The Transatlantic Steamship Captains - 1886 Article by Charles Algernon Dougherty
One sees so little of the sailor that it is only natural one knows so little of him. He is here today, on the raging main tomorrow, and a short time afterward in a distant part of the world. And yet, regarding the master-sailors as a class, there are few sets of men to be found more worthy of admiration and esteem. They are emphatically Duty's children, and whenever she commands they obey, even if obedience be at the expense, not only of great personal comfort, but almost of life itself.
A terrible affliction in the domestic circle is often obliged to restrain its claims that the tide which waits for no man may carry out to the sea him who has devoted his life in its service. They are brave men, and the record of an ocean disaster often ends thus: " The captain went down with the ship."
The Captain's Post on the Bridge of the S.S. Oregon. From a photograph by W. Oakley, Liverpool.
The mythical halo that has long encircled the sea-captain is evaporating in these days when the steam-ship service between Europe and America is developing so rapidly as to make the journey seem little longer than an ordinary land trip, and when so many persons from both sides of the sea make themselves personally acquainted with a character who may long have been the subject of their wonderment. As he is divested of his mysterious functions, however, he loses nothing of his strong individuality, and gains in the esteem of those who have met him. So true is this that the officers of the different steam-ship companies will tell you that the name of the captain almost invariably influences the passengers' choice of the ship in which they are to make the voyage.
As a consequence of this these transatlantic captains are becoming widely known in two continents, although Fame never praises them in her pages as she does their brethren of the navies. But they are the heroes of many anecdotes-so many, indeed, that a volume might be filled with the tales of their prowess and their bravery, but more than all of their personal peculiarities. It is by their respective dispositions and manners that the landsman measures them, and by these traits is he prepossessed or prejudiced.
" What captain sails on Tuesday?" asks a lady passenger at the Liverpool office of one of the companies. " What! that horrid Captain Dash. I would rather swim it than cross with him again. And who leaves next week ? Captain Blank ? Oh, that's splendid ! I'll wait and sail with him."
Captain C. H. E. Judkins
The Late C. H. E. Judkins
From a photograph by Manchester Brothers, Providence
This illustrates the case precisely. They may all be excellent sailors and brave men, but something more than that is generally required—yes, and remembered too. The captains are by no means all of a piece as regards popularity.
Some of them never make friends, and others always do. Of the latter class many instances might be given. Of the former there has never been a better illustration in the service than the late Captain Judkins, of the Cunard Line. He was highly esteemed by the company, but the bane of nine-tenths of the passengers who crossed in his day. Anecdotes innumerable are told of him, and all illustrative of his singular gruffness of manner. Perhaps the best known of all is this:
Lady passenger (advancing toward the captain, who, leaning over the rail of the Scotia, is looking toward Newfoundland) : "Oh, captain, do tell me, is it always as foggy and nasty as this off the Banks ?"
The captain (glancing briefly at his questioner, and then resuming his attitude), " How the devil do I know, madam? I don't live here."
Certain it is that the memory of this capable old salt is not cherished with much affection by transatlantic voyagers.
Captain E. G. Lott
E. G. Lott--(Cunard Line).
From a photograph by Brady, Washington.
Captain E. G. Lott, another veteran officer of the Cunard Line, but now retired from service, was never harsh-spoken like Captain Judkins, but seemed almost equally averse to mingling with his passengers. He was a jolly-looking man, and usually wore a pleasant smile, which frequently emboldened passengers to address him.
"I tried it once," said an Englishman who has crossed the sea many times. "I thought I was drifting into the Gulf Stream, but I found I had struck an iceberg." Captain Lott once had the terrible misfortune of running down a ship in a fog, causing the loss of many lives. He had always been a careful man, but that calamity made him even more so, and lie has been known to stay on deck constantly, never getting a moment's sleep for two days.
Captain T. Cook
T. COOK—(CUNARD : COMMODORE).
From a photograph by Sarony, New York.
Captain T. Cook, the present Commodore of this line, is another type of the reserved man who does not familiarize with his passengers. He is never coarse; and will answer a simple question in a simple way. His voice is one of the low, quiet sort, but it has a solidness of sound about it that imparts an emphasis to his words.
He is not one of the big, robust specimens of the mariner. He is a singular little man, who cares nothing for the suaviter in modo, but demands credit for his fortiter in re. He has been on the sea nearly all his life—a period which extends over half a century.
During that time he has impressed many people with the fact that a giant's nerve and courage are not always encompassed in a colossal frame, and that men who may not provoke congeniality sometimes inspire confidence and esteem.
The three chief commanders of the Cunard Line at present were once described thus : a sailor, a social sailor, and a calico captain. It would be unfair to name the author of that definition, for lie is too well known, but it may not be unjust to state that his compendium was somewhat tinctured with prejudice. However that may be, the simple sailor who is put at the head of the list, and is left adjective less, is Captain Cook. It is quite probable, if he Chose his own epitaph, he would not desire any more mention than that one word " sailor."
