From “Glooscap” Mate to “Edward L. Mayberry” Master

In 1899 I had joined the ship “Glooscap” as mate for a voyage from Norfolk, Virginia to Manila. Before we had crossed the Atlantic far enough to alter our course to the southward, our cargo of soft coal began to heat (there was a pipe for a thermometer) and we spoke to an English ship whose master brought on board his ‘manual’ which said that after 90 degrees of heat in coal cargo it was time to bear up for a port of refuge. This was not too unwelcome news, as Captain Dewis Spicer was about in tears at having to leave home for a long year. We ‘bore up’ for Cape Verdes and came to anchor in Porto Grande, a survey was called and the cargo pronounced ‘unsafe’, which meant that it must be discharged and piled in heap with iron rods thrust through it and left for some time. At a specified time these rods were withdrawn and grasped in the hand and the temperature ‘guessed at’. As the discharging progressed the temperature kept climbing to 190 degrees but there was no real fire. The cargo was condemned, as per usual in such cases, and pronounced ‘unsafe’ to be reshipped.

This was in 1899 during the Boer War when coal was $40.00 per ton and that was a busy coaling port for transports, when no hour of the day or night was free of the clatter of winches. There were three coal merchants to bid on that 3,000 tons of good coal. The bide looked attractive to the merchants, $2.20, $2,40, $2.60 per ton. Every pound was shipped on those transports. Who divided profits with whom? The freight was insured against fire or damage to the ship in the sum of $16,000, but there was no fire and no damage to the ship so the underwriters owed nothing to anybody. They were very kind and made the owners a present of $8,000.

Returned to New York in ballast and while preparing for a similar voyage, with Captain George D. Spicer in command, I learned that the U.S. barque “Edward L. Mayberry” with general cargo for New Zealand wanted a master. I have always given Captain George D. Spicer the credit of getting that position for me but never heard it spoken of. Anyway, it pulled me out of the ‘mate’ class for the remainder of my sea career, as vessels were fading away rapidly and masters were plentiful.

I took over my new charge and got quite a send-off by some of my old cronies of the years past. I stood over the cargo as it came on board: case oil, barbed wire for most part, patent medicines and various merchandise including the usual shower of clothespins in frail boxes. This was standard merchandise that the charterers bought and shipped to be sold c.i.f. in New Zealand and assured them of a freight outward.

I had spent about $1,000 on repairs and sails to make my voyage safe through the high south latitudes; the vessel had been badly neglected and I was not willing to repeat a previous experience where I had spent about one hundred days of my life in the vicinity of Cape Horn – but that’s another story.

There was no question about the stores list. I examined the list of one of their vessels on similar voyage and made a few changes. As I was to carry my young wife there may have been a little extra but I never heard from it. Among the stores were margarine which was brought from New Jersey and was not suppose to land on New York soil; as a matter of fact it was late arriving and was in the warehouse over night and New York did not blow up. My wife had some say as to what to buy, mostly for her comfort. This did not amount to much. Shipped a crew which was about the usual kind; had a good mate and an excellent cook who was very faithful through everything. Second mate pretty slack and inexperienced.

Leaving New York

On March 23rd 1900 (Friday) at 8a.m. we made our start from New York harbour and began a voyage that was to last to March 6th 1901. We began with the usual preparations: the mate with deck crew getting things snugged up for probable bad weather; Ellie and I in the cabin taking up the carpet, putting covers on the chairs etc. When I spoke of getting chalked off she was quite cheerful about helping but I would need to find chalk. Ellie soon became seasick and I note in my diary that on the 28th she was improving and taking a little nourishment, but from her memory that felt like three weeks.

Was disappointed that the vessel was heavily laden, as general cargo generally is a light cargo. There was quite some pumping from the start; every two hours. Got bad weather from the start and had much overhauling and repairing of equipment, much of it aloft. We had a pretty busy time; main topgallant yard had to come down, be repaired and sent up in the rain, some sails were blown away, iron work aloft had to be tightened to yards. These were not hardships at that time, just routine work in an old vessel that had been neglected.

On March 30th I had Ellie on deck for a half-hour, which about turned the tide against “Mal de Mer”. We continued with unsettled weather and variable winds about all the way to the eastward.

