Treachery
and
Treason
in
Canada’s Sealing Fleet
A Novel
By
Mel McIlveen
Published by Windshift Press at Smashwords
Copyright 2010 Mel McIlveen
This book is inspired by the life and exploits of Victor Jacobson, a renowned Victoria Sealer.
However, the author and publisher make no representation, expressed or implied, with regard to the accuracy of the information contained in this book. This book is a piece of historical fiction and is provided for entertainment purposes only. The references are only intended to enhance the story. The author and publisher are not responsible for any action taken based on the information provided in this book.
All characters in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental.
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to Victor Jacobson. He was a colorful sealing captain in Victoria, B.C. His life and exploits read like an adventure novel. His original (now heritage) house, complete with a sea view cupola, still stands on Head Street overlooking the West Bay anchorage in Victoria Harbour.
My fellow members of the Silver Threads Writers of Esquimalt encouraged me throughout this project and I am very thankful.
I also have very special thanks to my wife. She suffered my long hours of research, diligently read my manuscript and was my walking partner on the seaside trail from Victoria to the West Bay anchorage which I visited whenever I needed inspiration.
*****
Treachery
and
Treason
in
Canada’s Sealing Fleet
*****
Chapter One: McBains Farm
John McBain looked out to sea from his home on the slopes of Mount Douglas. He had a magnificent view of Fort Victoria, and its fine harbor. He could also see the adjoining naval base of Esquimalt. His farm stretched for two miles down the valley. He was one of the first farmers who had settled on Vancouver Island. Most men did not have agriculture in mind when they came west. The attractions of a quick and easy fortune drew them north from California to look for gold. Some, including John McBain, came west with the Hudson's Bay company to work in the fur trade. The lure of gold attracted men from all over the world. There were rumours of gold in the Goldstream River and in the Sooke hills but these rumours petered out faster then the gold itself. More credible stories came from the Caribou on the mainland. Victoria became a way station on the gold trail rather than a destination. John McBain decided to make his way in the mundane world of agriculture rather than take risks in an exciting and perilous search for gold.
John McBain purchased land from the Hudson's Bay Company and took up farming. He became one of the burgeoning colony’s respected citizens. He was a major supplier of foodstuffs to the growing urban population of Victoria. In the end, gentlemen farmers proved to be the wisest because their land appreciated in value and most became, if not wealthy, certainly well off when they eventually sold some of their land in Victoria’s real estate market.
John McBain worked a portion of his land beneath Mount Douglas and was a man of means in Victoria’s society. John's daughter, Minnie, a vivacious and fun-loving brunette, was much sought after at the dances and balls held in the colony.
When the ships of the British Navy arrived on station at Esquimalt, Governor Douglas held a ball at his home to welcome the officers to Vancouver Island. Indeed, these dances delighted the young ladies of the Island, who were thrilled to meet the rugged and handsome officers of the Navy.
It was at such an event that Minnie McBain danced with a Midshipman Canning from the frigate Kingston.
“You dance very well, Miss McBain,” he said.
“Thank you, it seems that I have a very good partner,” she replied graciously. She wore an impish grin, and added, “I wonder if I have picked the only midshipman in town who can dance! By the look of the group sitting down it seems that your shipmates are reluctant to ask girls to dance.”
“Not reluctant, Ma’m, only a little fearful that they may not have recovered their land legs after such a long voyage! And by the way, Miss McBain, I had the idea that I had asked you to dance. Just what makes you think that YOU did the picking?” He smiled as he said this and turned a full circle so that her skirts flared out as she clung to him.
“Well,” she said, “whoever picked, picked well, don't you think?” She laughed. Her infectious laugh sent thrills down his spine for he could feel her closeness.
“May I have the honour of the next dance too, Miss McBain?” he asked.
“We'll see,” she whispered. She could feel his proximity and it made her feel very warm. She pushed herself away so that they danced at arm's length.
“Who is that man sitting at the end of the line?” she asked.
“That is our Captain, Ma'am.”
“Really. I'd like to meet him. Could you introduce me?”
“I would be most happy to,” said the midshipman, “but I warn you, he may seem rather strange. He is a perfectionist and well, he is not the easiest man to know.” He was silent for a moment and then added, “But maybe I have said too much already.”
“What did you want to tell me?” asked Minnie.
“Nothing really, Miss McBain. He is a hard man, a German from Bremen, I believe. He runs what we call a very tight ship; the tightest ship in the Navy, I would guess.” There was more than a hint of pride in his tone as he said this.
Minnie was fascinated and wanted more than ever to meet this man. The midshipman gallantly took her hand and guided her over to where the officers were sitting. The Captain seemed preoccupied with his own thoughts and did not see them coming.
“Captain Treller,” said the junior officer. The Captain was startled out of his reverie. He hastily rose as Minnie and the midshipman came towards him.
“Sir, I would like you to meet Miss McBain. She has expressed a desire to meet you.”
The Captain clicked his heels, and bowed his head in an unmistakable German military gesture and said, “I am most honoured, Miss McBain.”
“I hope you will enjoy your stay here with us in British Columbia, Captain uh, uh, oh! I'm sorry; I did not quite catch your name.”
“It is Treller, ma'am, T R E L L E R” he rolled his R's as he pronounced the spelling, she noted, but not in the way of the Scots.
“Thank you,” she said, “you are most kind, but there is so much noise and bustle that one has a hard time hearing.”
“Oh yes that is true,” said Captain Treller. “Perhaps Midshipman Canning will excuse me if I request the honour of this waltz?”