Not one in a hundred of his passengers possibly remembers Captain Cook as being a pleasant and agreeable gentleman, but no one can be oblivious of the fact that he is a thorough man, or fail to esteem him for being what he seems, one who can be relied upon in an emergency. Emergencies do arise at sea, and then such men are measured at their worth. In his life he has encountered many strange vicissitudes, but those that marked his earlier career are nearly all forgotten now, for he is not the man to talk, and least of all of himself.
Captain W. McMickan
W. McMICKAN—(CUNARD " UMBRIA").
From a photograph by Sorony, New York
The social sailor is Captain W. McMickan, of the Urnbria. A pleasanter companion one rarely meets. You may sit in his saloon and watch his merry eye sparkle while he rattles off tales of the sea by the hour.
The wind may shriek and grate through the yard-arms until you think you hear the pinging sound of a skeleton's bones; the waves may rush over the forecastle with volcanic force, and break against his cabin door with a roar like thunder, and still you'll sit and laugh as complacently as if you rested snugly before your own fireside, while Captain McMickan spins his yarns.
If there is danger, this ruddy - faced Scotchman will not be enjoying himself in his cabin, but will be facing the sea's tempest out on the bridge.
He is every inch a mariner. He likes a glass of wine, an iced American beverage on a warm summer's day, or the hot spiced grog of his native land on a winter's night ; he is fond of a genial companion, has an ear ever open for the last good story, and an eye of admiration for the gentle sex ; but above all these charms of existence is his devotion to the capricious mistress whom he has wooed for so many years, and won at last. The sea, " than woman's love or March winds more fitful," has filled her wooing with many strange whims, but the "social sailor," an old man now, loves his heart's idol with even more devotion than in his youth, possibly because he has grown to understand her every humor.
Captain W. H. P. Hains
W. H. P. HAINS—(CUNARD : " AURANIA").
From a photograph by Barony.
If you have ever crossed with Captain W. H. P. Hains, you will surely remember him. He is a tall, distinguished-looking man, with one of those faces that instantly prepossess you.
No mariner whose years run to their end upon the bounding deep is fonder of the sea than the gallant commander of the Aurania ; but as life to merry men has a diversity of charms, Captain Hains loves the sea none the less in that he loves, besides, " things that are of the earth earthy."
If he does not tell a story so frequently as Captain McMickan, he enjoys one just as much, and his hearty laugh is the most complimentary " encore" that ever tickled a raconteur's ear. He has a laughing eye, which invests his face with a kind expression, and makes him a cordial favorite with the passengers.
With the lady passengers he is an especial favorite, and it was perhaps on this account he was unkindly, perhaps jealously, styled the "calico captain." It is not a pleasant-sounding adjective, and I am reluctant to repeat it ; but to those who have ever met this agreeable gentleman it will lose its harsh sound, for they will take it to mean that Captain Hains is one of those men who combine courtesy with courage—qualities which win the admiration not alone of the fair sex, but of mankind as well.
He is the type of man whom one admires for his suavity and kindness as well as respects for his unflinching devotion to duty. It is related of him that a few years ago he had as passengers upon his ship the Mother Superior and several nuns of a Sacred Heart convent in America. One day (so the story runs) he did what no man perhaps ever did before—he kissed the venerable Superior and all her younger nuns, and from that day to this has been a great favorite in the convent of those good women.
Whenever the ship's concert is held—a fixed event upon every trip—Captain Hains endears himself to his passengers by entering heart and soul into the entertainment, and may always be depended upon to sing, "I'm afloat, I'm afloat, and the Rover is Free." These merry little eccentricities of Captain Hains are only mentioned because they well illustrate the happy-hearted humor of the man, who, besides having the skill of the best sailor afloat and the courage of a warrior, has a heart gentle and jovial as a child's.
Captain Hamilton Perry
HAMILTON PERRY—(WHITE STAR: " BRITANNIC").
From a photograph by Mora, New York.
The sea-captains, for the most part, are either one thing or the other—either of the jolly, genial type, or of the silent, retiring (I had almost said unsociable) sort. Occasionally one happens to be a little of both and not a great deal of either pattern of man. Such a one is Captain Hamilton Perry, who commands the White Star steamer Britannic.
He looks like a mariner, and ought to, for he comes of a race of sailors. There have been and are several sea-wanderers among the family. The elder brother of the gallant commander of the Britannic is a captain in her Majesty's Royal Navy, and perhaps the brave Perry who will always be remembered as one of America's greatest marine chieftains came from the same family of Neptunes.
He is Commodore of the White Star fleet, though he looks by no means the oldest. He is about fifty years of age, the greater part of which was passed upon the bounding deep. He chose the sea as the sphere of his life, and was reared accordingly. He was educated at the Royal Naval College at Greenwich, England, and almost before his boyhood days were over began the practical part of existence for which, it might almost be said, he was born and bred.
Captain Perry impresses different people differently. "It depends upon how you take him," some one once said. Yes, to a certain extent, it does. If you approach him upon the deck of his ship with one of the silly questions with which, unfortunately, too many ocean travelers are prone to harass the commanders, you will leave him presently with the notion that Captain Perry is not an agreeable man.
