3. Journey Home, 1897
After a few days on the railway we arrived at Cape Town, where we had to wait for a week, which passed very pleasantly. My old friend, J. Gold, was with me. I bid him good-bye at the end of the gangway. It was destined to be the last shake of his hand I will ever get in this world. He died shortly after. I put him down to be one of the finest men it has been my pleasure to know. He was well named Gold for his heart was even better than this elusive and precious metal. However, for the best friends we ever know the day of parting is bound to come. He is laid to rest in the Primrose Cemetery near Johannesburg and was one of the early victims of the dreaded scourge amongst the miners of the Transvaal - "Pthisis". ¹A type of tuburculosis.
We sailed from Cape Town on New Year's morning 1897. The weather, of course, was fine, it being mostly summer weather in those southern climes. The ship was the R.M.S. Moor of the Union Line - it is now, I think, the Union Castle Line. She was a nice, comfortable ship and one of the clippers of the South Atlantic. She behaved well at sea and endeared herself to her passengers. I remember well her first three logs were 444 knots, so one can readily see that she could show a clean pair of heels, as the saying is, to some of the Atlantic liners of to-day.
We passed St. Helena, the very picture of loneliness, standing up out of the ocean, looking cold and uninviting. I could not help but think of the solitary figure who once stood on this lonely rock and looked over the lonely waste of water with feelings that can well be imagined. ²This must be a reference to Napoleon Bonaparte, who was exiled here. I think there will be many Englishmen who would rather this thing had not occurred. But what has been done cannot be undone. At least I think history will not repeat itself in this direction.
Nothing much of importance occurred, just the usual routine of ship life. In due time we reached Madeira and cast anchor and in a few minutes the ship was turned in to a market place, the natives clambering on board with fruit of every variety, tobacco, cigars, parrots, canaries, wicker goods and all sorts of haberdashery. In three hour's time they made their departure just as quickly as they had come. One of the features here was the native boys diving and swimming for any bright coin they saw. They would swim down into the depths of the sea and I noticed when they come up they had it in their mouth.
After shipping the anchor we sailed and as soon as we were out of the shelter of the island the sea become choppy and the wind arose, and gradually, as we proceeded on our way, it become worse. Next morning it had attained, at least to us land lubbers, the magnitude of a storm. The hatchways were fastened down, the deck could only be reached with difficulty and then it had to be by way of the fo'c'sle.
Every minute the waves were sweeping over the bow of the ship and, of course, everything that was not fast was soon on the move. We were slowed down to 5 knots for two days. A few hours before we arrived abreast of Ushant the storm had abated. We reached Southampton Water, after shipping the pilot off the Needles, at midnight. It was about 10 o'clock next morning when we were allowed to leave the ship, going by special train to London, which we reached by about noon on the 18th January 1897.
After a little look around London many of us suddenly discovered we had left the sunny climes behind and stood in need of a top coat. I may say here that this is a bit of clothing that would never be required in South Africa. However, I bought one in Market Street London, for which I paid £5. After getting in to it I thought of the railway station. The great city had no attraction for me, at least not sufficient to hold me.
I booked from Euston to St. Bees, entraining at 2 p.m. I reached St. Bees by the train that still arrives in the little village at 9.40 p.m. But before running into the station the same little figure was standing in the little field, waving me a welcome home. I can say to-day that the sorrow of parting was worth enduring for the joy of returning.
I am now often wondering to myself whether it would not be better for us if memory ceased to reproduce those hours of unclouded joys that are known to many of us but, alas, too, too soon have passed and in their stead is only an empty life, which can only be imagined by those of us who have been unfortunate enough to have been brought face to face with this stern reality.
That night I have always remembered as the happiest night in a life that has had many joys. My time was fully occupied trying to squeeze into the twenty-four hours more pleasures than they were capable of holding. We had, about this time, a Leap Year Ball in the Grammar School, St. Bees, and while it has been my pleasure to have sat down to a few nice suppers in my time this one left an impression that reflects the highest credit on the girls of that day. Many of them have passed on before.