A clean bill of health at Mauritius--Sailing the voyage over again in
the opera-house--A newly discovered plant named in honor of the
_Spray's_ skipper--A party of young ladies out for a sail--A bivouac
on deck--A warm reception at Durban--A friendly cross-examination by
Henry M. Stanley--Three wise Boers seek proof of the flatness of the
earth--Leaving South Africa.
[Illustration: The _Spray_ at Mauritius.]
On the 16th of September, after eight restful days at Rodriguez, the
mid-ocean land of plenty, I set sail, and on the 19th arrived at
Mauritius, anchoring at quarantine about noon. The sloop was towed in
later on the same day by the doctor's launch, after he was satisfied
that I had mustered all the crew for inspection. Of this he seemed in
doubt until he examined the papers, which called for a crew of one all
told from port to port, throughout the voyage. Then finding that I had
been well enough to come thus far alone, he gave me pratique without
further ado. There was still another official visit for the _Spray_ to
pass farther in the harbor. The governor of Rodriguez, who had most
kindly given me, besides a regular mail, private letters of
introduction to friends, told me I should meet, first of all, Mr.
Jenkins of the postal service, a good man. "How do you do, Mr.
Jenkins?" cried I, as his boat swung alongside. "You don't know me,"
he said. "Why not?" I replied. "From where is the sloop?" "From around
the world," I again replied, very solemnly. "And alone?" "Yes; why
not?" "And you know me?" "Three thousand years ago," cried I, "when
you and I had a warmer job than we have now" (even this was hot). "You
were then Jenkinson, but if you have changed your name I don't blame
you for that." Mr. Jenkins, forbearing soul, entered into the spirit
of the jest, which served the _Spray_ a good turn, for on the strength
of this tale it got out that if any one should go on board after dark
the devil would get him at once. And so I could leave the _Spray_
without the fear of her being robbed at night. The cabin, to be sure,
was broken into, but it was done in daylight, and the thieves got no
more than a box of smoked herrings before "Tom" Ledson, one of the
port officials, caught them red-handed, as it were, and sent them to
jail. This was discouraging to pilferers, for they feared Ledson more
than they feared Satan himself. Even Mamode Hajee Ayoob, who was the
day-watchman on board,--till an empty box fell over in the cabin and
frightened him out of his wits,--could not be hired to watch nights,
or even till the sun went down. "Sahib," he cried, "there is no need
of it," and what he said was perfectly true.
At Mauritius, where I drew a long breath, the _Spray_ rested her
wings, it being the season of fine weather. The hardships of the
voyage, if there had been any, were now computed by officers of
experience as nine tenths finished, and yet somehow I could not forget
that the United States was still a long way off.
The kind people of Mauritius, to make me richer and happier, rigged up
the opera-house, which they had named the "_Ship Pantai_."[F] All decks
and no bottom was this ship, but she was as stiff as a church. They gave
me free use of it while I talked over the _Spray's_ adventures. His
Honor the mayor introduced me to his Excellency the governor from the
poop-deck of the _Pantai._ In this way I was also introduced again to
our good consul, General John P. Campbell, who had already introduced me
to his Excellency, I was becoming well acquainted, and was in for it now
to sail the voyage over again. How I got through the story I hardly
know. It was a hot night, and I could have choked the tailor who made
the coat I wore for this occasion. The kind governor saw that I had done
my part trying to rig like a man ashore, and he invited me to Government
House at Reduit, where I found myself among friends.
[F] Guinea-hen
It was winter still off stormy Cape of Good Hope, but the storms might
whistle there. I determined to see it out in milder Mauritius,
visiting Rose Hill, Curipepe, and other places on the island. I spent
a day with the elder Mr. Roberts, father of Governor Roberts of
Rodriguez, and with his friends the Very Reverend Fathers O'Loughlin
and McCarthy. Returning to the _Spray_ by way of the great flower
conservatory near Moka, the proprietor, having only that morning
discovered a new and hardy plant, to my great honor named it "Slocum,"
which he said Latinized it at once, saving him some trouble on the
twist of a word; and the good botanist seemed pleased that I had come.
