Rounding the "Cape of Storms" in olden time--A rough Christmas--The
_Spray_ ties up for a three months' rest at Cape Town--A railway trip
to the Transvaal--President Krüger's odd definition of the _Spray's_
voyage--His terse sayings--Distinguished guests on the
_Spray_--Cocoanut fiber as a padlock--Courtesies from the admiral of
the Queen's navy--Off for St. Helena--Land in sight.
The Cape of Good Hope was now the most prominent point to pass. From
Table Bay I could count on the aid of brisk trades, and then the
_Spray_ would soon be at home. On the first day out from Durban it
fell calm, and I sat thinking about these things and the end of the
voyage. The distance to Table Bay, where I intended to call, was about
eight hundred miles over what might prove a rough sea. The early
Portuguese navigators, endowed with patience, were more than
sixty-nine years struggling to round this cape before they got as far
as Algoa Bay, and there the crew mutinied. They landed on a small
island, now called Santa Cruz, where they devoutly set up the cross,
and swore they would cut the captain's throat if he attempted to sail
farther. Beyond this they thought was the edge of the world, which
they too believed was flat; and fearing that their ship would sail
over the brink of it, they compelled Captain Diaz, their commander, to
retrace his course, all being only too glad to get home. A year later,
we are told, Vasco da Gama sailed successfully round the "Cape of
Storms," as the Cape of Good Hope was then called, and discovered
Natal on Christmas or Natal day; hence the name. From this point the
way to India was easy.
Gales of wind sweeping round the cape even now were frequent enough,
one occurring, on an average, every thirty-six hours; but one gale was
much the same as another, with no more serious result than to blow the
_Spray_ along on her course when it was fair, or to blow her back
somewhat when it was ahead. On Christmas, 1897, I came to the pitch of
the cape. On this day the _Spray_ was trying to stand on her head, and
she gave me every reason to believe that she would accomplish the feat
before night. She began very early in the morning to pitch and toss
about in a most unusual manner, and I have to record that, while I was
at the end of the bowsprit reefing the jib, she ducked me under water
three times for a Christmas box. I got wet and did not like it a bit:
never in any other sea was I put under more than once in the same
short space of time, say three minutes. A large English steamer
passing ran up the signal, "Wishing you a Merry Christmas." I think
the captain was a humorist; his own ship was throwing her propeller
out of water.
Two days later, the _Spray_, having recovered the distance lost in the
gale, passed Cape Agulhas in company with the steamship _Scotsman_,
now with a fair wind. The keeper of the light on Agulhas exchanged
signals with the _Spray_ as she passed, and afterward wrote me at New
York congratulations on the completion of the voyage. He seemed to
think the incident of two ships of so widely different types passing
his cape together worthy of a place on canvas, and he went about
having the picture made. So I gathered from his letter. At lonely
stations like this hearts grow responsive and sympathetic, and even
poetic. This feeling was shown toward the _Spray_ along many a rugged
coast, and reading many a kind signal thrown out to her gave one a
grateful feeling for all the world.
One more gale of wind came down upon the _Spray_ from the west after
she passed Cape Agulhas, but that one she dodged by getting into
Simons Bay. When it moderated she beat around the Cape of Good Hope,
where they say the _Flying Dutchman_ is still sailing. The voyage then
seemed as good as finished; from this time on I knew that all, or
nearly all, would be plain sailing.
Here I crossed the dividing-line of weather. To the north it was clear
and settled, while south it was humid and squally, with, often enough,
as I have said, a treacherous gale. From the recent hard weather the
_Spray_ ran into a calm under Table Mountain, where she lay quietly
till the generous sun rose over the land and drew a breeze in from the
sea.
The steam-tug _Alert_, then out looking for ships, came to the _Spray_
off the Lion's Rump, and in lieu of a larger ship towed her into port.
The sea being smooth, she came to anchor in the bay off the city of
Cape Town, where she remained a day, simply to rest clear of the
bustle of commerce. The good harbor-master sent his steam-launch to
bring the sloop to a berth in dock at once, but I preferred to remain
for one day alone, in the quiet of a smooth sea, enjoying the
retrospect of the passage of the two great capes. On the following
morning the _Spray_ sailed into the Alfred Dry-docks, where she
remained for about three months in the care of the port authorities,
while I traveled the country over from Simons Town to Pretoria, being
accorded by the colonial government a free railroad pass over all the
land.