“Certainly sir,” said Midshipman Canning somewhat ruefully.
Canning was out-ranked and by no less a person than his own Captain. He felt that he had indeed captured a prize in the vivacious Miss McBain, and cursed himself for volunteering to introduce her to his senior officer. He’d tried to discourage her from meeting Treller but it was of no avail. Her obvious pleasure at being invited to dance with the Captain made him wonder if he’d been used to arrange the introduction.
The Captain and Miss McBain spun out to a waltz rhythm. She realised immediately that his steps were more attuned to a parade square than a dance floor.
“I hope your voyage to Esquimalt was a pleasant one, Captain. Did you meet any foreign warships on your way?”
“We saw two American cutters as we passed north of San Francisco,” he said.
Minnie noticed that as his mind focused on the voyage, his dancing further deteriorated.
“Oh,” she said, “did they bother you?” and then, to save him further embarrassment, “do let's sit for a while so that I can rest my feet.”
The Captain was very happy to sit down, particularly in the company of this pretty young woman. He estimated her age at about seventeen - he being thirty-one - but he felt suddenly younger and happier than he had ever been. Once seated, he devoted his attention completely to her. She showed much interest in life at sea in the Navy and he delighted in talking of his exploits. He told of long hard watches at sea, of times when he thought his life would end in the storms, and of rounding the infamous Cape Horn. He carefully seasoned his tales with humour, too, as he related the stresses of the crew being tempted by the South Sea Island women. Minnie on her part asked questions at just the right moment. Their conversation never lagged.
“Now I've told you about my life at sea,” said Treller, “you must tell me about yourself.” As he said this, he looked over towards his officers and was dismayed to see Midshipman Canning and another officer approaching. He shook his head to signal them to stay away, and the look on his face caused them to retrace their steps. They retired to the other side of the ballroom.
Minnie did not see this exchange.
“I hardly know where to begin,” she said, “my life is so uninteresting, compared to yours.”
“Tell me, then” said Treller, “do you live in town?”
“No not in town,” she confessed, “we live on a farm, but it's not far from here, just up near Mount Douglas. We have cows and horses and father grows cabbage and beets and stuff. In fact,” she continued with a grin, “you will probably be eating a lot of our vegetables while you are stationed here, because we supply the navy.”
“Then you must have quite a herd of cattle,” he said, “I'm sure your father is a good cattle rancher.”
“As a matter of fact, father says we are also going into sheep next year,” she answered. “Father says that the market for wool will be excellent.”
The Captain ignored the envious looks from the junior officers, and none dared interfere. He and Minnie walked hand in hand when the company adjourned to the dining room for refreshments. Minnie happily introduced the Captain to her father and mother and they in turn introduced him proudly to their friends.
John McBain was impressed with his daughter's apparent conquest for the evening, but he longed to question the man about his German accent. He thought the Captain a little too old and experienced for his young daughter, but he felt pride that she had been able, at her young age, to so captivate him. He said, “I'm sure you will like this station, Captain. Do you find the country here much like your own?”
The Captain was not about to get into conversation about his own origins and simply smiled and answered, “Oh, this is such an interesting country. I only wish I could spend more time ashore.”
“Well,” said McBain, “when next your ship comes to Esquimalt, and you are laid up for provisioning, perhaps you could come up to our farm for a visit.”
McBain realised that he might have been a little too hasty with his invitation. He glanced towards his daughter and saw that she was uncomfortable. He tried to make light of his own words, “Of course, we’ve had some visitors who would like to experience the work on a farm. Have you ever run a team of Clydesdales behind a plough? It's a job, I can tell you.”
“I'll bet he's never seen a Clydesdale,” said Minnie.
“Oh, but I have,” said Captain Treller, “and I can operate a plough much better than I can dance,” he added with a laugh.
“Well then, get in touch with us when next you're in port,” said McBain, “and we'll have you up to the house.”
“I wish you a goot night. I will be taking my leave and going back to my ship,” His German accent showed. “But I must thank you Miss McBain, for a luffly evening.”
The Captain rose with a flourish and signaled his junior officers to accompany him. There were many discouraged faces as the men from HMS Kingston left the ballroom. The McBains also rose to leave. John called to one of the servants to bring their carriage around.
“What do you think of our Navy Captain?” enquired McBain of his wife and daughter.
“He seems a bit old for Minnie,” whispered Mrs. McBain to her husband.
Minnie did not hear her mother's comment. “He has certainly been to a lot of places. He was telling me of Captain Cook's Sandwich Islands.”
“I would like to hear about them,” said John. “We'll maybe hear more the next time he's in Esquimalt. The thing I'd like to know is just who is this man? He's a British sea Captain with a German accent. I wonder if he's related to the royals at all.”
“What do you mean by that?” asked Minnie.
“Well,” said her father, did you notice his German accent? Not that it matters, because good German blood mixes well with the British, but I would like to know just how he became associated with the British Navy. I wonder if his family is connected to the German royals, and maybe to ours!”
“Why father, you do say the most awful things,” said Minnie. Her face was distinctly crimson, as she contemplated the consequences of 'mixing blood' as her father called it.
John took no notice, and added matter of factly, “still, it's a lot better than that French lot, isn't it?”
“Now John, that's enough,” said Mrs. McBain, and they continued on their way to the McBain farm.
―o0o―
Six years had elapsed since the German seaman, Hans Teidman, enlisted voluntarily in Her Majesty's British Navy.
