Chapter III: Part 3

At this time the Littleton was the only ship in Frisco ready to sail, and there was an urgent demand for flour in Montevideo. Old Friedlander fully intended that a cargo should be sent there at once, but hoped to profit by chartering a ship to Ireland or other European ports. All this was known to me, and as my owners had given me “carte blanche” I was ready to talk business with him and prepared to beat him at his own game. I met Friedlander at his office, and we talked and argued for half a day, but without agreeing on any terms. At last he said, “Well, there are plenty of ships due here, but if you will agree to close charter party today the captain will receive fifty pounds sterling as a gift.” We did not close any bargain, however, and I went aboard the ship. An hour after he came down aboard saying he had a telegram to close the charter at once if possible. I told him that my terms were four pounds a ton to any South American ports east of Cape Horn or ports down to the equator, preferring, however, to take European ports at five shillings extra rather than South American ports. The old champion was wild, had never heard of such prices; said he would split the difference and call it three pounds fifteen shillings a ton. I said, “Mr. Friedlander, yesterday you were sure you wanted to sign charter for Europe, and I am willing to sign to that effect, but to any South American ports it is four pounds or nothing. Also, I shall demand thirty running lay-days for discharging cargo, the lay-days to commence twenty-four hours after reporting to consignee, and will give you until tomorrow to accept, as I have several offers to consider.” At last he accepted the terms, and I agreed to have the ship ready in a week. The next day all the waterfront had the news that Friedlander had been beaten at his own game by the boy captain of the ship Littleton.

We proceeded to load at once with a cargo of flour in bags. It was a busy time; stevedores, riggers and carpenters all were working at once, and the ship was a regular beehive. My old friend, Commodore Allen, who had come to California in the early fifties, was in the business of a stevedore, and had been most successful and was now handling three-fourths of all the ships that entered Frisco. He was very popular with all the ship masters and entertained them in a royal manner. His carriages and horses were at all times at our disposal, and you may be sure the favor was appreciated.

The drive to the Cliff House was a popular drive at that time, even as it is today, and thousands of people would flock to the Golden Gate on a pleasant afternoon. The house stood on the western promontory of a very big cliff, at the southern entrance of the Golden Gate. There was a beautiful view of the bay and ocean from the verandahs, and one could see sea lions and seals sporting around the rocks. A band was playing on the piazzas, and everywhere men and women were enjoying themselves lunching, drinking, card playing and dancing. It was said that the old proprietor made his thousands. This famous hotel was later destroyed by fire, built up again on a grander scale, and then destroyed again by fire, and when I visited California again in 1908, the ruins still remained, although there were many places of amusement nearby. At the present time, instead of going to this place by carriage, as we did in ’69, one can take the electrics right to the Golden Gate, through a country beautifully laid out with streets and beautiful flowers.

The ship had finished loading, and with all fitted aloft we took a tug down to the outer bar, as wind was light from the S. W. Many of my friends, old sea captains, came to see me off. Captain Lunt of the ship Sacramento, Captain House of the Agbar, Captain Knowles of the ship Puritan, and Captain John Taylor of the ship Imperial, besides Captain Purdington of the Westward Ho. After crossing the bar, the tug came alongside and they all left, bidding us a hearty good-by and a prosperous voyage.

We made sail and stood off on shore on the wind with the port tacks aboard. Pleasant weather followed until we reached the latitude of Cape Horn, about 800 miles to the westward, when thick weather set in and strong winds, increasing to violent gales from W. S. W. to W. N. W. We ran under bare poles for forty-eight hours, no sun, and with terrific seas. At four p.m. on the forty-second day out from Frisco the ship was laboring heavily and the seas were running so high that they broke completely over her stern and filled the decks completely. The only choice was to risk bringing her to on the run, or to founder; all the sail we had on at the time was foresail and lower main topsail. We watched our chance for a smooth time and took in all sail and hove the wheel hard down, and then with the head spanker eased. She came to flying, but unfortunately, when abeam to the sea, an old roller came and we all jumped for the rigging. It struck us full force, filled her fore and aft, and she careened over on starboard side and fairly trembled, her lower starboard yard arms in the water, starboard bulwarks washed away and everything moveable about decks gone.