On April 18th I remembered my birthday (36y) and by my log, I worked a little harder than usual just to celebrate. Were then in 25.48 N, 30.40 W. During the night we hooked on the trolling line a long snaky fish, about three feet. On the 22nd was Ellie’s birthday (27y) and the same kind of snaky creature hooked on, at night, to celebrate her birthday. These seem to be those mackerel that ichthyologists rave about. On the “Kon Tiki” one was photographed which was suppose to be only one taken alive. Their ribs seemed to be woven diagonally across. As we had no camera we have no way to prove our prior claim to fame. April 25th in lat. 17.34N. saw our first flying fish. April 26th one of the turtles aft with his beef to show that it was too fat, only fit for pig to eat; so the boys were getting good beef. April 27th caught my first flying fish. 10:20a.m. Ger S.S “Taquary” passed close bound north; exchanged longitudes and find I am only one mile different from his, which gives confidence in my old chronometer; asked to be reported. Passed a white painted cask with brown hoops, quite fresh. Compass giving some trouble, takes much careful watching; possible attraction from the iron spindle and wheel. On 29th barque “Antioch” of Boston overhauled and passed. Boston to Buenos Aires 28 days while we were out 36 days. That was about as near as we kept in company with any ship; they came up astern and sailed us down (out of sight) in eight hours; it is still one of the hidden mysteries how we ever got to New Zealand. Exchanged longitudes and find him 28 miles west of his position.

Began reading “The Cruise of the Cachelot”, a very complete whaling story. On May 2nd, in 4 N, 24.30 W two vessels passed north; one French barque “K.L.C.J.” San Francisco for Hull 82 days, an excellent performance. Had large round holes in all sails except spinnaker. This was the new idea to spill the dead wind out of the clues of sails but I never learned if they sailed faster. Now nearing the equator, variable winds, light. My very inefficient second mate got the tip of a finger cut off in a block hook. Now in the doldrums with much working ship, catching fresh water, doing good fishing; three sharks in one day, dolphin (yellow tail). One shark had a large piece of stale shark meat in his stomach with very small back bone and he may have eaten the little fellow alive.

Equator

At noon on May 8th we were in 1 degree north and at noon on 9th we were in 0.30 S, having crossed the equator at 5a.m. and got all our doldrums in north latitude.

Some changes are being made in the general routine; serving butter instead of margarine; giving lime juice. For several days have light winds and variable before getting the regular trades. Ellie under par for several days. Sea boys fussing about cleaning their quarters in watch below but I held them to it as per custom of the sea. s.Through S.E. trades steadily getting ready for the rough weather ahead; rigging, block making, repairing sail May 18th, lat 20.52 S, Long 30.41 W. At 4p.m. made Trinidad Island and checked up on my old chronometer. Generally see Trinidad on the outward passage. Could get water there if in dire need. 21st Ellie had second lesson at the helm, fairly apt pupil. 23rd: mate grained small dolphin and at night got one trolling line another of those nameless slinky, snaky fellows that only sneak up in the night when they think you are asleep. First report of V.D. in the crew, nothing desperate. 25th got a dolphin (yellow tail) on trolling line and Ellie was in fine condition to help consume it; some of the usual grunting among the turtles about hunger; sailors are empty folk that take a great deal of filling.

May 27th in 31 S we begin to feel the South Atlantic winter, with one cabin window washed in and some flooding and damage to stores. Ellie not so good just now. Two whole days of this with one glass broken in skylight, broken pump, one royal blown from gaskets and lost.

June 1st in 35 S. We are really swung off to the eastward; some albatross about and Cape hens, one lone pigeon; caught a mutton bird. 3rd: birds plentiful, tried revolver practice on them; pleased that there were no hits; gave the boys books from the library. More fuss about cleaning their quarters, “The bond sayeth not so”. Got glass replaced in skylight. June 5th in Lat. 38 S. Passed the meridian of London and are now in deep water; washed open pilot house doors and flooded forward cabin. Up to now we have spent all possible time re-rigging and almost rebuilding everything above deck. 7th caught a mollymawk while Ellie caught a pigeon and a mutton bird; three of the turtles aft with sore throats that I am telling them is a result of their dirty forecastle [ed: sailors’ quarters]; have logged them a few times about it to protect my own interest. 8th, had curried sea-birds for supper for a change. 9th, a big steel ship passed carrying topgallant sail over reef topsails, with the courses furled, while our poor little creeper carried every stitch of sail; by 4p.m. the stranger was out of sight ahead. We never learned what he thought of us. 10th, a barque to northward at daylight took all day to sail us down; second time on voyage that a vessel stayed with us all day. 11th, mate caught the first albatross of the voyage. I am still making blocks; thought I had made them all.