Don't insist upon his conversing with you when there are duties calling him elsewhere, but wait until he strolls leisurely about the deck, or lolls, when the sea is calm, over the rail beneath the bridge. Then speak to him as you would to any gentleman, and you will find the Britannic's commander a pleasant man.
He is, indeed, an agreeable man, and one who talks intelligently upon any subject, but "gushes" upon none. He has been in the service 'of the White Star Line for about fifteen years, but back as far as 1853 he began his transatlantic voyages, and has been crossing back and forth ever since. Of course he has witnessed many strange sights and figured in not a few thrilling scenes during this long period, but even he has forgotten many of them, for it must needs be something startling and wonderful seen on the sea to impress itself upon the old mariner's mind.
Souvenirs of the time, such as testimonials, medals, etc., alone recall such incidents. The British government presented him with a handsome pair of binoculars, and the Shipwrecking. Humane Society of Great Britain gave him a medal for rescuing the shipwrecked crew of a vessel called the Allen in 1872. He found her in the dead of night, waterlogged and with a shattered rudder, in mid-ocean. The medal was "clasped" by the society for a similar act in April, 1876, when the crew of the Norwegian bark Augusta were saved by him.
Captain C. W. Kennedy
Captain C. W. Kennedy commands a sister ship, the. Germanic. None of the White Star captains look alike, and in some respects are as different as the sea and shore ; but they are for the most part of the practical, serious mould, who rarely unbend to the average passenger's liking. They are all highly esteemed, however, as great sailors, and nearly every one has performed some gallant action and received a public reward. Like the Commodore, Captain Kennedy is best liked by those who know him best. Those who chanced to be passengers or crew on the Newcastle steamer Hurworth, when she started from Montreal for Rotterdam not many years ago, may perhaps remember Captain Kennedy and the Germanic with gratitude. The Hurworth on her fatal trip had made an ordinarily good run for the first half of the journey. Then her age began to tell upon her, and, like an old charger, she tried to face the foe, but weakened herself with every struggle.
The wind rent her canvas into ribbons, and cracked the big masts as if they were spider legs ; the fierce waves rushed across her decks, splintering the life-boats, and crushing her cabin roof as if it were paper. The ancient hull creaked almost like a human wail. She tossed in the angry sea through one long day, and the hearts of every one aboard were despairing as the night came on. She could hold out only a little while longer, and every soul aboard knew it. The night was fiercer with the doomed craft than the day, and the winds, increased in violence, kept extinguishing the beacon lights that efforts were made to burn. Presently the red and green lamps of a vessel were seen coming nearer through the thick darkness. More beacons were ignited, and after what seemed a terrible century of anguish and suspense to every one on. the Newcastle steamer, a rocket was seen to shoot up into the air from the approaching vessel. Help was coming, all knew, but all feared it would come too late, for every instant the poor old craft shook with a tremor that seemed like a dying gasp. The stranger came on with fearful speed, and then a blue rocket went skyward. " We will stand by you," that signal meant.
The rescuer was the Germanic. She ran as close to the disabled vessel as mariners ever find it safe to do in wrecks. So terrible was the sea that it was deemed foolhardy to attempt to get a life-boat afloat in the darkness. The same cheerful signal was again displayed, and then it was recognized by all that there was nothing to do but to wait for daylight. At last it came.
The Germanic's decks were crowded with passengers, who had lost every desire for sleep in their anxiety for the fate of those so near and yet so far. Flying from the cracked mast-head of the wreck were signal flags which to the sailor's eye read thus: "No boats serviceable ; in great distress; send assistance." Long before the sun was up that morning a life-boat was manned by a volunteer crew of the White Star steamer.
Captain Bence, now of the Baltic, was the chief officer of the Gerrnanic, and commanded the relief party. Ten persons were brought back on the first trip. Again the little boat bounded toward the breaking ship, and another load was saved. A third time she made the dangerous journey. All that remained were rescued, but not before the little life-boat had her stem splintered by being dashed by the heavy sea with great force against the sinking hull. Captain Kennedy and Mr. Bence were both highly commended for that gallant rescue, and can show today medals which commemorate the incident.
Both officers had a similar previous experience in the same relative positions in 1872, when they (it is fair to say "they," for one deserved and received as much credit as the other) rescued the crew of the ship Assyrian in mid-ocean. The sea was, if possible, even rougher than on the winter night when the Hurworth tossed in its trough. It was so rough, indeed, that even the old seamen who manned the life-boat were frightened, and mutinied against making another trip to the wreck; after they had brought one boat's load to safety. Then it was that the brave first officer showed the stuff of which he was made. He calmly turned in his seat, and pulling the tiller from its groove, raised it above his head, and in a quiet voice threatened to brain the first man who refused to join in the rescue. That deed was one that many men lived to praise, for all that had been left to rescue or to perish on the Assyrian were brought off and safely disposed on the Gerrnanic.
Captain Benjamin Gleadell
BENJAMIN GLEADELL—(WHITE STAR: " CELTIC").
From a photograph by A. Vandyke, Liverpool.
Captain Benjamin Gleadell is another illustration of the silent type. He commands the Celtic, and as its chief officer has distinguished himself for thorough seamanship and bravery, as he has frequently done during the many years he has been in the service of the White Star Line.