We finally got her head to the wind on the port tack, yet she lay very badly and shipped much water until we placed a piece of No. 1 canvas in the mizzen rigging. Then she lay easier, but the sea still ran so high that it was like being on a ledge. Our cabin was flooded, trunks and everything moveable was awash and a sorry sight things were. This, I believe, was the only time in my career at sea that I felt the end was nigh. By dead reckoning the great rocky promontory of Cape Horn was not more than 75 miles away, and the heavy gale was blowing us right on to it. There was no indication that the barometer would rise; the night was as black as ink, and things looked very dubious.

About eight bells, at midnight, the gale abated nearly one-half, and, being exhausted from long hours on duty, I went below for a sleep. It seemed scarcely ten minutes when Chief Officer Wessel woke me and said, “Captain Taylor, we are very near land; come right up on deck.” It was only too true; the ship was ahead of my reckoning, and the big, dark rocks loomed up dead ahead. Like a flash I sang out, “Hoist up the jib and heave your wheel hard up.” The ship answered like a charm, and there on our port quarter rose the high rocky cliffs 1000 feet high, with the breakers dashing up against the sides, and not over a quarter of a mile away. All hands made sail and the ship headed south without any but the deck watch realizing the danger we had been in. Now the land tends more easterly, and with clearing weather we were in a safe position. Good luck had certainly been with us, and I shook the hand of Mate Wessel, whose watchfulness had saved us from a watery grave. Those who have rounded Cape Horn can more than others realize our danger and narrow escape.

The next day was fine and clear, with a good breeze from the N. West, and with all sail set we headed east, passing Cape Horn inside the islands called the “_Diego Ramirez_.” After running an easterly course for a while, we shaped our course for Cape San Antonio, at the mouth of the River Plate.

We arrived safely at Montevideo, anchored as near the city as we could, and reported to my consignee, a Mr. Costello, that I was ready to discharge cargo on the following morning and that my “lay days” would commence from that date. He said, in the old Spanish way, “Manana, Capitano, Manana,” meaning tomorrow. Now, two barques had arrived just before we did from New York, loaded with flour, so they had plenty and wanted to use our ship as a storehouse until they had disposed of the other cargoes. So our “lay days” expired and they had taken no cargo out of our ship.

I now went to the American consul and reported these facts to him, so he went with me to Mr. Costello and demanded my demurrage as the charter specified, but Costello only laughed, refused to pay, and said it was not the custom of the country. The consul told him he would protect me and would begin to discharge and warehouse the cargo, and the cargo, according to law, would be responsible for freight and demurrage. This brought Mr. Costello to terms, and rather than incur extra expense he paid the demurrage daily. At the end of 17 days I had received my freight money and also $1700 demurrage, and learned afterwards that it was the first ever paid in that port for years. You may be sure Mr. Costello got sick of seeing me; he could speak no English, and I always greeted him with, “Bon Diaz, Senor, Manana,” which made him very angry.

We now loaded for Boston with a cargo of wool and hides, which ended most profitably for the owners.

ADVENTURE WITH SEA LIONS.

(SHIP LITTLETON).

On the voyage from Frisco to Montevideo in the ship Littleton we had an interesting experience with sea lions, and narrowly escaped losing our lives. As we entered the River Plate, on our way up to Montevideo, the wind left us, and as the tide was running out we came to anchor, clewed up the sails, and I went below for a nap. We lay about a mile off shore, and about four o’clock one morning I was awakened by a terrible screeching and bellowing, which I could not account for. It was now nearly daylight, and running up on deck I thought the sounds came from seals. I ordered the dingy to be put over the side, and took with me a Snider rifle and heavy shotgun. We pulled quietly inshore toward an island, which was called Lobos Island. The sun was now fairly up, and I could see what I supposed were seals moving about and completely covering the east side of the island. Pulling carefully, I got within a hundred feet of them when I saw my mistake. They were not seals, but sea lions, belonging to the seal family, but of no value. They were bellowing like a lot of mad bulls, and were big fellows, dark brown in color, and with eyes the size of an apple, I picked out one big fellow about fifty feet above the shore, and fired at him. In a few seconds they had rolled down into the water, every one of them, formed into a perfect line, and came right alongside of the boat. They were fierce-looking devils, with mouths wide open, and kept putting their fore flippers on the gunwale of the boat.

