It is commonly supposed by landsmen that the perils of ocean travelling are much greater than those encountered upon land. For my own part, I believe that, once on the open sea, there is no pleasanter or safer mode of locomotion than is to be found in a well-appointed sailing ship or steamer. I certainly was in much greater danger of being drowned while travelling on the railway between Bristol and Plymouth upon one occasion than I have ever known myself to be while on board ship. The autumn had been exceedingly wet, and the low-lying districts in Somersetshire had become flooded, causing the railway to be completely submerged for a distance of about three miles. The water reached to the floors of the railway carriages, while the locomotive in its progress made a great wave in front of the train. The wheels of the locomotive were 8ft. 10in. in height, and the fire-box was 6ft. above the ground. Boats accompanied the train on either side during its passage through the water. Certainly I have never felt in so much danger in the 60,000 miles of ocean travelling which I have had since then. Not that there are no dangers to be met with on the water, as I found to my alarm before I had fairly commenced my last voyage.
Our vessel lay three miles off the Hoe, at Plymouth, and we had engaged a large sailing boat to take us on board. When we had got half way to the ship, and had lost the shelter of the land, a fierce squall struck the sail and turned the boat over on its side, throwing us into a confused heap on its bottom. The boatman tried to lower the sail, but having tied it in a fast knot he could not do so, and had no means of cutting the rope. The rain came down pitilessly all the time, and the waves dashed over us, drenching us to the skin, darkness coming on in the meantime. For a few moments we almost gave ourselves up as lost, but fortunately the violence of the wind lessened, the boat righted itself, and we got alongside our ship, but were unable in the darkness and the rush of the water and the noise of the wind and rain to make ourselves heard. My companion and I had to climb up the rope-ladder attached to the ship, and to scramble over its side as best we could, in the confusion altogether forgetting to take leave of our friends who were in the boat below, and who were lost to sight the instant we got on to the deck.
On entering the saloon the contrast was very great. The big ship riding at anchor was as steady as the land we had just left. The saloon was brilliantly lighted; and the passengers who had joined the ship at Gravesend were sitting round the table engaged in various occupations; some were reading or writing, while others were playing at whist, or were engaged in conversation. Being new arrivals, there was considerable curiosity to see which cabin we should call our own.
To a man taking his first voyage the phrase “cabin’d, cribb’d, confin’d” is at once understood as he surveys the cabin, a portion of which is to be his home for a month or two. The first feeling is that it will be impossible to bestow all his belongings in the limited space at his disposal, but before he has been long on board things settle down into their places, and he almost begins to wonder what he shall do with all the room.
The first night on board ship is generally one of great confusion. The passengers seem to be in everybody’s way; but immediately after leaving port the baggage is stowed away, the purser allots the seats at table, and everything goes on with the greatest regularity.
The passengers on board one of the great Australian ships form a perfect epitome of the great world ashore. The line of division is sharply drawn between the various sets or cliques. Many never condescend to notice numbers of their fellow-passengers during the whole voyage; but for the most part fraternisation becomes general after the first fortnight has passed.
A three months’ voyage often enables a man to form a juster appreciation of the character of his fellow-passengers than many years’ residence in the same neighbourhood would do on shore; hence it often happens that life-friendships of the warmest kind are formed on board ship. On steamers bound for the Colonies representatives of almost every class are to be found. Judges returning to their duties after a holiday all too short; colonial statesmen with sufficient time on their hands to allow of their formulating a policy to meet every conceivable combination among their parliamentary opponents; and squatters and merchants returning to the Colonies to look after their property or their business. These men are generally very much preoccupied, and their only anxiety appears to be to get as speedily as possible to their destination.
Another class is composed of clergymen and professional men taking a holiday, and generally speaking with every sign of great enjoyment; while two other classes are largely represented—viz., invalids in search of health, and young ne’er-do-wells sent to the Colonies under the mistaken idea of their being more likely to reform in a new country. The latter class is mainly composed of young fellows who have never been brought up to any trade or calling at home, and who, with their friends, seem to think that the Colonies are a sort of “Tom Tiddler’s ground,” where they can “pick up gold and silver.”
