The story of an earnest life: a woman's adventures in Australia, and in two voyages around the world

Front matter

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The Story

Chapter I. My Childhood And Childhood's Home

I WAS born at Paisley, in Scotland. This town is interesting to me, not only as my birth-place, but as the site of an ancient abbey, with its ruined monastery, and the historic Palace of Balgowny ; and, within a radius of three miles around it, are, the birth-place of Sir William Wallace, the ruins of Cruikstone Castle, and various other ruins of historic interest. These all add a charm to the dear old town. When very young, I lost my father — a loss I did not realize. I remember him only as he lay in his coffin, ready to be carried to his last resting-place. My mother was young, pretty, gay, and fond of society, and she was soon married again to one who had loved her ere she saw my father.

All through my childhood's loving years my heart yearned for her love. Nothing could eclipse my mother in my affection ; but she would have none of my homage — she turned away from my caresses with indifference, and my love was thrown back on my own heart. Many and bitter are the tears I have shed, when, with open arms, I would run to my mother and ask her to kiss me, and she would thrust me from her. I was sent to school at a very tender age, but my education did not wholly depend on master, pastor, or parent. There is a spirit of independent knowledge pervading the very atmosphere we breathe in Scotland. All ranks of people inhale it. We are susceptible to the charms of beauty long before we can reason about it. Nature's cloudpictures in the sky attract us, and the gold-brocaded carpet of emerald that covers the earth. The foundations of my education were laid among the heather-clad hills, rippling brooks, and glassy lakes of bonnie Scotland. Alone in hollow caves, worn by the resistless billows,

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and on naked crags, have I very often stood, oppressed with thought and with yearnings for something yet unknown. I had, as a gift from the Creator — a precious gift — a love of the beautiful. It has impressed on my mind forms both animate and inanimate, and memory brings back the picture fresh to my mental vision. My imagination was early stimulated by the legends of the mountains.

Maggie Campbell, my highland nurse, took me at an early age to visit her mountain home in the Western Highlands, amid deep, dark glens, and bonnie wee burns, with their rush and roar as they approached the precipice and dashed over in tiny cascades. Oh! how I wished to be old enough to read all the romantic histories of all the people who had lived in the ruined piles of ancient grandeur, which we passed on the banks of the beautiful Clyde. Maggie was full of highland lore, and, though her narratives were greatly tinged with religious romance, I loved to listen to her broken English. She told me of the brave Wallace, as w^e passed the rock on which stands Dumbarton Castle. As we sailed into the Firth, and passed the historic isles of Arran and Bute, my admiration was unbounded. We sailed up Loch Fyne, celebrated for its "callar herrin" (fresh herrings), and landed at the Gaelic Town of Loch Gilphead — my nurse's birthplace, and the home of her mother, Luckie Campbell, and her brother, Lachie. (Luckie means mother, or old woman.) She had three married sisters, who lived high up among the hills, whose husbands were farmers and fishermen. But more of them anon.

Maggie grew sick, and while she was being most affectionately nursed by her mother, her brother Lachie (Lachlan) would carry me to the sea-shore, and sit, or walk, or gather sea-weed and dulce ^nd shells, as best suited my humor. On these occasions he would tell me tales of the hills and their inhabitants, which charmed me. I was ever ready to listen to tales of "brave men and bonnie leddies," from whatever source. My good and faithful nurse told her mother that she had come home to die, but dear old Luckie could not beHeve that her Maggie should die. Nevertheless, she passed away to the better land, and was laid down in a small picturesque graveyard, on a hillside overlooking Loch Fyne. My love for Maggie was deep and sincere, and when she was hidden from my sight forever, I shed many tears for the loss of my dear friend. She seemed to have left a legacy of love to each of her sisters, her mother, and her brother, to be lavished on me, "the bonnie wee toon lassie," as they chose to call me. After one of my rambles with Lachie on the beach, I ran up to the house which

Stood near by, and the first thing which attracted my attention was an elegant crimson velvet bonnet, hanging on a nail, with a Prince of Wales ostrich plume on it. I exclaimed,

"That is my mother's bonnet; who brought it here?"

"Your mother!" said a quiet voice behind me. I turned and saw my mother, and would have embraced her, had she allowed me. On hearing of the death of her faithful servant, she had come for me. I was glad to see my mother, but sorry to leave. They made an agreement that I should spend some weeks every summer among the hills. This agreement gave me great delight, and many of the happiest days of my childhood w^ere those that I spent in the highlands during my yearly visits.