Hans' toughness had served him well in the Navy. He was a willing and able seaman. He curbed his temper and, in an era of good international relations, his German background stood him in good stead. He advanced through the ranks. He changed his name to Harry Treller. He was even given his own command. This man was uppermost in the thoughts of Minnie McBain as she rode home from the ball with her family.
Chapter Two: Baltic to Atlantic
Victor Aland had made a career in Finland. He had been taken on at barely thirteen, as a cook's helper on the Finnish line which sailed the Baltic Sea. They carried lumber and steel from Bremen and Scandinavian ports to London.
Five years later, as a young man of eighteen, over six feet in height, he served as the first mate on the Volenstad, and helped to support his widowed mother and family back in the province of Ahvenanmaa. Ahvenanmaa was Finnish province renowned for its fishing and sealing fleet. Victor originally signed on the ship using his first name only, but the Captain insisted he use a second name. He’d used the shortened name of his home province as his second name. Aland was much easier to sign when a document required his signature.
Each day, a new part of the world appealed. He was excited by the tales of riches told by men who had been to North and South America, of the money made in trading for gold in Mexico and of the fabulous profits to be made in the furs in the North. He resolved that one day he would share in these riches.
One morning, as the ship lay snug in her dock in the port of Bremen, Germany, the captain called Victor to his cabin. A cargo of furs, one of the easiest of cargoes to ship, had just been unloaded from Finland and he wondered what their next destination might be, so he was in an optimistic mood when he entered the captain's cabin.
“Victor, we are hiring a couple of German seamen. They are experienced and good men. We'll need all the help we can get. We are going to America with load of steel.”
Victor was excited and apprehensive. He was excited at the prospect of finally going to America, but apprehensive at the thought of working with German crew. He recalled the unpleasant relations with German crew members when he was a young cabin boy, and found them to be an overbearing, surly lot. They were ever ready to test the authority of a superior officer. Now, the Captain was asking him to take on a pair of them as part of the crew.
“Sir, may I first meet the men you intend to take on?”
“Of course,” said the captain, “You should have met them first, but I’ve already hired these two just to please our shippers. They asked me to take them on; they're the owner's nephews evidently. They claim to be experienced sailors who want to go to America.”
“All right,” said Victor, “but I want to talk to them as soon as they come aboard. I'd like to show them their quarters and their watches.”
“Victor, they're already on board. They’ve stowed their bags in bunks on the lower deck,” replied the captain. “Here they come now.”
Victor watched as the two men approached, His mouth was agape. These were the same men who’d teased him and scourged him so unmercifully when he first worked as a thirteen year old cook's helper. He quickly regained his composure when he realised that they did not recognise him.
The captain spoke. “Men, this is the mate, Victor Aland. You will answer to him on deck.”
Victor extended his hand to the two newcomers. He was amused as the one called Hans tried to squeeze his palm in a show of strength. Victor exerted his own grip, and kept a straight face as he watched the German's smile dissolve into a grimace of pain.
“Captain, I would like to see you in your cabin, please,” he said as soon as the two men had left the deck.
“What is it, Victor?”
“I think you should know, captain, that these men have served with me before, when I was a young cabin boy. I will never forget the abuse I took from those two.”
“But you were only thirteen then, Victor. Are you sure that these are the same men? These men were recommended to me by Captain Weiss. He is a good honest man and a good skipper.”
“Maybe they have mended their ways,” said Victor, “it's a long time ago. I hope I'm mistaken about them.” He made a mental note to watch every move these men made on the ship, and kept his doubts to himself.
He was somewhat relieved to see the enthusiasm with which they bent to their tasks as the ship was loaded with steel for the long journey to the port of Boston.
“We won't need any ballast this trip,” quipped one of the seamen.
“We'll have to tie the cargo down tightly,” said Victor, “we don't want any shifting in that cargo, do we?”
“We'll fasten her down mate. You can be sure of that,” replied the sailor.
A whole week passed before the cargo and provisions were stowed and Victor and the captain were satisfied of the position of the steel in the hold.
“It doesn't take as much room as furs or wood but it adds a lot of weight,” said Victor.
The ship now lay quite low in the water, and the captain remarked, “We'll have to take her slow and careful till we get the hang of her and see how she sails.”
“Yes,” said Victor, “our trip through the Skaggerak and down through the English channel to London will be a good test before we tackle the Atlantic.”
“Right.”
One of the new German crewman, Hans, was listening, and seemed to be concerned. “She's a good seaworthy one, is she sir?”
“Oh yes, I have no doubt about that,” said Victor, “but we can't have any slackness on this ship.”
“You can count on me sir,” said Hans, “neither I nor Adolf will let you down.”
Victor climbed to the bridge with a properly officious air and hoped he’d impressed the seamen sufficiently. The sounds coming from the hold certainly indicated that the crew was working extremely hard. He could hear their harsh voices interspersed with loud oaths as each large ingot was wedged securely into position.
Finally, the loading was complete and the cargo properly stowed. The captain looked for signs in the sky of a fair wind.
“We'll leave tonight,” he said, “and reach the Skaggerak by the week's end.”
“As darkness fell the men cast off the ropes and the masts became alive as the seamen raised and positioned the main sail. The ponderous ship nudged away from the wharf as the gentle breeze filled the main sail.
“We're away!” said Victor amidst the cheers and songs of his shipmates. He was pleased to be finally underway. A voyage across the Atlantic in 1871 was not considered to be as perilous a journey as we would think of it today. In fact most steamships of the period carried masts and sail in case they ran out of fuel or the engine broke down. Steam was considered to be faster, but sail the most dependable. Still, it required courage, stamina and moral strength to survive the hardships and long periods of isolation.
