Blackman Countess of Kintore voyage 1870

Voyage of the Countess of Kintore
from England to New Zealand in 1870

Notes from the diary of John Blackman.
Taken from the Book "The Story of my Life"
by John Blackman, published in 1984 by Ray Turner.
Poems and prose not related to the voyage have been omitted.

I started for Auckland, New Zealand from the East India Docks, London, at 8am June 24, 1870 on board the good ship "Countess of Kintore", Commander, Captain Petherbridge, a fine-looking Devonshire man. The morning was exceedingly fine and bracing. We reached Gravesend at noon and took in live stock, fowls, sheep, pigs, gunpowder, etc. We were visited successively by two local missionaries. The first gave us a very crude address on the character of Herod, closing with a most disheartening account of New Zealand from his son's letters, including his hair-breadth escapes from Maori savages in the bush, and his struggles for common necessaries. The second address was on "The Prodigal Son" and was of a more hopeful character. The missionaries gave us some religious publications and tracts which were acceptable to the passengers, comprising twenty-six souls, representing the nationalities of England, Ireland, Scotland and Germany.

Sunday, June 26. Morning hazy, passing Thames-side villages and towns, saw the "Great Eastern" steamer, English Fleet at anchor at Sheerness. Number of rooks on board to order of the Auckland Acclimatisation Society, their continuous cawings reminded me of the receding land, its green fields, and stately English elms which probably we shall see no more. "See to the rooks" was the frequent cry of the captain "never mind the passengers, they can look after themselves." "Shocking, isn't it." exclaimed and elderly lady, "he thinks more of rooks than human beings"

June 28. Passed Margate, Ramsgate, Dover and Hastings. Smooth sea and fair sailing, Saw the beautiful Isle of Wight in the brightening distance. Fine view of the town of Portland, sunlight sparkled on the rippling sea. Read to the passengers from Washington Irving's Sketch Book". Brief view of Sidmouth. A little Hibernian lad, Paddy Megin, interested the passengers by singing several of Moore's Irish melodies, sung with fairness and in a spirited manner.

July 1. Rainy, cold and exceedingly uncomfortable experience of a wet day at sea - wretched. Schooner, "Sybil", from coast of Africa in distress, crew had been several days without food. Captain relieved the "Sybil". Sent letters to England. The evening specially fine, witness a glorious rainbow. I never saw a more splendid rainbow, and in such brilliancy of colour and perfection - it seemed to reflect somewhat of the peaceful glory of the creator over the restless ocean.

July 6. Morning remarkably fine, food indifferent, causing loss of appetite, I now began to feel a sense of weariness of "life on the ocean wave", also the vastness of the world of waters. The sight of a sea-bird, or a ship on the apparent boundlessness of the ocean, when you have but few kindred companions on board, those with whom you can take "sweet converse", is always cheering. Friends said, on parting at the East India Dock, "how pleasant the three month's voyage over the vasty deep". Yes, very pleasant," sighed we, "despite Byron's apostrophe, feeding - upon hard biscuit, pea-soup, burgout, and while swallowing for physical satisfaction, to be annoyed by rats, and irritations." Evening warm and cheerful, beautiful moonlight scene. Gave a short lecture on Dr Samuel Johnson.

July 8. Concert on deck, the weather being fine. Several of Burns's songs were sung with spirit, especially "Nanny's Awa" by the sail-maker - a scotchman. The chorus, "Hard Times come again no more" was feelingly and heartily sung by the women.

July 10. Stiff breeze, heavy seas, on the Bay of Biscay.

July 13. My fifty first birthday and at sea. A splendid calm, no progress, ship motionless, passengers spiritless and irritable, no song, no supper. Tropical sky beautifully dappled, magnificent sunset.

July 20. Morning fine and breezy, nearing the equinoctial line - no music, musician in the dumps.

July 23. Crossed the line. First view of the constellation of stars known as the "Southern Cross". Appetite gone through indifferent food, getting thinner every day, experienced no sea-sickness, but am heartily sick of the sea. A ship in sight caused quite a sensation on board. Some merriment towards evening.

Sunday July 31. Weather fine, wind favourable, eleven knots per hour, prayers on poop attended only by Anglican church people. The men are at ease on Sundays in calm weather, in clean attire and with a Sabbath-like demeanour, shewing that the sanctity of the day is not wholly disregarded even by the roughest seamen. The ship, like a miniature world, carries persons of different nations and divers creeds. In a measure therefore, each passenger attends to his, or her, religious thinking, so, on the "Countess of Kintore, the Catholic counts his beads, the churchman responds to the Common Prayer, and Free Thinkers in their bunk below playing at euchre (unknown to Captain Petherbridge). The latter, Lincolnshire lads, played daily at cards, Sundays included, from the East India Docks to Auckland and, excepting when at cards, the majority were most tyrannical and outrageous and offensive in their conduct.