Loch Gilphead lies at the head of the Loch Gilp, nestling at the foot of a high hill. At this place the Crunnan Canal cuts through the Peninsula of Cantyre, and joins Loch Fyne to the Sound of Jura. This canal is cut through the midst of the wildest and most beautiful scenery, and it is full of locks. Here I saw what was entirely new to me — the canal boats going into and out of the basins formed by the locks. I expressed a wish to board one of the boats and pass through the locks, and when I felt myself floating down on a body of water into an empty basin, and rise up again, I thought I had gained a wonderful experience.

Luckie and Lachie took me to visit the other members of the family, who lived amid the mountains. We started in an odd-looking little carriage, drawn by two little shaggy Shetland ponies, on a bright, breezy day ; and, when we arrived at our destination, I was left among a people who could not speak one word of English, except Luckie Campbell's family, who had all sojourned in the Lowlands, and had learned the language and manners of a higher civilization.

These hardy Scots are happy and contented, simple and virtuous. Their highest happiness is to serve God, and honor their Queen, and obey the laws of their country. The women and boys attend to the small farms, w^hile the men go out on the stormy Loch Fyne to catch theil far-famed herrings. *

Our shaggy Shetlands drew us several miles through wild and romantic scenery, till we came to the foot of a high mountain, where we had to leave them and take to our feet. We climbed and wound round and up on a sheep track, or narrow pathway, through the heather, till we reached a little plateau half way up the mountain. On this plateau stood, nestling close together, a number of curious-looking buildings,.

lO THE STORY OF AN EARNEST LIFE.

in shape much like square hay-stacks, with conical roofs. They were built of unhewn stones, cemented with mud, and thatched with heather, so that in the distance they were not distinguishable from the hill behind them. I asked what these buildings were for. Luckie said: ** That's Mary's hoos in the middle, that's the byre, and this is the dairy beside it." Just then the "hoos" sent up through and among the heather a blue column of curling vapor (peat reek), which declared it to be a human habitation. We entered the sheeling by a low doorway, and an opening with a wooden shutter served for a window. The room was full of peat reek, so that for some time we could see nothing. In the middle of the floor a large place was hollowed out, about one foot deep and four in diameter, in the center of which was placed a round, portable grate, filled with peat, burning brightly, from which arose, in a great volume, the peat reek. A hole in the conical roof was intended for its escape; but, ere it made its exit, it went curling over, and around, and through everything, till the house was filled and the inmates looked smoke-dried. Around the one large room, which constituted the house, were bunks, one above another, with sliding doors in front. These were beds for the family, their servants and visitors. When the family were about to retire for the night, "the Book" was handed to the father, who reverently read from it in Gaelic. The family then sang a Gaelic psalm, and the father prayed in the same tongue. They were reverently religious, and whether they lay down in the recesses around the room, or went to their fishing-boats, to be rocked on the stormy Loch, dark and dreary as it often was, they committed themselves to the care of Him who neither slumbers nor sleeps; of Him whose chosen friends were fishermen while He sojourned upon earth. A cruse of oil hung from the rafters to give light to the household; and when one wished to retire, he had only to disappear behind the sliding-doors of the bunk. I was very much interested in their primitive mode of serving and eating food. At breakfast, oatmeal porridge, in a large wooden trencher, was placed upon a long, low table; another trencher, filled with the richest, creamiest milk, such as only Highland cows can give, was placed beside it; a large pile of oatmeal bannocks stood also on the table; and a heap of cutty (horn) spoons also adorned it. This was all. The family brought their "creepy stools" (low stools) up to the side of the table, each took a spoon, and all supped from the same trencher. This mode of eating seemed to me so funny that I laughed out several times; but I managed to eat a good breakfast. At dinner, I did not succeed so well.

MY CHILDHOOD AND CHILDHOOD'S HOME. II

In one trencher was an immense heap of dry, mealy, red-coated^ laughing potatoes; in the other a heap of the most tempting herrings, all smoking hot; and a pile of salt on the table between the trenchers. No table-cloth, knife, fork, or plate to be seen. After grace was said, each one took a potato in his hand, drew a fish by the tail to his side of the table with his horny hand, peeled his potatoes with his fingers, and ate his fish. I took one of the rosy bulbs in my hand, but I could not peel it with my fingers. I tried my teeth, but I had to drop it. Good and tempting as the herrings were, I did not like them. I said nothing, and should have gone dinnerless had not Mary, the mistress, come to my help. She spread a clean, coarse towel on a ' ' muckle kist" (large chest), put some potatoes on a plate, took out from her Lowland treasures a knife and fork, gave me a basin of rich milk and a boiled egg — and I feasted like a queen.