He notes the flight of time by a handsome watch presented to him by the President of the United States for saving an American vessel and the lives of all her crew. In his room you may see—but you will have to ask, for he is not the man to display such things—medals presented to him by individuals and associations for similar deeds of humanity, and testimonials prepared and signed by passengers to testify their admiration for the gallant officer.
He is, nevertheless, not the man to whom the average passenger takes a fancy. He is strangely reserved,and rarely in a trip ventures upon more than an occasional "Good-morning" as he passes an early riser on the deck. " I won't say he's a darned disagreeable cuss, but he's too dignified to suit me," a traveler from a Western State once said of Captain Gleadell. He is a man of about fifty-four now, and an Englishman by birth. When he dons his uniform and goes up on the bridge he looks every inch a sailor, and a fine specimen of physical manhood.
Captain Peter J. Irving
PETER J. IRVING-(WHITE STAR: " REPUBLIC").
From a photograph by A. Vandyke, Liverpool.
Captain Peter J. Irving, of the Republic, is still another of the White Star's galaxy of quiet men, and yet he is the sort of officer that always favorably impresses those who meet him. He is scarcely more than forty years of age, but in that time has climbed the ladder, or perhaps it would be more applicable to say has mounted to the topmast of position step by step upon the riggings of merit.
He is what is described among seamen as a " Conway boy" ; that is, he acquired his rudimentary knowledge of navigation on the old training ship whose name gives a special distinction to her alumni. He, like nearly all his fellow-captains of the line, has figured in not a few gallant rescues at sea.
Captain Parsell
Captain Parsell, of the Adriatic. is unlike all the other commanders of Messrs. Ismay and Imrie's fleet. He has a distinct personality about him which makes one glad to know him and likely to remember him. His age is not so easy to guess as most men's, because when he smiles — as he frequently does — his face is as frank and merry as that of a schoolboy ; but when he falls into a reverie and talks of his wanderings on icy seas so many years ago, you can't help thinking that this young - looking man must really be almost a patriarch.
Nothing will better indicate the man than by saying he enjoys the esteem of everybody who has ever met him, and possesses the entire confidence of the company. So strong, indeed, is he in the confidence and good graces of the line that he has always been the pioneer officer in any new development of the White Star service. There is not a sea on the planet he has not navigated. He has sailed upon the Arctic as well as upon the Antarctic, and all the big streams that flow between the two. He is an intelligent man, and of so genial a type that he never gets out of patience with a passenger even if he is stormed with an arsenal of such landsmen's questions as would drive many a mariner to distraction.
Captain Frederick Watkins
FREDERICK WATKINS—(INMAN :"CITY OF CHICAGO").
From a photograph by Mora, New York.
The minute you set foot upon the deck of the City of Chicago you will like Captain Frederick Watkins. If you, as some people do, make the very first duty aboard ship to see what sort of a man you have for captain, and try the experiment of exchanging a word with him, you may rest assured you won't go away grumbling at his lack of courtesy when you have spoken to the Commodore of the Inman fleet. Pleasanter men are not to be found either on sea or shore. " He's made of the right sort of stuff for a mariner," one of his seamen once said to me.
All his sailors like him, and it is much the same quality of polite consideration which has made him one of the most popular of all the transatlantic captains. In his uniform he looks every inch the sailor.
When he has doffed the "gilded blue" for street apparel he would never be taken for one whose days and nights, year in and year out, are passed upon the bounding billow. Some one has called the commander of the Chicago the "gentleman captain." There is no man who sails the Atlantic who has received more testimonials from his passengers than Captain Watkins has elicited by his unchanging good temper and constant urbanity.
Captain Francis S. Land
FRANCIS S. LAND—(INMAN: "CITY OF BERLIN"). Front a photograph by Messrs. Brown, Barnes, and Bell, Liverpool.
If you are a believer in physiognomy, look at Captain Francis S. Land's portrait, and you will know him to be, as he is, a. man of the kindest instincts, and yet of the strongest force of character. Possibly better than any officer who can be named in this sketch he illustrates the popular idea of the sea-captain.
He is a big man, of the hearty, robust type ; he looks a giant in his uniform. You say, as you gaze upon him, "Here's a man such as one looks for upon the sea ; he is approachable by a child, but he secures and retains the respect of every one." He has hosts of friends, whom he has won by his geniality and retains by his high character. It is related that some such conversation as this once occurred, of which Captain Land was the subject:
" He's a splendid, warm-hearted fellow."
" Warm-hearted, did you say ? Why, he's the coolest man I ever knew. You ought to see him sometimes."
He is both. That he is warm-hearted, the average uneventful trip will show. That he is "cool," only becomes manifest upon certain occasions. A recent incident well demonstrates the fact. A few months ago Captain Land's vessel, the City of Berlin, collided with an iceberg. It was in the night-time, and no blame attaches to any one for the accident. The berg was almost as hard as the iron ship, and much larger.