How different things are in different countries! In Boston,
Massachusetts, at that time, a gentleman, so I was told, paid thirty
thousand dollars to have a flower named after his wife, and it was not
a big flower either, while "Slocum," which came without the asking,
was bigger than a mangel-wurzel!
I was royally entertained at Moka, as well as at Reduit and other
places--once by seven young ladies, to whom I spoke of my inability to
return their hospitality except in my own poor way of taking them on a
sail in the sloop. "The very thing! The very thing!" they all cried.
"Then please name the time," I said, as meek as Moses. "To-morrow!"
they all cried. "And, aunty, we may go, mayn't we, and we'll be real
good for a whole week afterward, aunty! Say yes, aunty dear!" All this
after saying "To-morrow"; for girls in Mauritius are, after all, the
same as our girls in America; and their dear aunt said "Me, too" about
the same as any really good aunt might say in my own country.
I was then in a quandary, it having recurred to me that on the very
"to-morrow" I was to dine with the harbor-master, Captain Wilson.
However, I said to myself, "The _Spray_ will run out quickly into
rough seas; these young ladies will have _mal de mer_ and a good time,
and I'll get in early enough to be at the dinner, after all." But not
a bit of it. We sailed almost out of sight of Mauritius, and they just
stood up and laughed at seas tumbling aboard, while I was at the helm
making the worst weather of it I could, and spinning yarns to the aunt
about sea-serpents and whales. But she, dear lady, when I had finished
with stories of monsters, only hinted at a basket of provisions they
had brought along, enough to last a week, for I had told them about my
wretched steward.
The more the _Spray_ tried to make these young ladies seasick, the
more they all clapped their hands and said, "How lovely it is!" and
"How beautifully she skims over the sea!" and "How beautiful our
island appears from the distance!" and they still cried, "Go on!" We
were fifteen miles or more at sea before they ceased the eager cry,
"Go on!" Then the sloop swung round, I still hoping to be back to Port
Louis in time to keep my appointment. The _Spray_ reached the island
quickly, and flew along the coast fast enough; but I made a mistake in
steering along the coast on the way home, for as we came abreast of
Tombo Bay it enchanted my crew. "Oh, let's anchor here!" they cried.
To this no sailor in the world would have said nay. The sloop came to
anchor, ten minutes later, as they wished, and a young man on the
cliff abreast, waving his hat, cried, "_Vive la Spray!_" My passengers
said, "Aunty, mayn't we have a swim in the surf along the shore?" Just
then the harbor-master's launch hove in sight, coming out to meet us;
but it was too late to get the sloop into Port Louis that night. The
launch was in time, however, to land my fair crew for a swim; but they
were determined not to desert the ship. Meanwhile I prepared a roof
for the night on deck with the sails, and a Bengali man-servant
arranged the evening meal. That night the _Spray_ rode in Tombo Bay
with her precious freight. Next morning bright and early, even before
the stars were gone, I awoke to hear praying on deck.
The port officers' launch reappeared later in the morning, this time
with Captain Wilson himself on board, to try his luck in getting the
_Spray_ into port, for he had heard of our predicament. It was worth
something to hear a friend tell afterward how earnestly the good
harbor-master of Mauritius said, "I'll find the _Spray_ and I'll get
her into port." A merry crew he discovered on her. They could hoist
sails like old tars, and could trim them, too. They could tell all
about the ship's "hoods," and one should have seen them clap a bonnet
on the jib. Like the deepest of deep-water sailors, they could heave
the lead, and--as I hope to see Mauritius again!--any of them could
have put the sloop in stays. No ship ever had a fairer crew.
The voyage was the event of Port Louis; such a thing as young ladies
sailing about the harbor, even, was almost unheard of before.
While at Mauritius the _Spray_ was tendered the use of the military
dock free of charge, and was thoroughly refitted by the port
authorities. My sincere gratitude is also due other friends for
many things needful for the voyage put on board, including bags of
sugar from some of the famous old plantations.
The favorable season now set in, and thus well equipped, on the 26th
of October, the _Spray_ put to sea. As I sailed before a light wind
the island receded slowly, and on the following day I could still see
the Puce Mountain near Moka. The _Spray_ arrived next day off Galets,
Reunion, and a pilot came out and spoke her. I handed him a Mauritius
paper and continued on my voyage; for rollers were running heavily at
the time, and it was not practicable to make a landing. From Reunion I
shaped a course direct for Cape St. Mary, Madagascar.