In harvest-time, women and children are all busy with their reaping*- hooks, cutting the grain. I, among the rest, with my kilted coat and wee jupe, attempted to shear the grain; but, instead, I cut my fingers, and dropped the hook for aye. Some of the wild mountain children were very beautiful, with black, curHng hair falling over broad, white brows, lustrous black eyes, and white, pearly teeth, with only kilt and jacket on, showing to advantage their well-shaped limbs. The little Gaelic that I had learned, enabled me to gather a group of these untamed children around me, at times. To them I would recite, "A chieftain to the Highlands bound;" but, as they did not understand one word, I was not very edifying to them. They would stand open-mouthed for awhile, with staring eyes, apparently very attentive. All at once they would break and run, chattering in Gaelic to their hearts' content, leaving me all alone in my glory. They seemed afraid of me and my strange tongue. Thus left alone, I would stand and meditate, or climb to the top of the highest mountain, till the spirit of solitude would fill my whole being. Sometimes, when standing on the brow of a hill, or the face of a cliff, or a projecting rock, I would startle the reapers below with the sound of my voice, reciting a piece of prose or poetry. They would look up and around, but could not see me, or find whence the voice came. This delighted me. My mountain friends marveled much at the fearlessness of the ''wee toon lassie," with her white skin, golden curls and slender form. I was in my element. The mountain breezes bronzed my pale face, and climbing the rugged hills gave my fragile form health and strength, while exploring the smaller glens, gave me courage.

Twa bonnie lassies were Kate, with her sparkling b'ack eyes, her rosy lips and white teeth, and her raven hair coiled round her well-shaped head; and Mary, with her lint-white locks and bonnie blue een. The fresh breezes and peat reek had bronzed their faces; they were full of robust health and lithe of limb, and merry as the morning. Well, these two, one wet, drizzling morning, were going some distance to take flax out of a peat hole, where it had rotted, in order to have it spread out to dry. I w^ished to go with them, as the place where they were going, and the thing they were going to do, were alike new to me; but they positively refused to take me. I felt crest-fallen at this, but I begged very hard to go.

''No, no!" they said; "the wee toon lassie will tak' cold and be sick, an' she must na gang."

I protested, and at last prevailed upon them to take me. I doffed my shoes and stockings and frock, donned a kilted Coat and jupe, and with a tartan plaid over my head, pinned under my chin, crossed on my breast and fastened behind, leaving my limbs all free, I started off, full of glee, with my two companions.

We crossed the wee burn, that rippled by the cottage-door, dancing on its joyous way. I often sat beside this burn, with naked, idle feet, dashing and splashing the tiny wavelets, as quietly they glided on their way to the mountain's brow. It served for a laver to the cottagers. But the contrast between the rippling brook on sunshiny days, and the rushing, roaring cataract that I saw tumbling over the cliff this rainy day, was very great. We had to cross a large bog, and to see my two guides hop, skip and jump, leaping and laughing over this bog, would have delighted me, had I been able to follow them. My little feet got entangled among the twigs, and I fell and called for help. The two Hthe figures bounded back, each caught a hand, and landed me safe on the other side. They advised me to turn back, but this I would not do. One difficulty was overcome, and another presented itself. A big "stanedyke" (high, stone wall) had to be climbed over. This I managed to do without help, and then climbed a precipitous rock; and, when rounding the projecting point of the mountain, my heart almost stood still at the sight of a deep, dark abyss, into which tumbled several angry, swollen mountain torrents. We had to walk on the almost perpendicular face of a mountain, overlooking the wildest glen I had yet seen. I was told if my head turned dizzy, to look up and hold to the twigs that grew out of the face of the wall which rose high above us on the other side.

I took heed to my instructions, and it was well for me that I did ; for one false step and destruction was inevitable. I held to the twigs of heather, and looked up to the beetling crags above me; and, though dark and frowning, they enabled me, by keeping my eye fixed above, to move along with firm foot and steady head. The pathway was narrow and, in some places, slippery; but, chamois-like, we made our way in safety to our destination. The peat hole was full of water and bundles of flax. Katy stepped lightly upon one of the bundles of flax, and, balancing herself, she began to throw out the bundles to Mary, who caught them and. drew them to the solid ground. I admired the ease and grace with which Katy Hfted and threw the bundles out, and I wished to imitate it. So I stepped lightly upon one of the movables, balanced myself, and was proud of my feat; but my triumph was short lived. I stooped to hft a bundle, but found it too heavy ; so I tried to push it to shore, instead of which I pushed the bundle from under my feet and fell splash into deep water, and would soon have been drowned had not Mary, who was watching me, caught hold of the bundle that my hands clutched, then caught my hands, and pulled me out. We left for home as soon as all the flax was landed, taking a longer and less dangerous road on our return. I was wet and weary, but next morning I arose well in body and happy to think of my adventure.