Both opposing bodies were sadly damaged, and at one time affairs looked serious for the passengers aboard the steamer, but the gallant mariner with the anomalous name carried his boat through dangerous seas to the port of New York. A handsome watch and chain are his souvenirs of those trying days. They were presented to Captain Land, in the language of the gentleman who spoke in behalf of his fellow-passengers, " for being cooler than the iceberg."
Captain Henry Condron
The Inman officers are all comparatively young men. Captain Condron, of the City of Chester, is about forty-two or forty-three years of age, and Captains Lewis, of the City of Richrnond, and Redford, of the City of Montreal, are perhaps still younger. They form a trio of agreeable men and thorough sailors, and it is said of them all that they have "lowered their boats" many a time.
 |
 |
HENRY CONDRON—(INMAN: "CITY OF CHESTER"). |
JAMES PRICE--(GUION: PORT ADMIRAL). |
Captain James Price
Some people say of the Guion Line that it is particularly fortunate in having such a staff of universally popular commanders. Captain James Price is distinctively an Atlantic veteran. He has crossed 'twixt shore and shore times without number. He has commanded all the crack "greyhounds" of the company, and has perhaps ferried ten thousand people over the wide stream.
When it is considered that this jolly, amiable Welshman, with a kind word for everybody, has left his like-ness in many minds, and perhaps a more lasting impression upon almost as many hearts, it is natural to presume that in two continents Captain Price, as good a sailor as he is a pleasant man, will not soon be forgotten. He is now the line's Port Admiral at Liverpool.
Captain George Siddons Murray
Captain George Siddons Murray commands the Alaska. He is a Scotchman by birth, and as big, robust a son of Caledonia as ever came out of the Highlands or Lowlands. He is about five-and-forty years of age, of handsome appearance, and fine bearing. He is popular with passengers, although never effusive in his manner.
 |
 |
GEORGE S. MURRAY-(GUION "ALASKA"). |
SAMUEL BROOKS—(GUION " ARIZONA"). |
Captain Samuel Brooks
Captain Samuel Brooks, of the Arizona, is another example of the colossal captain. He is a man of powerful frame, but scarcely so tall as Captain Murray. He is about. five years the senior of the Alaska's commander, and wears a full gray beard most becomingly. He is a man of distinguished appearance, who blends suavity with a dignity that never repels, but prevents intrusive familiarity.
He is a favorite with every passenger. Madame Patti almost invariably crosses the Atlantic on Captain Brooks's steamer. Mrs. Langtry, Henry Irving, and a host of other people known as well on one side of the sea as the other, speak in terms of admiration of this popular officer. He has been twenty-eight years in the Atlantic service.
His record shows that he has crossed the ocean 540 times, without the loss of a single life on his vessel. In this time he has added extra laurels to his wreath by rescuing many persons.
Captain R. D. Munro
R. D. MUNRO-(ANCHOR "CITY OF ROME").
From a photograph by Joseph Hall, Brooklyn.
Captain R. D. Munro is Commodore of the Anchor Line fleet, and commander of that great ship the City of Rome, which has grown to be known as the Leviathan of the Atlantic. His is the only vessel of the line which sails between Liverpool and New York. Glasgow is the home port of all the other Anchors.
Munro is a veteran. He is sixty or thereabouts, although he doesn't look it, which is all the more surprising when one thinks that for nearly a half - century the Atlantic has been hurling her biting winds and salty spray in the old tar's face. Like all the Anchor's commanders, he is a Scotchman.
He can say a funny thing in a funny way, but is not so fond of getting convivial spirits about him and reeling off yarns by the yard as some of his countrymen. His line inclines rather to the ladies, to whom he devotes himself when off watch. He has crossed the sea about five hundred times.
Captain John J. Small
Captain John J. Small, of the Anchoria, doesn't look like Captain Munro, but the same general description will fit both. He is of nearly the same age, of the same short, thickset figure, and has a weather-beaten complexion and grayish beard like Munro. Unlike the Commodore, however, he is rather indifferent to the society of lady passengers. A few pleasant fellows around the whist table in his cabin comes nearer his notion of comfort.
Captain John Hedderwick
Captain John Hedderwick, of the Furnessia, is different from both in appearance, and a sort of link between the two in his tastes. His strong right arm has escorted many a lady across slippery and rocking decks, and many of them will always remember the captain as a pleasant man. "Black Jock" is the familiar title he is known by.
He is dark as a Spaniard in skin, eyes, and hair, and of a good height. He is a cool, courageous man. One foggy day, some years ago, another steamer collided with his vessel. There was an immediate panic. Even the sailors were frightened, and jumped into the life-boats. Hedderwick grabbed an axe and a pistol, and brought his crew to a sense of their duties. A man of nerve is needed at such times, and Black Jock" was such a one.
The National Line is justly proud of her captains. She has a big fleet of stanch ships, to each of which the name of one of the great nations of the earth is given. The line is a British corporation, and hence no selfish partiality is responsible for the fact that the largest, newest, and best of the baker's dozen of splendid vessels is called the Arnerica. It may have been a mere coincidence in its christening, but it is a compliment none the less to what the patriotic American would call the largest, newest, and best of the nations.
