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(N0TE.—The first
few pages describing the voyage from Leith to Gravesend
are missing. Hence the Journal opens abruptly on 10th February, the day
after the ship left Gravesend.)
The author describes his visit to the
Isle of Wight—His first impressions of his fellow travellers—The daily
routine on the ship— He records his fears that "our Scottish Sabbaths have
passed away.
February 10th, 1850.—In the
evening, after tea and our family worship which we have managed every
night in our cabin since we came on board, at 8 p.m. we were in bed and
slept sounder than ever we did in our own house in Kirkaldy, never hearing
a single sound until six next morning. The wind still blew fresh, but not
so high as the preceding evening. We all got out of bed and took a good
breakfast; had worship, cleaned and dressed for the muster on deck at 10
o’clock as we expected according to the printed regulations. By that time,
however, the skipper thought fit to order the anchor up, unfurl the sails,
and off we set again in gallant style. This again caused such a bustle on
deck, and most passengers looking on, that little else was done all
forenoon, with the exception of one here and there reading their Bible in
a quiet corner. By 1 o’clock we came again to anchor in the Downs, off
Deal, where we now lay rocking. Deal seems a town of considerable
importance, stretching along a fine beach, something like the Lang Toon,
and in contrast with the bold rocky coast for many miles, perpendicular as
a wall, and as pure white as if done yesterday by George Bird and his men.
The Downs seem a very important roadstead. At present there are some
hundreds of vessels of all sizes laying at anchor waiting a fair wind to
take them through the Channel. Yesterday afternoon the wind moderated a
good deal, and several boats came off from the town enquiring if any
wanted ashore or anything from shore. . . . Our berths are about midship,
and several around us are Scotch people and seemingly willing to engage in
what is good. The others are mostly English, and perhaps care little for
these things. I have been more particular with my account of the first
Sabbath, as the rest may be similar.
Monday, 11th February.—The
wind is increasing again, and they are putting out a second anchor in case
of a storm; but all the children are playing about as happy as at home,
quite insensible to any danger.
Tuesday, 12th
February.—Still in the Downs, but since writing yesterday we have had a
very stormy night. The wind rose last night almost to a strong gale,
making our good ship heave and roll like a nutshell, so much so that it
was difficult to walk between decks last night, and stopped our meeting. I
remembered the words of my worthy friend, Mr. Swan, that it was no joke to
ride in the Downs in a storm. However, we were all calm and undisturbed as
to the storm; put the children early to bed, and they all slept soundly;
but a few noisy passengers in the forecabin, separated from us only by a
sparred partition, seemed to brave the storm with mirth and laughter,
played the flute, and sang Irish songs at the top of their lungs. At last
they said they would go on deck and see the fun, but they soon returned,
saying it was too rich to enjoy it. Such revelry produced an unpleasant
feeling under the circumstances. After reading the 46th Psalm, we
committed ourselves to the Good Shepherd Who neither slumbers nor sleeps
and Who rides upon the wind holding the waters of the sea in His fist.
February 16th.—It is an old
saying and true there are many changes on a winter night. So we have
experienced since writing last Wednesday, when I sent a note ashore by the
pilot, who was to leave us during the night for Portsmouth (addressed to
Mr. Martin) which I trust reached him as well as the former one from the
Downs. Taking a smart walk on deck that evening at 8 p.m., before going to
bed, it was as beautiful and starry a night as you could see, with a calm
sea, and sailing so pleasant that you scarcely knew it. The mate said we
might go to bed and sleep soundly to-night, which we always do as soundly
as at home. I observed to the pilot, "You come a long way with us." "Yes,"
he said, "but large ships like ours require to be taken care of." That he
knew all the coast and the headlands so well that the Company wished it.
He said it was only 80 miles from Portsmouth to London by rail, which he
would do in two and a half hours, but that we had now sailed 200 miles. He
said another day or two would clear us of the Land’s End, and then he
considered the worst of our passage over.
I then expected that we
would have no further opportunity of sending notes home by the penny post,
but since then I have been ashore myself on British ground for five hours
and might have been now three times as long. Well, then, ere the morning
of Thursday last, the wind changed again to due west, and when we looked
on deck early (for we all get up at daybreak) the wind blew fresh and it
rained heavily, and the ship hove in between the Isle of Wight and the
mainland where we soon cast anchor, and where we are still, waiting
another change of wind. But happily it is said to be one of the finest
roadsteads in the world. The sailors on shore say they have seen 400 sail
at anchor there waiting a fair wind and as safe as in any harbour. By
looking at the map of the English Channel, you will see the spot between
Portsmouth on the one side and the town of Ryde on the Isle of Wight. To
the latter we are very near, so that the town boats are constantly
visiting us. The first day (Thursday) several young gents went ashore,
although it was very wet and stormy, at 1s each, each way. But yesterday
(Friday) being a much better day, though thick and hazy, I also went
ashore, there being two boats waiting, the one at 6d. each, each way.
