Terra del Fuego, called Cape St. James, bearing E. S. E. another called
Cape St. Vincent, S. E. half E. the middlemost of the Three Brothers,
being three high hills on Terra del Fuego, appearing almost contiguous
to each other, S. by W. and a very high Sugar-loaf Hill, called Monte
Gorda, farther up in the country, and appearing above them, bore south
from us. It is by these marks that you know you are near Strait Le
Maire; and indeed we began to open them in this position. By noon we
were almost through them, being assisted by a very strong tide with much
rippling, and which made to the southward somewhat before 10 o’clock in
the morning. The course through is almost directly south, and there are
no shoals nor rocks in the passage from whence you may incur any danger;
the only thing you have to fear is, the tide’s turning against you while
you are in the straits, for in that case you are certainly hurried back
again, and can have no passage there till the next turn of the tide. The
breadth of this strait may be about six or seven leagues, and its length
about seven or eight; which being passed, you enter into a vast open
ocean, commonly known by the name of the South Sea. This strait lies in
latitude 55 deg. south, longitude from London 67 deg. 30 min. west,
variation of the compass 21 deg. 36 min. east, soundings in the straits
from 43 to 58 fathom, the bottom black sand and pebble-stones. In
passing through here, our joy was increased by the brightness of the sky
and the serenity of the weather, which was indeed remarkably pleasing;
for though the winter was now advancing apace, yet the morning of this
day, in its brilliancy and mildness, gave place to none we had seen
since our departure from England. But we here found what was constantly
verified by all our observations in these high latitudes, that fair
weather was ever the forerunner of a succeeding storm, and that sunshine
and tempest followed one another like light and shade. We had scarcely
reached the southern extremity of the straits, when the serenity of the
sky, which had so much flattered our expectations, was all at once
obscured, the wind shifted to the southward, and the sea began to swell
to an astonishing height. Before night the tempest arose, and the tide,
which had hitherto favoured us, turned furiously against us; so that,
instead of pursuing our intended course, we were driven to the eastward,
by the united force of wind and current, with so much precipitation,
that in the morning we found ourselves seven leagues to the eastward of
Streight Le Maire. From this time we had such a continual succession of
tempestuous weather as surprized the oldest and most experienced
mariners on board, and obliged them to confess, that what they had
hitherto called storms were inconsiderable gales compared with the
violence of these winds, which railed such short and at the same time
such mountainous waves, as greatly surpassed in danger all seas known in
any other part of the globe: and it was not without reason that this
unusual appearance filled us with continual terror; for, had any one of
these waves broke fairly over us, it must in all probability have sent
us to the bottom. Nor did we escape with terror only; for the ship
rolling incessantly gunwale-to, gave us such quick and violent motions,
that the men were in perpetual danger of being dashed against the masts
or sides of the ship: and though we were extremely careful to secure
ourselves from these shocks by grasping at some fixed body, yet many of
our people were forced from their holds, some of whom were killed, and
others greatly injured; in particular, one of our best seamen was
carried over-board and drowned, another dislocated his neck, a third was
thrown into the main hold, and broke his thigh, and one of our
boatswain’s mates broke his collar-bone twice; not to mention many other
accidents of the same kind. These tempests, so dreadful in themselves,
though unattended by any other unfavourable circumstance, were rendered
more mischievous to us by their inequality, and the deceitful intervals
which they at some times afforded; for, though we were often obliged to
lie-to for days together under a reefed mizen, and were frequently
reduced to lie at the mercy of the waves under our bare poles, yet now
and then we ventured to make sail with our courses double reefed; and
the weather proving more tolerable, would perhaps encourage us to set
our top-sails: after which, the wind, without any previous notice, would
return upon us with redoubled force, and would in an instant tear our
sails from the yards. And, that no circumstance might be wanting which
could aggravate our distress, these blasts generally brought with them a
great quantity of snow and sleet, which cased our rigging, and froze our
sails, thereby rendering them and our cordage brittle, and apt to snap
upon the slightest strain, adding inexpressible difficulty and labour to
the working of the ship, benumbing the limbs of the people employed in
handing the sails, or handling the ropes, and making them incapable of
exerting themselves with their usual activity, and even disabling many
by mortifying their toes and fingers.
And now, as it were to add the finishing stroke to our misfortunes, our
people began to be universally afflicted with that most terrible,
obstinate, and, at sea, incurable disease, the scurvy, which quickly
made a most dreadful havock among us, beginning at first to carry off
two or three a day, but soon increasing, and at last carrying off eight
or ten; and as most of the living were very ill of the same distemper,
and the little remainder who preserved their healths better, in a
manner, quite worn out with incessant labour, I have sometimes seen four
or five dead bodies, some sown up in their hammocks, others not, washing
about the decks, for want of help to bury them in the sea. But as the
particulars of all the various disasters and sufferings of various kinds
that befel us, would be endless, I shall only mention a few.
The 10th, 11th, and 12th, very stormy weather, with snow and sleet, and
a very great over-grown sea from the S. W.
The 15th, one William Baker fell overboard and was drowned. The 16th,
the Anne pink, which had separated from us the 11th in the storm, again
joined us, in lat. 59 deg. 20 min. S.
