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TENERIFE TO TRINIDAD 57  Chapters from A MODERN SEA BEGGAR

 

There is a constant heavy swell and very little wind. The

noise below resembles a barrage. Of course, it is ruininq

the gear and straining the ship, but I do not see how I can

avoid it. With the trysail set instead of the mainsail

things were nearly as bad and we made no progress. We

have got to make port sometime or other, and there is no

reason to believe that next week will be any better than

this. My mother will probably go off her head if she does

not hear from me soon, and she will probably worry Rab

into chartering the English and American fleets to look

for us. Rab has read all the stuff about the Northeast

Trades in Ocean Passages: wind from north-east varying

only a couple of points, force 3 to 6, cloudless, rainless

weather, etc. This is how I would describe the North-east

Trades: ‘Wind either north or east-north-east, or south or

east-south-east, usual force either 1 or 7 with nothing in

between. The normal condition is either heavy rain

squalls or dead calms. The sky is usually covered with

heavy clouds.’ However, this is all by the way, I have

quite started to enjoy life again, though I am becoming a

likely candidate for the league of moral men. I am rationed

down to four cigarettes a day, and I have not had a blind

for twenty-eight days.’

On November 19th we had a violent squall lasting

about two and a half hours; it kicked up a most un-

pleasant short sea such as you meet in the shallow waters

of the Channel. Jenkins said it reminded him of the Port-

land Race.

On November 20th Jack scored the second gybe. The

wind had dropped to nothing and then blew suddenly

from three points nearer to the north. No damage was

done, but I remember thinking: ‘It will be my turn next,

and I will probably carry away the boom.’ My observed

position that day at 4.55 p.m. was 11 degrees 20′ North,

56 degrees 57’ West, about 240 miles from the north-east

 

 

58 A MODERN SEA BEGGAR

 

point of Trinidad. The glass fell two-tenths that day, and

the evening looked rather threatening. I noted in my log:

‘Jenkins is happy to-night, but I am slightly uneasy. As

soon as we get near land I always begin to fidget. We are

so near now, and I do so want to bring this voyage to a

successful conclusion after all the croaking of the wise-

acres. Trinidad was certainly a foolish place to make for

according to the Pilot Book. I should think it is an even

chance our getting swept past it. On the other hand, what

a lovely place to go through-the Boca Grande of the

Dragon’s Mouth, christened by Columbus. Which re-

minds me that we have come by almost the same route as

Columbus came.’

On November 21st, just as I was going to take my

meridian altitude, I noticed a very thick rain cloud was

about to cover the sun. I sent Jenkins below to clock my

observations, as it was very important I should get my

true latitude. Seven minutes before noon the sun’s alti-

tude was 58 degrees 52′. One minute later I took an altitude

again while the sun was shining through the rain. The

altitude had jumped to 60 degrees 1′-refraction, I suppose.

Estimating my latitude from ex-meridian table, I made my

latitude 10 degrees 41′, which put me twenty-two miles south

of my dead reckoning. I ignored the altitude I had taken

through the rain, which would have put me over sixty

miles further south, but I was not able to get an observa-

tion for a position line all that day, and I was rather

worried. The alternation of calms and heavy squalls in-

creased in rapidity and the wind was constantly shifting.

At night steering was particularly difficult. The wind

came from one quarter, then it would drop and every-

thing would be blotted out. Then it would suddenly blow

hard from another quarter, while you were quite blinded

by the rain. A few minutes later you were tossed about in

the calm by a heavy swell. Several times I ought to have

 

 

TENERIFE TO TRINIDAD 59

 

lowered the mainsail, but it would have been too great a

strain on the crew. Jenkins was getting more and more

worn and seldom smiled. It was at this time he swore he

would never go to sea again. Of course, he had never been

to sea in a small boat before and had never been hove-to

in a gale. His chief worry was that we had not got a wire-

less for S.O.S. purposes. However he did what had to be

done with extreme efficiency. Jack cussed and damned

and was fed to the teeth with the whole business, but he

never showed any sign of alarm. We saw our first steamer

that day.

I was worried during the night of the 21st to 22nd, as

we began to move at last and I was uncertain of my

position, owing to the rain having obscured the sun just

before I took my meridian altitude. I took a position line

at eight on the morning of November 22nd, but I had

breakfast before plotting it out. I found Jenkins’ clocking,

although I had taken eleven observations, was quite un-

reliable, and there was no way of discovering the minute.

I took another series, and again found he had been mixing

up the minutes. I then took a third series and fell down

the companion after each one in order to note the minute

myself. I got a good meridian altitude, and my observed

position at noon was 11 degrees 5′ North, 59 degrees 5′ West,

and the log read 2,676 miles. That made me about sixty miles

from Tobago Island, and to our joy, we sighted it at two

o’clock, on our starboard beam. I had got rather too far

to the north, for we had been steering west north-west

during the night, instead of west by north. I gybed and

altered the course to west by south as soon as I got my

meridian altitude. We made out Scarborough Light on

the east side of Tobago Island at dusk, and Galera Light

on the north-east corner of Trinidad a few minutes later.

We had been sailing fast all day with a strong and steady

wind which held till about ten o’clock that night.

 

 

60 A MODERN SEA BEGGAR

 

I began to dance about like a cat on hot bricks as soon

as we sighted land. My pleasure at having picked up land

as I intended was swamped in my anxiety not to make

any mistake now. I made Jack and Jenkins steer four

hours on and four hours off, and spent my time taking

bearings of the lights and poring over the charts. The

current was setting very strongly over Wasp Shoal,

which is off the south-east end of Tobago Island, and I kept

altering my course to the south. By two in the morning,

we were about two miles from the coast of Trinidad and

about fifteen miles from the Dragon’s Mouth, and the

wind was very light and we were making about one knot.

I got a couple of hours sleep and told Jenkins to wake me

at dawn.

It was a lovely dawn, the first we had seen over the

land for thirty-five days. The north coast of Trinidad is

high and steep. The mountain peaks were covered in

white cloud and as the sun caught them they turned gold

and rose. Jenkins and I both said it was a sunrise we

would never forget.

Everything then looked propitious. We had about

twelve miles to go to the Boca Grande, and the tide was

due to flow into the Dragon’s Mouth at about ten o’clock.

According to the pilot book, we should have had a fair

breeze at about nine o’clock, increasing in strength till

midday. But, as usual, the winds refused to follow instruc-

tions. At eleven o’clock we were just opposite the Boca

Huevos, or Umbrella Channel. Then at last we got a stiff

breeze which was obviously a nice quartering wind to

take us through this passage. The pilot book said that the

passage through the Umbrella Channel was justifiable

with a commanding breeze, which we certainly had. So,

as it saved many miles, I decided to try it. We went up it

like a train until we were about 400 yards from the end.

Then the breeze fell light and we drifted back ignomini-

 

TENERIFE TO TRINIDAD 61

 

ously. Then to tantalize us, it blew hard again, and I

thought I would try once more. We only got half way

through that time, and then again drifted back. I felt

very much like trying again, but all the time I was

remembering that the tide turned the other way at about

four o’clock. It was then one o’clock in the afternoon, so

I thought I would just have time to get through the Boca

Grande, which the pilot book said was a simple passage

when the tide was with you. We arrived at its mouth

about two o’clock, and with a light breeze and a slight

current with us got two-thirds of the way through. But

this time it was a dead beat. Then again the wind fell to

nothing. We drifted on a little, but by about four o’clock

we were back again at the entrance and were starting to

drift rapidly towards the Punta de Penas. By this time I

had quite given up hope and expected to go drifting down

the Venezuelan coast, with little hope of beating back

against wind and current. But when I was quite despair-

ing, it suddenly started to blow really hard from the

south-west. The current was running strongly against us,

but the water was smooth and the wind was blowing so

hard that we managed to beat through; just before dark

we cleared the Diamond Buoy and before we lit our side-

lights, were well within the Gulf of Paria.

The wind was then blowing from the east and we had a

dead beat to Port of Spain. I was not anxious to get into

port before dawn, so I took the topsail off her and made a

long leg on the port tack with the intention of getting

well to windward and of floating in gently in the morn-

ing. I kept Jenkins and Jack steering four hours on and

four hours off, while I checked my position by bearings

on the lights every half hour. We were all feeling dead

tired by this time. The wind dropped during the night,

and for once I was glad. Two hours before dawn, there

was a light breeze and I was about twelve miles from

 

 

62 A MODERN SEA BEGGAR

 

Port of Spain, well to the windward, so I went about.

The wind veered more and more to the south and I ran

gently into Port of Spain as the sun rose. We dropped

anchor opposite the HarbourMaster’s office about seven

o’clock, thirty-five days out of Tenerife.

We were too tired to feel really excited. Jenkins

collapsed on to the saloon sofa, too overcome with emotion

to speak for a while. He said, eventually, when I sug-

gested we should drink and rejoice, `Sir? I never, never,

expected to see land again.’

 

IV

TRINIDAD

 

The Customs came on board, and five negro searchers

turned the whole boat upside down. I have never

known such a thorough examination. I had some morphia

with me which I thought I had better declare, although,

as a doctor, I am entitled to carry it with me. They

insisted on either sealing it up on the boat or taking it

away with them and locking it up on shore. As I had no

convenient place I let them take it away.

 

Queerly enough, I did not feel excited or relieved, but

rather apprehensive at having to face land life once

again-perhaps I was conscious of thirty-five days’

growth of hair and beard. Eventually I pulled myself

together and drove in a taxi to the barber’s. The one

thing I did enjoy was some fresh fruit; I ate six grape-

fruit before lunch.

The arrangement I had made with Rab before I left

Tenerife was that I should send Jack home and keep

Jenkins with me if he were willing. I was to haul the

boat up in Trinidad and await Rab’s arrival somewhere

about the beginning of January. The first thing I dis-

covered was that it was impossible to careen a boat,

drawing nine feet six inches, at Trinidad, as there was

only about a four foot rise of tide. And, it was impossible

even to get her on to the only existing slipway. There

used to be a floating dock at Port of Spain, but they

omitted to keep it in proper order and it had been con-

demned some months before I arrived. Hauling her up

and leaving her on shore was obviously impossible. If

she had been left in the water, she would inevitably

have been honey-combed with worm in three month’s

 

 

64   A MODERN SEA BEGGAR

 

time. The dock officials thought they might be able to

lift her with their crane. They measured her and started

to make elaborate calculations. In the meantime, Rab

wired me to get her coppered. After much thought, the

government decided that she was too heavy for their

crane.

I did not want to set sail again. Jenkins was not cheer-

ful at the prospect and Jack was mutinous. All they

wanted was to go home as quickly as possible. However,

there was nothing for it. I could not just let the boat rot

at anchor. There were five places I could make for, where

I could be sure of having her docked: Barbados, Mar-

tinique, Demerara, Curacao and Panama. Barbados was

the nearest, but it was dead to windward and the current

was against us. It was impossible to make Demerara

against the current. I would rather have liked to go

straight to Panama, where we had to go eventually;

but although it was dead to leeward, it was 1,200 miles

away, and Rab had warned me it would probably be very

expensive. I was tempted to go to Martinique, for I like

French places and I knew that living would be very

cheap; on the other hand, as I was going to have the boat

coppered, I thought I would get the best work at a

British port. My faith in my countrymen was to be

severely shaken.

When I announced to the crew that they were not

going home from Trinidad, but that we had to go on to

Barbados, there was a great scene. Jenkins was frightfully

upset, and Jack refused to go. I said there was nothing for

it, and I told Jack he could either get off or come along

with me. The following morning Jenkins turned up

trumps as usual. He came to me and told me that he was

very anxious to get back home, but he quite saw that I

couldn’t let the boat rot in the water. More, that it would

be very wrong of me if I did. He said that, of course, we

 

 

TRINIDAD 65

 

had to take her to Barbados, and that he would do his

very best to get her there. But he was still obviously very

sad about it.

That night, Mr. Hicks, the manager of Barclays Bank,

a very keen sailing man, who had put me up for all the

local clubs, took me to dinner at his home, having first

driven me around the island. There was a wonderful

display as we sat in his garden before dinner. The shrubs

were surrounded with humming-birds, which I had

never seen before, and after sunset, when the humming-

birds disappeared, they were replaced by fireflies. After

dinner, I suggested that he should come and look at the

boat. When we got on board, I woke Jenkins and broached

the last bottle of a case of whiskey which Walter had

bought and paid for. After Hicks had talked to Jenkins

for a bit, he was quite cheerful about things again.

