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!”