MEMORIES OF THE SILISTRIA

Otago Daily Times, Issue 15692, 26 February 1913, Page 6

MEMORIES OF THE SILISTRIA

Bi C. E. M.

A wet sheet and a flowing sea And a wind that follows fast And fills the white and rustling sail And bends the gallant mast. How these fifty-one years have flown, at times on light, but mostly on heavy, wangi;, since on the 14th of January, 1862, the good ship "Silistria" was towed into Port Chalmers by the tug Samson on as lovely a morning as ever dawned on the Dunedin Harbour, where the hills then were mostly timber-clad to the water's edge, with little clearinga every here and there along the foot of these hills.

Jj'ifty-ono years ago and not a word of reunion! What has become of the Silistrians? Perhaps the greater number of the passengers have gone on a longer voyage to a land where there "will be no more sea." There are a few of them still left in the Clutha district. When we lauded here, in Otago, I was a veilgrown girl of 11 years, with perhaps, unfortunately for myself, a romantic nature which wove a story round < every thing. and gave all the colouring romance can give. jL had learnt that the "world was wide," and great things loomed grandly in the future; it was not wmu might be possible, but there was nothing impossible on the road which lay before us. I never dreamed of sitting here in Balclutha after all these years, writing my memories of the Silistria. We had lived fairly happily together between three or four months 'ere we caught a glimpse of New Zealand. I suppose, like other passenger ships, we had our pleasant times, especially when the evening was approaching, and to quote Kipling:

With noise of pleasant music and dancing on the deck, All's well, all's well aboard her.

When becalmed at the line, where we lay for eight days at least, with a good many sailing vessels around us also becalmed, we had a good deal of time to expend on watching tne sharks swimming round and round us, while the crew and others made patient elforts to catch them, and on one occasion I know they succeeded in catching a fairly young one, and they who partook of it seemed to enjoy shark pie. Memories come back of hot breathless darkness, spent mostly in the earlier part of the night in pleasant' companionship. 1 daresay the older passengers felt the discomforts more than -I—a child—would do, lor did I not say all was tjnged with romance to me then. Then there was the arrival of Neptune with his wile on board, with the subsequent compulsory bathing and shaving experiences, which were not marked by gentleness towards boys and men crossing the line for the first time. Our ''bosun," who died on his return voyage, was Neptune, but his "wife" on that occasion- is now domiciled at Waikoikoi, in the person of Mr James Ba/r, then a good looking young sailor. Mention of two members of our crew recalls the others. There was Captain M'Xay, who, if he had been in the Navy, and riot too young, would have made a grand looking admiral, and, which was rather remarkable in those days, he wa6 a total abstainer. Then there was our first mate, Mr Moir, a dapper iittle sailor, and our second mate, MrDuncan, the best loved of all by me, although I would' not say he was best loved by the crew. He had naval training, and had also been for a time in the American Navy. When a little upset his language was apt to be "painful, frequent, and free." He was kindness itself to young and old. He it was who fast showed me the Southern Cross. Mr Duncan, too, was a total abstainer. He loved to talk to us of his wife, Jeannie. He fully understood the meaning of that line in "Nancy Lee"—"A sailor's wife, a sailor's star shall be."' I could go on writing of him, for my friendship has lasted all these years, and the last faceI saw on the Silistria was the dark face with fiery eyes of the second mate. I never saw Duncan again, but I met the greater part of the crew, apprentices included, within two years after I landed. The parting from the ship was to me a mingling of joy and sorrow. About 300 of us were parting. Many of us had become, and some still are, close friends. Many concerts were held on the voyage, among the singers being Mr William Muir, of Clinton, who was the possessor of a rare tenor voice, and sometimes sang "The anchor's weighed," "By the sad sea waves," and other songs. Mr Bill Cross (one of the crew) also sang good' songs in a high tremolo. John M'Ewan, our passenger steward, who excelled in pathos as in humour, was a host in himself. And the purser (Mr Young), for whom I had a great friendship—l can hear his voice now as he sang:

While on the deck like a king I stand, And bold hearts bow to their chief's command.

Then, amongst the girls who sang were Miss Fyfe, the late Mrs William Muir (of Clinton), who sang sweetly the popular songs of the day, " Gentle Anrne," •' Willie, we have missed you," and others, and another girl, very dear to the writer, who sang Scottish songs chiefly. There were many others who sang who will in all likelihood be like the last two mentioned, singing amongst "God's choristers." Coming up from Port. Chalmers to Dunedin we passed the ill-fated Pride of the Yarra sailing gaily down the harbour. Bracken sings of " Dunedin from the bay." The city was beautiful then, as it is beautiful now, New Zealand was .glorious even to the tree tutu, hanging with clusters of black berries; and most wonderful of all was Dimedin and the crowds of gold diggers, going to or coming from the diggings. Does "distance lend enchantment to the view," or were there "giants in those days"? Splendid specimens of manhood, they had their faults, poor fellows, but, of course, with some exceptions the faults were not in their general apeparance. " The digger's shirt was freedom's badge; beneath it honour

glows," sings Bracken,' and they were Kindly, chivalrous men, clad in their blue shirts, cabbage-tree hats, long boots, moleskins mostly, and the digger's sash. Nowhere could such a dress be surpassed on a fine 1 athletic figure. All newcomers at the time would have much the same experiences, and, perhaps, if this little memory finds publication, other Silist-rians may Temember, and all have kindly thought's of each other on this our fifty-first year in 'New Zealand. I should like to hear a chantey sung once again:

See her tiering oanvas in sheeted silver spread; Or hear the long-drawn thunder 'neath her leaping figurehead.