The trip to Kimberley, Johannesburg, and Pretoria was a pleasant one.
At the last-named place I met Mr. Krüger, the Transvaal president. His
Excellency received me cordially enough; but my friend Judge Beyers,
the gentleman who presented me, by mentioning that I was on a voyage
around the world, unwittingly gave great offense to the venerable
statesman, which we both regretted deeply. Mr. Krüger corrected the
judge rather sharply, reminding him that the world is flat. "You don't
mean _round_ the world," said the president; "it is impossible! You
mean _in_ the world. Impossible!" he said, "impossible!" and not
another word did he utter either to the judge or to me. The judge
looked at me and I looked at the judge, who should have known his
ground, so to speak, and Mr. Krüger glowered at us both. My friend the
judge seemed embarrassed, but I was delighted; the incident pleased me
more than anything else that could have happened. It was a nugget of
information quarried out of Oom Paul, some of whose sayings are
famous. Of the English he said, "They took first my coat and then my
trousers." He also said, "Dynamite is the corner-stone of the South
African Republic." Only unthinking people call President Krüger dull.
[Illustration: Cartoon printed in the Cape Town "Owl" of March 5,
1898, in connection with an item about Captain Slocum's trip to
Pretoria.]
Soon after my arrival at the cape, Mr. Krüger's friend Colonel
Saunderson,[G] who had arrived from Durban some time before, invited me
to Newlands Vineyard, where I met many agreeable people. His Excellency
Sir Alfred Milner, the governor, found time to come aboard with a party.
The governor, after making a survey of the deck, found a seat on a box
in my cabin; Lady Muriel sat on a keg, and Lady Saunderson sat by the
skipper at the wheel, while the colonel, with his kodak, away in the
dinghy, took snap shots of the sloop and her distinguished visitors. Dr.
David Gill, astronomer royal, who was of the party, invited me the next
day to the famous Cape Observatory. An hour with Dr. Gill was an hour
among the stars. His discoveries in stellar photography are well known.
He showed me the great astronomical clock of the observatory, and I
showed him the tin clock on the _Spray_, and we went over the subject of
standard time at sea, and how it was found from the deck of the little
sloop without the aid of a clock of any kind. Later it was advertised
that Dr. Gill would preside at a talk about the voyage of the _Spray_:
that alone secured for me a full house. The hall was packed, and many
were not able to get in. This success brought me sufficient money for
all my needs in port and for the homeward voyage.
[G] Colonel Saunderson was Mr. Krüger's very best friend, inasmuch as he
advised the president to avast mounting guns.
After visiting Kimberley and Pretoria, and finding the _Spray_ all
right in the docks, I returned to Worcester and Wellington, towns
famous for colleges and seminaries, passed coming in, still traveling
as the guest of the colony. The ladies of all these institutions of
learning wished to know how one might sail round the world alone,
which I thought augured of sailing-mistresses in the future instead of
sailing-masters. It will come to that yet if we men-folk keep on
saying we "can't."
On the plains of Africa I passed through hundreds of miles of rich but
still barren land, save for scrub-bushes, on which herds of sheep were
browsing. The bushes grew about the length of a sheep apart, and they,
I thought, were rather long of body; but there was still room for all.
My longing for a foothold on land seized upon me here, where so much
of it lay waste; but instead of remaining to plant forests and reclaim
vegetation, I returned again to the _Spray_ at the Alfred Docks, where
I found her waiting for me, with everything in order, exactly as I had
left her.
I have often been asked how it was that my vessel and all
appurtenances were not stolen in the various ports where I left her
for days together without a watchman in charge. This is just how it
was: The _Spray_ seldom fell among thieves. At the Keeling Islands, at
Rodriguez, and at many such places, a wisp of cocoanut fiber in the
door-latch, to indicate that the owner was away, secured the goods
against even a longing glance. But when I came to a great island
nearer home, stout locks were needed; the first night in port things
which I had always left uncovered disappeared, as if the deck on which
they were stowed had been swept by a sea.