 

*           *             *

TRINIDAD,

Monday, 24th November, 1930.

 

MY DEAR Rab,

 

We got here this morning. I kept on putting off

writing to you from Tenerife in order to give you a

proper account of things and then never did. So this time

I will write you just baldly and fill things in later. I have

kept a complete log.

We left Santa Cruz with a good breeze, but noticed the

squaresail yard was not up to the job. We nursed it with

the utmost care, reducing sail whenever we did more

that five knots. The weather did not do at all what the

Passages of the World said it should. The wind blew from

the E., but usually just to the S. of E.; at times S. and

even W. We alternated between (1) Strong breezes,

verging into moderate gales, alternating with dead calms,

(2) Dead calms, alternating with series of rain squalls

 

66 A MODERN SEA BEGGAR

 

when it blew for a few minutes, god knows what

strength. The latter was the predominant weather. Just

fourteen days ago we were congratulating ourselves on

having done 1,800 miles with 1,000 to go. We were

running before a light breeze and I had just started to

have my evening bath, when, crash, the yard went, just

in the centre. It was only a fir stick, by the way, and

compared with our mast and gaff and boom a mere

stick. Well, I cursed you from the bottom of my soul.

You first cut down her spars so that nothing short of a

gale will drive her through the water, and so that she

won’t sail at all in light airs, and then you provide a bit

of straw for a yard. You know the strength of a chain is

its weakest link.

Well, I got the trysail up for the night, and the following

days we got a succession of very heavy squalls interspersed

with prolonged calms, but always a heavy swell.

After four to five days of this, we seemed to be getting

nowhere in particular, so I got the mainsail up in spite of

alarm and despondency amongst the crew. Then the fun

really started. I guyed the boom out-her beam prevents

you from doing this efficiently-but she would not sail

at all, except with the wind two points on her quarter

and the wind always seemed to be dead aft of our course.

Even then the boom used to roll over about every two

minutes and the whole ship groaned. Jenkins then began

to think that she must be rather sound after all! More-

over, we used to have to gybe her about four times a day,

which was a lengthy business with the guy to be shifted,

the topping lifts to be taken up, etc. But somehow or

other we got along, and I continued to enjoy myself.

The navigation presented certain difficulties.  After

I left Tenerife, I found my stop watch had departed – the

One and only thing which went in Tenerife; after leaving

Vigo I found myself short of Jean’s pen and about

 

TRINIDAD 67

 

400 Player’s and four bottles of whiskey, but perhaps you

pinched those. So I had to try and train Jenkins to take

the time. He never learnt. He was a master on the

seconds, but was never sure about the minutes. I used to

take about a dozen sights and then go down and look at

Jenkins’ times. In his list there were always some

obviously wrong ones-I’ 50″ followed by 1′ 20″-

here the clue was easy; but sometimes there was no

way of telling. I used to plot the whole lot out and try to

find the psychological key, but time and time again there

was no way of telling. Joining my dots I could get two

perfect lines 15 miles apart.

On the Friday before we arrived, about fifteen minutes

before noon, I saw a rain squall coming up so I stationed

Jenkins at the clock and took a timed altitude. This was

58 degrees 52′ about ten minutes from noon, S.A.T.* (D.R.);t

two minutes later the squall came over and though I

did not lose the sun the altitude jumped to 60 degrees 4′.

Refraction, I suppose, but the books don’t talk about it.

Well, the first observation made me eleven miles south

of D.R. and corrected by ex-meridian table, I was about

twenty-two miles S. of D.R. Also as a current was taking

me N.W. at a rate of twenty to seventy miles a day, the

S.A.T. was probably later. I was rather worried but con-

cluded the crew had been luffing without confessing to

save trouble.

I tried to get an observation for a position line at

2.43, but could not get an accurate one and then the sun

went for good.

Next day I started to get observations at 8.00 a.m. I

took eleven and put them on one side. Meanwhile I gybed

the boat. After the meridian altitude the previous day,

I had been steering N. by W. (mag.), about 5 degrees N.

of W.(true). But I discovered the crew had been steering

W.N.W. and God knows what to the N.

 

* S.A.T.”Standard Atlantic Time. t D.R.-Dead Reckoning.

 

68 A MODERN SEA BEGGAR

 

On plotting out the observations, I found them hope-

less. Took another series and, dashing down below, I

found Jenkins two minutes out. Then the sun went.

Then I tried again and took five and dashed down to see

time of each. I estimated minutes as correct.

I did not work position line -out at once, but waited for

meridian altitude. I got a perfect one and was very re-

lieved. This made my latitude 11 degrees 4′; 10′ N. of Galera

Point, the place I wanted to hit, and by D.R. sixty miles

away. We were running before a strong breeze. Jack

then served lunch and I let position line wait.

After lunch I sighted land on our starboard beam,

about thirty miles away. Concluded it was Tobago. Took

bearing and worked out position line which agreed

within five miles. Told crew they would see Galera

Point Light on port beam at dusk and they did.

I made Jack and Jenkins steer all night, alternately,

while I took cross bearings every half hour or so, since the

current is anywhere between twenty and seventy miles

a day. Pilot book said wind rose every day at 9.0 a.m.,

full force at noon. Tide started to run into Dragon’s

Mouth at 7.0 a.m. Timed to be thereabouts at ten

o’clock. At ten, attempted Huevos Channel with strong

and commanding breeze. Got half way through when

breeze dropped to nothing. Drifted slowly back again;

made another abortive attempt. Then decided to try the

Boca Grande. Got there with an hour of tide to go. Got

half way up, the wind dropped again and we drifted

back again. Got worried as we were due to drift down the

north coast of Venezuela at twenty to seventy miles a day.

But about 4.00, we got a strong wind right in our teeth

and beat through. Wind then shifted a little and we had a

dead beat to Port of Spain. I was taking no chances, so

made crew steer while I navigated. Jolly party. This

was my second night without sleep and I had had little

 

 

TRINIDAD 69

 

two nights before. My temper was not sweet and they

had been having four and four, and they complained, and

I was bloody.

Anyway, we dropped our hook in Port of Spain safely

at 9 a.m.

Jenkins then proceeded to have mild hysterics from

sheer relief, but there was no joy in him. He almost went

down on his knees to me to send him home as quickly as

possible. Swore he would never go to sea again. I cursed

them both-offered to send them ashore for a meal, which

they refused-and went off and had a good lunch. I had

five weeks’ growth shaved off first.

I don’t want you to think that Jenkins was not a

damned good man. He was, and he is really an old dear

and I owe him a lot. But his nerves suffered as we went

along. The truth is he had never been to sea in a small

boat before and he is old for the game. Nevertheless I

take off my hat to him. He wants to come and see you

when he gets home. If he does, tell him I think the world

of him.

Well, Rab; you must come out as quickly as possible

and get me away from these islands. With L1,000 a year,

a car, and dress suit, they would be lovely. But they are

sahib places with an ex-slave population. No place to go

native by yourself.

 

All my love,

 

TEMPLE.

 

P.S. Send this letter on to Mother, will you?

 

TRINIDAD,

28th November, 1930.

 

MY DEAR MOTHER,

You were the only person from whom I did not

find a letter waiting when I arrived, but if anything had

 

 

70 A MODERN SEA BEGGAR

 

been wrong I suppose I would have heard from Rab or

B.

Well, my dear, we got here all right and with singular-

ly little trouble too, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I

lived without clothes for five weeks in the sun, and I have

put on half a stone and have forgotten how to cough. In

the end I was not lonely and did not regret having no

companion. When Rab left me in Vigo, I protested my

loneliness. Rab told me it was not true, and that I was

`tickled to tears’ at the idea of crossing the Atlantic with

two paid hands. I did not believe him at the time, but

found he was quite right later.

Having the sole responsibility, and having two anxious

and depressed seamen was great fun. However, for the

next stage I would like some congenial companion. Also, I

am rather lonely here. This is a big city, and very expensive

-`white man’s burden’-where you need clothes and even-

ing dress, etc. Altogether, thoroughly English. Whereas

Tenerife was foreign, very cheap and happy-go-lucky. In

fact, I have never had a better time than I had there.

But this place is very lovely all the same. I have made

friends with my bank manager, who has a nice house

outside the town, to which he takes me. There is a lovely

garden, which is a blaze of tropic flowers, with scarlet and

crimson predominating. Round these flowers fly hum-

ming-birds, which I have never seen before. As night

falls, the fire-flies come out. In a way, I would not mind

settling down in one of these islands.

I may have to go to Barbados to-morrow. It is a

damned nuisance, but the floating dock here is out of

order. It is only 200 miles to go, but dead to windward.

The ship’s bottom is foul and I have to drive an unwilling

crew-heaven knows what Freda would think of me.

It will probably take a week. There is just a faint chance

I may not have to go.

 

 

TRINIDAD 71

 

Well, my dear, I expect you are very lonely now. But I

will be back some day. I wonder very much how you are

getting on. Also how Freda is. But these travels are doing

me an immense amount of good, both mentally and

physically. I feel quite different. Does Walter ever come

to see you or does his bad conscience prevent him? He

will become a complete little bourgeois without my

influence. G, I don’t feel so bitter about, and anyway

there will always be some divine discontent in him.

Queer how intolerant I am. I have never realized so

vividly before as when I was struggling to get off, and

Walter was struggling to run away, and Freda was helping

me to get off, how alike Freda and I are. We both try to

constrain others to our dreams, and we can still dream.

And the others just want to be comfortable and smug, and

go on leading their routine little lives. Then we get

furious. But, how thoroughly infirm of purpose people

like Walter are.

 

I have written Rab an account of the voyage itself. Get

him to let you read it and show it to B, if she likes.

Please send me on some of Freda’s letters. Have I been

divorced yet? I have had no news.

 

All my love, my dear,

 

TEMPLE.

 

V

TRINIDAD TO BARBADOS

 

I shipped a new hand at Port of Spain, a coloured boy

called Rufus. He had gradually insinuated himself into

the crew, and was in a very bad way when I first met

him.

I hoped to get off about midday. But when I went

ashore to recover my morphine, the Customs informed

me that the man who had the key of the cupboard was

away but would be back soon. I waited till three o’clock

as Rufus, who had promised to bring my washing by

midday, was still absent. When he eventually arrived, I

abandoned my morphia, which I conclude is still in

Trinidad. We got under way at three-thirty, and ran

with the wind on our port quarter, setting a course west

by south, which should have taken us three points clear

of the Diamond Rock. We went down in fine style until

we were about three miles from the Boca Grande, when

the wind became light and fluky. Then I began to get

very anxious in the dusk as to the whereabouts of the

Diamond Rock. We were going north-west at a great pace

with the tide and I had barely got steerage way. Then

we suddenly heard it tolling mournfully, apparently just

on our Starboard bow, and two minutes later swept by it

with only about fifty yards to Spare.

We had the usual fluky wind in the Boca, but once we

were clear, it blew steadily from east by north, and we

were able to sail north-north-east – our course being

north-east, as the current sets to the north-west at any-

thing from twenty to seventy miles a day. We made very

good progress during the night and I awoke at 9.00 a.m.

to see Grenada on the port bow. I noted in my log that

 

72

 

TRINIDAD TO BARBADOS 73

 

day: `Lovely night and lovely day. It is good to be at sea

again. Have cast off my clothes with great relief.’

At midday the wind dropped, and we spent three days

drifting about the Grenadines, but it was a very pleasant

time. Jenkins was in the best of humours, and seemed to

be thoroughly enjoying himself. My new acquisition,

Rufus, developed a pain in his belly, which I later

diagnosed as mild appendicitis. Jack was very fed up at

his doing no work and I had to remind him gently that

I am a doctor. 0n the night of December 4th to 5th, we

got a breeze at last, and I awoke up in the morning to see

St. Vincent on our port bow. There was a fresh breeze

from the south-east, and we were able to sail east by

north. At sundown that day I got a triple fix of my

position by cross bearings from St. Vincent and St. Lucia,

and at 10.00 p.m. should have been about thirty miles

from the north-east point of Barbados. We looked for the

North Point Light all night, but never saw it. At dawn,

Jenkins and I just managed to make out the island south-

south-west, and about thirty miles away. We continued

on the same tack until we were sure we could make it,

and then went about. The northerly current had taken

us about three points to the north during the night. We

went down the leeward side of Barbados, close-hauled, in

fine style, but the wind headed us, and we had a dead

beat into Carlisle Bay and dropped anchor just before

dusk.

