BY WAY OF OLD OCEAN TO -MAORILAND;

Otago Witness, Issue 2545, 24 December 1902, Page 74

BY WAY OF OLD OCEAN TO -MAORILAND ;

OR, CHILDISH RECOLLECTIONS OF A SAILING SHIP. . .«. ■ By Cape Coast. What others say of their schooldays — that they were the happiest and freest from care-^I say of my seadays, when the white wmgs of a ship first bore me to fair Maoriland. I love' to live over those childish days, when I woke every morning to a sea 'made' new, when the waves chanted solemnly every night at my porthole. I welcome those sights and those sounds which, though never seen, never heard ibut on the sea, yet, by a gracious power of memory, sometimes fill my eyes and ears. But I regret the work of Time — that they were clear, are faint, and will be fainter. Still lam thankful that Ido remember that though the rig at order and due sequence of those things whose sum was my childish li'xe at sea elude me, some memories still remain. My wondering eyes see the tall masts for the first time, stiff and straight above me, in the place that was their?, on that and every voyage. I joy in the perpetual motion of the ship through the waters, in the new noises that greet my ears — at 7 in the morning the tramp of scampering bare feet, the scrape of brooms, the thud of wooden rope-handled buckets set suddenly down on the deck ; and when breakfast is over, the squeaking of blocks, the flapping of sails, the gurgling of water in and out of the scupper holes at regular intervals along the deck. I make my first exploring trip, beginning by poking a stick in the holes of the grating just outside the cabin door. Then I put an empty chocolate-box in the biggest scupper-hole, to see how long it will remain. Then 1 pass to the apprentices' house, where I am much impressed by the fact that the* youngest sleeps alone, while the other four share the biggest cabin in common. The other deck-houses follow, hi the first of which the steam winch is kept, and I have to go from the door on £ne one side of the deck to the door opening on the other to get a proper view of it. Then, after some_ locked doors, vastly disappointing, the cook's galley and the cook, a nice old man with whom I soon made friends. Then the carpenter's house, where I engage to spend the afternoon,- for "Chips," as I soon learned to call its owner, has readily promised to let me use his plane, and, after that, the familiar farm-yard noises of pigs and .fowls. But I do not care for the pigs in their pen facing the "foc'sle," although I like to hear of the -wonderful things they Trill eat — coal, wood, canvas, etc. The "foc'sle" I think just splendid, so dark and so dirty, so cumbered up with boxes and other seamen's lumber, so full of bunks running all round, some of them always occupied, too. I decide to come back very often, and my decision is certainly not weakened when the sailors fish out what they call "cockroaches" (lumps of brown sugar stuck firmly together) for my especial benefit. With my mouth full of this dainty, I visit the sailmaker, who lives on the other side from the carpenter in the daytime, though they share the same cabin at night. He shows me his huge needles and coarse twine, and some maerame work he is doing for his wife, and finally bids me remember to call the cook "Doctor" when I see him again. His own name on. board ship, he gays i is