These youths are sent out by their friends as a last chance, under what is known as the “private convict system,” and I believe that a very small proportion of them ever take a position of respectability after landing in the Colonies. Nor is it to be wondered at, for on the principle of “birds of a feather,” etc., these young men get together on the outward voyage, and all their previous vices become much intensified by the association. On the other hand, many young men of good character, going out to the Colonies in search of employment, and showing by their conduct during the voyage that they are self-respecting, and consequently trustworthy, have secured good appointments from colonial merchants before leaving the ship.
Those who take the voyage on account of impaired health mainly consist of men suffering from overwork, and invalids more or less affected with pulmonary disease. In the case of the former a long voyage is the surest remedy; and for those in the earliest stage of consumption it is generally found to be efficacious; but it would be impossible to devise a more cruel fate for such as are thoroughly affected by that fell disease than to send them out on a long voyage. The conditions are all against them; the draught in the saloon is always great, and there is a total absence of those little comforts and delicacies which consumptive patients so greatly need, and the lack of which is so sorely felt. Doctors who have never made a voyage little think to what a miserable fate they are dooming their consumptive patients when they order them to take a sea voyage. In five cases out of six these patients are sent out too late, and the voyage only hastens their inevitable end, while, if they had only been sent in the earliest stages of the disease, they would almost certainly have been restored.
I started on my first Australian voyage on a lovely day in the late autumn. The sun was shining brilliantly, and as there was very little wind we fondly hoped we should cross the Bay of Biscay without having to go through the disagreeable experiences usually met with there; but our hopes were rudely dispelled when, after two days, having fairly got into the bay, we found a strong “nor’-wester” blowing, with heavy seas and torrents of rain.
Our ship was a duplicate of the ill-fated “London,” and the officers comforted us with the information that we were just on the spot where she had gone down a few years before.
The wind and waves had been increasing in force during the day; but at four o’clock, just as we were sitting down to dinner, a heavy sea burst ’tween decks with a great uproar, breaking through the doors leading from the main-deck to the saloon, swamping the nearest cabins, and completely scattering the dinner, dishes and all.
The stewards had a busy time of it for the next two hours in mopping and baling the water out, and in preparing another dinner. Many of us, however, preferred retiring to our berths, the weather in the meantime getting decidedly worse. Presently another sea was shipped, deluging our cabin, amongst others, and leaving us in perfect darkness; while the noise of the sailors tramping overhead, the smashing of crockery, and the falling of blocks and ropes, the shouts of the officers, and the continual roar of the storm, effectually banished sleep for the night. I gained, however, one valuable piece of information, for as a result of the storm I learned a certain cure for sea-sickness! I had been quite ill before the final burst, but the excitement from this cured me instantly.
During the night we travelled out of the storm into smoother water, and it was curious to note the effect of this improved state of affairs, and of the bright sunshine, in bringing fresh faces on deck.
The life of a steward on board one of these ships is not an enviable one. He has to be up at work at four o’clock, washing and scrubbing the saloon; to wait at table four times a day; to make the beds, and attend to the cabins; and to be generally useful amongst the passengers, rarely finishing before ten o’clock at night. Our steward was a very handy fellow. He informed me he had a brother in New Zealand in practice as a doctor, who wanted him to settle there, but he preferred “a life on the ocean wave.” He strongly recommended us to bathe frequently in salt water, saying it “was good for the spin-ial orgins!”
Eight days after leaving Plymouth we passed the Canary Islands, steaming between Teneriffe and Gomera. The weather was delightful, and we had a fine view of the famous Peak, which rises apparently straight out of the sea to a height of 12,000 feet. These islands form a province of Spain, and are volcanic in their origin. The last eruption was in 1824. The vegetable productions of the islands are very varied. Palms and tropical plants grow near the sea; higher up cereals are grown; above, laurels; and still higher, pines and the white broom. The islands also produce oranges, lemons, dates, sugar-cane, cotton, and silk.
Soon after passing the Canaries the Tropics are entered; and some of us begin to feel, for the first time, what heat really is. Awnings are fixed, and preparations are made for various kinds of amusements, amongst which the most popular are quoits, a run with the hounds, jumping in sacks by moonlight, racing in sacks, etc.