 

*          *         *

 

BRIDGETOWN CLUB,

Barbados, W.I.

Thursday, 18th December, 1930.

 

MY DEAR Rab,

 

We got here safely in five days-two sailing and

three drifting the wrong way. But it was a delightful sail

– moonlight every night.

 

74 A MODERN SEA BEGGAR

 

I took the negro seaman with me from Trinidad, but he

developed a mild attack of appendix. . . . Jenkins turned

up trumps and showed no despondency as there were

always about 500 rocks in sight on which we could pile

ourselves up. If you can do anything extra for the old boy

I wish you would-he is an old dear really and the most

conscientious person I have ever met. . . .

I found a Dutch boat leaving here last Wednesday

week and shipped them home on it after quite a senti-

mental farewell with Jenkins.

I found they could dock the Inyala here all right, but

that it was impossible to keep her on shore. They could

not dock her until last Monday and would not give me a

price for coppering until she was on the dock. . . . I told

them you were a hard man and that I was only your agent.

Asked them to give me a tender in writing and I would

cable you. If you did not agree to the price they were just

to anti-foul her and put her back in the water. I was on

tenterhooks about the whole business, as if we had done

this it would have meant anti-fouling her again in two

months. Well, they tendered 388 dollars for the whole

job and I wired you for 450, hoping to make 72 dollars

out of the business, but as you sent L90 I only made 40

dollars I think. I can just manage with this until the end

of next month.

You see I cannot haul her up and leave her, but must

continue to live on board her and keep the negro on. Also

there is no chance of a job here or at Trinidad, nor of

getting a job as ship’s doctor. I could go round the islands

and live cheaply on a schooner, but do not like to leave

the boat. Anyway, she will not be off the dock until

Christmas. The coppering is well worth the price, I think.

You said L30 for Munty metal, which disinterested

people say is no good out here. It is only a pity the copper-

ing was not done before. I would not have had to haul up

 

 

TRINIDAD TO BARBADOS 75

 

in Tenerife, and could have remained at anchor in

Trinidad and saved money on the crew as well.

There will not be much to spend on her when you

arrive. She wants a new jib and a new topping-lift on the

starboard side and a squaresail yard. Also I would strongly

advise a new topmast 6 foot longer. All the running gear

is new and I think in perfect condition.

I think I will put the propeller back; what we really

want is a folding propeller and blow the revenue. Could

you get one in England to fit? You cannot get one out here.

Also will you bring a new pump and tap, and three burners

for the stove. Also if you can manage it about 200 lbs. of

biscuits, in sealed tins. You cannot buy them here-I just

got some by chance in Tenerife-and they are both a staple

and reserve food. For the last three weeks we lived on

them plus butter (New Zealand), which kept perfectly,

plus treacle and jam and cheese – I put on half a stone.

Rab, come out as quickly as possible; I am rather lonely.

This is a lovely place with wonderful bathing, and

everybody is very good to me. But, it is very expensive

and I need evening dress!!! To return hospitality of the

kind I am offered would break me in a week. The only

cheap thing here is rum, 2/3 a bottle. The amount people

drink here is amazing-not the scallywags, but the re-

sponsible people and their wives. Women drink six or

eight cocktails before dinner, but their morals are quite

mid-Victorian; difficult for them to be otherwise really as

all one’s movements are known to the town. Of course,

what is really the matter with me is that I want a decent

woman to love and be loved by!

Well, I think this is all. My very best love to Jean and

a Happy New Year to you both. Why not bring Jean out

here for a month? By the way, is she still my sister-in-

law? Love,

 

TEMPLE.

 

76 A MODERN SEA BEGGAR

 

BRIDGETOWN CLUB,

BARBADOS,

29th January, 1931.

 

MY DEAREST MOTHER,

 

I am afraid you have not heard from me for some

time. I have had two very good letters from you. But

these tropics – ! I have nothing to do, and one day

melts into another. I sleep and swim and lie in the sun

and eat. It is very pleasant, but I will be very glad to set

out on my travels again before I “decompose” altogether!

 

It is a glorious place in many ways, and very beautiful,

but the people with a few exceptions are very dull. They

are very kind and hospitable, but have not an idea in

their heads.  It is rather like a suburb in mid-Victorian

England.

There are exceptions. There is a half-American girl,

who is intelligent, who has been awfully good to me….

My other friends here are a retired Scotch-Canadian min-

ing engineer, a genial old ruffian who has been every-

where and done everything, and who would undoubt-

edly have been a pirate two hundred years ago; also an

Englishman called Barker, a Science man on the staff of

the Agricultural Department, who has an Honours degree

in Physics.

There is also a very interesting biologist, who lives in a

hut on the far side of the island. He is one of the most

remarkable men I have ever come across, but I can only

get at him when Barker drives me there.

I had an amusing letter from G to-day and some

days ago a postcard from Freda and Jane from Russia; it

came at the same time as Freda’s cable of congratulation,

sent off weeks before to Trinidad.

My dear, your two last letters were very wonderful,

you said some lovely things to me. Thank you.

 

TRINIDAD TO BARBADOS 77

 

Don’t think, dear, because I write infrequently that I

am not thinking about you, and that I don’t care for you.

You know, I love you, my mother, but, of course, like all

women you want to be reassured at very short intervals.

But you know what agony it causes me to write a letter.

Sheer torture.

All my love, my dear,

 

TEMPLE.

 

*       *      *

 

Barbados looked a lovely little place to loaf the time

away until Rab came. The swimming there was the best I

have ever known; although, from all accounts, there are

plenty of sharks in the bay, no one has ever been attacked.

My first job was to get Jenkins and Jack home and, to

their great joy, I managed to effect this within four days

of arriving. I took them on board the Dutch boat and had

an affecting farewell with Jenkins. I had grown awfully

fond of him and was very sorry to lose him. He said if he

had only been fifteen years younger, he would have gone

on, but that he was really too old now. The next thing I

did was to get the boat dry-docked and to have her

coppered. The Inyala is metal fastened and has an iron

keel. I knew that there would be galvanic action between

the iron and the copper, and that unless some method was

used to prevent this action the keel was liable to drop off

eventually. The firm who did the coppering said that a

strip of lead between the iron and the copper would pre-

vent all action on the iron. This was quite wrong and led

to further expense at Panama. What they ought to have

done was to put heavy zinc sheets, about three-quarters of

an inch thick, between the copper and the iron.

The people of Barbados are very interesting, and would

repay an anthropological survey.

It would seem that in each West Indian island the

 

 

78 A MODERN SEA BEGGAR

 

relationship between the white, the coloured and the

black population is different. In Grenada, for instance,

where there are not many whites, I understand that no

distinction is made between the whites and the coloured.

Barbados is almost the only West Indian island which was

originally settled by the English, and up to about ten

years ago the whites, although they often show unmis-

takable signs of a little mixture in the past, kept them-

selves rigidly to themselves. But at the moment the

social structure would seem to be disintegrating. In

several places where colonies of poor whites have main-

tained themselves for hundreds of years, they have re-

cently been overrun by, and submerged in, the coloured

population. Also, although ‘White’ society still rigidly

maintains its distinction from the coloured, a coloured

man or coloured woman possessed of sufficient material

goods can buy their way into it.

Like all the other West Indian islands, Barbados was

suffering from a severe financial depression while I was

there. It is one of the most densely populated spots in the

world, averaging about one thousand inhabitants per

square mile. The island depends entirely on sugar; prac-

tically nothing else is grown: even most of the fruit is

imported.

Rab arrived on February 19th, instead of at the begin-

ning of January, and for the first few days, in spite of

severe sunburn, he displayed an immense northern

energy. But in about a week he had succumbed to the

tropical languor, and we found it very difficult to get any-

thing done.

The two main things to be seen to on the Inyala were

the engine and the new squaresail yard. We decided to

keep up the squaresail yard permanently. We had been

given a diagram by Chief Officer Bindley of the Dacarian,

showing how the yards on the old square-riggers were

 

 

TRINIDAD TO BARBADOS 79

 

attached. We also had the new yard made twice the dia-

meter of the old one at the centre. I had tried to start the

engine before Rab came, but had no success. On his

arrival I thought he would just take his coat off, and that

after I had seen him fiddle about for a few minutes I

would hear the familiar `chug-chug’. But after he had

worked for two hours, and looked more like a bit of melt-

ing grease than a man, he decided to get some more

assistance. The engine is thoroughly inaccessible, and I

should imagine the carburettor had not been taken down

since the year of its birth in 1906. The motor engineer

decided that the whole engine must be dismantled, and

this was done. All valves were found to be stuck up, and

there was practically no magnetism left in the magnets

on the magneto. But the pistons, cylinders and bearings

seemed to be in perfect condition.

Everybody took about three times longer to finish any

job than they had estimated, and week after week we

were `going in a week’s time’. But eventually everything

was ready, and on Sunday, March 8th, we decided to

make a trial trip.

We took on a fourth hand, `Mobile’ Cheeseman, a

blue-eyed, straight-haired, fair-skinned Barbadian quad-

roon, who had swum on board the yacht one afternoon

begging me for a job. We took some English friends we

had made in Barbados on the trial trip. Everything passed

off very well, and the new squaresail gear worked admir-

ably. Mobile also showed us that he was a good seaman.

Rab and I, though, both felt rather unwell at one period.

 

 

VI

BARBADOS TO PANAMA

 

We weighed anchor at 3.45 p.m. on Saturday, March

14th. We broke out the jib and then set the raffee,

squaresail and trysail, in succession, There was a mode-

rate breeze from the east-north-east. We set our course

west-north-west a half west, making for the channel be-

tween St. Vincent and St. Lucia. We sighted St. Vincent

at dawn the following morning, and at 2.30 were about

midway between the two islands. During the afternoon

the sky became overcast. We had a succession of rain

squalls without much weight in the wind. During the

night the wind freshened and about six in the morning

Rab woke me to say that it was blowing hard, and what

did I think about the raffee. It looked rather ominous to

windward so we took it down, but reset it again at 10 a.m.

We had a glorious day sailing, the wind was blowing

steadily about force 6 and the sea was gradually getting

1. It was very good to be at sea again, and I knew for a

certainty that I just wanted to go sailing on and on.

Twenty-four hours after we had sailed Rufus complained

to me of toothache, and seemed to think that I would just

tuck him up in bed and let him off work for the rest of the

voyage. I have great sympathy for toothache, for although

I have only had it once in my life, I have never forgotten

the experience. I think there are few worse pains. How-

ever, I had carried him as a passenger from Trinidad to

Barbados and I wasn’t going to do it again. So I hardened

my heart and made him work, being very sceptical about

the existence of the toothache at all. When I put him on

to steer, he continually gybed the boat, so I made him sit

with Mobile, and also made him cook. I noted in my log:

 

80
BARBADOS TO PANAMA 81

 

`Mobile seems a good seaman, a cheerful, willing, happy-

go-lucky creature. He steers quite well, but is very hazy

about the points of the compass.’

The first trouble we had on this voyage was with the

binnacle lamp, which would not keep alight. In the end

we ceased bothering about it, and lashed a hurricane lamp

to the window instead.

The wind continued to increase in force all Saturday,

and the seas were getting up. That night I hoped to get a

sleep between nine-thirty and midnight, but Mobile kept

on calling me to tell me that there was a squall coming.

I do not think it was ever blowing much more than force

6. About 11 p.m., in hopes of getting a little sleep, I de-

cided to take down the raffee, but Mobile let the jib halyard

go instead of the lee sheet, and there was a thorough mess.

Rab got out into the bows and hanging on by his teeth to the

forestay managed to haul the sail down. By this time it was

midnight, and my watch. During the night watch it con-

tinued to blow about force 6, but there was a rather

awkward cross sea, and steering needed all my attention.

