A Yacht Voyage Round England Part 22

Though the town is small, the port has long been famous. We saw several steamers start for different parts of the Continent. If I was asked what was the chief article of sale in the town, I should say, Shrimps.

We made a short excursion up the Stour, the banks of which are richly wooded; and we also pulled up to Ipswich, where the Orwell may be said to commence, for the river above the town is confined in a narrow ca.n.a.l-like channel. On our return, while at anchor in the harbour, an oyster-dredging vessel brought-up close to us, and papa, who was always on the look-out for information, invited the skipper to come on board.

He gave us a good deal of curious information about the oyster. They are obtained by means of a dredge, which consists of a flat bag, the under part made of strong iron rings looped together by stout wire. The upper side is merely a strong netting, as it is not exposed to so much wear as the part which is drawn along the ground. The mouth of this bag is fastened to an iron frame, with an opening about four inches deep, extending the whole breadth of the bag. The lower part of this frame is flattened and turned forward at such an angle as to enable it to sc.r.a.pe the surface of the ground. To the ends of the sc.r.a.per two stout iron rods are firmly welded; these, after curving upwards, form the narrow sides of the mouth, and extend forward four or five feet, when they unite at a handle, to which a stout warp is made fast. The free end of the bag is secured to a stout stick, which forms a convenient hold when the contents of the dredge are being turned out. The weight of the dredge keeps it at the bottom, and but little skill is required in working it. A good-sized boat can work two dredges at one time, one from each quarter.

Oyster-beds are often valuable property, and they are rented by various companies. Rules have been made for the preservation of oysters, and to allow of new beds being formed. Oysters require nursing, and unless the beds were carefully preserved and reconstructed, they would disappear.

The beds are level banks of no great depth, which are seldom or never uncovered by the tide. The first important business, when preparing a bed on which the oyster may sp.a.w.n, or spat, as it is called, is to sprinkle over it broken plates and pans and tiles, with empty sh.e.l.ls and such like substances, to which the embryo oyster immediately attaches itself. This broken stuff is called "skultch." The oyster deposits its sp.a.w.n in July; and a month afterwards the young oysters can be seen sticking fast to the skultch in confused cl.u.s.ters. Here they remain for two or three years, until they become about the size of a s.h.i.+lling; they are then taken up and spread evenly over the surface. After another year they are once more dredged up and scattered on the beds, where they are to remain until full-grown. Seven years are required to bring an oyster to maturity; but many are dredged up and sold when only five years old. The muddy sh.o.r.es of Ess.e.x are highly favourable to the breeding of oysters; and those are considered very fine which are dredged from the beds at the mouth of the river Colne.

"You see, sir," said the skipper; "oysters ain't fit to eat except in certain months. They are only prime from October to March. In April they begin to sicken, they are of a milky white colour, though fit enough to look at; then they become of a dirty grey colour, and then change to black by July, when they cast their sp.a.w.n. After this it takes them two months to get well again, and they ought to have another month to fatten up, which brings us to October. It always makes me angry-like when I see people eating oysters in August; but there are poachers at all times ready to fish them up; and there would be many more if they were not sharply looked after. It is a curious fact, that while the beds on the coast of Kent make very good nurseries for oysters, they do not grow as large and fat as they do on the Ess.e.x coast. A little fresh water don't hurt them; but snow water kills them, as it does other fish, outright. To most people, one oyster is just like another; but there are many different sorts, and each sort has a fancy for a particular place. The oyster gives us work for most months in the year; for when not fis.h.i.+ng to sell, we are either dredging up the young oysters or laying them down again."

It is calculated that one sp.a.w.n oyster produces eight hundred thousand young; and if we suppose that of every five hundred oysters, only one hundred breed during the season, and if the spat of only one of this latter number is shed, notwithstanding the great loss, the yield will be ten thousand young oysters.

The oyster has many enemies besides man. There are creatures in the sea which are very fond of them; among these are the sea urchin, the "five finger," and the "whelk-tingle." This creature sticks to the sh.e.l.l, through which it pierces a small hole, and sucks out the delicate morsel. One thing, however, is very certain--that the supply of oysters has very greatly fallen off of late years; but whether the fishermen are answerable for this, it is difficult to say.

Besides the numerous oyster-beds in shallow waters, there are deep-sea beds both off the English and Irish coasts. Upwards of three hundred vessels, each of about twenty-five tons, and carrying six men, hail from Colchester, Rochester, and Jersey, engaged specially on these deep-sea beds. One is ten or twelve miles off Great Grimsby, and others exist in the English Channel. Most of the owners of the beds of the shallow estuaries have a large capital invested. One company alone spends three hundred pounds a month in wages, besides rent and other expenses, and six hundred a year in watching against poachers. It sends fourteen hundred bushels to a single dealer in London, seven thousand to Kent, and ten thousand to Ostend and Dunkirk.