I was desirous of seeing
the beautiful Isle and town, as also to get my watch set agoing, which had
stood by the way, and which a tradesman took 2s. for looking at—nothing
for nothing in England—but I did not grudge my visit, besides the pleasure
of getting our legs stretched a few miles round the town, I saw the
beautiful parks and scenery around which exceeds any spot I ever saw. It
is called The Garden of England. The town and shops in Ryde are very
beautiful and gay, and remarkable for cleanness. The whole island is the
resort of the English all seasons, and the Queen among the rest at Osborne
House, which we have not yet seen. It is at Cowes, a few miles further on.
Going a little way out of the town, we found the climate so very mild that
the milk cows and young cattle were grazing in fields and the grass as
green and rich looking as in autumn at home; and there is little if any of
snow ever lying. We fancied our new home in New Zealand would be something
similar, but it would be a few years ere we could see such fine crops of
rich pasture and fine villas to live in, but we hope the best if we could
get away from these shores. To-day is Saturday again, 4 p.m., eight days
past since we left Gravesend; and still fast at anchor, but the wind is
again veering round to the north, and we may be off to-night yet, but we
are in no hurry so long as we are so snug and plenty to eat.
Having now nothing else of
importance to say, and in order to fill up, I shall give you some account
of the passengers; First, the captain seems quite a gentleman, walks with
his gloves, very haughty, and never speaks to us. The other officers seem
very agreeable, but distant. The cabin or poop passengers are gentry, and
have no intercourse with any other. The second cabin passengers are also
would-be gentlemen, and wish no communication with us steerage passengers,
though only separated by a sparred partition. We see all they do and hear
what they say, much to our annoyance, for there are a few young scamps
among them who act tomfoolery every night, playing on a clarionet and
singing so loud that we have little peace or comfort either to read or
talk. They laugh our meetings to scorn, so have held it twice. Amongst
them are the two Messrs. Wallace, our chief companions. They say that we
are well off being out of such company; indeed we would not change berths
for any second class.
Our next-door neighbours
are very agreeable. There are also two sons of Mr. Archibald’s, late
merchant of Burnt Island, but whom we have not met yet. Also a Mr. Bowler,
his wife and two children, and their old father, about 60, going to
Nelson. They have land there already, and also at Wellington occupied by
another son who is doing well, and sent for them. They have on the deck a
fine young bull, scarce one year old yet but very large; he stands in a
box or crib, and well attended to. Mr. B. said if he goes well to New
Zealand he would not take £150 for him. They also have three young pigs
and a fine dog.
In the far end of the
steerage are some young men who play the villain every night and dance so
loud that we are as it were really in the midst of Vanity Fair, but we
hope the fine weather will soon take the most of them on deck, and so give
us a little more quietness. There is a man amongst them who has been
already seven years in New Zealand, but who came home to settle some
family matters and who let 100 acres of his land for £70 per annum in his
absence, and he says he has twelve acres all planted as an orchard with
apple trees which thrive uncommonly well there. He says we’ll do well
there if we submit to the first roughness. He says the young Messrs.
Wallace will be independent in ten years. They seem very careful. Amongst
them also there are two very fine young labourers from near Banff— our
Free-church lads. One offered to take a part in our meetings. One of them
has a brother in Otago who sent for him. He got 24s. a week at landing,
but is now engaged to a gentleman for £50 per annum and his keep with
pasturage for two cattle free. There has been a school commenced only two
days ago of about 20 boys and girls, all steerage, taught by the Assistant
Surgeon and an elderly lady—our next neighbour.— but I doubt of much good.
I offered my assistance if necessary, but the English seem to wish no
dealings with the Scotch, and really there is no love lost. Their belly
and the world seem their God, but I trust I have only seen the residuary
part of them. [In Rob Roy, Chap. IV, Sir Walter Scott describes the
English prejudice against the Scotch, but adds—" the Scotch of the period
were guilty of similar injustice to the English, whom they branded
universally as a race of purse proud arrogant epicures," which idea my
grandfather repeats in the phase "their belly and the world seem their
God."]
The next I shall mention is
our provisions. The whole passengers between decks are divided into messes
of six adults. Our family makes one mess of six and five-eighths, so all
we get served out is our own, and we do with it as we like. Each mess is
furnished with a printed card stating the kinds and quantity for each,
which card we produce on being served from the storeroom by our steward.