Even to light a cigarette meant the danger of a gybe or

of putting her aback. I did not dare to go below to look at

the time, but had to call Rab from above. The dawn was

fine and clear, the wind moderated and the seas became

smaller and longer. I remember thinking that day how

the sea, in reality, never looks like the pictures of it. In

pictures you get a series of smooth waves at regular inter-

vals. In fact, though, you get a mass of water broken into

irregular mounds of all sizes.

I continued to make Rufus work in spite of his agonized

and reproachful expression. We logged 138 miles between

noon and noon under squaresail and trysail, the raffee be-

ing on deck for half the time. On Sunday evening the

wind freshened again. It had a sustained force of 6, and,

in gusts of 7 or more. The sea got very rough, the

 

82 A MODERN SEA BEGGAR

 

waves being about ten feet, with from time to time,

one of twelve or fifteen feet interspersed. Mobile took the

nine to twelve watch that night. I told him I wanted to

sleep and not to call me unless the mizen rigging began

to sing a high note. He called me about ten to say that it

was doing this. I went on deck and found it was blowing

a moderate gale, but the sailing was so good that I

decided to hang on to the raffee. I went on watch myself

at midnight and had one of the most glorious sails I have

ever had. The boat did just on sixteen miles from twelve

to two. The night was clear, the wind was true and the

mizen rigging was singing its top note. Astern the great

seas rolled up and just at the back of one’s mind was that

right amount of fear which is the necessary ingredient of

all great moments. Occasionally one of the big rollers

looked almost like breaking and a certain amount of water

slopped on to the decks; but I held on to the raffee, sing-

ing songs of exultation to myself. At 3 a.m. when I called

Rab the wind had moderated.

The wind continued strong all the following day, and

Rab started agitating early to have the raffee off her that

night. We logged 147 miles from noon to noon. The seas

got still bigger and the sun set without any red. Much

against the grain, I took the raffee down. As it turned out

it was quite unnecessary. It continued to blow hard until

about midnight of the 17th, and then the wind began to

drop; by morning we were almost becalmed. So once

again I experienced the old familiar sailing, the main

mast creaking, the trysail flapping and the whole boat

groaning. Rab had been much less sick at the beginning

of this voyage than he had ever been before, and by that

day had entirely recovered. He started to do all the navi-

gating calculations three days after we left Barbados. We

used both to take the meridian altitude, and my observa-

tion was nearly always 1-1/2 to 2 minutes greater than his.

 

 

BARBADOS TO PANAMA 83

 

I found that day that I had been misjudging Rufus. He

had developed a terrific aveolar abscess which I was dying

to stick a knife into, but he wouldn’t let me touch it.

Against all my medical principles I gave him one quarter

of morphia instead. I had some qualms of conscience

about him, for I had a hollow tooth myself; I feared

nemesis and determined to have it out at the earliest

opportunity.

From then onwards there was very little to record. The

wind continued light, but we only had about one actual

day’s calm. On the 19th the wind shifted to the north and

the weather was much cooler. We concluded we were

getting the tail end of a `norther’ from the Gulf of

Mexico. We spent the time swimming and eating and

lying in the sun. Our cigarettes were running out, so we

took to chewing. We also became very intellectual in our

reading. We read Shaw’s Intelligent Woman’s Guide to

Socialism, Thc Structure of the Atom, and Russell’s A.B.C.

of Relativity, and I even tried to make a start on The

Calculus Made Easy (I didn’t get very far). On Friday the

20th we reckoned to be about 206 miles from Colon, and

Rab noted in his diary: `Have now great confidence in

navigation and will be very surprised if five miles out.’

The following day I find in his diary: `Now 85 miles from

Colon according to observation, and no sign of land or

steamers. Not quite so much confidence in navigation. If

it is wrong, I am sure it is due to chronometer.’

We had thought that we would get into Colon for din-

ner on Sunday. But the current had set us twenty or

thirty miles to the north-north-east. On Saturday after-

noon the sky clouded over and at about three-thirty,

while I was on watch, the rain came down in torrents. I

got soaked through and felt very cold, but there was no

wind. At four-thirty Rab relieved me, and I went down

to change my things. Just as I was getting my oilskin over

 

84 A MODERN SEA BEGGAR

 

my head Rab called to me to come on deck. I finished

struggling with my oilskin, and when I arrived on deck

I found we had been hit by a very heavy squall from the

north. Rab had already got the mainsail half down, but

we could not get it any further without luffing, which we

did, thus putting the squaresails aback. There was a great

flapping of canvas, but no damage was done and we

quickly got the mainsail on deck. Then we ran her off

and took the raffee and squaresail off her, and ran before

it under the jib. For about twenty minutes it blew about

force 8, but very quickly moderated, and by 6.00 p.m. we

set the squaresail and raffee. Of course, we should have

run her dead before the squall immediately, and first

taken the square canvas off her, then luffed up and taken

the mainsail off her. At eleven o’clock that night we

picked up Cape Manzanillo Light.

 

I got a certain amount of sleep that night, but Rab had

practically none. I left almost all the navigation to him.

Although I have said that we picked up the Manzanillo

Light, we were really rather doubtful about it, because

Lights and Tides of the World said that there was a light

flashing alternately white and red, but the chart said just

a flashing white light. We hoped that the chart was right,

and that Lights and Tides was out of date. But neverthe-

less we did not have that pleasant feeling of certainty. At

dawn we picked up land and played a coy game with a

steamer as to which of us should show the other the

entrance to Colon. The steamer gave up first and steamed

off in what we discovered a few minutes later, when we

recognized the land marks, was the wrong direction.

 

We entered Colon harbour at ten o’clock. A large part

of the American fleet was anchored there, and we saluted

an American cruiser in passing. They returned the salute,

which was much more than we have ever been able to get

out of one of our own warships. The sailing instructions

 

 

BARBADOS TO PANAMA 85

 

tell you to anchor anywhere inside the western break-

water. Just as we were furling the squaresail preparatory

to anchoring, a launch came off from Cristobal with the

port doctor, customs officer and admeasurer on board.

They called out to us not to anchor, but said they would

tow us into Cristobal harbour. All formalities were over

in a few minutes, and everything was done to make

things as pleasant as possible for us.

We were received with great hospitality in Cristobal

and met a lot of charming people, and were helped in

every way possible. We had intended to proceed through

the Canal within a couple of days, but it was a week before

we could tear ourselves away.

We met Mr. E. V. Brown, the manager of the Commis-

sary, who twice had given up his job to go sailing, and

also his friend Mr. Craggs, an Englishman of the National

City Bank, who had sailed all around the South Sea

Islands in a yacht. They gave us a lot of information and

advice.

The whole Canal Zone strikes one as an amazing

achievement. The Isthmus of Panama twenty years ago

must have been one of the plague spots of the world.

Now it is almost a health resort. Yellow fever and malaria

have been stamped out. There appears to be no danger of

typhoid, dysentery, or of any other of the parasitic tropi-

cal diseases. There is an extraordinary absence of flies

and other insect pests. Altogether one gets the impression

that the Americans have solved the problem of how white

men can live with comfort in the Tropics. I have been in

India, and was also in Mesopotamia during the war; but

the Canal Zone is in an entirely different category of

things.

We started off about ten in the morning of Thursday,

April 2nd, to go through the Panama Canal. We sailed

under squaresail and raffee to the Gatun Locks, and then

 

 

86 A MODERN SEA BEGGAR

 

went through the locks under the motor. When we

emerged from the locks we sailed again across Gatun

Lake and dropped anchor for the night off Barro Colorado

Island. Barro Colorado Island is one of those wild animal

preserves of which the Americans are so fond. It is just a

slice of the old jungle cut off from the rest of the land by

the damming of the Chagres. No one is allowed to land

there without permission, or with any lethal weapon.

The following day we landed and walked through the

primeval jungle, along a footpath to the observation post.

We saw no wild animals, but collected an enormous num-

ber of furious jungle ticks. We did hear the sound of some

heavy animals in the bush, and wondered for a moment

whether the best way of seeing these animals wouldn’t be

to climb a tree, but we pulled ourselves together and

went on bravely. On our return we were invited to dinner

by Dr. Chapman, the naturalist in charge at that time,

and his charming daughter. We learned that although

they had several pictures of mountain lions taken by flash

light and trap wires, no one had ever seen one.

You live and learn. We swam at Barbados with sharks

in the bay and were told it was quite safe; we bathed in

Gatun Lake with alligators about and were told that it

was quite safe, and we walked about Barro Colorado with

mountain lions about, and yet again were told it was quite

safe. So are one’s illusions shattered.

The following day we sailed under squaresail and raffee

to Pedro Miguel Lock, and passed through the remaining

locks and into Balboa under the motor.

Rab was worried about the galvanic action of the cop-

per, lead and zinc, and asked an official of the Mechanical

Division at Balboa. They said it was all wrong and that

the keel was probably rotting away, so we had the boat

hauled up by a crane. They were quite right. There had

already been quite a lot of action, and the keel would cer-

 

 

BARBADOS TO PANAMA 87

 

tainly have dropped off in time. We called the Barbados

firm all sorts of names; stripped off the lead and put on

lengths of zinc. This was one unforeseen expense. The

other one was that Rufus, who had become more and

more of a nuisance, demanded to be sent back to Barbados,

so we had to repatriate him.

We have found a German, Louis, who is anxious to get

out of Panama, and who is willing to come with me as a

volunteer. He has had no experience of sailing boats, but

during a very varied life experience had been a seaman

on a steamer.

Rab has got to leave me for family reasons, so I am

sailing next Tuesday, April 22nd, with Louis and Mobile

for the Galapagos Islands, and then the Marquesas. I hope

to continue to Tahiti, Samoa, the Fiji Islands, and possibly

New Zealand. Everything is ready. We got the stores on

board to-day, Saturday 18th. If this story is continued, it

will probably be from Tahiti.

 

*     *      *

 

PANAMA,

20th April, 1931.

 

MY DEAREST MOTHER,

 

I have been in the throes of an emotional en-

tanglement, and somehow or other it has been impossible

to write to you until it was settled one way or the other.

Even now it is very difficult. It concerns that half-

American girl in Barbados I told you about. We got

fonder and fonder of one another. I can see your expres-

sion and hear you groan as you read this.

 

I don’t think I will describe her to you-you wouldn’t

believe me-but I will let Rab do that. . . . I have asked

her to write to you. She may join me in Tahiti. Her name

 

 

88 A MODERN SEA BEGGAR

 

is Emily Phillips and this is her address. . . . I think it is

the real thing this time.

 

Well, my dear, I sail to-morrow for the Marquesas. I

will be two or three months getting there and will prob-

ably stay there a couple of months. There is an infrequent

post-about every two months- I am afraid it will be

a very, very long time before you hear from me again.

Rab is leaving me here, and I am going on with a col-

oured boy and a very sound German I have picked up.

Somehow or other I am going to sell the boat when the

money gives out.

I have written an account of the voyage so far for the

American paper Yachting. I have rather good hopes they

will take it. Rab will show you the account, and I will ask

them to send you a copy if they publish it.

I am frightfully worried about B and do not know

what to say to her. . . .

 

Well, my dear, I am off on a very long voyage, but I am

Getting my heart’s desire, which is supposed to happen

rarely. The Journey is longer than across the Atlantic, but

there is much less chance of bad weather. In fact, to all

intents and purposes, there is none; so do not worry about

me.

Write me, on the offchance, to c/o The Governor,

Hiva Oa, The Marquesas; but, for certain, to c/o The

British Consul, Papeete, Tahiti.

When I will be back, my dear, I don’t know. I am

leaving here with forty pounds and the boat, so if I do not

pick up something it will not be very long.

 

I love you, dear, very much, and I do not forget you as

it seems.

So the next letter you will have from me will be from

the promised land.

All my love, dearest Mother.

 

TEMPLE.

 

89 BARBADOS TO PANAMA

 

Letter to Emily Phillips

COLON,

Wednesday, 24th March, 1931.

 

MY DARLING,

 

As was foreseen Rab is going home. I am taking

the boat plus whatever may be left of L118 on to the

South Seas. Somewhere or other when I have no more

money left I am to sell her.

 

As things are at present unless I pick up an amateur

here I will be going with Rufus and Mobile.

I am writing to the New York Yachting to ask them if

they would like an account of the cruise, past and future.