Captain R. W. Grace
The command of this fine steamer has been given to Captain R. W. Grace, who ranks as the Commodore of the line. He has been temporarily deprived of the guardianship of this youngest sea child of the National by her British Majesty's government, who have enrolled the Arnerica into the military transport service. It is expected that she will soon resume her usual sphere of existence as one of the monarchs of the Atlantic.
Captain Grace is as proud of his ship as the line is of him. Unlike his vessel, he is neither the largest nor the newest of his colleague captains, but there are many people who persist that he is the best. In point of length of service and varied experience on the sea, he is unquestionably the patriarch. He is in his fifty-seventh year, and looks every inch a gallant mariner. He has been a National captain for twenty years. If he wore on his breast all the medals he has won for fearless deeds and humane actions, his coat would look like a jeweler's shop case.
A hale, jovial, and genial man, always courteous and considerate, one is never at a loss to understand, when speaking to him, why Commodore Grace is so popular with ocean travelers.
Captain James Sumner
JAMES SUMNER—(NATIONAL " EGYPT").
From a photograph by Messrs. Brown, Barnes, and Bell, Liverpool.
Next to him in order of seniority is Captain James Sumner, of the Egypt. There is nearly 1000 tons difference in the size of the Arnerica and the Egypt. The same relative difference of weight prevails in the case of the two commanders.
Sumner is short of stature, though not slight of build. He is twelve years the junior of Grace, and runs the latter a bard race for general popularity. He has been in the employ of the company ever since it was established, and has made a name for himself as a thorough sailor and a pleasant man which seems to grow and expand with each succeeding year. A passenger would never die of ennui while Captain Sumner is near at hand.
The other vessels of the National fleet are officered by good men, not, however, generally known, for their ships do not usually carry saloon passengers; but when any one of them, like Captain Heely, the big,energetic commander of the England, happens to rescue a shipwrecked crew, as he did not long ago, the newspapers make the public acquainted with their sterling traits.
Captain Redford W. Sargent
REDFORD SARGENT-( AMERICAN: "INDIANA").
From a photograph by A. Vandyke, Liverpool.
Captain Redford W. Sargent commands the American Line steam-ship Indiana, which runs between Liverpool and Philadelphia. The Indiana is only a freight-carrier now, but a few years ago she and her three sister ships, the Pennsylvania, Illinois, and Ohio, were the only vessels in the ocean ferrying trade which sailed under the American flag.
There are not a few people on both sides of the sea who sincerely regret the change, for it prevents their having the pleasure of sailing with Captain Sargent—one of the pleasantest men who ever helped to make the long, tedious journey seem all too short.
He is only a young man now, but he carries a sailor's head on his thickset shoulders, and knows every wave of the sea as well as he knows every rope of his ship. He is perhaps not as spontaneously genial as either Captain McMickan or Captain Hains, but he impresses one first as a courteous gentleman, and the more one sees of him the better one grows to like him.
He is a New -Englander, and although quite a young man at the time, rendered distinguished service to his country during the late war. He served in the Union fleet which advanced up the James River to Richmond, and was subsequently an officer on different vessels of the blockading fleet engaged along the coast of the Southern States. He has several times been instrumental in saving life at sea.
The Canadian government conferred a certificate of honor upon him for saving the crew of the schooner Wild Rose, and the United States government presented him with a valuable telescope for rescuing the shipwrecked crew of the Forest State. Since he has been in the service of the American Line he has been rewarded for similar feats, and received a medal from the Royal Humane Society of Great Britain for rescuing the crew of the bark Avon in 1874.
Captain Sargent is the Commodore of the "Quartette"—embracing four distinct branches under the same general management—the other three captains having more recently succeeded to their posts, either through the retirement or death of predecessors. Captain Shackford formerly commanded the Illinois, but retired from the transatlantic service to accept the command of Mr. Jay Gould's yacht. Shackford was universally popular, and is remembered by many ocean voyagers as being for many years first officer on a Cunarder before he joined the Illinois. He was voted by the ladies the handsomest of Neptune's Atlantic sons.
Since the American Line was established two deaths have occurred among her commanders. The first captain of the Pennsylvania was lost overboard during a gale at sea on, if not the first, at least one of the earliest trips made by that ship. Another captain died of illness when a few days out from Philadelphia. The two officers named above, as indeed have been nearly all the captains of the " Key-stoners," are Americans.
Captain Patrick Urquhart
PATRICK URQUHART—(AMERICAN "LORD CLIVE"). From a photograph by Messrs. Brown, Barnes, and Bell, Liverpool.
The English ships, however, which are chartered by the same company are officered by citizens of Great Britain. Captain Patrick Urquhart, of the Lord Clive, and Captain E. H. Freeth, of the British Princess, are subjects of the Queen. The company considers them both capable officers, and the traveling public goes a little further, and looks upon them as attractive men.
Captain Urquhart is a few years the senior of Captain Sargent. He has served his company as a commander for eleven years, but his life on other seas runs far beyond his term upon the Atlantic. He was for many years in Papayam's Greek service.