"Sails." I promise not to forget, and go skipping away to the poop, feeling certain that once I know the names of the masts and the sails I shall know "the ropes," as the sailors say, quite well. The poop, however, is not nearly so interesting as the j deck. There is only the skylight and the wheel, and the sailor who turns that is not allowed to speak. • Of course there is the bell, but then that is struck only once in the half hour, and the lifebuoys I have seen many times before, though not cnes with "Hereward" on them. But things improve when the mate puts up a nice swing, and I don't visit the deck again until after dinner. Many more such mornings I remember, spent in flitting Troni place to place, answering and asking questions. The routine of ship life, however monotonous to a grown-up person, scarcely, if ever, wearies a shild. My pleasure in the mysteries of the capstan, slowly revolving to -the vigorous shoves of the men, wliJ thrust their huge wooden bars in its gaping sides, remained undiminished when I saw it all done for the twentieth time, i took, every day, the same interest in the sailors, mug in hand, trooping aft for their limejuice at noon ; in the pump, as the fresh water gurgled from its iron mouth at 4 in the afternoon ; in the red and green lights, as "they were carried to their places 4n the cool of the evening, the former to the port- side, . the latter to the starbbardl Those wonderful songs, -the chanties, tho' Bailors- sing td help them in their work sounded as well to me r afe the end of 'the voyage as they had donevat the ■ beginning. "Old Ranso" was, I think, my favourite. The steward, whom I called "Sue-sue," generally sang the solo part, the men joining heartily in the chorus. He had a good strong voice, and he enjoyed the exercise of it. There is scarcely an old song that I have not heard him sing, and he began them all with a preliminary "A " that I used to think very fine. In fact, I thought "Sue-sue" altogether a very fine fellow, ■ except when he quarrelled with the cook, which happened pretty frequently. I thought it so undignified of the man who dispensed lime-juice, and had besides charge of that hall of mystery, the lazarette, to lose his temper like anyone else. I did not mind when it was only the ship he called "sinner,"' for the dishe* flying off the cabin table when the sea was extra- heavy was occasion enough r though badly-cooked food was not. Perhaps I rather enjoyed a storm, except when it was so very bad that I was forbidden to get up, in case I broke my legs in getting about. I know I thought it a huge joke when "Sue-sue," going out as usual by the big doors on to the deck, to avoid the round-about way to the galley which bad weather necessitated, and which meant climbing a ladder from the saloon to the poop, let a great wave of sea come rushing in to our cabins. I clapped my hands when our things went floating about. "Sue-sue" looked as though he would have like to exercise his_ on something or somebody, probably me. He was veiy kind, though, on the whole, sometimes even taking me with him when he went to ge.t stores up from the lazarette. I Tegarded that as a treat, for the lazarette or, as I called it, "rat-hole," from the number of rats that infested it, had always a great fascination for me. I liked to sit by the. grating that covered the top of it, and look down for rats, and even pretend to fish for them, though I daresay f should have been very frightened if I had caught one. I k always screamed my loudest when any came 'to my cabin, and perhaps that frightened them, for theii visits were few and far between. Then our cat, a splendid black animal, "London . Sam,"' was a famous rat+er. The sailors also had a cat, thin and sandy, but ifc never dared to show its long nose aft, for the apprentices' dog, Tara, invariably drove it away, which was strange, seeing that he allowed Sam to eafc from the same dish as himself. He was a funny dog, Tara. On Saturday afternoons, when the pigs were let out for a run, he would amuse himself and us by chafing them round and round the deck, jumping en their backs and. riding part of the way, barking excitedly all the time. This perfoimance, however, I could never be induced to view, except from the elevation of the poop, or from a port-hole overlooking the deck, as I was always afraid that the pigs would do me some barm.. ► I think their grunting and squealing must have frightened me. There was one other terror for me on board, and that was the big harness cask, full of salt pork, that stood near the forecastle. The second mate had told me when I first came that he would put me in it, using for that purpose a hook with which he was accustomed to take the meat out. Eufc my fears, more imaginary than real, were nothing to the terror our youngest apprentice had of going up the mast. I shall never forget his first attempt. It seemed he could never reach the top. Every step was a pain to him. The other boys, on their downward way, passed him but a few feet from the bottom. He said he had no nerve for that sort of thing, and felt sure that he would never come down alive. Strange to say, some years afterwards he did fall from aloft and get drowned. We did not lose any men the trip I made, though the second mate was washed over the jibboom, and only escaped drowning by holding on to the martingale back ropes, to be strictly nautical. We had really no serious mishaps, although we had plenty of bad weather to encounter, starting badly with a fog in the English Channel, which I remember only as a medley of fog-horns, from which I was heartily glad to escape. I suppose we had not left it far behind us .when I .saw one of the few sea sights I remember best. A training ship fo* British boys, with the boys themselves looking sadly over the side. Such little boys ! little even in then 1 long regulation blue suits. Such white pathetic faces, as made one feel sorry in one's heart, and strangely thankful that God, the Watcher of the sea, watches also the boys that are on it. The other sight was perhaps a more uniqmmon one — that ocean tragedy* a dere- .