Rough Weather, Flooding

June 13th, 1900. Position at noon lat. 30.18 S., long. 31.19 E., made east 210 miles; Bar. 29.88, Ther. 60. fresh gale W.N.W., rough sea weather rather squalling; making very good time under whole topsails and foresail. At 3p.m. I lay down after being up the greater part of the night previously and all day to this time.

At 4p.m. my pet helmsman came to the wheel. At 5p.m. shipped a heavy set, apparently on both sides, washing in skylight on starboard side and pilot house door on port side, flooding cabin, filling all spaces to about three feet high, mostly in forward cabin. Got an upper topsail on deck and a topgallant sail. While covering the pilot house, got a heavy sea over the aft washing in companionway doors, after end of house, at bathroom and breaking down deck about one inch in places. It soaked the bed with Ellie in it where I had put her after the skylight washed in. Got a topgallant sail cut in two with an axe; one part over skylight, other over companionway.

All hands to midnight bailing water out of cabin and pumping; kept pumps going the whole night as the water keeps rushing in under the sails. Find that Ellie takes her ‘initiation’ in grand style. 6a.m. kept ship away to N.E. and furled foresail.

June 14th 1900. After the drubbing of yesterday there was much to be done to bring order out of chaos; still bailing and soaking up water and taking stock of our losses. All small stores that were not in cans such as biscuits, all slop goods, clothing, tobacco etc thoroughly soaked, books ruined. Mate’s log book was small pieces of paper pulp stuck all over the cabin walls. I do not recall how my diary escaped but here it is. Main tank is salted but have fresh water tanks on deck sufficient. 17th a steamer passed east carrying storm sails which are still thought useful in heavy weather, still having a bad time with the weather and water.

By 24th (Sunday) have the cabin dry and spare canvas dried out and things back to normal. Tried to catch birds but too much speed. Read eight chapters of [Book of] Daniel to take off the ‘cuss’ for trying to destroy birds. Continuing bad weather.

26th, Lat 38 S. Long 70 E..Note… Ellie developed into a first-class sailor, well and working; taking things as a matter of course, notwithstanding that the cabin floor is continually traversed by little streams of sea water. Continuing heavy weather. 28Th; Long 77 E. Passed between St. Paul and Amsterdam Islands that I had promised to show Ellie but we were disappointed, as the weather was too hazy. A couple of really fine days with the good mate catching up on his rigging, which has been a pet diversion from the day of sailing. Apparently nothing has been done to the rigging for at least five years.

Cat swallowed a baited bird hook; my surgical experience came to the rescue; just cut the line close up and ‘forgot’ it. 30th: about finished repairing the damage to bathroom wall at 10p.m. July 1st, have the real thing in the way of heavy weather; every stitch furled but F.T. Staysail. Running away E.S.E. before a roaring gale, dead aft, towing a hawser…This is a hawser with two ends on either side of poop [ed: the stern] and the bight [ed: loop] cutting off the tops of the following seas… which keeps the ship from ‘broaching to’ as a heavy sea rushes at her from astern. This was common practice of seamen and not an original of my own like the surgery on the cat. Read four last chapters of Daniel. Made 170 miles of easting; not bad. Gale continues through 2nd with cabin floor awash all day. Had Ellie out to look at the weather for a half-hour. Goose-winged a reefed foresail, original with me and an excellent sail in a hurricane.

Sea boys getting sore mouths from some unknown cause. Doing my best at medication. 3rd, gale moderating but low barometer warns not to press more sail, as much as I wish to. 4th continues with very heavy weather, under small sail, no observance of the “Glorious Fourth” in this U.S.A. vessel. Cleaned up the balance of damage to stores suffered in ‘flood’ of 13th; cleaned store room; disgorged, among other things, one boot and one slipper of Ellie’s and several pounds of tobacco.