The sloop was now drawing near the limits of the trade-wind, and the
strong breeze that had carried her with free sheets the many thousands
of miles from Sandy Cape, Australia, fell lighter each day until
October 30, when it was altogether calm, and a motionless sea held her
in a hushed world. I furled the sails at evening, sat down on deck,
and enjoyed the vast stillness of the night.
October 31 a light east-northeast breeze sprang up, and the sloop
passed Cape St. Mary about noon. On the 6th, 7th, 8th, and 9th of
November, in the Mozambique Channel, she experienced a hard gale of
wind from the southwest. Here the _Spray_ suffered as much as she did
anywhere, except off Cape Horn. The thunder and lightning preceding
this gale were very heavy. From this point until the sloop arrived off
the coast of Africa, she encountered a succession of gales of wind,
which drove her about in many directions, but on the 17th of November
she arrived at Port Natal.
This delightful place is the commercial center of the "Garden Colony,"
Durban itself, the city, being the continuation of a garden. The
signalman from the bluff station reported the _Spray_ fifteen miles
off. The wind was freshening, and when she was within eight miles he
said: "The _Spray_ is shortening sail; the mainsail was reefed and set
in ten minutes. One man is doing all the work."
This item of news was printed three minutes later in a Durban morning
journal, which was handed to me when I arrived in port. I could not
verify the time it had taken to reef the sail, for, as I have already
said, the minute-hand of my timepiece was gone. I only knew that I
reefed as quickly as I could.
The same paper, commenting on the voyage, said: "Judging from the
stormy weather which has prevailed off this coast during the past few
weeks, the _Spray_ must have had a very stormy voyage from Mauritius
to Natal." Doubtless the weather would have been called stormy by
sailors in any ship, but it caused the _Spray_ no more inconvenience
than the delay natural to head winds generally.
The question of how I sailed the sloop alone, often asked, is best
answered, perhaps, by a Durban newspaper. I would shrink from
repeating the editor's words but for the reason that undue estimates
have been made of the amount of skill and energy required to sail a
sloop of even the _Spray's_ small tonnage. I heard a man who called
himself a sailor say that "it would require three men to do what it
was claimed" that I did alone, and what I found perfectly easy to do
over and over again; and I have heard that others made similar
nonsensical remarks, adding that I would work myself to death. But
here is what the Durban paper said:
[Citation: As briefly noted yesterday, the _Spray_, with a crew of one
man, arrived at this port yesterday afternoon on her cruise round the
world. The _Spray_ made quite an auspicious entrance to Natal. Her
commander sailed his craft right up the channel past the main wharf,
and dropped his anchor near the old _Forerunner_ in the creek, before
any one had a chance to get on board. The _Spray_ was naturally an
object of great curiosity to the Point people, and her arrival was
witnessed by a large crowd. The skilful manner in which Captain Slocum
steered his craft about the vessels which were occupying the waterway
was a treat to witness.]
The _Spray_ was not sailing in among greenhorns when she came to
Natal. When she arrived off the port the pilot-ship, a fine, able
steam-tug, came out to meet her, and led the way in across the bar,
for it was blowing a smart gale and was too rough for the sloop to be
towed with safety. The trick of going in I learned by watching the
steamer; it was simply to keep on the windward side of the channel and
take the combers end on.
[Illustration: Captain Joshua Slocum.]
I found that Durban supported two yacht-clubs, both of them full of
enterprise. I met all the members of both clubs, and sailed in the
crack yacht _Florence_ of the Royal Natal, with Captain Spradbrow and
the Right Honorable Harry Escombe, premier of the colony. The yacht's
center-board plowed furrows through the mud-banks, which, according to
Mr. Escombe, Spradbrow afterward planted with potatoes. The
_Florence_, however, won races while she tilled the skipper's land.