I now began to feel somewhat uneasy, and struck several of them with a long bar of inch iron which lay in the bottom of the boat. They dove down and came up about fifty feet away, handling themselves like a company of soldiers. I now thought the quicker I got back to the ship the better it would be for me. I had taken but a few strokes when on they came again, following in a V-shaped line like a lot of geese.

They quickly surrounded the boat, putting their flippers on the sides and biting the gunwale with their long, sharp teeth. Their weight made the boat rock and take in much water. As fast as I would strike them with the bar, down they would go, only to come up again a short distance away and repeat their tactics. By this time I was nearly exhausted, and called to the ship for help. The chief officer, a Mr. Wessel, afterwards told me that he thought I was fooling and having some fun, so he did not send help. They now attacked the boat fiercer than ever, so I picked up the heavy shotgun and let the old leader have a charge right in the face. Another followed, and he got the same dose. This seemed to sicken them and they turned and swam for the island. Almost exhausted, I got back aboard the ship and found the crowd very anxious to get out and take a crack at them.

The weather was still calm, so we got out the ship’s long-boats, put in iron bars, rifles and hooks, and pulled in for the islands again. One of the crew had refused to go, saying that his brother had been killed by sea lions in the China Sea and that they were treacherous animals, but we had nine men in the boat, so felt secure. As they were up on the rocks, sunning themselves, we got the boat in a good position, and I let drive at them with the rifle. The mate shouted out, “You have killed him, captain; see him roll.” And sure enough, they all did roll, but they rolled into the water and came for us in quick time. They tried to climb into the boat, and how we did fight them! I fired the rifle till the barrel was hot; we clubbed, pounded and jabbed them until the sea was red with blood, but still they came on. Two of the men had gotten out a couple of oars, and we slowly pulled away from them back to the ship. I never want to see another sea lion again as long as I live. A breeze coming up, we made sail and went up the river.

TRIP OF THE SHIP LITTLETON FROM MONTEVIDEO TO NEW YORK.

Having loaded our cargo of hides and wool at Montevideo, it was now most imperative that we reach New York before the new duties on these articles were imposed. If we could get to an American port before the duties were put on, the owners would be saved a large sum of money.

The usual passage from Montevideo to New York is about 60 days, and we now had less than that time in which to perform the trip. We left port late in the day, with a strong westerly wind which carried us well on our course, averaging 12 knots until we took the S. East Trades. As these were very strong, we were able to cross the equator in 19 days. In sight of Cape St. Roque it became very moderate, with pleasant weather and light, baffling winds, continuing so for six days, which made me feel most uneasy, as we had but 54 days to make the voyage and save the duty.

It was now the month of November, and a winter passage often delays ships for many days even after nearing port. After taking the N. E. Trades, all went well until within 200 miles of port, when we ran into a heavy gale from the N. West, with only 60 hours left to perform the voyage before January 1st, and thus save the duties. I now had almost lost all hope of getting in port, but trusted that we would yet be able to drop anchor within the three-mile limit. At 12 noon on the last day of December we were, by good observations, about one hundred and ninety miles from Sandy Hook. The wind now suddenly veered round to S. S. East; we shook out all reefs, made sail, and by one o’clock she was logging thirteen knots, with the wind very squally and the barometer very low. These conditions were not at all encouraging.

We now had all hands on deck, and at times were obliged to take in all our light sails, and when they passed, up they went again, no time being lost. At two o’clock on the morning of January 1st we made Scotland Lightship, shortened sail and ran in. As I was not acquainted with New York harbor, I intended to run in as far as was safe and drop anchor. The night was very dark and intensely cold, and the barometer suddenly commenced to rise, and in a few moments the ship was taken flat aback, caught by the sudden change.

The wind howled from the N. West, and it seemed as if the masts would go out of her before we were able to change our position. In the meantime a pilot boat ran up under our lee and shouted out, “Hard a-port or you will be on the Shoal.” We clewed up all sail in time to avoid the danger, and having taken the pilot on board felt in a measure much safer, yet the wind was piping from the N. West all the time. A large steamer, one of the Knickerbocker tugs, hailed us for a tow, and said he would take us up for $350. I offered him $300, and he dropped alongside to pass us his hawser.