Could you interview them for me and make a contract?

I believe I ought to get twenty dollars a thousand words.

I would send them enough of the past for three months

or four, according to the number of words they want, and

would continue as I go along.

Now, my heart, for you and me. I listened to your rela-

tions in Barbados, I have read your Mother’s very charm-

ing letter and-well, my darling, yours are sweet beyond

words.

But, my dearest, don’t you see all these considerations

mean nothing-when you have really decided you want

to share my fate? My dear, I have told you how I have

lived up to now. You know me. Do you really think there

is any chance of stability, worldly success or safety with

me?

Your mother and your aunt-your real friends for I am

not talking about the `dead at your feeters’ -are quite

right. You would be undertaking a frightful risk and with

all the odds against you.

You can live as you will-but make the choice.

With me vagabondage, poverty, perhaps disgrace,

perhaps success-but that is very unlikely. There is a sort

 

 

90 A MODERN SEA BEGGAR

 

of lethal factor in us Utleys that inhibits it. Both my

father who was and my sister who is much cleverer than I

am, always missed it. You see they, who could have got it

easily, never quite believed in it. I, who would find its

attainment much more difficult, believe in it rather less.

I am going off to the South Seas because I must. There

is no justification, or as I would prefer to put it, rationali-

sation. I just must. I have forced Rab to let me go. Well,

dearest, it will always be the same. There will be a dream

and `I must’, and then for you it will be `pay, pack and

follow’.

You see, dear, I do not believe basically, as a part of my

character, in the values of society. Many people are scep-

tical about them intellectually, but they are not sceptical

about them as a part of their own character as I am.

Also, my dearest, there is something of what Aldous

Huxley calls a `leprachaun’ about me. Rab has had five

pathetic letters from Jean and is going home. Well, my

dear, any woman of mine-could be having triplets every

three minutes and I would still go on to the South Seas.

 

Well, my heart, that is that. The reasons your mother and

aunt have put forth are quite temperately deduced from

their own values. My values are different. There is no justi-

fication for their values and no argument can show them to

have any validity. I believe myself that my own values

are based on more fundamental human needs, but never-

theless that is but an opinion, and for certain of them

there is nothing to be adduced but prejudice. But I hold

them with a whole-hearted fanaticism. A certain number

of people in every generation have always thought as I do.

The first-rate ones have been the poets. The second-rate

ones like myself have believed their songs.

 

I have sat down to-night to try and tell you the true

relations as I have thought them out during the night

watches, and I will try and make no sentimental appeal.

 

 

BARBADOS TO PANAMA 91

 

You must make the choice yourself with your eyes

open. Every word your mother says is right from her

point of view. I offer you hardship, risk, discomfort,

poverty, disgrace, sordidness and something which we

two alone know between ourselves.

We are going on to Panama on Saturday. This letter

will reach you on Monday. Wire me to Post Office, Balboa,

what you decide.

 

I love you dear.

 

TEMPLE.*

 

* Emily Phillips went to Panama and it was then decided that she

would join Temple Utley in Tahiti about September of that year.

 

 

VII

PANAMA TO THE GALAPAGOS

 

On 21st April, 1931, we were all ready to sail. Rab and

I had wisely celebrated my departure two nights

before, so I did not have my usual headache. However, I

did have the usual sinking feeling in the pit of my

stomach.

We had a fearful shock too that morning for we got a

bill for 132 dollars from the Port Captain. Twenty-five

dollars for pilotage out of Cristobal and the rest because

we had been tied up to a buoy. We had asked to be taken

to the yacht basin, but the Pilot had tied us up there,

saying it was better. I have used buoys in many British

artificial harbours; also in Cherbourg, in Brest, in Bergen,

in Vigo and in Tenerife, and as a yacht was never charged

anything. It meant that I was going off to the Marquesas

with 200 dollars in my pocket.

The Pilot came on board at 11 a.m. Rab started the

motor and we taxied out of Balboa along the buoyed

channel. Rab worked hard until the last moment, while

I steered and chatted to the Pilot. Rab’s last bit of work

aboard was to go up the mast and notice that the chain

sling holding up the yard was loose. But very soon the

Pilot said he was getting off, so Rab and I said farewell

and both felt very bad about it. We had a drink of Barbados

rum all round and then Rab and the Pilot pushed off.

There was a light breeze from just east of north, and I

set jib, squaresail and raffee.

I remember feeling very much alone. My crew were

really unknown quantities. I knew that Mobile was good

with his hands, that he had plenty of pluck and that he

was very deft and quick at handling gear, but I also knew

 

92

 

PANAMA TO THE GALAPAGOS 93

 

that he was as irresponsible as a child. Louis was a bar-

tender, who said he had been quarter-master on steam-

boats, but he confessed he knew nothing about sail and

was not shaping well. Always at the back of my mind was

Gerbault’s description of the Gulf of Panama and the

Doldrums. However, the wind gradually increased and as

we reeled off the knots my spirits began to rise and

depression gave way to exhilaration.

A ship, provisions, a crew, 200 dollars and all the

Pacific before us. If I had all the responsibility I had all

the power; I was alone, but I was lord and master.

The wind continued to blow strong and true, and we

made sixty miles in the first twelve hours. I set a course

of south (magnetic) from opposite Taboga Island which

put me twenty-five miles to the east of Cape Mala, for I

had been warned of the strong indraught. We never saw

the Mala light, but there were persistent flashings,

usually grouped in twos, on the port bow, which I

decided were lightning, but Mobile called me five times

between three and six to say that there was a lighthouse

on the port bow. On one occasion he announced a fixed

white light which turned out to be a rising planet.

We made very good progress until six in the afternoon of

April 23rd, when the wind began to fail, but we had

logged 276 miles in fifty-two hours, and were nearly one-

third of the way to the Galapagos.

Our observed position at 5.0 p.m. S.A.T. was 5 degrees 9′

North, 81 degrees 45′ West. This was far, far better than I had

ever dared to hope. I seem to remember that Gerbault

took nearly a month to get so far south.

That was the end of the north wind, and all Thursday

night and all the following day we lay becalmed. There

was not the faintest puff wind, nor a cloud in the sky, and

the heat was quite unbearable. I can remember nothing

like it on the sea; there was a heavy suffocating quality

 

 

94 A MODERN SEA BEGGAR

 

about the atmosphere which squeezed all the vitality out

of us. At sunset we got a light breeze from the south, so

we said goodbye to our square rig and set our mainsail.

The night was a series of calms and squalls. I did not

get below till four in the morning, when things looked a

little more settled. I left Louis at the helm. I was just

dozing off when I heard the infernal clatter of a boat in

stays. I lay still for a few minutes, hoping against hope,

but the noise continued so I went on deck. Louis greeted

me with `It won’t steer, there’s something wrong with

the rudder’. I put her back on her course again and fell

asleep immediately.

At four-thirty, Mobil-who was not on watch, but

who did not trust Louis-woke me to say it was blowing

hard. I went on deck and said it wasn’t, and went to

sleep again. At five forty-five, Mobile woke me once

more to say that there was a heavy squall coming. I

lighted a cigarette and went on deck with a bored and

languid air, and was instantly almost drowned in a

deluge of rain. I got the mainsail down with Mobile just

before the wind hit us. It blew furiously for five minutes,

then dropped to a dead calm. I left the mainsail on deck

and we tossed about in a most horrid swell until 11.30

a.m., when we got a light breeze from south by east, so

we again hoisted the mainsail.

Then just after noon, the whole horizon to windward be-

came obscured by tier upon tier of thick black clouds. We

had a hurried lunch while the mass grew larger and larger.

The rain began to pour down about a couple of miles away

while the whole mass blazed with lightning and the

thunder sounded like a barrage. Meanwhile, another

mass grew quickly to leeward, and for a few minutes we

sailed down an ever narrowing lane of bright sunlight. I

had decided to keep the mainsail up until it blew so hard

that it was imperative to lower it; luckily, I lost my nerve.

 

 

PANAMA TO THE GALAPAGOS 95

 

There was something so portentous of evil in those two

approaching masses. It seemed like being enveloped by

two hostile armies. So I ordered the mainsail down on

deck and Mobile and I got it down just in time.

We had been sailing south-west, close-hauled. The squall

struck us on the port bow coming just from the east of

south. It was exceedingly violent and was accompanied

by torrential rain. It blew from the same direction for

perhaps five minutes, then without warning shifted a

full thirteen points to the north-north-east and blew with

even greater fury. The headsails and the mizen came

over in a tremendous gybe, the mizen sheet parted, and I

thanked my lucky stars that the mainsail was not up, for

the boom would have gone for certain. I took the wheel

from Louis and held her dead before it, while Mobile got

the mizen down in a few seconds.

I have been in an official No. 9 gale, but that was

nothing to the force of the wind that day. The sustained

force must have been about No. 11, and Heaven alone

knows what was the force of the gusts. We ran south-

west before it under the jib alone, doing over seven knots.

The rain cut like hail and we were soaked through and

through. We shivered with cold; nature, having failed

to grill us the previous day, was now trying to freeze us.

The wind quickly picked up a short vicious sea, but there

was no weight in it, a lot of water slopped on board, but

no heavy stuff. The force of the wind was sustained for

two and a half hours, it then quickly dropped to about that

of a moderate gale, and as it was still coming from the

north-east, Mobile and I hoisted the squaresail and a little

later the raf€ee, and we were then able to go due south.

Then the wind began to back through north to north-west

and by seven that evening it had fallen to nothing. Never-

theless, we had logged just on forty miles in those six

hours, and that was nearly forty less of the Doldrums.

 

96 A MODERN SEA BEGGAR

 

Mobile and I were feeling very tired, what with excite-

ment and with hoisting and lowering sails, so, as I wanted

both a quiet night and some sail up, we hoisted the try-

sail instead of the mainsail. In those last twenty-four

hours I realised what a pleasure it was to work with

Mobile. Whenever we shifted sail with my old crew

there were growls and curses. Mobile just accepted it as a

matter of course, with a grin on his face. He was amaz-

ingly quick.

I found, though, I had much more work to do than

ever before. Louis did not pick up anything at all, partly

because he had no aptitude, partly because he was too

much endowed with a race superiority complex to con-

descend to learn anything from Mobile. He even in a

clumsy way attempted to teach Mobile things Mobile had

known for many years. So, in the end, I always left Louis

at the helm and handled all the sails myself with Mobile.

In addition, I had the navigation to do, my time on

watch, and my general function as skipper, which really

means being willing to be called at any hour wearing a

cheerful smile.

Mobile was preparing three meals a day, washing up

and generally keeping things tidy, keeping the gear in

repair and standing his watch. In addition, Louis tried to

use him as steward and cabin-boy. He sat about in the

saloon and whenever he wanted anything, yelled,

`Mobile, Mobile’, in a voice I would not use to a dog.

Moreover, he used to spit saliva, orange-pips or orange

remains on to the floor and expect Mobile to clean them

1. I suggested gently to him at first that Mobile had

enough to do, without waiting on him, and that he must

not try to order him about in that tone of voice. He said

he had been handling boys for years, and that that was

the way to treat them. I replied that that was not my

way, and that they were not to be treated so on my ship.

 

 

PANAMA TO THE GALAPAGOS 97

 

But he would not learn to behave properly, and in the

end I was forced to announce that Mobile and he were on

an equality and that Mobile need take no orders except

from me.

On the night of the squall I went below at ten o’clock,

leaving the ship almost becalmed, but when I came on

deck at midnight to relieve Louis I found to my pleasure

that the ship was slipping along to the south-south-west at

about two knots, with a gentle breeze from the south-east.

The breeze lasted all night, the following morning back-

ing to the east-south-east and becoming fresher, so we

hoisted the mainsail and made good progress. It was

distinctly cooler; we were quickly slipping south; there

was a look of trade winds about the sky; so we all felt very

cheerful. But towards evening, the wind hauled round to

the south and the sky became covered with thick black

clouds. Extracts from my log concerning that night run:

`Sunday, April 26th. From 6.0 a.m. until time of

writing (8.30 p.m.) we have been surrounded by squalls

which have not happened, but I am expecting trouble all

the time. We are just about halfway to the Galapagos.