The game of quoits is much in favour with those who can play it, but it is a most selfish affair, for half-a-dozen men monopolise the whole of one side of the deck—and that the best or upper side—and, beginning at ten in the morning, continue till the dinner hour.
These are the day amusements. In the evenings there are concerts, recitations, and occasionally theatrical performances. Some passengers are of a studious turn, and divide their time between reading, writing, and walking, while others—notably young men from the Colonies—recline at ease during the day and become lively at night, often perambulating the decks with heavy heels till the small hours of the morning, to the great discomfort of those sleeping below.
Our second-class fellow-passengers commenced the concert season by giving a very amusing entertainment in their saloon. The first piece on the programme was an “overture by the band”—the band being represented by a single concertina. The chairman, a jolly-looking old tar, tried three pieces, and broke down in amidst roars of laughter and calls for the chorus. An “ancient buffer” sang “My Pretty Jane,” and a few other sentimental things, with looks of fond affection. Then came a solo by “Bones,” and another sailor gave a song which recounted his many ailments. He said he had had “brownchitis,” “scarlatina,” “concertina,” and “tightness in the chest.” Then a melancholy youth ground out something about his love for a “Little brown jug,” calling frequently for a chorus, the whole ending with “God save the Queen.”
We had other concerts during the voyage, and it was noticeable that the peculiarity which is said to attend amateur performances on land was not absent with us, for our concerts were usually productive of anything but harmony—at any rate amongst the singers. Those who were first invited to sing usually had colds, and those who were free from colds often declined because they were not invited first. Even the singing of hymns at the evening service was more than once made the occasion of heated discussion.
Another mode of occupying leisure hours on board ship as soon as the passengers have fairly settled down for the voyage is to start a newspaper. A few of the passengers meet and choose an editor, and the general public are invited to send contributions to him. At the outset promises of help are very abundant, but, as a matter of fact, the work has to be done by a very few persons. The paper appears weekly, in manuscript, and is usually read aloud by the editor after dinner on the day of issue.
Sometimes it is agreed to have the paper printed on reaching the Colony, and when that is determined upon one or two individuals undertake the duty of passing it through the press, and of forwarding it to the various subscribers. As a rule the same persons rarely undertake the duty twice, for it is a very arduous and oft-times thankless task.
Some of the more cautious subscribers object to paying in advance, or require guarantees for due delivery and for the proper performance of the work. On one occasion one of my companions undertook the work of preparing the paper for the press, and correcting the proofs; it took him nearly three weeks to do so, and I am sure he will never undertake a similar task. The colonial printer gave him a great deal of trouble, persisting in ignoring his corrections, and in “improving the text” by altering it according to his own ideas. One peculiarity of amateur authorship came out into strong relief in the printing of this paper—the number of quotations and of inverted commas was so great that our printer’s stock was quite exhausted, and he had to send all round the city to borrow a sufficient supply.
In a three months’ voyage the advantage of having a genial captain is obvious, and in this respect we were most fortunate, for it was impossible for anyone to be kinder or more considerate. Our captain entered heartily into all our amusements and schemes for the relief of the monotony of the voyage, and was ably seconded in his efforts by his amiable wife.
Sometimes it did appear to some of the more eager and impatient of the passengers that the captain was fonder of being on the water than they were; for he had a great regard for his sails, and whenever the wind developed unusual energy had no hesitation in diminishing the rate of our progress by shortening sail. The first officer, perhaps with the rashness of youth, would crowd all sail during his watch before breakfast, but when the captain made his appearance an order to “Take in those sails” would be promptly addressed to the chief.
Our captain had made the voyage more than twenty times, and had very carefully studied and noted the meteorological signs in various latitudes. The sky seemed like a book to him, and often when we could see no indications of change—and it was wonderful how quickly changes sometimes came—he would rapidly make his arrangements, and was rarely caught by the most sudden of tropical squalls. Our first experience of one of these squalls was when we were fifty miles to the south of Madeira. The weather had been fine all day, but about five o’clock we were aroused by great activity on the part of the officers and crew, who acted as though they expected to be boarded by pirates. The sky had become cloudy, and we were told that a squall was expected. The captain stood at the stern and gave his orders to the first officer in a quiet manner, while the latter shouted them to the sailors, who at once began to climb and pull at the ropes, all the while singing their sea songs. In the meantime the wind had come up, and was blowing like a hurricane through the rigging, and then the rain came down in torrents. While this was going on we saw a ship at a little distance, also overtaken by the squall, and it was wonderful to see how soon they took in her sails—it was done in a twinkling. Our vessel rolled and pitched heavily, and everything looked wet and wretched; but the squall passed off almost as quickly as it came, and the sun shone out, and everything looked smiling again. Unfortunately, during the storm the wind changed right ahead.