This gave us some notion of the vast trade carried on in oysters alone.

We were told that they sell retail for the sum of twopence each. I wonder people can venture to eat them.

We had a look at Dovercourt, filled with visitors, and with a brand-new aspect, contrasting with venerable Harwich. We also managed to pull up a narrow creek to Felixstowe, which I should describe as consisting of a long row of Swiss-like cottages, with a few more substantial-looking residences perched on the cliffs above.

Our stay at Harwich was short, though we had no longer any fear of not getting round to the Isle of Wight before the equinoctial gales commenced. We sailed early in the morning, papa being anxious to get across the mouth of the Thames, either as far as Ramsgate or Deal, to avoid the risk of being run down by vessels standing up or down the river during the night.

"But would they dare to do it?" asked d.i.c.k, when papa made the remark.

"They would not intend to do so; but should the wind fall light, we might not be able to get out of their way. I shall not forget the remark made by a skipper on board a large steamer, when I was on my way to pay a visit to some friends in Edinburgh. We ran stem on into a schooner, which sank immediately; and although I hurried forward I was only in time to see her masts disappear. 'Serves them right!' exclaimed the skipper, who was like myself a pa.s.senger. 'Serves them right; they should have kept a brighter lookout!' The poor fellows managed to scramble on board and to save their lives."

A short distance further we came off Walton-on-the-Naze, the "Naze"

being a nose or promontory, with the sea on one side and a shallow backwater on the other. We had to keep a bright lookout while standing across the mouth of the Thames, having nearly a dozen steamers in sight gliding swiftly along, and sailing vessels of all sizes, from the magnificent Indiaman, or Australian merchant-s.h.i.+p, of a thousand or more tons, down to the little coaster, measuring no more than forty or fifty; while yachts with sails white as snow were darting hither and thither.

Besides these, there were not a few barges with yellow or tanned sails, coming out of the numerous estuaries to the north of the river, some even bound round the North Foreland, their deep weather-boards enabling them to beat to windward in a way which, considering their build, at first looks surprising. We agreed that we should not like to go to sea on board one of them, laden almost to the gunwale, so that the water must wash over their decks; but the fact is, they are completely battened down, and are like casks; so that the only place the sea can get into is the little cabin aft, or the forepeak, in which the crew, consisting of a couple of men and a boy, are compelled to live. The wind holding fair, we pa.s.sed the North Foreland, standing out boldly into the sea; then sighted Broadstairs and Ramsgate. We ran inside of the ill-famed Goodwin Sands, and came to an anchor in the Downs off the low sandy beach of Deal.

The town extends a considerable way along the sh.o.r.e, and a fine pier runs off from it. At the south end is a castle in a good state of repair, although it would be more picturesque if it were a ruin. About a mile further to the south we saw Walmer Castle, where the Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports resides. It was here that the Duke of Wellington spent the latter days of his life. We went on sh.o.r.e, and had a good deal of talk with some of those magnificent fellows, the Deal boatmen, who are probably the most daring seamen and skilful pilots of any along the coast of England.

Deal has a thoroughly salt-water smack about it. "Boys and even girls seemed to be born seamen," as d.i.c.k observed; taking their part, if not in navigating the boats, in launching or hauling them up on the beach, and attending to them; while the older part of the community are resting from their labours. We were amused at a scene we witnessed on the beach. Two old men, aided by a big girl and a boy, were engaged in hauling up a lugger by means of a windla.s.s, which they worked round and round with wonderful energy, putting to shame a young fellow who sat on a coil of rope idly smoking his pipe.

We were satisfied with a few hours spent at Deal. When once more under weigh, we pa.s.sed the South Foreland, towering up high above our heads; then rounding the cliffs on which Dover Castle stands, three hundred and twenty feet above the sea, we stood into the harbour.

To the south of us, sheer out of the water, rose the Shakespeare Cliff, where samphire was wont to grow; while between it and the castle appeared the old town on either side of a steep valley, the heights, as far as we could see them, covered with modern houses, churches, and other public buildings.

On landing we went over the castle, which resembles, in some respects, that of Gibraltar, as the fortifications are of an irregular form, to suit the nature of the ground. Excavated far below in the chalk rock are numerous galleries, from which heavy guns would thunder forth an unmistakeable warning to any foes attempting to enter the harbour, or to flaunt their flags within range. Until a few years ago both the inner and outer harbours were dry at low water but now a fine new harbour has been formed.

Dover, papa reminded us, is one of the original Cinque Ports, so called from their number--five. They consisted, in the time of William the Conqueror, of Dover, Sandwich, Hythe, Romney, and Hastings. To these were afterwards added Winchelsea and Rye. These ports had peculiar privileges given to them, on condition that they should furnish the s.h.i.+pping required for the purposes of state. When s.h.i.+ps were wanted, the king issued to each of the ports a summons to provide its quota. In Edward the First's time, the number they were bound to supply was fifty-seven fully equipped s.h.i.+ps. The period of gratuitous service was fifteen days, after which they received payment. The chief officer of the Cinque Ports was called the Lord Warden. It was considered a high dignity, and was long held by the Duke of Wellington.