Monday, April 27th, 8.30 p.m. The patent log read

444 miles. Observed position at 3.15 p.m., was 3 degrees 17′

North, 84 degrees 45′ West. There has been a fresh breeze from

the south all day, and the course was south-west by south.

Last night I turned in at 10.00. Louis called me at

10.40 to say the ship would not steer. I found her aback

and put her back on her course. Louis called me at 11.30

to say the weather looked very threatening. The whole

heaven was piled up with masses of black clouds, with

lightning playing and incessant roll of thunder. How-

ever, the wind was steady from the south, and there was a

thin space of clearness between the clouds and the hori-

zon. I decided to carry on. Took over from Louis at mid-

night. Fine, clear moonlight night with not a cloud to be

 

 

98 A MODERN SEA BEGGAR

 

seen. At 1.30 a.m. everything was blotted out with

massed black clouds and with more thunder and light-

ning. Looked like a super-hurricane. Kept on, thinking I

ought to call crew and get mainsail on deck, but hung on.

Half an hour later, it was a clear moonlight night again.

I have a pet nightmare when I am ill, which dates back

to my earliest childhood. It takes many forms but the

essence is always the same. I am struggling against some-

thing and when everything gets hopeless and I am in

an agony of terror, things suddenly go well. Then again

they get hopeless and again get well, and so on inter-

minably until I wake up in a sweat. Well, this succession

of weather resembled my pet nightmare much too

closely to be pleasant, for at 2.45, the sky looked worse

than ever. So I stayed on watch till 3.30, when every-

thing in the garden was again lovely. I then called

Mobile to take over. At 4.00 a.m. he called out there was a

really bad squall coming. I went on deck: it did look as if

all the threats of the night were going to be fulfilled, so I

got the mainsail down on deck, but I was probably most

influenced by the thought that thus I would get some

sleep. As we were getting it down, the squall tore across

our bows without touching us, and in a few minutes the

night was cloudless and serene. But I left the mainsail

where it was, with orders to wake me at 8.00 a.m. to reset

it.’

That squall marked the end of the Doldrums and was

the last we had. It had been a wearing time, but we were

extraordinarily lucky in getting through so quickly, just

four days. In that zone one is always on the horns of a

dilemma. If you do not take advantage of every wind, you

can stay there until Doomsday; if you don’t get sail off her

in time you may carry away everything. You have to

carry on until the last minute of safety and not an

instant longer.

 

PANAMA TO THE GALAPAOOS 99

 

Next morning we had a stiff breeze from the south and

we sailed close-hauled south-west by west, the ship bucking

into a head sea and dipping her bows under for the first

time since the gale off the coast of Portugal. We might

have been beating down Channel from, say, the Start to

the Lizard. The forecastle hatch, which had been re-

caulked in Tenerife eight months before, leaked badly,

but Mobile recaulked it.

On April 28th, seven days out, our observed position at

2.30 p.m. S.A.T. was 3 degrees 23′ North, 85 degrees 23′

West and the log read 484.

I found that we were drifting about twenty miles a

day to the westward and as the wind had shifted to the

west of south and we could only sail west by south, I

went about. We were able to sail south-south-east a quar-

ter east on the starboard tack.

The previous night the wind dropped to nothing

during my watch, while the sky did its usual rehearsal for

the Day of Judgment. As the main boom was all over

the place, I disturbed the crew for the first time during

my watch and got the mainsail down. That was the first

night we began to notice it was getting cold.

Next day we had a very poor breeze, which fell to

practically nothing at nightfall; so I thought we would

have a peaceful night. We got the mainsail down and

hauled the headsails in flat, let the mizen sheet out

about two feet, and she pointed five points from the

wind, seeming to forge ahead slowly. We brought our

bedding on deck and slept peacefully. I was the first to

wake up at 8.00 a.m. and she was still on her course.

My favourite rig for a boat is a cutter, but I am

beginning to think there is something to be said for a

yawl in tropical waters. It is very handy to be able to put

your mainsail on deck and still have some after canvas to

keep her head on. Yet you still have almost as large a

 

 

100 A MODERN SEA BEGGAR

 

mainsail as you would have on a snugly rigged cutter.

There is too much loss of efficiency on a boat under fifty

foot waterline, rigged as a ketch or schooner.

In English waters I do not see much advantage in the

yawl rig on a yacht. There it either blows or it doesn’t.

You don’t get series of calms and squalls and want to

lower your mainsail for half an hour. You want two reefs

or full sail. Moreover, as you spend most of your time

beating, you want the most efficient possible rig to wind-

ward. I am sure many English yachts are yawl or ketch

rig merely because fishing boats are. That is quite a

different matter; fishing boats need a small riding sail for

their work. Of course, if you always use your motor when

going to windward, it is again a different matter.

We got a good breeze the following morning and all the

next day, and on April 30th were in l degree 34′ North and

85 degrees 5′ West. Then, as the wind had hauled to the east-

ward, I went about and was able to steer south-south-west

or south-west by south. We were 275 miles from the

Galapagos, but had only 120 miles of southing to make.

The nights had begun to get very cold. I could manage

in long trousers over my shorts and a thick tweed coat,

but Mobile and Louis, who have tropical constitutions,

complained a lot. I gave Mobile a thick sweater I bought

for coxing an eight at Cambridge in mid-winter, and he

was still cold. Both he and Louis looked very funny at the

wheel, all huddled up and muffled in blankets, like a

couple of ancient squaws. Louis also suffered from the

strange delusion that you can catch cold by feeling cold.

That night was the first really clear night since leaving

Panama, and there was an almost full moon. I remember

thinking to myself as I watched a gorgeous sunset, with a

glass of rum in my hand, what a wonderful life this was

and how I must go on leading it for a long, long time.

Somehow or other, I determined, I would get about all

 

 

PANAMA TO THE GALAPAGOS 101

 

over the South Seas; with the boat if I could, if not, some

other way. Sailing, if you are made that way, never

becomes satiating; the more you do the more you want

to do. The first day or two you are never comfortable or

at ease, but soon the solitude and beauty of the open sea

soak into you, and you feel a wonderful sense of well-

being, and a strange content.

On May 1st we were becalmed all day. Rab had spent

several days in Panama teaching Louis how to manage

the engine and I was assured he knew all about it. I had

been suggesting for several days that he should try it to

see if it were working properly. He kept on putting it off

but this time I insisted.

After some time I heard a few abortive explosions, then

he said there was a rope twisted round the shaft and he

would try again the next day. There was not a breath of

wind that night and a sea like glass, so I just let the boat go.

We all slept on deck and I arranged that if we got a wind

later, whoever’s ordinary watch it was would take over.

Louis woke me at 3.30 a.m. to say that there was a slight

breeze. I said `Good, my watch is over’, and called

Mobile. We had a lot of trouble getting under way again

and it took over twenty minutes to wear her. I did not get

out of my warm bed, however, but superintended the

proceedings from under two blankets. Once she was on

her course again I turned over and went happily to sleep.

I woke at 8.00 a.m. to find her slipping along nicely, and

as we could sail south-south-west with the wind two points

free, I decided to set both the gaff and jib-topsail. This

was the first time Mobile had set either, but he and I set

the jib-topsail in a quarter of an hour and the topsail in

twenty minutes.

Mobile was a dream to work with, he was so amazingly

quick. I remember the first time we set the jib-topsail

Tony, Jenkins and Jack took two hours, cursing all the

 

 

102         A MODERN SEA BEGGAR

 

time. Jenkins was not really slow, but Jack’s swearing and

blinding used to rattle him.

The wind continued to increase till noon, and for a

couple of hours we were logging six knots. We have no

cross-trees for our short topmast in order that we may be

able to brace our yard to the full extent, so we just take

the weather side stay aft and pull tight on it with a

tackle. This works quite well with the topsail or the

raffee, but with the jib-topsail the topmast was bending

too much for my piece of mind. However, the wind

dropped quickly and by evening everything was banging

about in the old familiar fashion.

I calculated that we had crossed the Line at about

5.30 p.m., so we drank to the Southern Hemisphere in a

punch composed of two glasses of rum, half a glass of

Board of Trade lime juice, four tablespoonfuls of sugar

and three glasses of water. I noted in my log that night

that I had crossed the Line about the same date, fourteen

years before on my way to Mesopotamia. I also remarked

that I hoped I had said good-bye to the North Star for at

least a couple of years.

That night when I went on watch at midnight, there

was not a breath of wind, so I wrapped myself up in a

blanket by the wheel and went to sleep. I was awakened

at five by a faint stir in the air. I called Mobile and we

spent half an hour in getting her on her course again.

The wind was light all that day and fell to nothing again

towards evening. When I took my meridian altitude, I

found to my chagrin that we had drifted back into the

Northern Hemisphere. My latitude was 0 degrees 12′ North

and had been O degrees 6′ North the previous day, but we were

forty one miles to the west.

The following day, my meridian altitude gave my

latitude as 0 degrees 36′ South and my longitude worked

out as 87 degrees 55′ West. The latitude of Chatham Island

 

 

PANAMA TO THE GALAPAGOS 103

 

is 0 degrees 50’ south. I sailed on south-south-west that afternoon till I calculated I was on the parallel. For the last few days I

had been set to the west at the rate of about 1.2 knots

and to the north at one knot. So I set a course to allow for

this.

We had a trying day. I drove Louis to the engine at

noon and he freed the rope. He got a few abortive

explosions out of her, but spent hours feebly cranking her.

Then he announced that it had seized up. I poured

paraffin into it, got it loose, cranked it and started it about

five o’clock. It ran quite well and I let it go on for about

twenty minutes, then stopped it and hoped for the best.

I then took the wheel, telling Louis to get our new

paraffin incandescent lamp lighted. A minute later there

was a crash and going below I found he had dropped it

and smashed the globe. I got out our only spare and went

back to the wheel. A few minutes later I saw a blaze of

fire coming up through the saloon top. I fell down the

companion, cursing, incidentally putting my bare foot

hard on the remains of the broken globe, and found

Louis staring at the blaze. I let the pressure out and the

blaze subsided. I then sat down to investigate and dis-

covered that someone had put paraffin in the methylated

spirit filler, but I never discovered the culprit.

Immediately after this, the outhaul of the mainsail

parted. This was due to scamped work in Barbados,

which I ought to have noticed: when they had re-cut the

mainsail, they had substituted two rotten rope eyeholes

for the brass ring that had been spliced in with heavy

rope.

Altogether I felt very cross and irritable that night. I

always get jumpy when I get near land; the succession

of accidents had not improved matters, and we spent the

night rolling about with the wind two points on the port

quarter.

 

 

104 A MODERN SEA BEGGAR

 

During Louis’ watch, I felt all the time he would com-

plete the tale by gybing her and carrying something

away but, as it happened, when he did the wind was too

light to do any damage.

The following morning the wind was very light and

dead aft, so I decided to get the mainsail down and set the

squaresail and raffee. I took the wheel in order to luff her

and let Louis help to get the mainsail down. He signalised

the event by putting his foot through the saloon top. The

glass is protected by brass rods, but he went through the

lot. I was furious, as he was wearing shoes, which I had

forbidden him to do. He is naturally very clumsy, and

the shoes made him worse; besides, wearing shoes made

him indifferent to the fish-hooks, broken glass, harpoons

and old tins that he left about. He sustained one slight

scratch over the ankle and wanted me to suspend opera-

tions while I administered iodine and bandages; but I

told him to throw salt water on it and go to the wheel

while I completed the sail shifting with Mobile.

When I took my meridian altitude, I found my latitude

to be 1 degree 20′ South. I was thirty miles too far south.

Evidently the Humboldt Current had ceased to operate.

My longitude worked out at 89 degrees 14′ West, making me

about thirty-two miles to the east-south-east of the south-

east point of Chatham Island, so I altered course to west-

north-west.

The wind was light all day and it was misty, but I

definitely saw land ahead at 4.00 in the afternoon. I took

a position line at 5.00 o’clock which made me twenty-five

miles away. At 7.30, I was eighteen miles away and

I set a course for the shoal which is marked on the

chart four miles west of Wreck Point. There were two

fathoms marked over it, but I thought it would be safer

to clear it and worked out the position of Dalrymple Rock

to do so. Once I was on this bearing I intended to sail on

 

 

PANAMA TO THE GALAPAGOS 105

 

Dalrymple Rock. The shoal at that hour was thirty-two

miles away.