His first question was, “What ship and where from?” When I told him, how he did swear, and said if he had known who we were he would not have taken us up for less than $1000. He said the owners had sent out tugs for the last few days hoping to pick us up, but we had missed them. We now furled all sail, and at 7 a.m. was at quarantine grounds, and two hours later we were docked. I went at once to the owners’ offices at 40 Broadway, and you may be sure there was great rejoicing. And they had good reason to rejoice, for I had saved them over $50,000 by making the passage and getting in on January 1st. Isaac Taylor, one of the owners, made me a handsome cash present, while the present that Messrs. Vanhagen & Luling gave I will relate later.

I will mention that several ships from South American ports had sailed previous to my departure from Montevideo, and that we had passed a number of them hove to the evening before we arrived in New York. Meeting one of the captains afterwards in the city, a Captain White by name, he said he thought me very foolish to take the chances that I had taken and endanger the lives of my crew and also run the risk of losing the ship and get no thanks for it. I told him I thought life was one big chance, and the devil could take the hindermost.

And now all these captains have passed on and anchored safely in the harbor of last refuge, where there are no chances to be taken and no customs duties to pay.

THE SHIP “DEXTER.”

While loading in New York for Frisco, we were obliged to ship a new cook, and because of this fact we had a most lively experience. We shipped a big negro, about 35 years of age, six feet tall, and who weighed about 200 pounds. He boasted of having served on different Californian clipper ships with notorious captains, such as Waterman, Knowles, and other “knock down and drag-out” style of skippers. Having sized me up as young and no doubt inexperienced, he probably concluded that he would have an easy time of it aboard the _Dexter_ and “rule the roost,” so to speak. After we had been a few days at sea, the steward came to me one morning with complaints to make about our colored cook. He said the cook positively refused to take orders from him, and had delayed him from serving his meals promptly and threatened to kill him if he came into the galley. The steward was somewhat of a timid man, and the cook had frightened him with his immense size and rough stories. I told the steward to go forward to the galley and send the cook aft. In a few moments the cook appeared with an ugly scowl on his still more ugly features and demanded what I wanted of him. I told him what the steward had reported, when he broke out like a madman, saying he would kill the steward or anybody else who interfered with him. In those days most captains went armed, for one could never tell when an emergency would demand the show of firearms for self-protect ion or to intimidate some tough member of the crew who had run amuck. By this time I thought moral suasion of little use, so whipped out my revolver and told him I was captain of this ship, and that he should go forward and in the future take his orders from the steward or he would get himself into trouble. His legs shook and he actually turned pale, but he went away without saying anything.

The boatswain, who had stood nearby, had seen and heard all that had taken place, and word soon spread that the “Old Man,” as the captain was usually called, had been setting up the negro cook. It appears that up to this time the cook had had all the crew in fear of him, and had been doing about as he pleased. Our ship was unusually well supplied with good food, and we gave the men bread twice a day instead of the customary hard bread, or ships’ biscuit. Now, the cook had put this bread out in such vile shape that it was impossible for the crew to eat it, and they hove overboard many a pan of biscuit because of its sour and half-cooked condition. And this entire crew of 25 men had so feared this gigantic negro that they did not dare to report to me the condition of things; but now they immediately sent aft a delegation asking for an interview. I accepted, and they came aft in a mass, bringing with them a kid containing the last batch of bread that the cook had baked for them. I saw at once the unfit condition of the bread, and asked them why they had not reported it before, but the spokesman said they were afraid the cook would poison them, and furthermore that I might approve of the bread he was serving them. I then sent for the cook, showed him the mess in front of all the men, and told him I would see him in the galley the next morning at two bells. The next morning I had a conference with the bo’sun and the third officer, both young and powerful men, telling them to act as my reserve in case we met with trouble when I went to see the cook.

Promptly at two bells I entered the galley by the starboard door and said, “Good morning, Dock” (a term always given to a cook on ship-board). “I have come to inspect your galley.” When we left New York the galley had been freshly painted, and was in fine shape, being a large room, with staterooms in the rear for the steward, cook and cabin-boy. I found the paint work very much smoked up.