“She's slower,” said the captain, “but she answers to the helm well. She’s got a lot of rudder and keel in the water.”
The ship soon cleared the harbour buoys and was out into the North Sea. She rode the swells well and made good time. The captain ordered a change to a nor’ westerly course.
This was the first real test of seamanship for Victor's new crew. He was glad they were making their first course change in relatively calm weather. The ship turned fifteen degrees and the crew quickly adjusted the main sheets to prevent the sail from fluttering. “Steady as she goes,” the captain called.
“Smartly done,” called Victor. This crew looked like they knew what they were doing. He saw that the two new men certainly knew their job. He was disappointed to see that Kristian, a sixty year old Finn was not as agile as the others. Hans frequently came to his aid. The old fellow didn’t admit that he needed any help and deliberately ignored efforts to help him. But as each course change was completed, Hans cursed the old man.
Victor watched with concern. He resolved to alter their duties so that Kristian would be less exposed to the harder work. He put him in charge of the rope locker and keeping the unused rope neatly coiled and ready for use. Hans glared angrily at him, but Victor was determined to protect the old man.
“Mate,” said Hans, “why put that old man in charge of our cordage? He can't even lift a coil, much less carry it above.” He said this as Kristian walked past so that the old fellow heard. He even extended his foot in a threatening gesture as if to trip the old chap.
Victor decided to have an end to this matter before it went any further.
“Now you listen to me!” he said. “I am the mate on board this ship, and I handle the duty roster. When I give a man his duty, I won't have it questioned by every man-jack on the deck.” At that moment, he lost his temper at this upstart trying to usurp his authority, “One more yap out of you, and I'll put a rope or two around your neck myself.”
He hadn't meant to lose his temper and the sight of the rest of the crew listening prompted him to leave the deck. He climbed quickly to the bridge and called for his sextant. The seaman Hans was somewhat angry. The old Finn went about his work with vigor. But he avoided looking at Hans and Adolf, his partner, although their angry glances and whispered conversation betrayed their antagonism.
“Wait till we get to the Skaggerak,” said Hans, “we'll see how well he does then. See if his great protector can save him then.” Kristian ignored the remark entirely.
The ship rolled a little as the captain turned another few degrees to port. She was caught beam on by the rolling seas. He ordered the sheets be tightened on the starboard side and loosed on the port. The sails billowed firmly and the ship picked up speed again.
The captain ordered the top sails set and the hands went aloft in the rigging. Victor saw that the old Finn was quite capable of the high work. He quickly loosed the stays on the top gallant and quickly descended to the deck with the guy ropes in his hands. The two German crewmen did not allow him even this small victory. Hans whispered, “We'll see how he furls 'em after this.”
The ship scudded across the swells. She had a slight list to starboard, and because of her heavy cargo, the deck was sometimes awash on the starboard side. Victor saw this, and warned the crew to watch for larger waves, which could indicate heavy weather ahead.
“Be ready to bring down the top gallants,” he shouted.
The ship sailed beautifully and Victor admitted that the weather was treating them kindly. They sailed for two more days, and at dawn were just two hours from the dreaded Skaggerak.
“Why don't you have a little rest, Mate,” said the captain. “I've had a little rest myself these last two hours.”
“Just call me whenever the weather starts,” he said, “with this breeze we'll be around the Skaggerak about noon.”
About two hours later the ship took a sickening dive bow first. The starboard deck was awash as the waves and the wind struck simultaneously. The captain awoke from his doze in the cabin and called for all hands as he ran for the bridge.
“All hands up on deck!” shouted the men on duty.
“Strike the top gallants!” screamed the Captain
Hans and his partner climbed the port side rigging, and, despite the water and the waves Kristian and another Finn quickly climbed the starboard rigging. Kristian was displeased to see that Hans was his partner for the furling of the topmost gallant, but he resolved to be as fast as the younger man. He folded his end and closed a rope hitch so fast that Hans, on the other end, was unable to close his hitch neatly.
“Hang on, you old fool,” shouted Hans, “it's not even, it'll never furl properly! Look what that old fool's done! Open your end goddammit!”
Kristian unfurled his end so that he and Hans could furl in unison. The two secured the sail to the spar and tied it down.
Within three minutes the men scrambled down to the deck again. The ship righted and settled on a steady pace through the rougher water. Victor was not on deck. Hans looked around for the old Finn. He thought he might have chance to get even for the ridicule suffered from the mate. Kristian was coiling ropes and storing them in the rope locker.
Hans approached from the rear, and in a menacing tone, shouted, “Here's the old bastard, alone for once!”
Kristian straightened up. He picked up a belaying pin to protect himself. He knew that Hans was furious about the delay on the top sail spar.
Hans relished the opportunity to waylay the old man. The belaying pin gave him just the excuse he needed.
“Hit me with a belaying pin, will you!” shouted Hans, “look everybody, see what this old man's trying to do to me now.” Hans wrestled the pin from the old man's hands and stood over him.
Kristian raised his arm in defense, and cried, “I meant no harm!”
The belaying pin crashed down on his head and he fell to the deck unconscious. Blood oozed from his nose.
Hans realized the enormity of what he’d done. He tried to explain himself to the crew on the deck. “He threatened me with the pin! I, I, I was only defending myself!”