At 9.00 p.m., there was a thick mist, but I went below

determined to get three hours sleep as I knew I would not

get any later, and everything was safe for the time being.

At midnight I went on watch. There was an arrow on

the chart, nineteen miles from the shoal, setting me on

my course at one knot, and another fifteen miles away

setting me on my course at two knots.

I decided to reckon a current of one knot from my

dead reckoning position at 7.30 and a current of two

knots from the arrow marked thus. When I went on

deck there was a fair breeze and we were sailing. From

time to time, during my watch, I caught a glimpse of

hiqh land through the mist to the north. This was where

it should have been, but it was very indefinite.

At 3.00 a.m. I could see nothing, but calculated I was

seven miles from my shoal. I had still two and a half

hours until it was light, and two and a half hours at two

knots is five miles, so I called Mobile and we took all sail

off her except the jib. Then I went below and lay down,

telling Mobile to report every half hour.

At 5.30 he reported it was getting light, and he

could see land about three miles away. I went on deck

and could just distinguish, through the mist, a mountain,

which appeared to be the whole island, and I estimated it

to be about thirty miles to the north-east by east, dead to

windward. I groaned and decided I had overshot my

mark by about twenty-six miles. I woke Louis, told him to

start the motor, and went below to verify my calculations.

The motor gave a few coughs but nothing happened.

Mobile had a go at it, then I, with no result. Finally,

Louis got it going, but it stopped in thirty seconds. We

each had another go with no result. Meanwhile, we were

drifting off to the west with wind and current. Mobile

 

 

106 A MODERN SEA BEGGAR

 

and I got sail on her and at half past six started on what

seemed a hopeless beat against wind and current.

Then the mist suddenly cleared and I recognised

Dalrymple Rock, Wreck Point, Progresso and the Kicker

Rock. I took cross bearings and found I had timed every-

thing beautifully and that I was just clearing the shoal

by about a quarter of a mile. At the same time, the wind

freed us two points on our course for Dalrymple Rock,

the landmark for Wreck Bay.

I kept the crew sweating at the engine and swore that

I would not go into Wreck Bay without it-though I

knew in my heart that I would. For I have ceased for

many years struggling much about decisions. I let myself

go through the dreary struggle with a sort of detached

interest, always knowing all the time what I am really

going to do. I was very afraid of making a mistake and

wrecking the boat and thus losing my chance of getting

to the South Seas. On the other hand, I had crossed the

Doldrums under sail alone and I felt I would like to get

into port under sail alone. Nevertheless, the name,

Wreck Bay, is sufficient to make one pause. Gerbault has

described its difficulties; it was a dead beat in, and the

Inyala is very apt to miss stays.

So as we went sailing on gently towards Dalrymple

Rock, I went below and worked out the exact course into

the bay.

I found that when the rock bore 335 degrees (magnetic), a

course of 155 degrees (magnetic) would just shave Lido Point

– there is a patch of three fathoms off Lido Point, but that

I could ignore.

Meanwhile, the crew still struggled with the motor,

their last hope of any shore leave before the Marquesas

fast vanishing, for it had become hopelessly seized up and

almost immovable.

When we were about half a mile from the rock, we

 

 

PANAMA TO THE GALAPAGOS 107

 

were suddenly becalmed and we drifted round in circles

for half an hour. Then it started blowing gently from the

north-north-west, dead into the bay.

In a few minutes the rock bore 355 degrees. Not really

believing this wind could hold, I ordered the helm to be

put up and we bore away into the bay.

Ahead, to starboard, the sea was breaking in huge

rollers over the whole of the Schiavoni Reef, from which

projected the masts of a large steamer; to port there were

breakers off Lido Point; between there appeared to be a

passage about eleven feet wide.

I left Louis at the wheel, sent Mobile up the port

rigging and went myself up the starboard rigging to conn

her in. As Louis was steering 1 did not let out much

mainsheet.

The wind was just aft of the starboard quarter. For a

time everything went nicely. As the boat was steering

like a steamer, Louis was in his element and steered

beautifully to degrees as I shouted them from the rigging.

I had decided to keep to the Lido Point side, as there the

danger was better defined and the pilot book talked about

a set towards the Schiavoni Reef. But we were set the

other way, and I steered more and more south-155 degrees-

157°-160 degrees-165 degrees-170°, my orders ran.

Then, just opposite the point, there was a sudden

squall; crash went the boom over to starboard and I

thanked my stars for the short mainsheet. We ran on

another hundred yards when I suddenly felt the wind in

my face, just on the port side, then I felt her way check.

I fell down the rigging, hauled the staysail sheet tight on

my way, pushed Louis away from the wheel, put it hard

over and bore away just in time to keep her out of irons.

At the same time I shouted to Mobile to sheet the jib

home and tried to get Louis to haul on the mainsheet,

but before Louis had finished looking at it, Mobile, who

 

 

108 A MODERN SEA BEGGAR

 

was jumping about like a cat, pushed him out of the way

and hauled it in. We tore down on the wreck like a

train. I had no time to refresh my memory from the

chart, but was fairly sure that there was water right up to

the wreck. Anyway I reckoned if a large steamer had got

as far as that, there ought to be plenty of water for us. I

was right; there is four and a half fathoms marked on the

chart.

I intended to keep her quite free and not to risk

missing stays, however many tacks I might have to make.

But just as we were going about and Mobile had his hand

on the staysail sheet, the wind shifted again and freed us,

and I was able to make the pier.

Mobile got the staysail and jib down with incredible

rapidity, and I dropped anchor in four fathoms, about

300 yards from the pier. I gave a heartfelt sigh of relief

and felt very pleased with myself, but I was very tired.

I congratulated Mobile on his seamanship. He is an

extraordinary mixture. He does not know the points of

the compass and cannot, I think, manoeuvre a boat; but

he has an instantaneous knowledge of any sort of gear on

deck and works with amazing speed. He grasps in a

second what you are after. So we were safely at anchor in

Wreck Bay, having made the passage in sixteen days

under sail alone, which was less than half as long as I had

expected. Looking round and breathing the tonic quality

of the air, I thought the Galapagos were well worth

coming to see.

 

VIII

THE GALAPAGOS

 

1. CHATHAM ISLAND

 

We furled the sails in a leisurely fashion, and had just

finished making things shipshape on deck when we

saw a boat coming off from the shore; it was about eleven

in the morning. I thought I had better dress up to meet

the port officials, so I put on a shirt and a pair of shorts.

As the boat approached we could see it was full of people,

including one woman, and a few minutes later I was

greeting the Governor and his wife, his A.D.C., Senor

Cobos and two other men.

I invited them all below-where there was a most

horrid mess-and got out cigarettes and Barbados rum.

They said they didn’t really want a drink, but would

have one just to wish me luck. Then we started to talk.

I can speak French fluently but badly, Louis knows

some Spanish; Alain Gerbault has testified to the per-

fection of Senor Cobos’ French, one of the others

knew a little French, but the Governor and his wife

spoke only Spanish. Nevertheless we all talked thirteen

to the dozen.

After the drink to wish me luck I suggested another,

and then the party started. It broke up at five o’clock, and

we had got through five bottles of rum and six tins of

cigarettes. We parted, swearing undying friendship, and

I was invited to renew the good work at Senor Cobos’

hacienda the following day.

I had a bath and, feeling dead tired, was just sitting

down to eat some spaghetti when one of the party re-

turned with a friend, both wanting a medical examination.

 

109
110 A MODERN SEA BEGGAR

 

I complied; spironeme pallida was the culprit in one case,

a diplococcus in the other.

When they left I swallowed the meal and fell asleep

immediately after, but I was awakened about midnight

by a most infernal racket: it was the A.D.C., very mellow.

I was very angry at being wakened and told him

to go away, but he went on staggering about and woke

Mobile, who interpreted for me that he had lost his key.

I think he was hoping for more drink and cigarettes,

but he insisted on searching the whole ship, without

any results. I got him away at last, without giving him

a drink or a cigarette, though he kept on circling round

them.

The following day, May 7th, after a good sleep, I re-

moved seventeen days’ growth of beard, weeping bitterly

as I did it. Next I had a bath in the dinghy, the seams of

which had opened, as I had been warned the bay was full

of sharks.

On going ashore we found two horses waiting for us,

with the sort of saddles that I thought were only seen in

Wild West films: the high Mexican saddles with iron

shoes instead of stirrups. I was taught to ride as a child,

and had to ride a lot during the war, but since then I had

always declined a mount when it was offered me: at the

bottom of my heart I consider horses dangerous and un-

certain creatures. However, there seemed to be quite a

crowd watching, so I tried to mount with nonchalance, as

if it were an everyday event, and, perched on my high

saddle, felt I had ceased playing at sailors and was now

playing at cowboys.

We rode up and up along a rough bridle path towards

Progresso, the one settlement on the island. Our way led

through bush and forest, and along this road alone there

were enough guavas, oranges and lemons to feed a large

population. As I remained stuck to my horse I became

 

 

THE GALAPAGOS 111

 

more venturesome, tried galloping, and reined up outside

Senor Cobos’ house with quite a flourish.

I was introduced to Senora Cobos, a very beautiful

Norwegian whose father had been one of the Norwegian

settlers on the island, and after a cocktail or three sat

down to a perfectly wonderful meal composed entirely of

island products, without a single thing from a tin. When

you have been at sea any length of time it is always fruit

you crave for; we had tumblers of orange juice with the

lunch, and melons, water-melons, and pawpaws to finish

up with. I ate and ate and ate. We talked, in French and

English, of my distinguished predecessor-Ralph Stock,

Alain Gerbault, and others. The last yacht there had been

the Southern Cross, about two months before, which Rab

had seen building on the Clyde while looking for a boat

for ourselves.

After lunch I rode over the hacienda with Senor Cobos.

It was a sad sight; everywhere evidence of decay. A

broken-down factory, acres and acres of sugar-cane going

to waste, weed-grown tracks and derelict machinery.

Senor Cobos explained that they found it impossible

to get labour, and acres of sugar-cane had rotted for

want of cutters and men to work his factory; but it was

only later that I learnt the whole history of this tragic

hacienda.

It was, in the exact meanings of the verbs, hewn and

blasted out of the wilderness by Senor Cobos’ father, and

it became a very valuable property. The elder Cobos was

apparently a man of great physical and mental force, over-

bearing and masterful, a slave-driver and a lover of

fealty for its own sake. He got convict labourers from the

Ecuadorian Government and worked them unmercifully.

The slaves swore to get him, but he was utterly fearless

and had all the firearms. One revolt broke out, in which

the old man was wounded, but he escaped into the bush

 

 

112 A MODERN SEA BEGGAR

 

and was succoured by his body-servant. When he had re-

covered he returned and restored order. He used to flog

the convicts, but one day, when yet again he had ordered

a man twenty-five lashes, the convicts told their overseer

that if he did not help them to kill Cobos they would kill

him, the overseer. The overseer thereupon shot Cobos,

but not fatally, and the old man put up a tremendous

fight for his life, but was eventually hacked to pieces

with machetes.

On his death the estate passed to his son-in-law, Senor

Alvarados, who still owns it. The Senor Cobos who enter-

tains the yachtsmen of all nations on their way to the

South Seas is the son of another wife and is the manager

of the plantation. The estate is supposed to be passing

into the hands of a German company in Guayaquil, to

whom Alvarados is reputed to owe a hundred thousand

dollars.

On the Saturday we entertained four Norwegians; two

of them had come over from Santa Cruz in a small open

cutter to send their dried fish to Guayaquil by the Cobos

schooner; the other two had settled at Chatham. They

are remnants of the two Norwegian colonies which at-

temped to settle the islands of Santa Cruz and Chatham

about five years ago. What exactly went wrong is rather

hard to gather; I heard more of the story later. There

certainly seems to have been financial knavery some-

where, everybody I have talked to is agreed on that

point. They are likewise agreed that other causes of

failure were: lack of regular transport for their produce,

bad marketing, and above all the lack of a leader. The

enterprise was co-operative, and decisions were only

arrived at with difficulty and never stuck to.