This was caused by the cook putting wood on top of the coal to hurry up his fire so as to rush his meals along and get them on time. I spoke to the cook and said, “After dinner you clean up this place, and be sure to scrub up that paint.” Without warning, he suddenly picked up a big carving knife and sprang at me, yelling for me to get out of the galley, and at the same time making vicious lunges at me with the knife. Jumping aside, I grabbed a saucepan from off the stove, which was full of boiling water, and let him have the contents full in the face. With a blood-curdling yell he dropped the knife, picked up an axe and threw it at me, narrowly grazing my head and sticking in the starboard bulwarks. I then pulled out my pistol, fully intending to shoot him, when he bolted through the port door with a roar of “Murder, murder, the captain’s killing me.” As he went through the door the bo’sun struck him a heavy blow which knocked him flat. All hands were now on deck eager to have a hand in the fray. As the cook got up, he rushed off to the port side of the ship and gained the poop-deck. Running around the after part of the main deck-house, he ran into the third officer, who went at him hammer and tongs. By this time every man jack of the crew were at him, with fists, boots and belaying pins, and I actually had to show the gun again before they let him go. Such a sight one never saw. The deck, from galley to quarter-deck, was covered with blood, and Mr. Cook lay unconscious. A couple of buckets of cold sea water soon brought him to his senses, and he cried out, “Don’t let them kill me; this nigger got enough.” At four bells that afternoon a big hogshead, which we carried on deck, was filled with hot water, and Mr. Cook was asked to get in. Each man helped clean him up, and then as he stepped on deck we sprayed him over with our deck hose. He was then as clean as he ever was in his whole life. His chest and clothes were removed to a small room in the carpenter’s shop, a new cook appointed in his place from the crew, and Mr. Negro, cook no longer, was put on the third officer’s watch for the rest of the voyage, and he was ever after a most obedient and faithful servant. Peace and harmony reigned throughout the rest of the voyage, and the new cook proved most efficient. When we tied up at the wharf in Frisco our big negro decamped, not even waiting to be paid off, and he was never heard of after. This little incident simply shows how a man of great physical proportions can put fear into those who possess little, and how tame he can be after he has found his master.

The passage from New York had occupied 128 days, and now the ship was discharged and loaded with grain for Europe, and taken in command by Captain John Taylor, for whom she had been built.

I remained in California a short time, visiting my uncle, a Mr. Marshall Martin, who lived but fifteen miles from the big trees. The climate was delightful, but I soon was obliged to return to Frisco to return to my home on Cape Cod. While there, in came the ship Sacramento, Captain Lunt, that had left New York a week ahead of the Dexter, but was some two weeks behind us in getting to Frisco. We came through the Straits of Le Maire, which saved some 200 miles, although it offered a more dangerous passage. Captain Lunt was much chagrined to find himself so badly beaten by a ship that had left port after he had, for he was an able skipper and was famous for his quick runs.

THE BRIG J. L. BOWEN.

The Bowen was built at Quincy, Mass., by Deacon Thomas, and was owned by a syndicate, Captain J. Amesbury being the principal owner. He had been her only and original commander up to the time he was murdered at sea by his colored crew. The story of the murder is fresh in my mind, as I took charge of the Bowen a few days after the captain met his death.

The Bowen was some 300 miles east of New York, bound for Gibraltar and Cadiz. The first officer (a mere boy), nephew of the captain, was ordered to take the anchors in on the top-gallant forecastle and secure them for the voyage. The first officer was inexperienced and, wanting to show his authority, had used abusive and insulting language to the crew. A dispute followed, the crew shouting and crowding about the mate, threatening to do him bodily harm. The captain, who was in his cabin at the time, on hearing the shouts and rush of feet, ran forward to the assistance of his mate, and picked up a hand spike as he ran along. The crew, who claimed they thought they were in danger of their lives, struck the captain with an iron belaying pin, which fractured his skull and caused instant death. This, it seemed, ended the mutiny, but the brig drifted helplessly around for several days, as the mate knew nothing of navigation. They finally hoisted signals of distress, and the German ship Helvetia, bound to New York from Europe, sent an officer and men aboard the brig and took her back to New York. She was anchored in the lower bay, libelled, a keeper put on board, and the crew arrested and brought to New York for trial. I was telegraphed for to take charge of the ship, and was present at the trial, which seemed to me the greatest farce that I ever witnessed. The negro crew were treated, not like sinners, but as if they had been sinned against. They were acquitted, probably to renew their mutinous acts on some other poor ship officer. The owners of the Bowen gave bonds, and afterwards the case was settled by giving the libellants $8000 as salvage.