The men on deck turned from him in disgust. Only he and Adolf, his friend, remained on deck. Kristian lay helpless at their feet.
“The mate's coming!” said Hans. “Get rid of him.” They pushed Kristian's body under the coaming so that it fell into the sea just as Victor came on deck.
“Now boys, have we got everything ship shape again?” he cheerfully asked. Then his face clouded as saw the distressed faces of the deck hands.
“What's the matter?” he asked. Then he saw the blood on the deck. He rushed to the rail and peered into the water. He caught a glimpse of Kristian's red shirt, as it disappeared below the surface. Victor turned to Hans, “What is the meaning of this!” he furiously demanded.
Hans spread his arms in a gesture to show he was blameless. “He attacked me sir! I couldn't help it. He tried to hit me with this pin!”
Victor was angry, so angry that he could not contain himself. He grasped Hans' throat and squeezed until Hans was forced to his knees on the deck. It was only the restraining hand of the captain that spared him from execution on the spot.
“If he's guilty, he'll certainly be punished,” said the captain.
Hans lay on deck and gasped for air. Victor stood over him. “Please sir,” said Hans plaintively, “it was only in self defense,” but his further words were stifled. Victor's boot struck him full in the mouth and he spat blood through torn lips. “Please!” cried Hans once again, as one of his teeth fell on the deck.
The captain intervened a second time. “Mate, we'll let the courts decide his fate in the port of London.”
“It's lucky for you that we call in London” said Victor, “or I'd throw you to the whales right now!”
Victor addressed the crew, “in the meantime, we'll hold this man in irons and lash him to the mast.”
The seamen carried out the order and leg irons were brought from the captain's quarters. The irons fastened around Hans' legs, were bolted, and a stout rope was tied around his waist. He stood with his back to the mast, his arms crossed, and his wrists tied with a smaller rope. He was immobile.
“He just might last until we get to London!” said Victor, but one could tell by the tone of his voice, that he would rather the man die on the spot.
Two days of hard sailing brought the ship through the Skaggerak. Every man on deck worked harder than ever before. The sails were reefed to a minimum at one time, and then raised for the run down the channel to London. Hans was barely alive by the time the ship entered London port and the deck hands snugged the ship safely into the jetty.
Victor untied his prisoner. He could not stand by himself in his weakened condition. On his knees he implored the mate, “Please don't leave me in the hands of the English.” Like all sailors, he knew the strict rules by which the English governed their naval and merchant marine.
“That is exactly what I will do. You're mighty lucky that we brought you here. Now get up off your knees and march down that plank!” said Victor.
He detailed three members of the crew to escort Hans and made sure that his companion, Adolf was confined aboard ship where he could not help the captive. He accompanied this party to the Sheriff and swore out an affidavit accusing Hans of murder on the high seas.
―o0o―
The Sheriff told Victor that Hans would be given no mercy. Victor's sworn affidavit would convict him. Hans was put in a cell to await the coming assizes. He would be found guilty and condemned. The Sheriff told Victor there was no chance Hans would escape a death sentence.
Victor returned to the ship, fully confident that English justice would prevail. He prepared the ship to cross the Atlantic.
Hans was placed in a cell in the section reserved for condemned men. He only had contact with the guards. They brought him his food and water. After days of confinement, Hans could barely stand. He was weak and the stench of the cells made him long for the chains on the mast of the ship.
“I'd rather die at sea than rot to death here,” he told himself.
His jailer noticed his worsening condition and became compassionate. One morning he brought him hot broth and freshly baked bread.
“Here, try some of this, Jerry. This is what the Sheriff and his men upstairs have.”
Hans took the bowl and the wooden spoon and thanked the guard profusely. The guard became more and more sympathetic to Hans. He gave him a regular diet and brought him back to some semblance of health.
There was, in the 1870's, a certain kinship between Germans and English. They had fought together to stop the Emperor Napoleon. There was a close relationship between the royal families of the countries. Hans and his jailer became friendly. By the time Hans' trial was to take place, the guard arranged for Hans to enlist in the British Navy and escape his sentencing. Hans was only too happy to exchange service in the Navy for the death sentence he was sure he’d receive at the hands of the Sheriff in the courts of London.
And so it was that in the spring of 1872 the British Cutter HMS Bristol sailed from Southampton with Hans on board. He was a seaman with experience. He rapidly distinguished himself as an aggressive hard driving individual. He was a superb sailor. He took advantage of his opportunities and received steady promotion. He was eventually commissioned and finally given command of the frigate Kingston. He was dispatched to the Pacific Ocean where he’d be based at the new Navy facility in Esquimalt, British Columbia. But he’d changed his name.
He’d become Harry Treller.
Chapter Three: Atlantic Crossing
Harry Treller's prospects had improved beyond his expectations, but the fortunes of Victor Aland had hardly changed.
He served as a dependable First Mate, but was not offered his own command. The ship’s owners seemed reluctant to give him that responsibility in view of his age. He also had to learn English for it was the universal language of navigation.
So when next in the Port of London, he gave his notice and signed on to a British Vessel. He spent four years travelling the Atlantic He honed his skills as a seaman and learned English. He became a proficient navigator and earned the right to become a first mate in the British Merchant Marine.