It was good that night to sit down to a Nordic drinking

party again, but it used up a lot of alcohol. Four bottles

of rum went west, and it was only at the third that any-

 

 

THE GALAPAGOS 113

 

one talked, except Louis. These four men were well con-

tent with their lot, and said they were gradually making

headway. They live by fishing and are slowly making

farms for themselves out of the wilderness. When it be-

comes comfortable enough they intend getting wives

from Norway. They are badly hampered though by lack

of transport, and cannot get their fish to Ecuador. They

offered me the job of taking their fish to Guayaquil, and

I was almost persuaded to abandon the South Seas, turn

my saloon into a hold and spend the rest of my life trans-

porting their dried cod. They suggested I should try it

just once, and there would have been about a hundred

dollars in the transaction, but it was not worth ruining

the boat with the smell of dried fish. I was tempted

though.

We had been invited to Senor Cobos again next day,

and I regretted that I had not realized that riding

breeches and riding boots are an indispensable part of a

deep sea sailor’s equipment. I had come back from my

last ride without any skin over the lower part of my

sacrum or over the tuberosities of my ischium. This time

I tried wearing a pair of shorts under my flannel

trousers.

After another wonderful lunch we set out with a guide

to ride to the two crater lakes, which are about two

thousand feet up in the interior. It was a ride which will

always remain in my memory as one of my most lovely

experiences. I understood from Senor Cobos that none of

the other people on yachts who had come to the island

had ever bothered to do it. We rode up and up, first

through sugar-cane and forest, then low bush and finally

bare grass and on into utter desolation. We passed round

two peaks, and just below the backbone of the island

came upon a little lake, on the far side of which grazed

wild horses and wild cattle. I wanted to stop, but the

 

 

 

114 A MODERN SEA BEGGAR

 

guide urged me on, and about four hundred feet higher,

set into the very crest of the ridge, we came upon the

perfect lake. The old crater formed a complete circle

about two thousand yards across and about a hundred

feet deep. At the bottom was a little gem of a lake,

emerald green and perfectly still. From the crest we

could see the sea on every side, and to the north mile

upon mile of undulating green desolation, broken by

mountain peaks. Around us wild cattle and horses posed

against the skyline.

As I gazed clouds began to roll up from the east. They

did not settle in mist, but rolled about us, clearing and

coming down again. It was really an enchanted spot, and

we lingered and lingered, completely enthralled. The day

died in red glory in the west, and as the sun went down

it coloured the clouds round us every shade of rose and

pink. I expected every minute to feel wings budding out

from my shoulders and to find a harp in my hands.

As night came on I began to shiver and we started back.

Then I had some excitement. I am sure I have never be-

fore ridden a horse faster than at a walk along so high a

road. But we went two-thirds of the way down that

mountain side at full gallop in the gathering dark. It was

too exhilarating to feel much fear, but it was wildly ex-

citing, and when I still found myself on my horse after

half an hour of this going, I began to feel that perhaps I

could ride a bit after all. Never will I forget that day; but

I was dog-tired when I got back to the Cobos’ for dinner,

and the ride back to the ship was sheer torture. I had

spent about eight hours in the saddle.

I lingered on at Chatham until Friday, May I5th, for

no particular reason except that I liked the place. I

thought then, and I still think, that the climate of the

Galapagos Islands is the finest in the world. It is just

warm enough to go about in shirts and shorts all day.

 

 

THE GALAPAGOS 115

 

There is plenty of sun, but it has none of the fierce tropic

quality, it is the kindly sun of temperate latitudes, and is

often obscured. The atmosphere is dry and very definitely

bracing; the nights have just a pleasant chill about them,

so that you need a coat to sit in and a blanket to sleep

under. You develop an enormous appetite and quite a lot

of energy. It is completely a white man’s country. There

are no endemic diseases, no dangerous animals on land,

no poisonous insects.

Senor Cobos and the inhabitants generally were very

good to us, and we left Chatham loaded to the gunwale

with oranges, lemons and bananas. But I should advise

anybody going there to take an unlimited number of

cigarettes, cigarette papers, matches and West Indian

rum. These, with clothes or footwear of any description,

tools, nails, screws, rope and string, empty bottles and

empty tins, in fact any manufactured article, have all the

greatest value. It takes a very long time for any one who

has passed his life in a highly industrialized country to

realize that cups and nails and pins and string and paper

do not grow on trees. The islands provide their inhabi-

tants with abundant good food in the way of fish, beef,

pork, plantains, sweet potatoes, yucca, sugar, coffee and

alcohol, and they have raw tobacco; but everything else

has to be imported, and there are very few exports to pay

for these imports. Tinned food, butter, wheaten flour or

biscuits, bacon, ham, jam, honey or manufactured cigar-

ettes are all wonderful luxuries.

While we stayed on at Chatham I kept on trying to get

Louis to get the motor in working order, and with re-

peated urgings I did at last get him to put in a few hours’

work on it. However, there was no result. It was com-

pletely seized and he could not move it. We put in lots of

paraffin, but only succeeded in breaking the starting

chain.

 

 

116 A MODERN SEA BEGGAR

 

One’s character is one’s fate.  My character hates

engines, and thus I seem fated to sail without one. I ad-

mit their usefulness but, hating them, of course neglect

them, and so they will not behave. It would be much

better if this one were not there at all. One should either

have a reliable engine and take care of it, or dispense with

one altogether. With one like mine, twenty-four years

old at that time, if you are not careful you get yourself

into situations from which only the engine can extricate

you, and then find the damned thing won’t work.

We spent the last few days getting everything ship-

shape and taking water on board. The mizen and staysail,

which had developed slight tears, were repaired; the foot

of the mainsail re-roped, the sheave of the mizen bumkin

re-bolted and the shrouds set up. I wanted to have the

mizen as a working sail. My prejudice is all for cutters

but I have learnt the value of a mizen. Rab has a moral

prejudice against cutters, yet if left alone never sets the

mizen. Every sail on board was new except the mizen,

which was rotten when we started.

But the most arduous job was taking water aboard. We

took it on board in great iron drums which had their

bung in the middle. From the drums the water was

emptied bucket by bucket, carried down below and then

emptied into a ten-gallon container, and thence siphoned

into the tank. It took six hours. Louis, as it was the soft

job, arranged the siphon, and then complained it would

not work, saying there was something wrong with the

tube. I found he was trying to make the water run uphill.

He tried to argue about it, saying-all the water he had

ever known would, but I put him on to bucket carrying.

The water reminded me of Tigris water, but I conclude it

is uncontaminated for it did us no harm. It had the con-

sistency and colour of cocoa and tasted like the smell of a

pottery-shed.

 

 

THE GALAPAGOS 117

 

The Chatham Islanders were more than good to us: I

wished I had more rum and cigarettes to give them in

return. Instead, I was myself forced to buy more drink

and had to be very mean with cigarettes.

Rum was four shillings a gallon in Barbados. Rab

wanted to buy four gallons. I wanted to buy fifty. We

compromised on twelve. We gave it away with such a

lavish hand in Panama that we were forced to buy two

gallons there at the rate of twenty-four shillings a gallon.

I bought another four gallons at Chatham Island at the

rate of twenty-five shillings a gallon. Both the latter pur-

chases were really inferior stuff.

 

CHATHAM ISLAND,

 

GALAPAGOS ISLANDS,

 

May 12th 1931.

 

MOTHER DEAREST,

 

As you will see from the above address I am one

stage further on my journey. I got across the Doldrums

in sixteen days and into Wreck Bay under sail alone, as

the motor won’t work. I have now just 3,000 miles to do

to the Marquesas, all in the Trade Winds, so all ought to

be well.

 

I did not think I would be able to write to you from

here, but Senor Cobos, the lord of the Isle, has been very

good to me, and is going to send it to Guayaquil when his

schooner goes and thence by aeroplane post.

As you will have heard from Rab I left Panama with a

queer crew, a German ex-barman and a coloured boy

from Barbados. The first is quite a good sort, but talks

too much and is no sailor. He can steer a course when the

squaresail is up, but gives me the cold shivers when the

mainsail is set. Also he can learn nothing about gear, so

Mobile and I have to handle all the sails. Mobile-the

West Indian- is a wonderful sailor for the most part,

 

 

118 A MODERN SEA BEGGAR

 

and seems to have perfect confidence in me and also to

be quite devoted. We get on very well together, but he is

amazingly childish, superstitious, excitable and irrespon-

sible.

But I am enjoying myself, I think, more than ever

before. I am lord, master and complete autocrat, and I

will be quite impossible to live with soon! It is extra-

ordinary how dependent these two are on me.

We did not do too badly getting down here. We got a

north wind to start with and I crowded on every stitch

and made 150 miles south in 36 hours. Then we got into

the Doldrums, which behaved in the classic fashion-

calms with unbearable heat, violent squalls, torrents of

rain and thunderstorms. But I kept sail up and drove

south with every squall. On the Sunday we got a really

violent and prolonged one from the N.E., N. and N.W.

It blew harder than I have ever known it, but I kept

my headsails up and ran south. As soon as it moderated

a little I set the squaresail, though the crew groaned, and

then the raffee, and I made about seventy miles in eight

hours.

It was the sort of blow in which Rab would have been

thinking of the sea anchor. But I was well rewarded as I

had got out of the Doldrums, and next day I got a gentle

breeze from the south which, as the days went on, hauled

round to the S.E. and I had no more squalls.

I tried the motor four days before getting here, with

no result. Then the day before, after Louis had played

with it all day, I had a go at it myself and was successful.

Next morning I told Louis to start it, but again there was

no result, and I had to get into here under sail.

Mother, these islands really are wonderful, and at last

I have found the sort of thing I have been looking for.

Beauty, desolation, remoteness, and with it all fertility

and kindliness of environment.
120 A MODERN SEA BEGGAR

 

The climate is absolutely perfect-cold at night, dry,

sunny and warm during the day, with a constant breeze

and very bracing. It is amazing, only fifty miles from the

Equator; the reason is that there is a cold current from

the south. I have abandoned playing at being a sailor for

the last few days and have been playing at being a cow-

boy! Senor Cobos has put horses at our disposal and we

have had some wonderful rides. You should see me gal-

loping about in a high Mexican saddle. Two days ago we

rode into the interior, about 2,000 feet up, to see a crater

lake. It was lovely beyond words and I will never forget

that ride. Coming back we galloped full tilt down the

mountain. I, who have not ridden a horse since 1918, and

who have always refused a ride when Rab offered me a

mount! I was too exhilarated to be very frightened, and

after about half an hour began to feel I could ride. In

spite of all temptation I never grasped the pommel once.

Well, I expect to leave here the day after to-morrow and

I am going to put in at Charles Island, about fifty-five miles

from here. A German doctor has lived there for the last

two years with his mistress. They go about naked and

live on what they catch and cultivate themselves. He is

very happy, they say. He chucked a brilliant career in

Germany at the age of forty.

I nearly decided to remain here myself, carrying salt

from one island to another, and then fish to Guayaquil.

Well, my dear, I will come back I suppose, though I

am more and more convinced that it is very silly. Emsy

sent me Freud’s Civilization and its Discontents from New

York, and he demonstrates quite conclusively that you

must be unhappy in the present civilization. Freda

demonstrates just as conclusively that the present one is

going to bust up within the next few years, so why one

should come back for the bust which will be extremely

unpleasant god knows.

 

 

THE GALAPAGOS 121

 

There are two things I think which will bring me back.

You; and the fact that in spite of everything I remain a

`bloody intelligent’. I find I absolutely eat up a book about

the things I am interested in, and would like sometimes

futilely to make fun and laugh with other intellectual im-

potents at the futility I would have returned to. But that

in itself would not bring me, I think, if you were not

there. . . .

 

I cannot get along without a woman, and if there is

not one attached to me I inevitably find another. When I

have one I am quite faithful. The moment I am alone I

go about like an unsaturated carbon atom and inevitably

get attached.

 

From Charles Island I sail for the Marquesas which

I have written to-night as I felt, so show it to no one.

All my love.

 

I will try and spend two months in the Marquesas liv-

ing as a native if it is still possible. Rab left me L40.

Do try to find me a millionaire to send me L100 there! It

seems very hard to get there and have to come back for

want of cash. Very grateful to Rab, but he was a damned

fool to go home. Also tell G and Walter they have lost

a chance which is offered to few men.

might only take a month, but it might take three.

 

TEMPLE.

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