Chapter 3

Finally, on the 10th of March, in the morning early, we had reached near to the Old Head of Kinsale, and near to Cork, when we saw a boat pulling off to us. This proved to be a pilot-boat. The pilot got on board, and told us that ours was the first vessel that could be boarded in six weeks, the weather having been so bad, and that only a few days before the mail-carrier between Clonakilty and Cork had been frozen to death on his journey. The pilot brought us a few potatoes, which gave us one each and two for the captain's wife, and the next morning we got safely into Queenstown, where we were able to get a good supply of milk, bread, butter, and eggs, of which we all made pretty free use, and with a few days' rest we forgot all our late cares, as sailors usually do.

After being in port a few days we all left the "Tropic," and I spent a couple of weeks in seeing Cork and the beautiful country where the people are so genial and hospitable. After seeing all I wanted to see, I took steamer from Cork for Bristol, spent one day there, and then left by train for London. The train left in the evening, and here a rather amusing incident occurred. I had taken a second-class ticket, and after taking my seat, it being cold weather, I prepared to make myself comfortable for the night. In my valise I had a rough sealskin or Esquimau jacket with a hood to it. I put this on and was nice and warm, sitting in the corner of the carriage. Shortly afterwards a man in livery came in and sat in the corner opposite to me. Then came an old lady and her husband, an Irish army officer returning to India. The old lady was helped in by the gentleman, but as soon as she saw me she cried out, "O Lord!" and fell back. Then the old gentleman boosted her in again, saying, "Go in, you old stupid!" and after the second attempt she gave it up, saying she wouldn't travel in a menagerie. She had taken me for a bear, and the man in livery for my keeper. The old gentleman got in, and she remained on the platform until I assured her that there was no danger. Then she came in very reluctantly and sat as far away as possible until we reached Bath, where the man in livery alighted. After that the old lady, her husband, and I became good friends for the remainder of the journey.

Memory For Voices.

After the bear incident I spent some time in London, then joined the emigrant ship "Oriental," bound to Adelaide, South Australia. I was third officer. We took on board about one hundred families of excellently selected farm labourers, shepherds, and ploughmen, and after having made a good voyage arrived safely in Adelaide. The Immigration Commissioners came on board and inspected the passengers. The result was most satisfactory. There was no complaint of ill-treatment or deficiency in supplies, and in less than thirty-six hours every family was engaged and sent into the country. And the Commissioners awarded to our doctor fifty pounds sterling, the chief officer fifty pounds for his supervision, and myself fifty pounds for the supervision of the commissariat department.

After a short stay in Adelaide, we sailed for Madras, in India, and after a good voyage we arrived and anchored in the evening when it was quite dark. There was quite a number of native business men came off in catamarans and "mussulah," or surf-boats. Among the number was one noble-looking man, who stepped up near to our captain and, addressing him, said, "How do you do, Captain Mackintosh?"

"How do you know my name is Mackintosh?"

"By your voice, sahib. When you were here in the 'Lady Mary Harrison,' eighteen years ago, I was your dubash."

This was quite correct. This man recognized the captain's voice after all these years.

In 1879 I had a similar experience in my own case. I was travelling in Scotland, and in Edinburgh I met some friends and inquired for an old lady whom I had known as a child. I found that she was living at a place called Aberladye, on the seacoast. I decided to go to see her, and was directed to take the train to Dreme Station, and there I should find a conveyance to take me to Aberladye. When I arrived the conveyance was filled with local travellers and I started to walk three and a half miles to my friend. After I had gone about half a mile I passed by a magnificent entrance to a fine estate. Soon after this I heard a carriage coming, and when it caught up to me the gentleman who was driving in the dog-cart pulled up and asked if I was going to Aberladye and invited me to take a lift. I thanked him and mounted beside him. He asked where I wanted to go. I told him to Rose Cottage, when we entered into general conversation. He learned that I was from China, so we had quite a pleasant time, and, arriving opposite to Rose Cottage, he pulled up and graciously pointed to the house, bade me good-bye, and hoped we might meet again.

I went up to the door and rang the bell, and the old lady herself answered it all in a flutter, as she had seen me set down from the trap, which was driven by Lord Rosebery himself. Well, I asked if Mrs. McKippen lived there. She replied, "Yes; I am she." I said, "Perhaps you don't remember me?" She said, "No; but I know your voice." I told her that I was Arthur Knights. "Aye, laddie," she cried, "I heard that you was drowned at sea twenty-five years ago." Well, I need hardly say that I was welcome to her and her husband, who was a retired business man. Poor old gentleman, he cried as a child when she told him of my taking the trouble to come and see her, and how when I was a small boy at a juvenile party I was sore distressed by my dancing slippers being too big and that they kept slipping off. Then she came to the rescue and took me to one side and stitched them to the heel of my stocking to enable me to have a good time.

I spent a couple of days with my friends and then went on my way, and I have often wondered whether that lady could possibly have connected my manhood voice with that of my childhood.

An Incident of the Great Taiping Rebellion.

In the latter part of 1862 I left Shanghai on my usual voyage to Hankow. This port is six hundred miles up the Yangtse River. After we had got about sixty miles up the river, which is here about ten miles wide, our attention was drawn to a number of human bodies floating down the river, most of them mutilated. This lasted about thirty hours. As we steamed along near the shore, the farmers, with their families, were for miles gathered here and there, gesticulating, prostrating themselves, and praying for us to take them on board. The poor creatures were between the Imperialist soldiers and the rebels, or Taipings. Both of these parties were ravaging, devastating, and destroying all before them, and the poor peasants had a very hard time. We could not help these poor creatures, and had to pass on our way.

On the third day we passed a city called Taiping Foo, "foo" meaning "city" in Chinese. We afterwards learned that for some months the inhabitants of the city had withstood a siege from both belligerents, and one day the Imperialist general conferred with the Taotai, or mayor, and said that it was well known that the inhabitants had been very good and had not favored the rebels, and now if they would open their gates to the Imperial soldiers, he would promise them kind treatment; and the people were weak enough to believe him and opened the city gates, and in a few hours nearly the whole population was butchered and thrown into the river, and those were they whom we had seen floating in clusters a few days before.

Conclusion.

In the course of my journey through life I have been in many strange places, and have met many strange people. I have seen many strange sights--some grave, some gay. For many years I was on passenger-carrying ships, and have carried many travellers, amongst whom some strong and enduring attachments have been made.

Although I have been in some bad places, and met some "hard characters," yet was I never molested in any country in which I have been. I have seen some misfortunes, but was never depressed by them. I could always see around me others who stood in need of help. I have spent a long life in foreign lands, and happily I can now look back upon the past and say that I have found much good in all the lands which Almighty God has permitted me to visit.

My motto has always been, Never despair; persevere, and never give up hope.

And now with the most happy memories of the past I can look back without a moment's regret and ask God to bless all those who have been good to me. And who has not been good?