He is different from Captain Freeth in being a sailor of the quiet, retiring, and almost shy stamp. The man who guides the British Princess through trackless seas is a second edition of Captain Shackford. He is only three-and-thirty, and if ever another Andromeda is chained to an ocean rock,this handsome young Conway sailor is the man to enact Perseus. Like the late commander of the Illinois, lie is a favorite with every one, and promises in a few years to be one of the best-known men who sail the Atlantic.
Captain William G. Randle
W. G. RANDLE-(RED STAR: " WESTERNLAND").
From a photograph by Gutekunst, Philadelphia.
Captain William G. Randle, of the Red Star branch of the American Line, commands the Westernland. The home port of his vessel, unlike that of his three brethren, Sargent, Urquhart, and Freeth, is New York. No, on second thought, this is not exactly the fact.
The home port of the Red Star ships is Antwerp, since the line is distinctly more Belgian than American in its personnel. One hardly knows just how to describe it, but it may not be improper to speak of the Red Star as one of the branches of the American Line. In all its features and peculiarities it partakes of two nationalities more than any line which traverses the Atlantic.
Some of its officers are Belgians,while others are citizens of the United States. The Commodore of the fleet, Captain W. G. Randle, is a Pennsylvanian by birth. He was born and still has his home in that thriving little ship-building town on the Delaware River, Chester. I have met lots of old ocean travelers who declare that Randle is "the pleasantest captain who crosses the sea."
The captains of the North German Lloyd Line are well known now in three of the greatest nations of the earth, and the growing prosperity of this company will soon expand still more their modest fame. Their vessels touch three ports, German, English, and American, on each oceanic journey. From Bremen they carry to the Western world hundreds of German travelers, whose number is reinforced at Southampton by many British subjects who dread the long rail ride from London to Liverpool. It may not be proper here to say that the Bremen steamers are of themselves especially attractive to the average transatlantic traveler, but this fact may with propriety and truth be emphasized—that the North German Lloyd captains for seamanship and social qualities are the peers of any men who sail the sea.
E. H. FREETH—(AMERICAN " BRITISH PRINCESS"). From a photograph by Messrs. Brown, Barnes, and Bell, Liverpool.
Look at the portraits of the four German captains on the next page. You will find that they look like sailors, and you needn't be told that they know how to manage their ships in the heaviest gale. Each of the four has likewise his host of friends, won by his sterling worth and genial ways.
Captain Christoph Leist
Captain Christoph Leist is the youngest of the quartette, being now in the forty-third year of his age. He is a practical sailor in more ways than one. Added to his skill as a navigator—for he has been a captain in the company's service for seventeen years—lie has a complete knowledge of the art of ship- building.
He superintended the construction of the five latest additions to the fleet at the shipyard in Scotland, and is well known in Glasgow. He now holds the honorable post of Superintendent-Captain. Unlike him, the three other captains still have command of vessels.
 |
 |
CHRISTOPH LEIST---(NORTH GERMAN LLOYD: SUPERINTENDENT-CAPTAIN). From a photograph by Emil Tiedemann, Bremen. |
RICHARD BUSSIUS-(NORTH GERMAN LLOYD: " WERRA"). From a photograph by Emil Tiedemann, Bremen. |
Captain Richard Bussius
Captain Richard Bussius is commander of the Werra. Like Captain Barre, he is two years older than the Superintendent-Captain. He was born in Brunswick. He has a good voice, is fond of music, brimful of anecdotes, and is universally popular. In November last he was entertained at a banquet on the steamer Elbe by the directors of the line, in honor of his having concluded his one-hundredth round voyage across the Atlantic. On that occasion he received from the German Emperor the knighthood of the Prussian Crown Order of the Fourth Class. He is highly esteemed as a sailor, and as a man he is cordially liked, for he takes pains to see that all who cross with him are comfortable and happy.
Captain Wilhelm Willigerod
Captain Wilhelm Willigerod, who formerly commanded the Erns, and will control one of the three new steamers which Messrs. John Elder and Co. are constructing, is the oldest of this group of captains, although only forty-seven himself. And he doesn't even look that old. He is a man of a hardy, robust physique.
 |
 |
WILHELM WILLIGEROD—(NORTH GERMAN LLOYD). From a photograph by Emil Tiedemann, Bremen. |
JULIUS BARRE—(NORTH GERMAN LLOYD). From a photograph by Emil Tiedemann, Bremen. |
Captain Julius Barre
Captain Julius Barre hails from Westphalia. He commanded the Werra until recently, but will soon assume charge of one of the company's new steamers now building. Captain Barre is a living proof that the strictest disciplinarian may be a jolly, genial companion.
So much for the Germans. Now what about the French captains ? Here is the condensed essence of an old ocean traveler's opinions, as he expressed them recently to me:
"You know that I am not the sort of a man to be deceived by the superficial appearance of any one, and that surface politeness is a thing I abhor. Moreover, I have crossed this sea as many times as most of the veterans who live upon it, and therefore I think my opinion upon a line is entitled to some respect. Well, this I can say for the Compagnie Générale Transatlantique : their ships— Oh! you don't want to hear about the ships ; it's only about the captains that you want me to talk. Very well. I have crossed with them all, and know them pretty intimately.