After our sail on the _Florence_ Mr. Escombe offered to sail the
_Spray_ round the Cape of Good Hope for me, and hinted at his famous
cribbage-board to while away the hours. Spradbrow, in retort, warned
me of it. Said he, "You would be played out of the sloop before you
could round the cape." By others it was not thought probable that the
premier of Natal would play cribbage off the Cape of Good Hope to win
even the _Spray_.
It was a matter of no small pride to me in South Africa to find that
American humor was never at a discount, and one of the best American
stories I ever heard was told by the premier. At Hotel Royal one day,
dining with Colonel Saunderson, M. P., his son, and Lieutenant
Tipping, I met Mr. Stanley. The great explorer was just from Pretoria,
and had already as good as flayed President Krüger with his trenchant
pen. But that did not signify, for everybody has a whack at Oom Paul,
and no one in the world seems to stand the joke better than he, not
even the Sultan of Turkey himself. The colonel introduced me to the
explorer, and I hauled close to the wind, to go slow, for Mr. Stanley
was a nautical man once himself,--on the Nyanza, I think,--and of
course my desire was to appear in the best light before a man of his
experience. He looked me over carefully, and said, "What an example of
patience!" "Patience is all that is required," I ventured to reply. He
then asked if my vessel had water-tight compartments. I explained that
she was all water-tight and all compartment. "What if she should
strike a rock?" he asked. "Compartments would not save her if she
should hit the rocks lying along her course," said I; adding, "she
must be kept away from the rocks." After a considerable pause Mr.
Stanley asked, "What if a swordfish should pierce her hull with its
sword?" Of course I had thought of that as one of the dangers of the
sea, and also of the chance of being struck by lightning. In the case
of the swordfish, I ventured to say that "the first thing would be to
secure the sword." The colonel invited me to dine with the party on
the following day, that we might go further into this matter, and so I
had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Stanley a second time, but got no more
hints in navigation from the famous explorer.
It sounds odd to hear scholars and statesmen say the world is flat;
but it is a fact that three Boers favored by the opinion of President
Krüger prepared a work to support that contention. While I was at
Durban they came from Pretoria to obtain data from me, and they seemed
annoyed when I told them that they could not prove it by my
experience. With the advice to call up some ghost of the dark ages for
research, I went ashore, and left these three wise men poring over the
_Spray's_ track on a chart of the world, which, however, proved
nothing to them, for it was on Mercator's projection, and behold, it
was "flat." The next morning I met one of the party in a clergyman's
garb, carrying a large Bible, not different from the one I had read.
He tackled me, saying, "If you respect the Word of God, you must admit
that the world is flat." "If the Word of God stands on a flat world--"
I began. "What!" cried he, losing himself in a passion, and making as
if he would run me through with an assagai. "What!" he shouted in
astonishment and rage, while I jumped aside to dodge the imaginary
weapon. Had this good but misguided fanatic been armed with a real
weapon, the crew of the _Spray_ would have died a martyr there and
then. The next day, seeing him across the street, I bowed and made
curves with my hands. He responded with a level, swimming movement of
his hands, meaning "the world is flat." A pamphlet by these Transvaal
geographers, made up of arguments from sources high and low to prove
their theory, was mailed to me before I sailed from Africa on my last
stretch around the globe.
While I feebly portray the ignorance of these learned men, I have
great admiration for their physical manhood. Much that I saw first and
last of the Transvaal and the Boers was admirable. It is well known
that they are the hardest of fighters, and as generous to the fallen
as they are brave before the foe. Real stubborn bigotry with them is
only found among old fogies, and will die a natural death, and that,
too, perhaps long before we ourselves are entirely free from bigotry.
Education in the Transvaal is by no means neglected, English as well
as Dutch being taught to all that can afford both; but the tariff duty
on English school-books is heavy, and from necessity the poorer people
stick to the Transvaal Dutch and their flat world, just as in Samoa
and other islands a mistaken policy has kept the natives down to
Kanaka.
I visited many public schools at Durban, and had the pleasure of
meeting many bright children.
But all fine things must end, and December 14, 1897, the "crew" of the
_Spray_, after having a fine time in Natal, swung the sloop's dinghy
in on deck, and sailed with a morning land-wind, which carried her
clear of the bar, and again she was "off on her alone," as they say in
Australia.