Our captain was a Tory, as most long-voyage captains are. I have often thought it strange that it should be so, seeing that the whole purpose of a captain’s life is to make progress on his voyage; but it would appear that, although he is always progressing, he invariably comes back to his starting point.
At dinner one day, happening to say I was from Birmingham, the captain said jocularly, “Oh, that’s where all the shams come from!”
Now the captain hails from London, but his wife is an Irish lady, so I answered, “No, captain, the things known as Brummagem shams are like the Irish bulls, and are, for the most part, manufactured in London.”
“That’s so,” said the captain’s wife; “well done, Mr. Tangye,” and the captain subsided.
Truly life on shipboard is a curious medley. Here is a picture of what went on one night. In the lower tier of cabins lies a young man in the last stage of consumption, and almost in the agonies of death; in a cabin just above him is another suffering from scarlet fever; within a few feet of these are mothers nursing their babies. Sitting in a corner of the saloon is another young man, also in the final stage of consumption, away from all his friends, and without a single acquaintance on board; in front of him are two card parties, one of them playing for money, and looking as eager about it as though dear life depended on success.
While all this is going on below, what might have been a tragedy is being enacted on deck, for the quartermaster went suddenly mad while standing at the wheel. The captain had just given him some instructions, but he did not seem to take kindly to them, and was inclined to be disputatious. Presently he said, with an oath, “I won’t argue with you to-night, captain.” The captain then ordered another man to take the wheel, when the poor fellow ran along the deck and fell forward, kicking vigorously. The captain, thinking the man was in a fit, summoned the doctor, who, after waiting till the patient became quieter, tried to persuade him to go forward with him. The man, however, suddenly sprang up and aimed a tremendous blow at the poor little doctor, who, fortunately, being cunning of fence, managed to evade it. He then chased the doctor around the deck, and would doubtless have thrown him overboard if he could have caught him. The first officer then came to the rescue and seized the lunatic, but, although a very strong man, the doctor and he were unable to hold him, and ultimately it took six men to carry him forward. At last they managed to secure him, as they thought, but in a very short time the sailors came rushing pell-mell on to the poop-deck, the maniac having got loose and begun to chase them with a long fork. It was some time before they could again secure him, but finally they succeeded, and put him into a strait-jacket.
In the morning the first officer went to see the poor fellow, who asked him to shake hands, but the officer declined. “Well, sir,” said the man, “I saved all your lives last night, for if I hadn’t put the ship about she would have been right into that other ship on the starboard bow!” Of course this was entirely a delusion, for there had been no ship there.
Soon after entering the Tropics on one of my voyages, one of the second-class passengers was taken ill, and died in a few hours; he had been suffering from an attack of delirium tremens. The funeral was arranged to take place at 7.30 on the following morning, and at the appointed time the body, which had been sewn up in sail-cloth, was placed on trestles on the main deck, opposite a port-hole, the “Union Jack” covering it. Presently the bell began to toll, while the clergyman and captain read the service for the dead, and when the latter came to the passage “We therefore commit his body to the deep,” he looked at the sailors, who at once loosed the corpse, which, being weighted with iron, shot through the open port-hole into the water with a great splash. During the ceremony the engines were stopped.
The day following was Sunday, and it being a glorious day, with a perfectly smooth sea, it was arranged for the service to be held on deck, which was covered with an awning. One of the passengers had brought a set of hand-bells with him, and he and some others rang out a peal before the service, the effect being curious.
