Frontispiece CAPE HORN, DISTANT ONE MILE ( From a photograph taken from the “Ruapehu” ) MY LIFE AT SEA BEING A “YARN” LOOSELY SPUN FOR THE PURPOSE OF HOLDING TOGETHER CERTAIN REMINISCENCES OF THE TRANSITION PERIOD FROM SAIL TO STEAM IN THE BRITISH MERCANTILE MARINE (1863–1894) BY COMMANDER W. CAIUS CRUTCHLEY R.D., R.N.R., F.R.G.S. A YOUNGER BROTHER OF TRINITY HOUSE, LATE SECRETARY OF THE NAVY LEAGUE WITH A PREFACE BY EARL BRASSEY, G.C.B. WITH TWELVE ILLUSTRATIONS LONDON CHAPMAN AND HALL, Ltd. 19

My good sailor friend Captain Crutchley has asked me to write a foreword to his autobiography. It is a pleasure to comply. The author began his life at sea in sailing-ships, in the age of the Black Ball liners, the Baltimore clipper-ships, and those perfect specimens of naval architecture built in Aberdeen for the China tea trade. Captain Crutchley tells of the hardships of the sea. He gives stirring descriptions of the performances of the ships in which he sailed. His narrative may perhaps be b

Early in the year 1863 there was brought into the little harbour of Margate a vessel called the Figaro of Narbonne, a small craft with a cargo of wine. She had got into trouble on one of the many outlying sandbanks which make the entrance to the Thames a problem of considerable difficulty for any vessel not thoroughly qualified to meet any emergency that may arise through wind or weather. What the precise cause of this accident was escapes my memory, but whatever its origin, it was instrumental

It is doubtful whether, if left to his own devices, any boy would go a second voyage without a very considerable amount of hesitation. Indeed, a trip as far as the Downs quite satisfied the nautical aspirations of a certain friend of mine, who put to sea in the Roxburgh Castle and left at the earliest possible moment. This was poor Will Terriss, whose tragic ending is still fresh in the memory of his many friends and countless admirers. My own brother also had nautical aspirations. He went from

“All the way to Calcutty have I been, and seed nothing but one—banany. Howsomever, it was werry good, so I’m going back to have another.”— Old Sailor Story. Back once more to the house of Trapp & Sons in the Minories, where I had to face Captain Hole, and “dree my weird.” It was essential in my sea time for obtaining my certificate that I should have four years of good conduct to show, and that could only be obtained by the cancelling of my indentures, or serving out the remainder of my

“Oh, we’re bound for Mother Carey where she feeds her chicks at sea.”— Kipling. It was one thing to be assured by my friend the collector of Customs that I should never be in want of employment, and quite another part of speech to find a ship. I have a very distinct recollection of the trouble I had to get suited. Without any influence in the shipping world berths were not easy to obtain, and many a long day did I pass prowling round the various docks before success attended my efforts. What the

Good-bye to sail! The chance had come to make the plunge that was rendered inevitable by the opening of the Suez Canal and the march of modern invention. It was sad to realise that the sailing-ship was becoming a back number and that the future for the sea lay with steam—a means of propulsion that would for ever put in the background the manly management of masts, yards and sails. To-day, the period in which this country won its greatest triumphs on the sea is commonly referred to (even in the R

The Danube , as I have already stated, was a converted paddler, and in our eyes loomed as a big ship. As we went to muster, Captain Baynton casually drew attention to the fact that a few years ago they were serving in vessels that were not as long, as from the taffrail to the mainmast, and used his favourite expression: “It’s marvellous!” Now the Danube was about three hundred feet long, so that may give some idea of the size of the vessels that the Union Company made a commencement with. Baynto

“One meets now and then with polished men, who know everything.”— Emerson. I regretted to leave the Syria chiefly because I had grown to thoroughly appreciate the character of my captain, and to enjoy the many talks we had on subjects connected with the sea and matters relating to seamen. He was an exceptional man, as his after career has proved, but he was not liked by every one, and for the matter of that, what man worth his salt ever is? When I had arrived home, Captain Ker, the superintenden

“’Tis a pity ... that truth, Brother Toby, should shut herself up in such impregnable fastnesses.”— Sterne. It was a very comfortable feeling, to find myself one of the circle that I had looked up to and envied so long, but it did not appear to me that I was in any way a different person to that which I had ever been. I mean that I experienced none of that feeling of proud omnipotence which I had always imagined to be part and parcel of a master. Perhaps this was partly due to the fact that my o

“And the world went very well then.”— Mel. B. Spurr. I was glad to make the transfer with Jones at Mossel Bay. For one reason it gave him a fair chance of retaining his command, for the Roman was to remain on the coast, and I also gave a certain sigh of satisfaction as I saw the blue ensign once again at the stern of the African , for she was a nice little ship and I was very fond of her. When I got on board I found that Ballard and his wife were taking the passage home with me. It is a curious

“As she lifts and scuds on the Long Trail—the trail that is always new!”— Kipling. The Ruapehu was a handsome ship; there were no straight lines about her, for the Clyde shipbuilders realised to the full that it was possible to combine beauty with utility. There was perhaps a suggestion of the Denny ships in the early New Zealand fleet, but, be that as it may, there was no mistaking the clipper bow which was the certain mark that indicated a ship turned out from Fairfield. I cannot say that she

N.Z.S.S. “KAIKOURA” (From a painting by Willie Fleming of Cape Town) I suppose that all seamen have cherished a particular liking for some particular ship they have sailed in; a long association seems to establish a sympathy between the mind that controls and the dull steel that gives effect to the task required of it. Kipling had some such idea in his mind when he wrote “The Ship that found Herself,” and almost insensibly the idea is imbibed that the ship is a sentient thing whose behaviour can

The late Clark Russell and I were at one time great cronies, and consumed a good deal of midnight oil, and other things, discussing the sea and its varied incidents. He was a seaman more by instinct than by experience. He had, of course, served at sea, but for some few years only, and yet he seemed to be the embodiment of sea lore for all time. Trifles that would be passed without notice by the ordinary observer, were absorbed by him and fitted into their proper place in his conception of the gr