Copied and amended from a handwritten draft manuscript by James Cumming.
James never finished his life story.

The numbers next to certain phrases correspond to an explanation in the appendices.

I was born on Saturday the 30th of August in the year of our Lord 1873 on the romantic shores of the Solway Firth about two miles North East from Crockett's immortal Isle of Rathan, (1) at a place called the 'Scaur' now universally called Kippford and fast rising into importance as a fashionable seaside resort for summer visitors from various large cities in Britain.

The Scaur originally was a secluded, little out of the way place 5 miles from anywhere with no earthly communication with the outside world, with the exception of Betty Henry's cuddy cart, which performed the responsible duty of 'cashier in general' between there and the neighbouring townships of Dalbeattie.

Early in my life and while yet in the arms of my respected cousin Lizzie I was christened Peem by a local carpenter called Thomson, a name which has not finally deserted me to this day. Born of a sea faring family from generations back it is not to be wondered at that I should adopt a similar means of obtaining a livelihood. In fact anything contrary to being a sailor never crossed my mind. When I was 12 years of age I could sail a boat or tramp flukes with any boy in the water of Urr.

I received an ordinary public school education at Barnbarroch under the Superintendence of Mr Bentham who still occupies that responsible position, and holding an enviable reputation of never having a solitary case of failure in any of his sailor pupils who ventured passing the board of trade. Not altogether entitled to it in my opinion I was considered the worst boy in the place, especially by a very near relative of my own who often remarked in presence of his subordinates that I "Would surely be hung some day."

However I have escaped that indignity so far. I went first to sea with my father in his vessel the 'Gallovidian', a schooner of 150 tons laden and famed for being the finest vessel on a dirty night inside the Mull of Galloway. I had two years experience on the coast and then the schooner was laid up as heights (2) at the time were at an extremely low ebb.

Being naturally of a roving disposition I decided to try my fortune in the foreign trade. I accordingly applied to a captain cousin of mine (3) who had been appointed to take command of a fine brand new full rigged ship called the 'Iquique' of 1859 tons register and 3600 tons deadweight, then lying at Port Glasgow ready to start on her maiden voyage with a cargo of coals for Rio De Janeiro.

Voyage 1

We signed articles at Greenock for three years and finally left Port Glasgow on Monday the 24th July 1892. We were in tow of a Liverpool tug called the Ranger and had on board 33 hands all told besides the builder Mr Hamilton and a few friends who intended returning with the tug when we dispensed with its services.

All went well until we neared the Skulmartin Lightship (4) and when mastheading the main topsail yard the tie suddenly parted so down came the yard and carried away the panel which necessitated us putting into Belfast Lough and there await the arrival of a new one from Port Glasgow which arrived in due course. On the 2nd of August we then made a fresh start on our voyage.

Next day after leaving we discovered we had three stowaways on board, dilapidated looking wretches they were, two of them very early developed rather mutinous intentions and they were promptly discharged into an Irish trawler that came alongside off Dublin.

The following Sunday we were off the Luskar and experienced a heavy gale from the S West. We were 2 hours and a half on the fore topsail yard that night trying to furl the sail, a task which we finally accomplished. It was during that gale that the 'Thracian' a fine new ship capsized off the Isle of Man and drowned all hands including the Captains wife. All went well after this and we arrived safely in Rio de Janeiro 46 days out from Belfast.

We lay there two months discharging and during that time no one was allowed on shore with the exception of myself and the other members of the gig's crew. Yellow Jack (5) was very prevalent at the time but confined itself to the shore by good luck there not being a single case on board the ships, we left there on Dec 2nd in ballast for Coronal in Chile on the West Coast of South America. We rounded Cape Horn on Christmas day and had a fine fair easterly wind which was a rare occurrence down there.

We accordingly arrived in Coronal after a fine passage of 37 days, lay there three weeks then received orders to proceed to Taltal also in Chile and load a cargo of nitrate of soda for Rotterdam. We had a great sport at times in Taltal dynamiting fish.

It was a regular Saturday afternoon job to tow the lifeboat beyond the pinnance (6) and fill her up to the gunwales with herring and mackerel. The Carpenter and I got to go ashore so we availed ourselves the opportunity and went on the Sunday, but beyond sampling several bottles of Chilean wines and taking a peep at several fandango houses (7) there was really not much attraction or amusement for a Britisher, so we purchased an accordion for 7 dollars and went back onboard at 6 pm.

The natives are very treacherous and not at all friendly disposed towards Europeans especially British, they are a cross race between a Spaniard and an Indian, and very dark and villainous in their aspect.
On the 17th of March on St Patrick's Day we hove up our anchor to the chorus of homeward bound and started on our return voyage. All went smooth until we were in the latitude of the Plate (8) when we experienced a Pampero, the local name for a hurricane.

After the squall of the Pampero had passed it cleared a little and settled down to a heavy Southerly gale with a mountainous cross sea. We were running under lower topsails, foresail and reefed upper main topsail. She was making rather bad weather out of it being full of water amidships continually. Our watch came on deck at 8 bells in the morning and the first salute we got on opening our half deck door was a matter of half a dozen tons of water, which completely filled up the lower bunks in the place and washed our breakfast-gear off the table. By good luck we had finished our repast (9) so didn't mind it too much.

When she cleaned herself on deck we got out to keep watch. It was what sailors call 'Standby weather'; that means no work, only what is absolutely necessary. We had not been long on deck when she shipped another lump of ocean which carried away the lashings of a couple of water breakers under the poop. One went into hoops and staves and the other being only half adrift was immediately pounced upon by myself and a Swansea apprentice and between us we secured it once more. Then the second mate came upon the scene and ordered me forward to get a bucket for the purpose of baling out the lamp room as the door had been stove in by the same sea.