The water was of a beautiful purple colour, and the sky a deep blue, and some large white birds were lazily flying around the ship. Under these unusual circumstances, and with the solemn incident of the burial of the poor drunkard on the previous day, one would have thought that even the dullest minister would have felt a thrill of inspiration. Judge, then, of our surprise when the parson commenced talking to us about geology! Nor did he make the slightest reference to the scene around him during the whole sermon. He told us, incidentally, that miners had not yet succeeded in getting more than twelve miles deep! During the afternoon I ventured to ask him where the mine was situated of which he had spoken, as, happening to know something about mining operations, I was anxious to know how the miners managed to pump the water from a depth of twelve miles. He answered testily, “I was not speaking of any particular mine.”
On one occasion a discussion arose as to the best means to be adopted to ensure the attendance of the working classes at church. The reverend gentleman told us that for his part he had no difficulty in getting people to attend his church—all classes and conditions of people came to hear him, and yet he took no special means to secure their attendance. Not being impressed with the parson’s eloquence, we were at a loss to understand how it was that he was so successful, when far abler and more attractive men failed so conspicuously; but he vouchsafed no explanation. On arriving in the Colony the explanation was forthcoming, for I found that our reverend friend was chaplain to a cemetery!
On another occasion the old gentleman preached a sermon in which he related an anecdote of a soldier who was mortally wounded on the field of Waterloo. One of the chaplains found the poor fellow, who showed him a Bible which he had always carried in his pocket, it having been given him by his mother on leaving home. “Doubtless,” said the clergyman, “this young man, having served his country to the death, went straight to glory.” Curiously enough, in the lesson for that day occurred the verse, “Love your enemies,” etc., so during the day I asked him how he reconciled the verse with the idea of the red-handed soldier going straight to glory? The parson (who was an Irishman) replied, “Sure, the soldier was heaping fire on his enemy’s head!”
In about eighteen days after leaving Plymouth we reached the island of Ascension, whose fine group of volcanic peaks formed a magnificent object from our steamer. The island is used as a sanatorium for the British Colonies on the west coast of Africa. It has an area of about thirty-five square miles, and produces an abundance of turtles, pheasants, peafowl, and eggs, while tomatoes, castor-oil plants, and pepper, are indigenous.
The first officer went ashore with a boat to take our letters, and to bring back some turtles for use during the voyage. Immediately the boat left the ship we saw a big shark following close in its wake, the brute’s fin showing above the water until the landing-stage was reached. This gave us some concern, as sharks are very bold at times, and have been known to snap at a hand hanging over the side of a boat. We saw large numbers about the ship during our stay, and one of the passengers shot several of them with a rifle. One was quite near to the ship when shot, and on feeling the bullet leaped right out of the water, and was instantly attacked and doubtless devoured by its brethren on falling back into the sea. We also put out a hook baited with pork, and observed several of the sharks make attempts upon it; but they appeared to be very clumsy, for they repeatedly missed it. Presently, however, one fellow got the hook firmly into his mouth, and we hauled him in over the stern on to the poop. He dashed about madly, looked very vicious, and reared right up on end, when the sailors barbarously hacked his tail off. Soon he was hauled on to the main-deck and quickly despatched, his teeth being on sale at a shilling each in less than an hour afterwards. Three turtles were brought on board “all alive,” and placed on their backs on the deck until they were required by the cook. They each measured 5ft.6in. long by 3ft. wide, and 6ft.8in. in girth, and each weighed about 330 lbs.
One day we had very rough weather, with an occasional sea dashing over the deck, along which the dinner was brought from the kitchen. My steward quietly told me to take none of the turtle soup, and I obeyed. After dinner I asked him why he advised me to let the soup pass? He said that as they were coming along the deck a sea came over and washed half the soup out of the tureen, decidedly mixing what was left! Those who partook of the soup remarked that the cook had put rather too much salt to it; but they libelled that useful functionary.
One of our fellow-passengers was an old German lady, who was returning from a visit to her fatherland. She was very lively, and informed us she had not told her husband she was returning by this ship, intending, as she said, “to catch him on de hop,” but she did not know that the passengers’ names were all sent on by the mail, which went faster than we did; so when we got to the port her husband, “Shemmy” (Jemmy), as she called him, had come out with the pilot, and was very near catching her on “de hop,” for she was a very lively old lady. One morning, while we were in the Tropics, upon getting on deck, we found the old lady dressed from head to foot in scarlet! It was too much, with the thermometer at 101° in the shade, so a deputation waited upon her and begged her to shade her glory, for it was too overpowering.
