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CHARLESTON, SEPTEMBER 27th, 1869.—It is high tide, and three
o’clock in the afternoon when we leave the Battery-quay; the ebb carries
us off shore, and as Captain Huntly has hoisted both main and top sails, the
northerly breeze drives the “Chancellor” briskly across the bay.
Fort Sumter ere long is doubled, the sweeping batteries of the mainland on our
left are soon passed, and by four o’clock the rapid current of the ebbing
tide has carried us through the harbour-mouth.
But as yet we have not reached the open sea; we have still to thread our
way through the narrow channels which the surge has hollowed out amongst the
sand-banks. The captain takes a south- west course, rounding the lighthouse at
the corner of the fort; the sails are closely trimmed; the last sandy point is
safely coasted, and at length, at seven o’clock in the evening; we are
out free upon the wide Atlantic.
The “Chancellor” is a fine square-rigged three-master, of
900 tons burden, and belongs to the wealthy Liverpool firm of Laird Brothers.
She is two years old, is sheathed and secured with copper, her decks being of
teak, and the base of all her masts, except the mizen, with all their fittings,
being of iron. She is registered first class A I, and is now on her third voyage
between Charleston and Liverpool. As she wended her way through the channels of
Charleston harbour, it was the British flag that was lowered from her
mast-head; but without colours at all, no sailor could have hesitated for a
moment in telling her nationality,—for English she was, and nothing but
English from her water-line upwards to the truck of her masts.
I must now relate how it happens that I have taken my passage on board
the “Chancellor” on her return voyage to England. At present there
is no direct steamship service between South Carolina and Great Britain, and
all who wish to cross must go either northwards to New York or southwards to
New Orleans. It is quite true that if I had chosen to start from New York I
might have found plenty of vessels belonging to English, French, or Hamburg
lines, any of which would have conveyed me by a rapid voyage to my destination;
and it is equally true that if I had selected New Orleans for my embarkation I
could readily have reached Europe by one of the vessels of the National Steam
Navigation Company, which join the French Transatlantic line of Colon and
Aspinwall. But it was fated to be otherwise.
One day, as I was loitering about the Charleston quays, my eye lighted
upon this vessel. There was something about the “Chancellor” that
pleased me, and a kind of involuntary impulse took me on board, where I found
the internal arrangements perfectly comfortable. Yielding to the idea that a
voyage in a sailing vessel had certain charms beyond the transit in a steamer,
and reckoning that with wind and wave in my favour there would be little
material difference in time; considering, moreover, that in these low latitudes
the weather in early autumn is fine and unbroken, I came to my decision, and
proceeded forthwith to secure my passage by this route to Europe.
Have I done right or wrong? Whether I shall have reason to regret my
determination is a problem to be solved in the future. However, I will begin to
record the incidents of our daily experience, dubious as I feel whether the
lines of my chronicle will ever find a reader.
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