The Memoirs of Admiral Lord Beresford
and a trot. As a midshipman, I used them myself; when I became a
senior officer, I lent them to the midshipmen.
Upon visiting the island of Juan Fernandez, while I was a midshipman in
the _Clio_, we found three men living in the home of Robinson Crusoe.
They subsisted chiefly upon crayfish. We used to fish for these
Crustacea, using for bait a piece of a Marine's scarlet tunic. The
fish used to take the crayfish while we were hauling them up. In a few
hours we caught enough to feed the whole ship's company.
Off the Horn, and in the South Pacific, I have killed many albatross in
calm weather, or when the ship was proceeding very slowly under sail.
I made a hook out of several hooks like a paternoster. If the bird
touched the bait, he was always caught. The upper mandible of the
albatross has a curve like the beak of a parrot, and that curve is all
there is to hold the hook. When the bird is being hauled on board, the
lower mandible catches the water and drives him underneath. When he
comes on board he is {545} full of water, and is immediately very sick.
Both the first and second pinion bones make beautiful pipe stems about
fourteen inches long. I brought many home for my friends. The feet,
dried, cleaned and manufactured into bags, make excellent tobacco
pouches.
Many a shark have I caught in the old days. I have had two sharks on
my hook at once. One had taken the hook, which, barb and all, had
pierced right through his jaw; and another shark went for it and got
the end of the hook into his mouth. They were both on the hook for
some little time, and eventually I killed the first one hooked. I made
a walking-stick out of his backbone.
The biggest shark I ever killed measured 12 feet 2 inches long.
I bought my shark hook from a man in an American whaling; schooner at
the Sandwich Islands. I filed a little notch on the shaft of my hook
whenever I killed a shark. To my great annoyance, someone stole my
hook in after years.
I was once towing a cod-line astern for dolphin, when a shark took the
bait. I took the line round a cleat and played him, or he would have
carried it away; got him close enough to get a bowline over his tail,
and hauled him on board. This method is generally used for getting a
shark on board. Until his tail is cut off with an axe, a shark plays
ballyhooly with all around him. A shark's heart is so muscular, and
expands and contracts so violently after death that it is impossible to
hold it in the hand. Sharks are bad eating, but in those salt-horse
days we relished them.
My record in salmon fishing was made in Norway, when together with Lord
Wolseley, Mr. Bayard, and Mr. Abram Hewett, I was a guest on board the
yacht of my friend, Mr. Fred Wynn. In one night's fly-fishing, I
killed forty-one fish. I gave eight of them to the fishermen who
worked the canoe for me, and brought thirty-three back to the yacht.
Tarpon fishing is the acme of sea-fishing. Whereas a {546} salmon is
killed by a rod and delicate handling, a tarpon is killed by the line
and herculean strength. The rod used is short and thick. The line is
made of cotton, thinner and lighter than a salmon line, but
extraordinarily strong. It is from 300 to 400 yards long, with four
brakes, two on the reel, and two of thick leather placed on the thumbs.
When the tarpon is struck, he invariably jumps into the air from six to
ten feet, and shakes his head to shake the hook out, an effort in which
he often succeeds. He has no teeth, but the upper part of his mouth is
as hard as a cow's hoof, and it takes a tremendous strike to get a hook
into it past the barb. The biggest tarpon I killed was 186 lb. I
think Lord Desborough holds the record with a tarpon of 240 lb., 7 feet
6 inches long, 42 inches girth. Lord Desborough killed 100 tarpon in
ten days.
Some years ago, I was most kindly invited by my old friend, Colonel
Robert M. Thompson, to stay with him in his houseboat _Everglades_ on
the coast of Florida. The houseboat was driven by a motor and drew one
foot of water. When it came on to blow, Colonel Thompson used to run
her up on the beach.
But upon one occasion, we went upon an adventurous voyage, right out
into the Atlantic, making a point from Florida to the north; the wind
freshened; and the houseboat had all the weather she cared for.
Colonel Thompson tells me that while securing loose gear and generally
battening down, I remarked that probably no British admiral had ever
before found himself in a houseboat drawing one foot of water 50 miles
out on the Atlantic in a seaway.
I never had such wonderful sport as I had with Colonel Thompson in the
_Everglades_. We killed tons of fish all with the rod. One night,
with a small tarpon rod I killed seven sergeant fish, average 28 lb.
This fish takes two long runs, and then turns up on his back, dead.
Upon another night I had on an enormous tarpon; the boatman declared it
to be the biggest he had ever seen (it always is when one fails to land
it). I had just got into the shore after over an {547} hour's work at
the tarpon, when it went off again slowly, with the appearance of a
fish, but the methods of a steam roller.
The boatman said:
"Try to check it from going into that current; it is full of sharks."
But the tarpon steadily proceeded. On getting into the current, it
suddenly took a run and jumped into the air. When it was half out of
the water, a shark's head appeared and bit it in two. I hauled only
the head and shoulders home. The shark was so large that we tried to
catch him next day, and hooked either him or another. He was so heavy
that we could make nothing of him. He took us where he liked, but
never left the current. So we bent a line on to the one by which we
held him, took it to the capstan of a yacht lying near by, hove him up
to the side, and shot him with a rifle. He was then triced up by the
tail by a tackle from the mast. He was a hammer-headed shark over 18
feet long.