[Illustration: Captain Slocum, Sir Alfred Milner (with the tall hat),
and Colonel Saunderson, M. P., on the bow of the _Spray_ at Cape
Town.]
A pleasant visit from Admiral Sir Harry Rawson of the Royal Navy and
his family brought to an end the _Spray's_ social relations with the
Cape of Good Hope. The admiral, then commanding the South African
Squadron, and now in command of the great Channel fleet, evinced the
greatest interest in the diminutive _Spray_ and her behavior off Cape
Horn, where he was not an entire stranger. I have to admit that I was
delighted with the trend of Admiral Rawson's questions, and that I
profited by some of his suggestions, notwithstanding the wide
difference in our respective commands.
On March 26, 1898, the _Spray_ sailed from South Africa, the land of
distances and pure air, where she had spent a pleasant and profitable
time. The steam-tug _Tigre_ towed her to sea from her wonted berth at
the Alfred Docks, giving her a good offing. The light morning breeze,
which scantily filled her sails when the tug let go the tow-line, soon
died away altogether, and left her riding over a heavy swell, in full
view of Table Mountain and the high peaks of the Cape of Good Hope.
For a while the grand scenery served to relieve the monotony. One of
the old circumnavigators (Sir Francis Drake, I think), when he first
saw this magnificent pile, sang, "'T is the fairest thing and the
grandest cape I've seen in the whole circumference of the earth."
The view was certainly fine, but one has no wish to linger long to
look in a calm at anything, and I was glad to note, finally, the short
heaving sea, precursor of the wind which followed on the second day.
Seals playing about the _Spray_ all day, before the breeze came,
looked with large eyes when, at evening, she sat no longer like a lazy
bird with folded wings. They parted company now, and the _Spray_ soon
sailed the highest peaks of the mountains out of sight, and the world
changed from a mere panoramic view to the light of a homeward-bound
voyage. Porpoises and dolphins, and such other fishes as did not mind
making a hundred and fifty miles a day, were her companions now for
several days. The wind was from the southeast; this suited the _Spray_
well, and she ran along steadily at her best speed, while I dipped
into the new books given me at the cape, reading day and night. March
30 was for me a fast-day in honor of them. I read on, oblivious of
hunger or wind or sea, thinking that all was going well, when suddenly
a comber rolled over the stern and slopped saucily into the cabin,
wetting the very book I was reading. Evidently it was time to put in a
reef, that she might not wallow on her course.
[Illustration: "Reading day and night."]
March 31 the fresh southeast wind had come to stay. The _Spray_ was
running under a single-reefed mainsail, a whole jib, and a flying-jib
besides, set on the Vailima bamboo, while I was reading Stevenson's
delightful "Inland Voyage." The sloop was again doing her work
smoothly, hardly rolling at all, but just leaping along among the
white horses, a thousand gamboling porpoises keeping her company on
all sides. She was again among her old friends the flying-fish,
interesting denizens of the sea. Shooting out of the waves like
arrows, and with outstretched wings, they sailed on the wind in
graceful curves; then falling till again they touched the crest of the
waves to wet their delicate wings and renew the flight. They made
merry the livelong day. One of the joyful sights on the ocean of a
bright day is the continual flight of these interesting fish.
One could not be lonely in a sea like this. Moreover, the reading of
delightful adventures enhanced the scene. I was now in the _Spray_ and
on the Oise in the _Arethusa_ at one and the same time. And so the
_Spray_ reeled off the miles, showing a good run every day till April
11, which came almost before I knew it. Very early that morning I was
awakened by that rare bird, the booby, with its harsh quack, which I
recognized at once as a call to go on deck; it was as much as to say,
"Skipper, there's land in sight." I tumbled out quickly, and sure
enough, away ahead in the dim twilight, about twenty miles off, was
St. Helena.
My first impulse was to call out, "Oh, what a speck in the sea!" It is
in reality nine miles in length and two thousand eight hundred and
twenty-three feet in height. I reached for a bottle of port-wine out
of the locker, and took a long pull from it to the health of my
invisible helmsman--the pilot of the _Pinta_.