Individually they are all entirely different. Collectively they are as courteous a set of men as I have ever known. They are as kind-hearted and gentle as schoolgirls, and, despite what you may hear occasionally, they are as good seamen and as brave and cool in danger as you will find anywhere. They assure your safety by their constant watchfulness, and your comfort and contentment by their polite attention. What more could I say of any man or men ?"
I have found by personal investigation that this statement is true as gospel. In the first place, they have been proven to be skilled navigators. Four out of the six are officers of the French navy, and all but one are Chevaliers of the Legion of Honor.
Captain Alphonse P.M. Perier d'Hauterive
ALPHONSE P. M. PERIER D'HAUTERIVE—(COMPAGNIE
GENERALE TRANSATLANTIQUE : " LABRADOR").
From a photograph by A. Carrie, Havre.
The single exception, it is thought, will soon be awarded this distinction, for, besides being highly esteemed as a mariner, he (Perier d'Hauterive) bears a name honored in the naval history of France. I have heard numerous incidents from passengers which show that the exuberant, emotional nature of the Frenchman can be as phlegmatic and passionless in times of danger at sea as the coldest Scottish tar.
Captain Alphonse P. M. Perier d'Hauterive, of the Labrador, is not an ordinary-looking man. He is rather tall for a Frenchman, and wears a full beard. He is of slight frame, but it is his eyes which make him rather conspicuous.
One is of Italian darkness, and the other of the light hue peculiar to the Saxon. As if jealous of each other, each eye renders its owner all the service possible. The consequence is that the Labrador's commander is a marvel as to his wonderful sight. And if the eyes be the windows of the soul, it is fair to presume that in his nature Perier d'Hauterive blends the characteristics of the people of sunny skies with those of the land of fog, for he is both genial and cool, as occasions demand. He is the nephew of the late distinguished French admiral who bore the same name.
Captain E. Frangeul
E. FRANGEUL-(COMPAGNIE GENERALE TRANS-
ATLANTIQUE : "LA NORMANDIE").
From a photograph by Fredericks, New York.
And they are highly esteemed. This is especially true of Captain E. Frangeul, commander of La Normandie and Commodore of the fleet. Everybody likes him. He is a man under the average height, and of slight frame, and just in the prime of life, for he is approaching his fiftieth year. When the sun is dancing on the water, the waves are smooth, and the breeze is rushing, trap-like, into the sails,
Frangeul is the lightest - hearted, merriest man aboard, and his voice may be heard singing, laughing, or spinning a yarn. Even the sea-sick passengers try to be near him to catch the contagion of his merriment. When sun, waves, and wind are different--well, Frangeul is different too, and from the pleasant companion is changed to the severe sailor. As a mariner, his record is an enviable one.
One instance may serve to show him as a navigator. A few years ago the Amérique broke a shaft when nearly in mid - ocean. A passing vessel brought the news to Havre. The latitude and longitude of the disabled ship were given him, and Fran geul,with the Ville de Brest, a much smaller steamer, went out to search for her. Of course he had to calculate how the shaft less ship might drift. He calculated well, for more than a week later, in the dead of night, the vessels met, "nose to nose," as the sailors say. Of course this showed Frangeul's mettle, and it is only one of many similar feats that help to make his record.
Captain S. Santelli
Captain S. Santelli is next in order. His ship is the Arnérique. Though holding a commission in the French navy, he has served as a merchantman in the company's service for years. He is a handsome little man, an excellent sailor, and very popular with passengers.
 |
 |
S. SANTELLI—(COMPAGNIE GENERALE TRANSATLANTIQUE :" AMERIQUE"). |
G. A. M. S. DE KERSABIEC-(COMPAGNIE GENERALE |
Captain Edouard G. Traub and Captain De Jousselin
EDOUARD G. TRAUB—(COMPAGNIE GENERALE
TRANSITLANTIQUE : " ST. GERMAIN").
From a photograph by Louis Martin, Nantes.
Captain Edouard G. Traub, of the St. Germain, Captain De Jousselin, of the St. Laurent, and Captain G. A. M. S. De Kersabiec, of the Canada, are the three remaining commanders of the French fleet. They are all comparatively young men. Traub is looked upon as a wonderful mathematician. Unlike the others, he does not care to mingle much with the passengers. De Jousselin is a Vendean and a marquis. He is a fine-looking man, with excellent address. De Kersabiec, as his name indicates, is a native of vine-clad Brittany. Like the wine of his country, he is sparkling, bright, and effervescent.
Besides the lines named above there are several others running between European and United States ports. Among their respective staffs of commanders may be found several who in recent years have proved themselves made of the metal of which Fate moulds heroes. It is impossible, however, in the limited space of a magazine sketch to speak separately of all the Atlantic's great sons, brave men and true, whose sunshiny days and blackest nights will come and go like so many waves of the ocean, whose billows to come will rush after those that have passed, and from whose life wind and wave will never vanish until the old tar has finished his last round voyage, and anchored his ancient craft in a tempestless port.
Source: Article "The Transatlantic Captains" by Charles Algernon Dougherty. 1886, Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Vol. LXXIII.—No. 435.-26. Pages 375-391