He greatly admired the exploits of Vancouver and Cook. They were opening up the rich west coast of North America and discovering the vast Pacific Ocean. He heard that his fortune could be made in the gold fields of California, but he was just as excited by the fur industry. Fur hunting and trapping had been a major industry in his native Finland. He heard of the great untouched sealing grounds off the west coast of North America. The British, who controlled these lucrative sealing grounds encouraged and supported individual fur sealers through the Hudson’s Bay Company. Victor had heard while in London of this last frontier where fortunes could still be made, and he wanted to go. By a lucky coincidence he signed on to the City of Quebec. She was bound for Victoria in British Columbia and would also stop in California.
The captain of the Quebec was in need of a first mate but insisted Victor sign on for two years, even though the voyage would only take six months. Victor hesitated to commit for so long to the ship but his desire to get to North America over-rode his concerns and he signed on.
He wrote to his mother to tell her of his new ship and of his intentions.
Dear Mother,
I have now signed on to a new ship. It is called the City of Quebec and we are sailing all the way to the Pacific Ocean in her. I will write you next from California, I hope.
I hope to find a fortune in gold there because I have heard stories of men who find it lying loose in the creeks. If I cannot find gold there I can also get into sealing. Furs are plentiful there too.
When I am settled in California I will send for you and the children.
Your son, Viktor.
On his first morning aboard the City of Quebec, he supervised his crew loading steel for Fort Victoria.
“What will they use steel for, in British Columbia?” he asked the captain.
“Its sheet steel, for water tanks,” the captain replied. “It’s a very different country, you know. In the winter it doesn’t snow, but it is very damp. And the summer is so dry that the farmers store the winter's rain water to feed their gardens.”
“Do they have large farms on the island, then?” asked Victor.
“No, No, just enough to feed themselves and supply fur traders and the Navy. Farming is not big on the island. The Hudson's Bay Company controls the fur trade, but I’ve heard rumours of gold on the island. It also has coal mines. The island might become another England in a few years.
“Sounds like an interesting country,” Victor replied. “How long it will take us to reach Fort Victoria.”
“About two months,” the captain estimated, “and we’ll earn a bonus if we return in less than six weeks with a load of furs.”
I’m sure furs will be easier to carry than this steel,” said Victor. “Have you ever had the cargo of steel shift?”
“No, but I haven't carried a load around the Cape before, so load this steel properly.”
Victor remembered the earlier load of steel when he’d worked on the Finnish Line and transited the Skaggerak from Bremen. He also sadly recalled the murder of old Kristian.
“This heavy load will make her lie low in the water. We'll have to be careful. I’ll be hard on the men in the first part of this voyage, because I need to know how the crew will work with me.”
“I'm mighty glad to hear you say that, mate, those are my thoughts exactly,” said the captain. “The sooner we get to know just what this crew can do, `the better for all of us.”
Aland seemed to be vindicating the captain's judgment in choosing him as the new mate. “Now when you're through with loading her, come to my cabin and we'll have a spot of rum.” he said as he retired to his quarters.
Victor oversaw the loading, though he was a little uncomfortable working with a strange crew, He supervised loading the aft hold, while the second mate was in charge of the forward hold. When he’d finished he glanced into the forward hold. He thought the stays might not be right in the forward section. He feared that in a rolling sea the cargo could shift. He wondered whether to order the crew to re-pack the cargo.
“Are you sure that forward hold is secure?” he asked the second mate.
“Tight as a virgin,” grinned the second mate, “she'll never shift.”
Victor was about to go down into the hold for a closer look when the captain called for both mates to join him in his cabin. The second mate was not about to argue, for he loved his rum, and he left Victor on deck and climbed to the captain's cabin.
Victor decided that he should trust his second, dismissed his own doubts and followed him.
The captain was in a jovial mood. The second mentioned that Victor was worried about the condition of the forward hold. The captain said, “We haven't had a problem in ten years and we've carried everything and anything across the Atlantic and back. Here, have a drink and stop worrying, lad.”
Victor thought that he might have been a little too cautious.
“We'll have a fair wind tonight and we'll clear the channel by morning. We'll leave the dock and take it slowly down the estuary till daybreak. You're all finished loading now?”
“Yes sir, we are,” replied Victor, “we're ready to leave in just a few minutes.”
“That's it then,” replied the captain, “I would like to clear the jetty before sunset.”
As dusk settled over the port of London, the City of Quebec threw off her ropes and edged out into the Thames under light sail. The captain was more familiar with London than Victor and took the helm as they felt their way down the river past The Tower with its brilliant flags flying, and past the Observatory Tower which was silhouetted in the distance. The captain intended to anchor in the Thames until daylight. Then they’d have an early start into the channel at Dover and out into the Atlantic.
Victor took the helm early the next morning in the waters of the English Channel. The ship rode low in the water. Victor knew the heavy winds of the Atlantic and wanted to see if the crew was up to their tasks.
He ordered the top gallants to be set. He knew it was a difficult task for any crew, but he was anxious to see how they performed. The scowls on the faces of the seamen did not bode well and he knew that there could be trouble, especially when no one rushed to climb the rigging. He’d have to establish his authority quickly and firmly.
“By God, I'll have that order obeyed,” he said, “or somebody goes to the brig! Now up there, you four men, or I'll take it out of your hide!”
The four men hurried to obey. But Victor could see by the way they climbed the rigging that they were a sorry lot. He let them unfurl and set the top gallants and then called them to the deck.
“If you men want to earn your pay on this voyage, you'll have to work twice as fast as that,” he said. “Now I want those same sails furled and I want it done right NOW! Up you go!”
The men hurried up the rigging once more, but they had no idea how the job was to be done. The furled topsails looked as if they were partly torn. Victor fumed. He detailed another four men to go up and furl the sails. He lectured the men on deck on the art of furling and setting sails.