With new officers and crew I sailed from New York to complete the voyage that had begun so disastrously. In just 18 days from New York we were at anchor at Gibraltar, after a pleasant and uneventful trip. Some of the sailors, who knew the history of the brig, kept voicing the opinion that we were bound to have bad luck, but their superstitious fears were doomed to be disappointed this time.

We now discharged that portion of the cargo which was bound for this place, and proceeded for the final port of discharge, which was Cadiz. It took us but twenty-four hours to run around to this port, as we had strong and favorable winds. There I found instructions from the owners to purchase a cargo of salt and proceed without delay to Boston. As soon as the salt agents found that I was in the market for salt I was deluged with offers, and at much lower prices than my owners had limited me. The American barque _Two Brothers_ was in port at this time loading salt for New York, with Mate Pease on board, who was an old Boston boy and was known to me. He introduced me to his commander, who told me to take my time, as I could name my own price, as the salt market was in a demoralized condition. He then introduced me to his agents, Solomon & Sons, Jews, but very honorable men. Through them I bought a full cargo of salt for seven cents a bushel, which gave the brig a good charter, resulting in a prosperous trip for the owners, especially for the widow of the late Captain Amesbury. He had built the brig to sail on half shares, he to victual and man the brig, pay half the port charges and other bills, and was to receive 5% on gross stock, which, for the round voyage, netted her something like $2500. We had a quick run across and discharged cargo at East Boston at the Eastern Salt Company’s wharf. I now purchased from Mrs. Amesbury all of her interest in the brig, and it turned out a most profitable deal for me.

On this voyage a lady came to me in East Boston, a Mrs. Gurney, and said her son James had the sea-fever very badly, and wanted me to ship him as cabin boy and, if possible, cure him of his illusions of sea life. I told her that I would do my best, and young James was duly installed as cabin boy of the Bowen. We found plenty to keep him busy, assisting on deck, keeping the lamps trimmed and making himself generally useful. Oftentimes, as he was not used to this kind of work, our red-and-green side lights would go out at midnight (and often the deck officer would put them out), and then poor “Jim” would be turned out of his warm bunk to trim and replace the ones that had refused to burn. He would rub his eyes, mutter, and cuss the captain, and say that if he ever got foot on shore he would never step on a ship again. He left us at Liverpool and returned home, but his first trip did not break him of his love for sea life. He made many foreign trips, and afterwards commanded the American barque _Bruce Hawkins_, in which ship he became dismantled in mid-ocean and narrowly escaped with his life.

We then went to Charleston, S. C., and up the Ashly River, loaded with phosphate-rock, and sailed to Liverpool with cotton as the balance of cargo. We left Charleston about the middle of December, and strong gales and fair winds drove us along nicely, so that in twenty-one days we were at anchorage in the Mersey River, Liverpool. The barque Keystone, Captain Bonny, left Charleston five days ahead of us and arrived three days later. Captain Bonny was a very sad and surprised man when he learned the Bowen was already in.

Discharging our cargo at Liverpool, we were chartered to load asphaltum for Port Cette, in the Mediterranean, about thirty miles west of Marseilles. The rate of charter seemed to me to be extra good, yet had I known the character of the cargo I would not have touched it at any price. The stuff was of a light, pitchy nature, and we packed her full from keelson to deck, and yet our draft was that of a light cargo. Our between-deck hatches were left off and we proceeded to sea, beating about the Irish Channel for a week before clearing Land’s End, and then fine weather to Bay of Biscay. Now the brig commenced to roll heavily, and it was almost impossible to stand on deck. One fine morning I ordered the main deck hatch to be taken off, and to my great surprise the pitch had melted and settled; not over eighteen inches remained on upper between-decks. That was like a frozen lake, smooth and glassy, and the lower hold was the same, a perfect skating rink. It was a sorry looking sight; most of the cargo had settled to the lower hold, and that was the cause of her rolling so. And as nothing could be done to remedy the matter, we made the best of it for the rest of the trip until we arrived at Cette.