Many of their privileges have now been abrogated, as the ports have long been relieved of their responsibilities. It would certainly astonish the inhabitants of Winchelsea or Dover if the Queen should inform them that they must send half a dozen ironclads to complete the fleet off Spithead!

Sailing as close as we could under Shakespeare's Cliff, we pa.s.sed Folkestone, standing partly in a hollow between two cliffs, and partly up the side of that on the west. Then we rounded the headland of Dungeness; and sailing by Rye and Winchelsea, we pa.s.sed Hastings, renowned in history, a portion, looking old and venerable, joined to the spic-and-span new town of Saint Leonard's.

Running past Eastbourne, we arrived off the bold, wild-looking point of Beachy Head. The weather becoming threatening, the wind, which had hitherto been off sh.o.r.e, began to s.h.i.+ft, and drew more and more to the westward, the sky having anything but a pleasant appearance. Dark clouds gathered in dense ma.s.ses on the horizon, and there was every indication of a heavy gale. Although so near the end of our voyage, there appeared a probability of its being continued for several days longer.

Papa having hailed Uncle Tom, it was agreed that we should stand close-hauled on the starboard tack away from the land, and endeavour to fetch Spithead.

We sighted two small places, Seaford and Newhaven, and could make out Brighton, covering a wide extent of ground along the seash.o.r.e, and reaching the slopes of the hills and downs beyond.

"By standing on we shall have Sh.o.r.eham under our lee; and we can but run in there, if we find it impossible to beat to the westward against the gale," observed papa. "It is not exactly the port in which one would choose to be weather-bound, but we may be thankful if we get there."

The bright revolving light at Beachy Head shone forth astern. We were gradually sinking it lower and lower; at length we lost sight of it altogether. It might be our last night at sea, and I begged papa to let us remain on deck.

He laughed. "You may, as long as you like to keep awake; but you must take care not to topple overboard."

d.i.c.k and I for some time walked the deck, believing that we were keeping watch, and, of course, looking out on every side.

"The wind's drawing more round to the south'ard," I heard Truck remark.

"If we go about, we shall soon catch sight of the Owers, and one more tack will take us into Saint Helen's."

I was very anxious to see the light, because we had seen it before starting to the westward, and it would show us really and truly that we had gone right round England. I continued pacing up and down, in spite of the pitching of our little craft, for I knew if I were to stop for a moment, I should fall asleep. Of course we kept a sharp lookout, not only for the light, but for any vessels which might be running up Channel or beating down it. At last I heard Truck say:

"There's the light, sir;" and I made out, a little on our starboard bow, the Owers Light.

"Hurrah!" I exclaimed; "we have been right round England!"

"I can't make it out," said d.i.c.k, in a drowsy voice. "We've been sailing over the plain sea all the time, except when we mounted the locks at the Caledonian Ca.n.a.l. I suppose it is all right though."

d.i.c.k could say no more. I had to take him by the shoulders and help him down the companion ladder. So sleepy was he, that he could scarcely pull off his clothes, and would have turned in fully dressed if I had not helped him.

Next morning, when we awoke and turned out on deck, we were in sight of many a well-known scene. Ryde astern, Cowes on our port quarter; while with a fresh breeze, running past Calshot Castle, we stood up the Southampton Water, and our voyage was over.

After breakfast, Uncle Tom, Jack, and Oliver, came on board; and together we thanked G.o.d for having preserved us from the dangers, seen and unseen, to which we had been exposed. We had indeed had a pleasant time of it, and very naturally did not think of any of the anxious moments we had occasionally gone through.

Uncle Tom and Jack had to return home at once; and they took d.i.c.k with them, to send him to his aunt and uncle.

"The next few days won't be so pleasant," he said, making a long face.

"However, we shall meet at the end of them; and won't we spin long yarns to the fellows at school!"

Papa, leaving us on board, went at once to his agents, to whom he had written, requesting them to make inquiries about Nat's friends. After some time he returned, saying that no information had been received, and that he would take Nat home with us.

Of this we were very glad. It made some amends to us for having to go on sh.o.r.e and quit the pleasant life we had so long been leading on board. We shook hands with Truck and all the crew, and in a short time were seated in the railway-carriage rattling up to London. We have ever since been expecting to hear of some of our little guest's relatives coming to look for him; but, as yet, no one has appeared; and as papa would never think of turning him adrift, we believe that he will become one of us; and, after he has been some years at school, perhaps go into the navy, for which, strange to say, he has a wonderful fancy.