He was astounded by the crew’s lack of knowledge in all of these basic operations. These were duties the average seamen should have performed blindfold.
“What would you have done if we had been in heavy seas and all our lives depended on you furling that sail!” he demanded of one seaman.
“I don't know sir. I've never done it before.”
“Well, you'll never be able to say that again,” said Victor, “because you are going to get lots of practice every day from now on.”
After one month the City of Quebec became one of the more efficient sailing vessels on the ocean. Victor drilled the crew hard in the basic skills. The captain could call for any sail setting and if he called for a change of course the men in the rigging knew exactly how to rig the sails. The ship made much better time because she could sail into the teeth of a blow almost before having to abandon sail. Everyone on board realised how important the constant sail handling drills were and the crew developed pride in the ship's operation.
The captain and the second mate took no part in this exercise, but agreed with Victor that the handling of the ship was important. The City of Quebec had never been caught in rough weather and both privately thought this practice was unnecessary.
In three weeks, they were across the Atlantic and sailed past the West Indies. The climate was tropical. The men relaxed and enjoyed themselves. The captain lowered a net over the side to let the men bathe in the sea. They caught flying fish, which proved welcome in everyone's diet. Even Victor began to believe that the stories of the terrible seas to the south were just a crafty ruse to discourage too many ships from coming here. They passed through the Gulf Stream. The crew bathed in fresh water, and the ship's water stores were replenished.
The City of Quebec was bound for a point just west of Rio in Brazil when the weather turned nasty. Waves struck the vessel on her starboard and the captain gave the order to strike the topsails. Thankfully, the men remembered their training, and the ship was trimmed in record time. Gradually, the waves increased. The ship became harder to control. The seas were now so steep and the waves so high that the ship pitched forward on her bow and then stood on her stern as she slowly progressed south. The compass became impossible to read. Some waves came aboard from starboard and the ship began to roll.
“Man the pumps!” called Ben, the second mate, “we're taking water in the forward hold.”
Victor assigned a crew to man the pumps forward. He went down to inspect the situation aft. When he came up he called to Ben, “is everything under control up forward, second?”
“She will be as soon as we can get to the pump,” Ben replied.
“What's the matter? Why can't you get to the pump, Ben?”
“The cargo's shifted sir, and the pump is buried under it,” said Ben.
“Let's have four men down that hatch,” said Victor. “We have to get that pump going, or we'll lose the ship. Quickly now!”
Just as he opened the hatch door, a terrified cry issued from the forward lower hold.
“What happened?” Victor shouted.
“We've lost a man, sir,” called Ben, “the steel crushed him against a bulkhead.”
The men about to enter the hold shrank back in fear. Victor heard the agonised cries of distress and could not discipline them. He called to the captain, “Mr. Dodds, I'm going below with the men, Please watch the deck.”
“I will,” the captain replied, “just assign a crew man to look after the mainsail stays, in case we have to take them in.”
Victor chose a man for the deck duty and climbed below with four seamen. The men were reassured by Victor’s indifference to the danger.
He was appalled when he saw the seaman cut in two by steel plate from the cargo; another man had lost an arm as steel plates slithered loose in the hold. One of the stays had come loose and the heavy plates were wedged over the pump. The hold was knee deep in water. The water was red with blood.
Victor jumped into the water and the others followed.
The ship was rolling dangerously. The water in the hold rushed from one side to the other. At times the water was four feet deep on one side while the other was dry. The storm had not abated. The men were certain that the ship was going to turn over.
Victor had to do something drastic to drive the men to action. He felt a mallet under the water. He reached under the sloshing water, retrieved the mallet, and pounded the gangway ladder loose. The men gaped in astonishment. The Ladder was their only means of escape.
“Now we'll all get out of here safely or we'll all perish together,” said Victor. “We'll use the ladder to push the steel plates away from the pump. Everybody behind this ladder now. It will protect us when the ship rolls.”
The men did as they were told. They were working for their lives. They pushed the steel back into its original stowage and secured it in place. They uncovered the forward pump and two of the men pumped.
Now that the hold was secure, the men were ready to go topside again, but the gangway ladder had been jammed in to block the steel cargo. Ten men, including the first and second mate were isolated in the hold.
“Hand a rope ladder down here,” called Victor, “and hurry, we have a wounded man who needs help.”
The men above tied a rope ladder fast to the deck stanchions and dropped it into the hold. Victor assigned the four who’d accompanied him to stay down and man the pump. He ordered the second mate to stay in the hold.
“I have to go up and get some air, Mr. Aland,” said the second. “I don't feel so good right now.”
“I can't let you do that, Mate.” replied Victor. “We can't let that cargo move again.”
He didn't want to discipline a junior officer in the presence of the crew, but at the same time, he wanted the second mate to know that the forward hold was his responsibility and needed to be watched.
“I want that body wrapped in canvas so we can haul it topside. I'll send someone down to help,” Victor said as he climbed the rope ladder.
The captain was relieved to have Victor on deck. The storm was raging. The ship was reefed down and wallowed in the wave troughs. She had lost all forward motion.
“I hope we're not close to land,” said Victor.
“Can't see a thing for this sea, mate. The waves are too high,” the captain replied.
“Boy, up you go to the crow's nest,” Victor ordered, but the cabin boy hesitated.
“The captain told me I was only to move on his orders, sir,” said the boy.
“Captain, we need someone up there to see if we are near land. Have the boy go up at once,” said Victor.
