usage he would certainly meet with. We had a monkey so tame he would come into the mess and eat his meals with the men, and even drink part of their grog, and sometimes get drunk, when its idiotic antics were called a “jolly lark.”
The North Star rose higher and higher, and at length we entered the Chops of the Channel. On the 22nd of May we saw and passed the Bill of Portland; I gazed on it with emotion and gratitude as the first English land I had seen for five years, and home was near. This was about mid-day, and later in the afternoon our anchor was let go, and we rode safely in the waters of Spithead.
The next day the ship was beset by boats, crowded with the men’s wives and sweethearts, and the meetings were striking by their extreme contrast. Here, one poor fellow’s daughter had come off to see her father--alas! poor girl, she will never see him more; he lies in a lonely grave on the banks of the Canton River. Here, a mother and sister have come to see their Joe--what a hugging and kissing and admiring; while the solitary occupant of the next boat, upon being informed of her poor husband’s fate, buries her face in her hands and sobs as if her heart would break. There are plenty of rough and honest sympathisers with her among her husband’s former companions; but she heeds them not; what is the world to her now poor Tom is gone?
The day following we steamed into harbour, where, moored alongside the dockyard wharf, we began the work of dismantling and stripping gaily enough. On Saturday evening we had liberty given till Monday, but I did not go; I knew no one in Portsmouth, and I did not want to borrow anything from the pleasure of going for good on the Friday following.
On Sunday morning, May 26, our good chaplain read prayers for the last time, many of the ship’s company being present. I improved the greater part of the afternoon by having a long and very interesting conversation with the excellent man, who said, as our time drew to a close, “Remember, my dear young friend, it doesn’t always require extraordinary talents or endowments to get on in this life. If you always endeavour to do right, so as to have no cause for self-reproach, and remember your Maker, you cannot fail of success! And now, if I don’t see you again, I will say good-bye. Remember my simple advice and act up to it; while performing your earthly duties do not forget your heavenly ones, and may you prosper.” I am not ashamed to confess that tears were in my eyes as I shook hands with the man who had been my friend, and I felt I loved him.
By Wednesday evening the ship was stripped, and there lay the gallant _Highflyer_, a mere hulk.
Friday came, the pay-day! We began pretty early; each one went into the cabin, received his five years’ wages, had his liberty ticket given to him, and was free to come and go for two months. I got my wages and ticket: the latter bore a precept requiring me to report myself on board the _Fisgard_, at the end of my leave. About three in the afternoon, and with cheerful feelings, I stepped from the gangway into the dockyard, took a long look at the wooden walls which had been my home for nearly five years, and for which I shall always have a warm corner in my heart; and with light step and a long, heavy, bolster-like bag and a bundle or two I made my way to the railway station, and in half an hour from the time I was paid-off was being rapidly whirled towards London and home.
Was it not strange? The delight of arrival at home had occupied my mind, day and night, for months and years; yet, when I carried my bag up the steps and left it at the door while I ran down to the cab for my bundles, it seemed to me as if home had lost all its charm, and that I could willingly have gone away without opening the door for another five years. I cannot account for the strange emotion; all I know is that it took a little time to rouse up the proper home-feeling in my heart.
After a day or two, when the burst of greetings and congratulations was over, I set about getting my discharge. For this purpose I went down to the _Fisgard_ at Woolwich, and got aboard just before dinner-time, and was told I couldn’t see the commander till half-past one, so of course I had to wait, and a dreary wait it was. I wasn’t asked to have a bit of grub by anybody--so different from a sea-going ship, where I should have been dragged down below in quarter less than no time; but _Guardhos_ are always stingy. Well, at the half-hour I saw the commander, who merely glanced at me, and appeared to be just aware of my presence, looked at my liberty-ticket, and then with his hand waved a most majestic “You can go;” and I went below with the schoolmaster, who gave me a form of petition to be filled up and forwarded to the Admiralty, at the same time telling me “he most times have got a trifle, and he have known himself to get five shillings; ’cause, you know,” added he, “I writes them.” “Well,” said I, “if any one ever gave you five shillings for doing your duty, he was a fool;” and away I went on the upper-deck, where I met the master-at-arms, who it seems goes halves with the schoolmaster--one writes the form and the other takes it to the _Fisgard’s_ office, and of course he expects a trifle too. I went away in one of the ship’s boats to the dockyard, walked up to the office and presented my paper, and was told to call after ten days, when my discharge would most likely be down. So at the end of that time I went again, but nothing had come; I waited a week, and went again, but nothing had come. I waited another week, went once more to Woolwich, and was at last told the discharge had come. But as I had served only five of the ten years agreed on, I had to pay 12_l._ 16s. for the bit of parchment, filled up as appears in the Appendix, which the clerk put into my hands. However, with light heart, and pocket equally light, I stepped out of the office a free man, and no longer a servant of the Queen.