He disgorged soap, bottles, sardine-tins, Armour meat-tins, a number of
large crab shells, some small turtle shells, pieces of fish, and the
midship section of a large tarpon, which was supposed to have been the
piece bitten out of my failure of the previous night.
{548}
CHAPTER LVI
HOME WATERS: THE LAST COMMAND
Before taking over the command of the Channel Fleet, to which I was
appointed on 4th March, 1907, on my return from the Mediterranean, I
proceeded on leave, family affairs calling me to Mexico.
My younger brother, Lord Delaval, had been killed in a railway accident
in the United States, on 26th December of the preceding year (1906),
while I was in the Mediterranean. He left a large property in Mexico,
whither I went to settle his affairs as his executor.
Lord Delaval had gone to Mexico as a young man, intending to make his
fortune, and so to fulfil the terms imposed by the parents of the lady
to whom he was attached, as the condition upon which they would grant
their sanction to his marriage with their daughter. At the time of his
death, having bought out his partner, he possessed two magnificent
ranches in Mexico: Ojitos Ranch, 120,000 acres, and Upper Chug Ranch,
76,000 acres; and a third ranch at Medicine Hat, Alberta, Canada. I
stayed for some time at Ojitos Ranch; where I found that my brother was
known as a dare-devil rider and an excellent rancher; managing his
ranches himself, and taking his part in rounding up his stock and
branding his cattle.
Upon Ojitos there were about 6000 head of cattle and 1500 head of
horses, donkeys and mules. Ojitos means "little springs"; the house
stood beside the springs; and brother, who was something of an
engineer, had constructed three large reservoirs and nine miles of
irrigation {549} canals, intersecting the whole estate. These little
canals, fed by the reservoirs, were two feet broad and three inches
deep, so that they could be kept clear with the plough. As the water
was perpetually running along them, the stock could drink anywhere, an
invaluable advantage in the calving season. Upon some ranches, where
the water is scarce, cows and calves often perish for lack of ready
access to it. The vast grassy plain is surrounded by mountains, and
the estate itself is enclosed in a ring fence of barbed wire, 110 miles
in circumference. My brother's staff consisted of five Mexican cowboys
and three negroes. He left the two Mexican ranches to my brother
Marcus and myself.
I got rid of all off-colour stock; put on a lot of new Durham bulls;
poisoned the prairie dogs which ate the grass, leaving the ground bare
as a high road; effected various other improvements, and organised the
whole upon a business plan, down to the last detail. The drought of
1909 killed off many of the stock, for although the water supply was
maintained, the grass perished. Nevertheless, the Ojitos Ranch paid
its way, and in 1912 it was sold for a good price. The other ranch,
Upper Chug, is still unsold at the time of writing (1913), owing to the
breaking out of the rebellion, the supersession of President Diaz, and
the consequent unsettled state of the country.
It was not remarkable for peace during my sojourn at Ojitos. El Paso,
the frontier town, was full of what are called "the Bad Men of the
United States," who were wanted by the police; and who, if they were in
danger of capture, slipped over the border. The revolver is commonly
used in disputes, particularly at Casas Grandes, a Mexican town about
120 miles from El Paso. During my brief visit to that place, three men
were shot: one in a gambling hell, one in a Chinese restaurant, and one
in a lodging-house; their assailants escaping with impunity.
Riding on the ranch, I saw a man about two miles away galloping for
dear life. The cowboy who was with me explained that the rider "had
holed a man somewhere and {550} was off up country." The fugitive
headed away from us, and coming to the wire fence, he nipped the wire,
and so rode away to the hills.
The retainers of Ojitos Ranch, with whom I sat down to dinner every
day, were each armed with a revolver, sometimes two revolvers, and a
knife. I was the only unarmed man present.
I had already made the acquaintance of President Diaz some time
previously, when I had been tarpon-fishing at Tampico. On that
occasion I was accompanied by my friend, Mr. Benjamin Guinness, who had
been sub-lieutenant in the _Undaunted_ when I commanded that ship. His
brother had been midshipman in the _Undaunted_ at the same time. The
two brothers left the Service to engage in business, and both have been
highly successful.
Upon my departure from Ojitos, I went to see President Diaz. He was
most kind and helpful; both he and other prominent Mexicans informed me
that they desired to increase the number of British properties in
Mexico; and the President expressed the hope that I would retain
possession of the ranches. At the same time, he gave me all the
assistance in his power with regard to the settlement of the affairs of
the estates; nor could they have been settled satisfactorily without
his help.
President Diaz impressed me as a quiet, strong and determined ruler,
who knew exactly how to govern Mexico, and did it. Under his rule,
revolutions were summarily checked, and Mexico flourished as never
before.
Upon my return to England, I took over the command of the Channel
Fleet, hoisting my flag in the _King Edward VII_, at Portland, on 16th
April, 1907. The second in command was Vice-Admiral Sir Reginald
Custance (now Admiral Sir R. N. Custance, G.C.B., K.C.M.G., C.V.O.), a
most distinguished strategist and tactician, one of the most learned
officers in his profession. I have never been able to understand why