August 2. Slow sailing, weather hot and scorching; saw many interesting sights on the ocean, Mother Carey's chickens, a web-footed sea-fowl of rather small size, sometimes called "The stormy petrel". Sailors on seeing these ominous sea-fowl, have an idea that a storm is near. Saw a number of Cape-pigeons and albatrosses, the albatross forms a leading object in the "Ancient Mariner", saw shoals of sportive dolphins, very beautiful, about five feet in length, and thousands of flying-fish. But the objects which attracted my attention mostly, were the "Nautilus" in imitation of a ship in full sail; and a mirage in the western sky, said to be an optical illusion, like the reflections of a huge city. Another sight, new to me, was a spouting whale of huge dimensions, also, a throng of porpoises rolling along and full in view.

September 13. Deck covered with water owing to the overflowing of the sea. Lady passengers quiet in cabins over their books, one deep in the "Vicar of Wakefield", another intent on the "Head on the Family", and the pale young person, called "Polly", deep in the "Mysteries of Udolpha".

September 14. Extremely cold, heavy fall of snow, surrounded by icebergs, some within half a mile of the ship, captain extremely anxious about them - up night and day - these icebergs were the grandest sight I ever witnessed in the sunlight of early morning, their forms, hues, and shadows appeared like the ruins of immense, historical castles, with their ramparts and towers, or like, what an active imagination would conceive of faery palaces, silvered with diamonds, jewelled with gold, and frettered by the cunning fingers of Phideas, the Greek sculptor. An artist on board took a sketch of these icebergs, and which appeared with a description of the same in a Melbourne journal.

September 17. Coast of Tasmania, heavy, over-rushing seas. Upwards of two thousand miles to run for sight of land. No dinner owing to forgetfulness of time, during card-playing among the mess. With the "Lincoln lads", seven in number, shuffling pasteboard has become an absolute, absorbing passion - pencilled down the melancholy omission and the cause of it:-

The downy lad who makes the pies,
Intends to be at crib the winner;
At twelve o'clock, cried out "my eyes
As sure as I'm a hungry sinner,
I've been at cards - forgot the pies -
And all about the rice for dinner."

September 18. Sunday, no service today owing to the unpleasant motion of the water. Morning threatening, an elderly lady on her knees in prayer, praying for favourable weather and gentle gales. Storm clouds passed, a calm noon. The following may be taken as a general description of our Sabbaths at sea. In the morning early, the stewards, butcher, ship-apprentices, cook and mess-hands, also the passengers, rush with buckets for the day's supply of fresh water from the tanks - the water is not very clear, but discoloured through being so long in the tanks. The procuring water causes quite a commotion for a little while, also squabbles, rough epithets. Next comes the rattle of pannakins and sundry preparations for the sea-breakfast. Then similar preparations for dinner, consisting of a meat pie, and plum pudding, vegetables are out of the question. The discomforts of a life at sea are many, especially when the ship is rolling and dashing and cutting its way between the apparently angry seas. We have a dark-skinned, West Indian steward. Our mates, Thomas Bowling and Thomas Hardy, bear honoured names and are attentive to their respective duties. The after-part of the day is variously spent, some in chanting the Te Deum, others singing Sankey and Moody's lively hymns, others quietly reading religious books, others engaged in smoking and others asleep, while the "Lincolnshire lads" are at their cards. A fine evening brings the passengers to the deck of the ship where smoking, parading and chat goes on merrily under the free, starry heavens. "I love Jesus", and similar pious hymns are sung by a few, but the "lads" attach no importance to sacred subjects, and so, by way of opposition, they break out, to the annoyance and disgust of soberly disposed persons, with such vulgar strains as "The green-grocer's pretty daughter who sold sage in the "New Cut"; "a beauty I do declare". Such is briefly my experience of a Sabbath at sea on board the "Countess of Kintore".

October 3. Sunshine and shower, The Three Kings sighted, heart-rejoicing among wearied passengers; round the North Cape, Bay of Islands, scene of Heke's war; Great Barrier, on and on, anchored off North Head. Final row.

October 5. View of Auckland, packing trunks, Welcome to New Zealand by niece and two nephews.

The book continues with a description of Auckland.