And so I quitted a sea-life, in which with many hard experiences I had learned one great thing--obedience. I had seen Teneriffe, South America, the Cape, the East, and last, but not least, Japan and Tartary. I had seen storm and calm, and waterspouts, and St. Elmo’s lights, and other marvellous works of Nature in the great deep. I could hand, reef, and steer, and, from the chaplain’s teaching, make out a day’s work and find a ship’s course. No young fellow could go through all this without being somewhat the better for it. I quitted the service from a general feeling of dislike, and from its holding out but a poor prospect. All I could hope for was a petty-officer’s rating at 3_l._ per month, and with scarcely a privilege beyond that of an ordinary seaman.
Soon after getting my discharge I called at Somerset House for my share of the 30,543_l._ 15s. of Canton prize-money. The clerk handed me twenty-eight shillings, which, apart from the glory, was all I got for my fortnight’s “hard laying,” and the chance of being shot by the provost-marshal. Then as my friends wished to remember how I looked as a sailor, they sent me to a photographer, and the publisher of my book taking advantage of that circumstance, and thinking that boys may wish to see what a young topman in the Royal Navy looks like, has copied me for a frontispiece. I wish he hadn’t.
And now, having told my tale, I cannot help saying, in conclusion, that it is good to have discovered that discipline can be borne and with advantage; to feel that you have striven for the right and not in vain; and that you have brought away from the great ocean something that will impress and elevate the mind, and promote manliness of character.
APPENDIX.
_________ \In the event of a man / \ \having borne a bad |Admiralty| \character on board | Seal | \any ship, the \_________/ CONTINUOUS SERVICE CERTIFICATE OF \Captain of such _________________________________ Y. M. \ship is to cut \off this corner. \ Date of Entry for such Service. Age at that time. \ When and where registered. \ ---------+----+--------+----------+----------+--+--+--+--------+-------+------+------+----- Ship’s | | | |Discharge | | | | |Ability| C | Captain’s Name. |No. |Rating. | Entry. | or |Y.|M.|D.|Conduct.| as |Badge.| Signature. | | | |Transfer. | | | | |Seaman.| | ---------+----+--------+----------+----------+--+--+--+--------+-------+------+------------ Highflyer| 21| Boy 1 C| Dec., 55|17 May, 57| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | Do. | 3|Ord. 2 C| May, 57|1 Oct., 57| | | | Good | Fair | |C. F. A. | | | | | | | | | | | Shadwell | | | | | | | | | | | Do. | 161| ” | Oct., 57|2 Jan., 60| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | Do. | 161|Ord. 1 C|3 Jan., 60|31 May, 61| | | | Good | Good | |W. A. J. | | | | | | | | | | | Heath | | | | | | | | | | | Fisgard |1757| Ord. |1 June, 61|4 July, 61| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | Shore by } Time only | |Henry Hawker | | | | | purchase } | | ---------+----+--------+----------+----------+-----------------+-------+------+------------
NOTE.--The conduct of a seaman being his passport for future service, the character of the party is to be impartially stated, after careful inquiry, and with reference to his whole period of service in the ship.
THE END.
Transcriber’s Notes
• Italics represented by surrounding _underscores_.
• Small caps converted to ALL CAPS.
• Obvious typographic errors or omissions silently corrected.
• Variations in hyphenation and spelling kept as in the original.
• The footnote has been numbered and moved to below its referent paragraph.