A messenger from Ivoch Gilphead brought a letter from my mother, recalling me home. With regret, I part from these hardy Highlanders. They were loving and kind to me — they petted and indulged me, and I loved them dearly.

On reaching home, I found my mother preparing to make a visit to friends in the Emerald Isle, on which I was to accompany her. We rowed in a boat three miles down the river Cart, and then embarked in the steamer Fingal, which steamed down the Clyde. The Fingal was a fast boat, and we expected in twelve hours from the time we left Greenock quay, to steam up Belfast lough. But we reckoned without the storm spirit, as the sequel will show. We were six days in reaching our destined port. We had a delightful sail down the Clyde, under sunny skies and amid romantic scenery, till we reached Greenock. Here we took in the last of our cargo, which was several puncheons of Scotch whisky and several barrels of Jamaica rum. These were lashed to the deck. Every portable thing was secured, and we set sail with a motley crowd on board; Irishmen with crownless hats, and wisps of straw tied round them, and the like ornamental band tied round their trousers under the knee. These were rough, rowdy Romanists, all drinking, swearing and swaggering, brandishing the whisky-bottle and the shillaly. Irish women, with long, blue cloaks on, all wearing "mutches" (caps) more or less dirty. These poor creatures had been harvesting for the Lowlanders of Scotland, and with their earnings half spent on whisky and tobacco, were returning to their half-starved families with what remained. They were a sorry lot of deck-passengers. Wind and tide were with us for an hour or two, when the wind veered round, and rising gradually, burst into a furious gale.

The pent-up waters between the islands Bute and Cumbray and the main land began to seethe and surge, and became so boisterous that we were driven hither and thither, in spite of all the steam we could get up. The clouds poured down their contents, not in drops but in streams. The lightning flashed, and louder roared the thunder, and darker and darker grew the night. Then a cry, louder than the storm, came from the lookout, ''Breakers ahead!" We had to "bout ship" in a hurry to escape the Crag of Ailsa, a huge rock over i,ooo feet high, near the middle of the Firth, as it opens into the North Channel. This rock is the terror of all coasters, as round it the waters whirl and break, and the foam rises, at times, to a great height. My mother, instead of going to the cabin when the other passengers went, sat down under an awning that was spread over a handsome carriage that was lashed to the deck. There she sat till all the cabin-doors were fastened, and the hatches battened down. So we were compelled to stay on deck. And, oh ! what cursing and praying to the Virgin Mary was going on in the forward part of the boat, among the Irish. It was perfectly awful. There was one drunken • priest. He was praying to the Virgin Mary, and made strange promises to her if she would save them. The waves seemed to grow wilder as the night grew darker. The sea broke over us every now and then. At times, I was sitting to my waist in water. One tremendous wave broke over the ship, carrying away her bulwarks and every thing that had not been well secured. At that moment, my mother's perilous condition was discovered by one of the oflicers, who dragged her, half dead, to one of the side cabins, and shut her in. She could only say,

' ' My child ! " The man came back to where I was coiled up, and feeling with his feet, picked up a bundle and thrust it into the cabin beside my mother, saying:

"If that's your child, well; if not, it's gone." All the lashings gave way, and I had scarcely been lifted from under the carriage when it was washed clean overboard. The whisky and rum puncheons broke loose, were staved in, and hundreds of gallons of the burning liquid flooded the decks. The fearful cry,

' ' Fire ! fire !" was heard. The spirits had found a way to the furnaces, and all was quickly ablaze. But, fortunately, the fire was soon quenched by the seas that swept over us, and the liquor was washed overboard into the sea. Mother and I sat cold, and wet, and sea-sick in the Httle, dark cabin; the stewardess could not get to, us. All through that night of terror we were cooped up. I had no feeling of fear, but I thought we must be drowned. I was happy to be beside my mother. Daylight came, and showed us our shattered condition, and also our danger. The chopping sea and shifting wind would not allow us to steer past the Crag of Ailsa, and now it was full in sight, with breakers roaring around it. A fearful sweep of the gale drove us right past it; on and on we were driven before the fury of the tempest, helpless enough, with broken spars and sails rent to ribbons, and the pumps hard ^t work. The ship could not keep her course, but was still driven on, past the Mull of Galloway, into the Irish Sea. But we could not cross the North Channel, in the teeth of such a gale, in our shattered condition. We tried to find a place of shelter; we turned to look for Loch Ryan. Just as we were about to double Corsewell Point, our engines suddenly stopped.