I reported condition of cargo to the consignee. He ordered me to allow no one in the hold until contract had been made with stevedore to discharge, and also ordered me to require deposit of 1000 francs from the stevedore to bind the contract. This was done, and the hatches lifted off. My, but what a howl went up when they saw the stuff they had contracted to discharge. They offered to give half of forfeit money and give up the job, but the French law was such that we had them, and they were obliged to go ahead. For the next thirty days, early and late, the only sound heard was from the pick-axe force in the hold, toiling to get the stuff out. Men and women worked together, and the pieces were passed out weighing anywhere from ten to fifty pounds. To add to the misery, no fires or lights were allowed on board the ship; all cooking had to be done ashore in a general cook-house, and a dirty, filthy place it was. Then the food was transferred to the ship in a boat, and by the time it was on the table it was cool and unpalatable. I shall never forget Cette, yet it had one redeeming feature: champagne was only three francs a quart, and I must acknowledge I had my share.

The cargo discharged, we were ordered to proceed to Leghorn, Italy, where we went to load with marble and rags for Baltimore. The day we passed out by the breakwater at Cette was one of the happiest in my life. The ship was covered with a fine dust from the asphaltum, and we did nothing but clean for the next thirty days to get the ship clean again.

While the ship was loading at Leghorn a trip was made to Pasa, Rome and Florence. The party consisted of three captains and their wives and two single men, one being myself. There were Captain Downs and wife, of the British ship _British Empire_; Captain Hall and wife, of the barque _Valita_; Captain Watts and wife, of a ship from Thomaston, Maine, the name of which I have forgotten. Captain Gardner of the barque _Winged Arrow_ and your humble servant of the brig _Bowen_ completed the party. We had a beautiful trip, and Captain Downs and his wife, who were well educated, told us about all the historic places and incidents connected with them. The condition of the Italian people at that time (in the early 70’s) was pitiable. Scarcely fifteen per cent of the people were able to read or to write, but conditions have somewhat improved since then.

Bidding good-bye to Leghorn, we sailed for Baltimore with several Italian passengers. Fishing was very good, and we caught many barracuda, a beautiful fish, and when properly cooked were fine eating. When off the Balearic Islands, in the Mediterranean, we had several days of calms and light and baffling winds. One morning we discovered a large “Bum-boat” pulling off from the coast. They came alongside loaded with fruits, curios, and wine in kegs and demijohns. With what broken Spanish I had, I gave them to understand that I had nothing but American paper money, and that it would be of no use to them. But they all commenced to shout, “Americana papeleto mucho bueno, change heem at Americana Consuelo,” which meant American paper money much good, and they would change it at the American consul’s office. So we took about $90 worth of fruit, wine and other things, and they went off very happy, and off they went toward other outward bound vessels to finish trading. But a guilty conscience bothered me, for I had indeed paid them with “Americano papelita”; I had paid them in Confederate money, which was worth about two cents for a hundred dollars. Well, the next morning about eight bells a guilty man, with glass in hand, I saw a large boat pulled by a crowd of fierce-looking men and aided by large sails coming our way. Every moment they gained on us, and I could hear them shouting, “Americano papelita no good,” and then they would curse and swear, and their leader, who stood up in the bow, kept drawing a huge and hideous-looking knife across his throat. I then realized that we were in serious difficulty, and that we all might be murdered by these men because of my too slick “Yankee” dealings; but a heavy breeze came up (such as is frequently met with in those seas), and we shot ahead of them in spite of their sails and hard rowing. Our long passage home (some forty days) I always attributed to my passing those Southern “shin-plasters” on those poor devils, but consoled myself as best I could with the idea that they had probably stolen their fruit and wine, for they were notorious thieves.