After being a month at sea the sailors performed the ceremony called “Burying the Dead Horse,” the explanation of which is this: Before leaving port seamen are paid a month in advance, so as to enable them to leave some money with their wives, or to buy a new kit, etc., and having spent the money they consider the first month goes for nothing, and so call it “Working off the Dead Horse.” The crew dress up a figure to represent a horse; its body is made out of a barrel, its extremities of hay or straw covered with canvas, the mane and tail of hemp, the eyes of two ginger beer bottles, sometimes filled with phosphorus. When complete the noble steed is put on a box, covered with a rug, and on the evening of the last day of the month a man gets on to his back, and is drawn all round the ship by his shipmates, to the chanting of the following doggerel:—
BURYING THE DEAD HORSE.
You have come a long long way,
And we say so, for we know so.
For to be sold upon this day,
Poor old man.You are goin’ now to say good-bye,
And we say so, for we know so.
Poor old horse you’re a goin’ to die,
Poor Old Man.
Having paraded the decks in order to get an audience, the sale of the horse by auction is announced, and a glib-mouthed man mounts the rostrum and begins to praise the noble animal, giving his pedigree, etc., saying it was a good one to go, for it had gone 6,000 miles in the past month! The bidding then commences, each bidder being responsible only for the amount of his advance on the last bid. After the sale the horse and its rider are run up to the yard-arm amidst loud cheers. Fireworks are let off, the man gets off the horse’s back, and, cutting the rope, lets it fall into the water. The Requiem is then sung to the same melody.
Now he is dead and will die no more,
And we say so, for we know so.
Now he is gone and will go no more;
Poor Old Man.
After this the auctioneer and his clerk proceed to collect the “bids,” and if in your ignorance of auction etiquette you should offer your’s to the auctioneer, he politely declines it, and refers you to his clerk!
As we neared the Equator the heat became very oppressive. On October 2nd, when 7° north of the line, the thermometer stood at 120° in the sun, while under the awning it registered 85°. On the thermometer being dipped into the sea the temperature of the surface water was found to be 82°, while in the cabin at midnight the thermometer stood at 80°, with the wind blowing in at the open porthole.
In passing under the vertical sun the old proverb “may your shadow never grow less” is entirely out of place, for it is impossible it can diminish, unless, indeed, one should become like poor misguided Peter Schlemihl, and find oneself altogether without one! When standing upright my shadow was about two feet in diameter, and it looked like the shadow of the brim of my hat all round my feet.
The wife of the captain of our steamer had been very unwell until we had passed the Equator, and had not come out of her cabin. One evening, soon after she made her first appearance, I was chatting with her, when, finding I was from Cornwall, she asked me if I knew a certain watering-place in that county which she named. It happened that I had a residence at the place in question, and curiously enough she had been a visitor at the same house before I had it, and she said, “last year my sister was staying in the neighbourhood with some friends, when they were nearly caught by the tide on the beach opposite the house, and had to scale the face of the cliff, climbing up some old ladders left in an abandoned mine.” I told her if they had taken my advice, and had turned back, they would not have had such an unpleasant adventure, for I happened to be on the beach at the time, and warned the party of their danger, but they disregarded it! It was curious to be reminded of this occurrence under such circumstances.
Amongst our fellow-passengers were two young men, whose friends, it was reported, had become tired of them at home, and had made a present of them to the Colonies. They were very lively youths, and did their best to keep the ship lively by their pranks and escapades. They were known by the names of “Tall and Fat,” and “Short and Stout,” and were always together. Sometimes, however, the playfulness of these two young men received an unexpected check. On one occasion they had gone “forward” to play some tricks upon the emigrants, who, however, did not see the fun; so, having got the lads into a corner, they covered them, first with molasses and then with flour, and so returned them to the saloon. They did not repeat their visit.
There is one feature on board many ships which always strikes passengers with surprise; and that is the impunity with which the “wild spirits” carry on their disorderly conduct. Drinking, betting, shouting, tramping the deck at unseemly hours of the night, are permitted, to the great annoyance of the majority; but it is in vain that you appeal to the officers—they will not interfere. On one occasion a noisy youth, who went by the name of the “Blatant Beast,” was firing a revolver about “at large,” and although we appealed to the captain, and begged that he would disarm the lad, it was useless—he would not interfere. Ultimately the young man accidentally discharged the pistol and broke his arm, and so relieved his neighbours from further apprehensions for a time.