"The boilers will burst, or are bursting," was the next agonizing cry. Our mast, rudder, sails, bulwarks, all gone, and our engines stopped; we were entirely at the mercy of the wind and waves. Another night of gloom had gathered round us; but not before we had seen the high and frowning rocks, and the jagged shingles shelving under the waves or lifting their pointed summits above the breakers of this dangerous headland.

" JVe are doomed,'^ cried the master of the ship, as he heard the roar of the breakers on the thousand broken fragments of rock that former tempests had riven from the parent cliff. Blue lights were hung out; rockets were sent up into the darkness, and the minute gun was fired — all signals of distress. We were in momentary expectation of hearing and feeling the last dreadful crash, when all would have sunk into eternal silence. But it did not come. Whether the Virgin Mary heard the prayers and strange promises of her votary, the drunken priest, or not, she received full credit for saving her worshipers; and, through their prayers, the ship and all the heretics on board. A large steamer had run into the loch for shelter that day; she saw the rockets, and heard our signals of distress, while she rode at anchor in safety.

She quickly weighed anchor, came to our rescue, and tcTTcJ i:s inside to a safe anchorage opposite the town of Cairn, about two miles from the shore. The sudden stopping of our engines was caused by a little fish, which accidentally got jammed into the conduit, and cut off the supply of water to the boilers. Many a curse was hurled at the little fish, while the pipes were being cut open to thrust him out.

As soon as we anchored, our only boat was lowered to take the passengers ashore. My mother was one of the first to go ashore : she left me on board to wait her return. I watched the boat as it rose high, and then sank out of sight behind the billows. I feared several times that she had gone down to rise no more; but up she came again and finally she touched the shore. Mother, hearing that the vessel would remain a day or two, sent for me. A gentleman asked if I would be afraid to go in the boat with him to the shore,

• *'0h, no," said I; so he Hfted me up and handed me down to a man in the boat, just as if I had been a kitten, then swung himself down, took me on his lap and held me fast while we rose and sank on the stormy waves. I believe all our passengers landed safely. But not so a boat full of men from another ship which sought safety from the raging tempest outside. The boat capsized, and all but one old man went down into a watery grave, right before our eyes. The old man buffeted the waves bravely and swam to shore. He was an old tar, and as he came out of the water, shaking his wet clothes and shaggy head, he said that he had sailed too far out on the ocean to come so near home to be drowned.

The Cairn is only a small town on the eastern shore of Loch Ryan, a long row of houses built on a slope toward the beach. An unpretending, though very comfortable inn provided for us a warm fire and a hot breakfast, both of which we greatly needed. We had our clothes dried while we went to bed to have a sleep. Our trunk being on board, we could not get a change of dress. I slept all that day and night, and while I slept in comfort the storm raged without. A great number of vessels of all sizes had sought the shelter of the Loch, and though they were tossed about considerably, yet they were safe.

Never on that coast, and it is a dangerous one, was such a gale known to blow in the memory of the oldest man. Many a proud and richly freighted East India-man, and other meaner craft, sank in the wave's. Our vessel was being patched up, and getting ready for sea as soon as the storm was quieted. I was the only child on board our ship, ana the gentlemen all said I was a brave little sailor, and I was a good deal petted by them.

One more day and night and we moved out of Loch Ryan, and proceeded on our watery w^ay. We reached Belfast on our sixth day out, a very sad contrast to what we were when we left Greenock. The Fingal, though one of the finest steamers on the Firth, was so weatherbeaten and broken that she was not recognized, as she slowly steamed up the lough.

Three pilot-boats had been sent out in search of us when we fell behind time, and all three, with their crews, were lost in the gale.

What a commotion was created when we landed on Belfast quay. It had been reported that we were lost, and we were received by the enthusiastic Irish as if the sea had given us up again.

"Blessed be St. Patrick and the Holy Mother! " w^as shouted by the crowd. I found myself, if not an object of interest, at least an object of curiosity, to a host of young ragamuffins, who crowded around me and called out :

"Look at the little Scot! She's half drawded."

" Och ! let's see the half-drowded little Scot ! " said one, and my wraps were nearly pulled off my shoulders, to my great discomfort The gentleman whose carriage w^as waiting for us, rescued me from my young tormentors. We were taken, amid cheers and huzzas, from the crowd

to the house of my mother's friends, Mr. and Mrs. Q n. The lady