July 5th; continued heavy weather, but always going in the right direction. Some trouble with the cook and a seaman; logged the seaman; this does not mean much in a U.S.A. vessel. 6th, bent the last of our new sails and got wet sails from lazaretto to dry – a rare chance. July 8th (Sunday) read the bible and enjoyed the rare luxury of a dry floor under our feet. Mate caught a mollymawk. 9th, one whole fine day; cleaned and oiled the floors. Second mate broke the last piece of pump, the handle; he had broken in succession all the other parts; can only break, not make or mend. Copied my Wellington manifest. Sea boys’ mouths improving, think nothing serious. 12Th, have many porpoise (dolphin) about but failed to get one although the mate struck three; the white trimmed ones.

Nearing Tasmania

July 13, lat 41.47 S. Long 128.43 E. Began towing patent log; visited forecastle; find it filthy; the animals enjoying filth and foul air, doors closed and oil lamp burning at 8a.m in this fine weather. Not much can be done in these U.S.A. vessels with their brand new shipping laws made by hill-billies. Having some fine days as we get in the vicinity of Tasmania with variable winds. Voyage getting long for our fine weather sailors. 18th, calm enough so that I caught five mollymawks which were plucked and skinned for future reference; they appear next evening in the shape of curried chicken and rice. Intended sighting Tasmania but was set to southward. Coal locker shy of coal.

Sunday, 22nd July; carrying all sail, had made 193 miles to noon. Overhauled New Zealand charts and corrected for lights. Read [Books of] Joel and Amos. Some noise took me on deck to see the mate with a porpoise on deck, a nice small one with those pig-like jaws and white under body. Unbent storm spinnnaker and bent regular sail. Made a dumb compass card ready to take bearings; had a fatherly talk with the second mate; told him his chances for demotion were excellent. He took the hint and skipped in Wellington, on arrival. Porpoise yielded 1.5 gallons of good oil. Boys getting very tired, following the lead of the poor second mate. 26th begins to look like the finish of the long trek; chains being shackled to anchors; fenders coming on deck etc. 27th, made 170 miles of easting (not bad); got cables to anchors and they in their rests, ready for anything to happen. Read to the sea boys the entries in the log about their dirty forecastle and their refusal to help secure broken skylights. The dirty floor entry is to protect myself in case they became ill and an expense to the vessel. Surprised to find myself getting a little tired of the whole trek, especially after my long and harrowing life off Cape Horn which seemed less, or worse. 26th made Cape Farewell at 10:30a.m so that we may have a beautiful view of the strait as we passed through all day in beautifully fine weather. 8:30p.m. passed Stephen Island Light 3 miles off and at 11:20 Brothers Light 2.5 miles. July 29th (Sunday) our high hopes of docking were rudely shattered by adverse winds, and heavy squalls. July 30th, 1p.m. Tug “Duco” came off and offered a tow for 25 pounds, then down to 20 pounds. I only could reach 16 pounds, so we parted good friends and he gave me two bags of coal to tide me over.

31st, after an all-night of tacking and working ship, sails on and sails off, Tug “Duco” came alongside and took hawser. We furled sails as we towed to Lambton Bay and anchored. Docked and got all cleared up by 5p.m. Find the place interesting.

Addendum

As I made land we were surrounded by a large school of porpoise of the short-nosed breed; I harpooned two and got them on board. Was surprised that the herd remained with us, as all the Atlantic porpoise vanish when one is struck whether it escapes wounded or is taken on board; the supposition among seamen is that a wounded porpoise is set upon by his fellows and torn to pieces but we never saw that herd again. As that was as much as we could make use of and we were too near port to fuss with oil (blubber) I did not try more. We always ate the livers and the steaks were fine after they hung in the rigging for a day or two. Porpoise meat can hang for many days in any weather without spoiling but all blubber must be carefully removed.

We had a rather unusual experience with sharks. From memory, we had three of the brutes on deck at once and one of them gave birth to quintuplets; it was quite shocking to Ellie to have to witness these sharks coming into the world and all the sea boys taking stock at the same time; they had a navel string with a little yellow egg bag attached and could swim when placed in a tub of water. We did not take a chance of them surviving.

I watched through “Kon Tiki” and could not see any account of sharks being born on a raft so I may be one up on those boys. I had it happen a few years later on board the “Evande” so it may have happened to others, but I never met anybody that knew of it. (My diary was silent on these things but it came back to me while writing.)