lict. It eeems but the other day that! ran from my play to see that picture of desolation — the last I shall ever fofgatC ' The long-hanging barnacles, slow growth;, of years, beneath her counter, more and .njoie^ clusters of which every roll of the" lazy, heaving sea discloses ; the stumps of masts', with fragments of decayed cordage -Still - clinging to them, like patient sentinehr-inf-their uniform, standing, always standing; in a narrow space ; the bulwarks, on. the -left side only ; the davits, but no boats-: only idle-swinging, useless tackle. Strange thafr such should be my clearest memory, while the Beauty of a sunset orthe terror of a storm should fade ! It would also seem that memory, like the eye, turns dazzled -from a glory if too great. And the ocean is one great glory. In the daytime, when its deep mysteries baffie the search of the' sun \ in the night time, when the moon, and tW stars are patiently watching., it; lor ife ia seldom that they hide their faces • and let it roll unseen, till the coming of Orion, ia the early morning, when one looks at i 6 in doubt and uncertainty, as if .it ■were oit the verge of some declaration ; in "thVeveni ing, when the setting sun makes of it one big rainbow, whose end &nd beginning ia lost in. the mysterious region .beyond- th.s : range of our visioji. _ .. ' / Tlien .the, wonderful creatures that Jiva in- it: whales, green and glittering beneath the> surface, but -brown, dull andjvugly; '. when swimming on. t«EJ -dolphins^ grej^: and graceful i 'porpoises,. clumsy," bu€3iye.brc^'-tiger-sharks*, grey.with.green stripes;; J -jellyp J . fish, like' the reflection of coloured Ugh'ts * in the water ; and, on the deck itself the dreaded common, shark (for the sailors happened to catch one). I remember how ife beat about the deck without tail or head, how its heart still fluttered When removed from its body. It was not a pleasing sight at all, and I never could repress a shudder when I passed its jaws, hungi up to dry at the door of the apprentices'" house, oi saw its eyes half pickled in a bottle that they' had. Some "flying fish were also caught, and I was very disappointed when I found that there were" .none fox the cabin table, as I was eager to taste so rare a dish. Then I saw many curious birds: penguins and albatrosses, which we "used , to catch and kill, and have stuffed when the ship was in port ; Mother Carey's chickens, some of which we adorned with ribbon, before letting them off again.- T remember also a swarm of butterflies when we were nearing the Equator,, but whether' thgy ' came from Africa or South America I never knew.' " But the most welcome sight of all was not wonderful — just another ship like ours, breaking the sad monotony- .of the world, of waves, with the woi'ld of clouds above. In the happy excitement of exchanging signals with such* an' one the sea loses all its loneliness ; .and i there are • some very lonely feelings that visit those Trho see daily only water-stretching out. to x the wide world's distant border. Sunday is, perhaps, the loneliest days f or " one feels upon ihe first day of the week that things ought somehow to be differenti But Sunday at sea is much the - same a» any other day. Although the sailors get Saturday afternoon for washing and mending, yet Sunday is generally the day on. which such work is done. Even Ghristmas Day is no change from, the usual routine. The sailors sometimes get a glass of spirits each by way of cele- _ bration. I remember that day came in the „ tropics, and how strange I thought it to see the pitch bubbling on the decks "with. the heat, instead of white frosts and icy winds and whirling snow. It would have been more natural if it had come somewhere about Cape -Horn, where the icebergs float all the year round. It would also have been more natural, certainly more pleasing to our pilots,' if we had arrived at Otago Heads on any day of' the week but Sunday. Yet were the church bells calling from the hills when we ended our long voyage at the Port Chalmers wharf.

— The Bank of England employs about; 1000 people, pays a quarter of a million in wages, and £35,000 a year in pensions. — In the. silk factories of Italy the- usual work hours are from 4- ih' the morning till 8 at night, and the wages 6d a day. .