“Up there, boy, and tell me what you see,” said the captain rather reluctantly. Victor could tell that the captain felt he was exceeding his authority as first mate.
The captain felt inadequate in the face of Victor's knowledge of the sea, and in the way he’d handled this latest emergency.
Victor sensed the tension and tried to assuage the captain's fears.
“Can the boy see anything?” he asked
“What can you see, boy?” called the captain. “Are there more ships out there?”
“No ships sir, but I see land to the west. It's a rocky shore about half a mile away.”
The captain turned pale. He realised the danger “We can't be that close to land,” he exclaimed, “I thought you were steering a course at least a hundred miles from Rio, Mr. Aland.”
“We’d better put out sea anchors. We must have drifted a long way since the cargo accident,” said Victor.
The captain shouted his orders and the crew paid out a sea anchor. Victor and the captain measured their drift. They were moving rapidly towards land.
“Drop both anchors,” said Victor. He ran towards the stern and watched the stern anchor drop. The captain hurried toward the bow.
There was a loud roar as the anchors dropped. The crew listened in awe until the rushing chains stopped. They waited with baited breath. It was five minutes before they felt a faint pull from the stern which told them that the stern anchor had taken hold, and then another agonising wait for the bow anchor to strike bottom.
“Hooray, Hooray, we're saved,” shouted the deck hands. They could now see the rocky shore.
Victor came forward to the captain on the bow deck. “We had better drop another bow anchor, sir, and then we'll be able to ride the waves.”
The captain bridled a little at this further instance of Victor usurping his authority, “I know what I'm doing, in spite of what you may think.”
Victor said nothing but the captain ordered the second bow anchor. He then walked to the stern and quietly ordered the stern anchor to be weighed.
When the two met on the bridge, Victor asked to take some bearings.
“I hope we're close to Rio,” said the captain, “because once this is over, we'll have to go in for repairs.”
“Yes, and we'll need some wood for the lower hold so that we can secure those plates and repair the ladder,” Victor added.
Victor opened the forward hatchway and called down, “How are you men? Is the cargo secure still?”
“Where are we?” they replied, “We thought we were for Davy Jones locker when we heard the anchor chains.”
“We're anchored about a half a mile from shore,” said Victor. “Are we still taking on water?”
“No, we're dry down here now, but we had better keep a man on the pump so he can watch the cargo until we can fix the packing,” the second mate answered.
“We'll just wait out this blow, and then we'll sail into Rio for repairs,” the captain said.
Duties were assigned for the lower hold and for deck duty through the night. The crew on Quebec finally rested, even if only for their four hour off duty break. The captain and the mates, both first and second, took four hour stints on the bridge throughout the night. Everyone was pleased as the waves diminished and the wind abated.
The captain conducted the funeral of the man who had been killed in the forward hold.
He reminded the men of the need for vigilance in all of their work aboard the ship. He graciously spoke of the first mate's timely actions during the storm but admonished the men. He warned them of their duties to each other as well as to themselves. He finally dedicated his ship and all who sailed in her to a greater faith and service to the almighty.
The men of the Quebec bowed their heads as the body slid from its shroud. Then, as a man, they cheered the captain for their deliverance from the storm. The captain was visibly moved by their spontaneous action.
“We've all had our baptism of fire,” he said, “now we'll handle anything at the Cape or in the mighty Pacific Ocean.
The men were anxious to dock in Rio and not even the funeral dampened their spirits.
Chapter Four: Ashore in Rio
“I’m ready for some shore time now!” said Ben. “Bring on those Latin beauties in Rio! Can't come too soon for me!”
“How do you know all about these Latin beauties? Asked Victor.
“Ahhh! You've never been to Rio,” said Ben.
“No, I never have,” replied Victor.
“Well, you've a pleasant surprise coming! Wait till you see those babes, fella!”
“Babes! What are they?” asked Victor.
“Just an expression, Victor. When you latch on to one of those, why she's your baby, Victor, She’s your slave for life!”
“Sounds exciting!”
“Tell you what,” said Ben, “I'll show you around town the first night, get you used to the way things are done in Rio. How about that? Would you like that?”
“Is it like the taverns in London?” asked Victor. “You have to be careful you don't get knifed and rolled for all your cash in those waterfront places. The women are just as tough as the men, I've heard.”
“Oh no! It's nothing like London. It's Spanish, and the girls are dark skinned; like gypsies, only they aren't gypsies. They are either Spanish, or Spanish Indian mixed. They are mostly tall and slim and slinky! Just wait Victor, you'll love 'em.”
“Is that so? And where do you meet these `babes’.”
“No no,” said Ben, “don't call them babes, they don't like that. They are senoritas, that's what they are. Call them senorita, like Senorita Margarita, or whatever.”
“Senorita, eh, that sounds nice,” said Victor, “and where do you meet these senoritas?”
“Now that's the good part,” said Ben, “they don't have taverns here, they have restaurantes. That's a place where you sit at little tables and you have a waitress who brings wine to the table, and then as you drink the wine the senoritas come and dance for you. You'll like it!”
“I suppose a man can spend a month's pay there in a single night,” Victor observed.
“That's the best part, Victor. They really like sterling here. It's a much poorer than England. You can buy a whole bottle of wine for a few pennies, or even a senorita!” laughed Ben.
“Well, I think maybe I'd like to go with you for one night in Rio,” mused Victor. “In the meantime, let's get this deck in shape and we'll weigh those anchors now, and rig the main again.”