I managed to get forward, got the bucket and was on my way aft, had to wait until she cleaned again as the water was waist deep amidships. I took up a position by the galley door along with the Bosun, who was alas bound aft, when all of a sudden an avalanche of water came over me and swept me overboard like a cork. I cannot describe how I felt in fact there was no time for thinking but fortunately for me she pulled the same sea in board again about the break of the poop. I then got my head out and managed to get hold of the crossjack brace and almost tore my arms out of their socket holding on to it, so I can assure you I never felt so secure in all my life as I did when the old man called me into the cabin and gave me a good stiff glass of grog. It happened on the 1st of May 1893 I don't suppose I will ever forget it. The bucket was not as fortunate as I as it never returned.

Nothing remarkable occurred during the remainder of the passage excepting a fight or two among the sailors and we docked in Rotterdam on Orangemen's day (10) the 12th of July 1893. We paid off two days afterwards and all hands went home to England via Hull. We were no exception to homeward bound sailors and on leaving Rotterdam we were all more or less three sheets to the wind. The second mate had broached too altogether and on boarding the steamer fell into the dock; however we soon fished him out none the worse if anything slightly sober.

When we arrived at Carlisle only one of the sailors remained, a nigger who went by the name of Snowball and being dry went ashore for a drink and the last I saw of him was running after us on the platform in his white shirtsleeves a pair of carpet slippers and a five gill bottle of whiskey in each hand.
Voyage 2

I stayed two months at home and joined a coasting steamer belonging to Whitehaven as Able seaman. but not caring for it I left her and shipped before the mast in a barque called the 'Lebu' in Liverpool. She was in the charge of a Castle Douglas captain and lying in the West Waterloo dock loaded with general and bound to Coquimbo, in Chile on the West Coast of South America.

We left Liverpool dock and anchored in the Mersey where we embarked about 60 tons of dynamite beside detonators for use in the nitrate mines. With the exception of myself and a New Zealand ticket of leave convict all hands forward were foreigners. I fully expected to have a lively time among them but as one half was Yemen and the other half French they were always at loggerheads which was greatly in my favour.

We had a smart run of 18 days to the Equator were down with *Staten*? Island in 47 but there our troubles commenced. We beat and battered about that formidable Cape Horn for over six weeks more under water than above it. I haven't had such a salting down, what with a high sea running all the time and incessant gales from the westward we would see the Horn one day and sight it perhaps a fortnight afterwards in the same position. I wore out 3 suits of oilskins on that passage. But as everything comes to an end sooner or later we finally got round and shaped our own course north once more. As next as I can remember we would be about the Latitude of Talcahuano (11) when our ticket of leave chap began to display his old crudeness qualities.

I had the wheel from 8 to 10 in the first watch that night. About 9/30 the weather began to assume a rather windy aspect on the arrival of a fresh squall the mate immediately hauled down the kites, clewed up the royals and when the storm was past ordered the watch to make them fast. McNeill the convict went to the main royal cockeye and the Frenchman went to the fore, the remainder of the watch at the kites and small staysails.

As 4 bells went I was relieved at the wheel by another Frenchman named by us as 'Ropeyarms' as his whiskers resemble manila strands much more than hair. As you are allowed a matter of 5 minutes after your wheel for a smoke I went into the forecastle and lit my pipe. The next salute I got was the mate singing out haul the flying jib down. I went on deck, got on the forecastle head along with two boys and cockeye. We hauled it down and then Cockeye and myself went out to furl it - McNeill was still on the main royal yard.

He came down and it seems the mate got on his track about being so long up there. McNeill hauled off and stitched the mate on his back in the lee scuppers. The mate shouted "Quick boys he's knifing me" We both ran or rather flew inboard off the bowsprit. I picked up a capstan bar on my way and just as Mac was lifting his knife to strike I come over his cranium with the bar which laid him out. He afterwards confessed he saw all the stars in the universe. The next morning McNeill was called aft by the Captain and his conduct duly entered in the official log.

It was then that he disclosed to us his past history. He had been tried in Liverpool for the murder of a shipmate, sentenced to death, afterwards reprieved and got twenty years penal servitude, 14 of which he served in Portland Prison and then obtained his liberty on ticket of leave. It seems the Captain had instructions to the effect if he even got drunk or misbehaved himself in any way he was to be sent home from the first port in irons to finish his remaining 6 years. Consequently he was in a great state about being logged and was in great dread of being ironed for the remaining week which intervened between the incident and our arrival in the port of Coquimbo. He made up his mind to run away as soon as the anchor was down. He had fully two miles to swim but I saw him the next voyage so he managed the swim all right. He came off as skipper of the water lighter. (12) I was then in a barque called the 'Valdivia' in Coquimbo.

Appendices:

(1) The Raiders, an adventure story by S.R.Crockett. Rathan Isle is actually Heston Island, which is about twenty miles from Dumfries. There is a history of smuggling in the area and a great deal of it was going on in the late 18th Century.

(2) Heights - Tide.

(3) Captain Cousin - Samuel Murdoch.

(4) Skulmartin Lightship stationed off the coast off Northern Ireland, County Down.

(5) Yellow Jack - Yellow Fever.

(6) Eight oared ships boat.

(7) Fandango is a form of flamenco music and dance style.

(8) The specific latitude plate for 51° 40'.

(9) Repast - ORIGIN Old French, from Latin repascere, from pascere 'to feed'.

(10) An annual Protestant celebration on July 12, originating in Ireland.

(11) Talcahuano, Chile, South West Coast of America. LAT: 36 41 S LON: 73 06 W

(12) 'Water lighter' - small water supply vessel.

Back to Family Information