On our arrival at Baltimore, we were chartered to carry coal from Locust Point to Aspinwall for the Pacific Mail S. S. Company, and thence to load cargo of hard pine from Pensacola, Florida, to Philadelphia, one of the best round charters ever made, the profits averaging $100 a day for the round trip. We loaded the coal at $8.50 per ton, gold, and were only sixteen days out to Aspinwall, a very quick trip. On arrival, we reported to the agent, and he was glad indeed to get the hard coal. In the harbor there were a number of ships loaded with soft coal, and many had been waiting for weeks to discharge, but at the present time the barque _Sagadahawk_, Captain Geer, was discharging as fast as he could get empty cars from Panama. The head stevedore was a powerful Jamaica negro, a Mr. Williams by name, and a perfect type of gentleman. He at once placed at my disposal a majority of the cars, as our hard coal was in demand. Now, Captain Geer was a most profane man, and you may be sure that when he saw our cargo being unloaded before his was he called the stevedore by every foul name he could lay his tongue to. Yellow fever was raging at this time, and all wanted to get away as soon as possible from this infected port. Three of my crew were taken sick and died in a few days, and were buried ashore. On my bills of lading I had endorsed in red ink that ten tons of coal were to be retained for the ship’s use. The brig was built very broad, both forward and aft, so that fifty or eighty tons of coal made but little showing in the hold. The morning that we finished unloading I called Mr. Williams to the hatch-way and asked him if he thought he had left me my ten tons, and he said he was satisfied and stopped unloading. We then pulled off in the stream and took on ballast for our trip across to Pensacola. We shipped new men in place of those who had died with the yellow fever, and was warned by the port physician that we might have more sickness before we finished our trip, and sure enough we did, as four more died and were buried at sea, leaving us barely men enough to work her.

Our passage was a stormy one; head winds and adverse currents so delayed us that we were double the time we should have been on the trip. On arrival at Pensacola, we anchored near the place where we were to load hard pine for Philadelphia. As I went up to the customs house I was asked if we had any coal on board that I wanted to sell. The Southern coal mines had shut down, and ten dollars a ton was offered me. The owner of the wharf where we docked bought the coal, and in addition to the price agreed upon gave us free wharfage while loading. I now learned how profitable it was to always show courtesy to a black man. Back in Aspinwall I had given Mr. Williams, the colored stevedore, the full run of the ship, several cases of champagne, a case of gin, and had treated him as I would any white man. Now when we came to get out the coal, we took out one hundred tons, and for which I was paid one thousand dollars. So my kindness had been repaid ten-fold, and I thought of the old Scripture passage in regard to casting your bread upon the waters.

We made a fine run around to Philadelphia, and had some trouble with Mr. Whitten, the agent, in regard to my money received from the coal. He claimed half of the money, but as I showed him that it was my grub and liquor that had made it possible, he was entitled legally to only freight on the coal. So we settled it up this way. But the money I received for the coal went very quickly. A churchman in my town borrowed the money, and, tempted by an investment which promised a large rate of interest, he lost it all, and again I thought: in retribution, “Americano papelita no bueno.”

We were now chartered for Russia to carry a cargo of oil, and half commission on the charter was given me.

THE VALUE OF A GOOD MOTHER.

I could not close the pages of this book without the mention of her, whose love has been the guiding star and inspiration throughout my life.

To the boys and girls who are growing up into manhood and womanhood who are destined to become the fathers and mothers of another generation, I would say, “Never forget your mother.”

The money that a man has he may lose. It flies away from him when he needs it most. Man’s reputation may be sacrificed in a moment of ill-considered action.

Often the son or daughter that he has reared with loving kindness may become ungrateful.

But through the rift in the clouds there always shines the silver lining of mother’s love.

The one absolutely unselfish friend a man may have in this selfish world, the one that never deserts him, the one that never proves ungrateful, is his mother.

And so I have inserted her picture in the pages of this little book, as a tribute to her memory and in the hopes that the mind of the reader may turn back with kindly thoughts to the old fireside, where mother was always queen.

JOSHUA N. TAYLOR.

Transcriber’s Notes

New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the public domain.

Table of Contents has been modified to better reflect text contents.

Perceived typographical errors have been silently corrected.

Notation of a.m. and p.m. has been standardized.

Inconsistencies in hyphenation and compound words have been retained as printed.