We also get two tin tickets with our number, which we tie around our own
piece of beef and to our own allowance of potatoes, which are put into a
small net holding about a lippie, [Lippy, or lippie, a quarter of a peck,
or 1 3/4 lbs. by weight.] and then they are taken to the passengers’ cook
who puts the whole into one common boiler for beef, and one for potatoes.
Then, when ready, each gets out his own number. These with the biscuits
are served out every morning, and the tea, coffee, sugar, butter, etc.,
are served out weekly. Of each we have more than a sufficiency, and never
want cold beef either to breakfast or supper if we choose. The second
cabin folks differ a little from us in getting a larger quantity served
out, but when dinner is over it is all lifted off and they have nothing
after but hard biscuits and tea. Each meal time is like a great public
feast, only everyone serving themselves; and so there is not much spare
time as you would suppose, having to lend a hand to all work. There is a
table running the whole length of between decks, with a form on each side,
and each mess sits opposite their own berths.
There has been a shine with
the surgeon and steerage passengers, including ourselves. He, demands the
men by turns, two and two, to clean the whole length of the steerage— that
is scrub the floor with sand and holy stone—which we and our neighbours
who have paid full price have refused positively to do; said we would do
our own cabin and opposite it, but no more. He said he would stop half of
our or their rations who refused, and even threatened confinement. We told
him plainly that if either he or the captain were gentlemen they would
never have asked respectable people to do it, and we told him it would be
published and here it rests in the meantime. If any more of it after out
at sea will write afterwards. The deck is occupied with live stock, the
bull and cow stand on separate sides in a large box, also several dogs in
several couches. The pigs are about 20, underneath a large boat sparred in
on the centre of the deck, and make a sad squealing at meal times. The
sheep are in the boat above them, but are as quiet as lambs. There is a
butcher on board who attends to all these animals. The fowls and "puggy "
[Monkey.] are not worth noticing, only the latter plays tricks with the
captain at times.
February 17th, Sabbath.—The
first news was that a child died during the night. The same man lost one
fourteen days ago—just before coming on board—and this one looked ill and
cried much when he came on. He has another ill and it is expected to go
also. They had all been ill before. Don’t know what the complaint, but
hope the disease will spread no further. The carpenter made a coffin and
it was sent ashore in the afternoon and buried in Ryde. There was no
service of any kind all day, but the surgeon passed through our berths
about 12 o’clock and asked us if we had any Bibles or Prayer Books (we
happened all to be sitting round reading a Bible lesson). I said we had
plenty of Bibles but that we never used Prayer Books. He said we would
require them for the service, and so gave us two new copies to ourselves.
I asked if there was to be any to-day, but he said no. He said that the
Captain did not like to read the service while in sight of land (another
evidence of his dislike to such service at any time). I doubt we will be
poorly off during the voyage. There seems no priest on board; neither any
Sabbath school, but what we give our own. But again in the evening we read
two discourses and two chapters in John aloud to all who were willing to
hear, and the labouring man from near Banff prayed and sang sixteen lines
of the 40th Psalm. Thus two Sabbaths have passed away without much outward
appearance of its being such a day, with the exception of the sailors all
being better dressed. I fear much that our Scottish Sabbaths have passed
away, but rejoice that our God is still and ever near at hand.
Monday, 18th
February.—Still at anchor and no appearance of a change. I again went
ashore to purchase some small necessaries, when we learned from the
boatman we were well off coming into this place, that several ships which
left the Downs along with us had put back here after beating about all
this time in the Channel ; that the weather outside had been very thick
and stormy; one had run foul of another and several men were lost; that an
East Indiaman had been driven from her moorings on the Downs and was
totally lost and all hands about the Goodwin Sands.
They said that we might be
detained here another week or even two, so if the wind does not change
with you to the north or north-east you may write us addressed passengers
aboard the Poictiers lying at Ryde, Isle of Wight. If we are off it
will come back to you. Try it; also a newspaper. We should all view this
as a singular providence; had we not left the Downs that morning, or even
run in here, we might have been, as many others, tossed about on the
waters, or tossed ashore; but in this we have already experienced the
goodness of the Lord in His adorable providence, holding us and our
company as it were in the hollow of His hand, knowing no more of the storm
or even feeling the ship moving any more than if in London docks. In case
you should have seen account of any of these losses, be so good as inform
all friends speedily of our perfect safety and welfare. Hoping that this
will also find all friends at home the same.
Tuesday, 19th
February.—Still at anchor, and no appearance of change. I send this ashore
to-night, which I hope will reach home safely, only I have no Queen’s
heads. No more at present. |