One night “Short and Stout” and “Tall and Fat,” and a few other rowdies, got drunk, and in their rambles found a poor harmless cat, which they chased all over the ship, and succeeded in killing. On the following day these gallant youths determined, in Irish phrase, to “wake” the cat. They proceeded to fit up one of their cabins as a chapel, and upon a bier the corpse of poor pussy was laid, having been dressed for the occasion, candles surrounding the body. The mourners, or murderers, stood around the body with pipes in their mouths, meggy-howling and cat-a-wauling in a most vigorous fashion, afterwards parading the deck, headed by one of their party, arrayed in a dress coat over a night shirt, and wearing a tall white hat, carrying the dead body of poor puss before him.
Betting is often carried on to a great extent, considerable sums of money changing hands. One passenger told me, after we had been some weeks at sea, that he had cleared enough to pay for his own passage, and also for that of his wife and child, and that it only remained for him to win enough to pay for the nurse, and to take them all from Australia to New Zealand, and he should be happy! I knew one man, the father of a very large family, who lost £700 in three weeks, £400 of it going at a single night’s play; yet, with striking consistency, this open-handed gentleman refused to allow his wife and daughters to go on shore at one of the most interesting of our ports of call on the score of the expense, which he said would amount to at least £2 or £3!
A pleasant sight it is to watch the fish and birds which begin to make their appearance about 30° S. Occasionally flocks of flying-fish are to be seen flying a few feet above the water, pursued by dolphins. Sometimes their headlong flight carries them right on to the deck, or through the cabin windows when lighted up after nightfall. They are caught by the sailors at night by the simple device of suspending a net in front of a lantern, and they are said to be very good when cooked.
We first saw that splendid bird, the albatross, when about 28° S. latitude, and when more than 1,000 miles from land. They appeared in flocks, and would follow the ship for many days. Their flight is exceedingly graceful, and very rapid, the movement of their wings being scarcely perceptible. The capture of the albatross is a favourite amusement upon sailing ships—it is scarcely possible to catch them from a steamer—the plan being to let out a line over the stern, having a strong hook baited with a piece of meat or with red cloth. We were successful in catching a magnificent fellow, which measured 15ft. across its wings. A drop of prussic acid applied to the eye of the poor creature causes instant death. The breast forms an excellent muff, and the wing bones make good stems for pipes of the “churchwarden” pattern. One of our passengers was a fiery Irishman, who was travelling with his newly-married wife. One day, while at dinner, the ship gave a heavy lurch, and the lady fell back, breaking her chair; upon which her husband, in a great rage, seized the chair, and, rushing on deck, threw it overboard, when lo! a flock of albatrosses crowded around it, and one fine fellow “took” the chair, and appeared to be addressing his friends!
One of the most beautiful creatures to be seen in tropical waters is the “Portuguese Man-of-War.” It is often confounded with the Nautilus, but is a quite distinct organism; it has a crest which can be raised or lowered at will, and its body consists of a long, horizontal, oblong bladder filled with air. They vary in size from 12in. diameter to small discs no larger than a shilling, and present a beautiful appearance as the ship passes by a fleet of them.
We caught some dolphins, and an examination of their stomachs proved they were not unjustly suspected of eating the pretty little flying-fish. The pilot-fish, also found in these latitudes, is coloured purple and silver, with five black bands across it, and is about five inches in length. We also saw specimens of the white shark, porpoises, grampuses, Mother Carey’s chickens, booby-birds, etc.
One of the most interesting sights at sea is the passing of ships. I shall never forget our meeting a ship in full sail one glorious moonlight night. It came close to us, the moon shining full on its sails, and being like our vessel, a sailing ship, not a sound was heard until our captain hailed the stranger, and asked him to report us “all well.”
One would think there was not much danger of collision at sea, in broad daylight and in the open ocean, but on one occasion, while in a sailing ship, another came so close to us that it was only by the most dexterous management on the part of our captain that a collision was avoided.