Part of the 17th, 18th, and 19th, very strong gales, and a great rolling
sea from the N. W.
The 18th, we had again strong gales of wind with extreme cold, and at
midnight the main-top-sail split, and one of the straps of the main
dead-eyes broke.
The 23d, and part of the 24th, a most violent storm of wind, hail, and
rain, with a very lofty sea. The 23d, in the evening, we sprung the
main-top-sail yard, and split the main-sail into rags, the greatest part
of which was blown overboard. On these accidents we furled all our other
sails, and lay-to under a mizzen.
The latter part of the 24th proving more moderate, we bent a new
main-sail, got down the broken main-top-sail yard, and got up and rigged
another in its place.
The 25th, it blew a very hurricane, and reduced us to the necessity of
lying-to under our bare poles. As our ship kept the wind better than any
of the rest, we were obliged in the afternoon to wear ship; in doing of
which, we had no other expedient but clapping the helm a-weather, and
manning the fore-shrouds; in the execution of which we had one of our
best men canted overboard. We perceived, that, notwithstanding the
prodigious agitation of the waves, he swam very strong; and it was with
the utmost concern that we found ourselves incapable of assisting him.
Indeed we were the more grieved at his unhappy fate, as we lost sight of
him struggling with the waves, and conceived, from the manner in which
he swam, that he might continue sensible for a considerable time longer
of the horror attending his irretrievable situation.
The 26th being somewhat more moderate, we found two of our main-shrouds
broke, which we repaired; we likewise bent our main-top-sail, and made
sail.
The 30th, in the evening, the Gloucester made a signal of distress; and,
on speaking with her, we found she had broke her main-yard in the
slings; an accident the more grievous, as it tended unavoidably to delay
us in these inhospitable latitudes, where every moment we were in danger
of perishing. The weather proving favourable, all the carpenters were
ordered on board the Gloucester, and next day she was ready to sail.
The 3d, 4th, 5th, and 6th of April, a continued storm of wind and rain;
a dreadful sea, and very cold weather. We lowered our yards, furled our
courses, and lay by for the most part under a mizzen and mizzen-stay
sail. The 3d, about 11 o’clock at night, a raging sea took us on the
larboard quarter, where it stove in the quarter gallery, and rushed into
the ship like a deluge. For some time it laid the ship down upon her
side; but she providentially righted again, though slowly; it threw down
and half drowned all the people on the deck, broke one of the straps of
the main dead-eyes, and snaped a mizzen and puttock shroud. This was the
greatest sea which we had encountered since we came into those parts,
and we met with but one such stroke more in the whole voyage; two or
three such succeeding must certainly have sent us to the bottom.
The 7th, 8th, 9th, and 10th, continued very stormy and squally, with
snow, hail, rain, and a large sea; the weather continuing very cold.
The 8th, at four in the evening, the Anne pink made a signal of
distress; and, on speaking with her, we found she had sprung her
fore-stay, and the gammoning of her bowsprit. This was the more
unfortunate, as none of the carpenters were yet returned from the
Gloucester. Nor was the Anne the only ship that suffered in this storm;
the Wager lost her mizzen-mast and main-top-sail yard, owing to the
badness of the iron work. In this dilemma we were obliged to bear away
till these ships had made all fast.
The 10th, foggy and hazy. This afternoon the Severn and Pearl were far
a-stern, and seemed to me to lag designedly. We made a very easy sail
all day, and lay by at night, and fired several guns as a signal for
them to join us; the weather being pretty moderate, and the wind fair
for them, they might have effected it with ease. By the close of the
evening we could but just see them, and from that time saw them no more.
However, we heard afterwards in the South Seas, by letters taken on
board some of the Spanish ships, of their arrival at Rio Janeiro, in the
Brazils.
The 15th, the weather proved somewhat more moderate. At half an hour
past one in the morning we saw two islands right a-head, at about two
leagues distance; we immediately wore our ship, and stood off to the
southward. Those islands were very unexpected, as well as unwelcome, we
imagining we had been to the westward of all lands and islands of the
coast of Terra del Fuego; but we now found our mistake, and that there
was a necessity of our standing farther to the southward, in order to
get a sufficient westing. Those islands I find to lie in the latitude of
54 deg. 20 min. S. longitude from London 84 deg. 10 min. W. Mr. Walters
supposes the land we fell in with on this occasion to be Cape Noir, and
a part of Terra del Fuego.
From this time to the 23d we had nothing remarkable, the weather
continuing very uncertain and variable, with a large sea and a very cold
air; and the 21st, at nine at night, we were in the latitude of 60 deg.
5 min. S. being the greatest south latitude we made during the voyage.
The 23d, very hard gales and squalls, with much rain. This evening we
lost sight of the Gloucester, Wager, Trial, and Anne pink, being all the
remainder of our squadron, after the defection of the Severn and Pearl.
The Wager’s unfortunate catastrophe is well known; the others afterwards
joined us at Juan Fernandez, as shall be related in its proper place.
The 24th, 25th, and 26th, the wind being mostly fair, though still
blowing hard, we made pretty good runs under an easy sail to the
north-westward. The 24th it blew a hurricane, and the men endeavouring
to hand the topsails, the clew-lines and bunt-lines broke, and the sheet
being half flown, every seam in the fore-topsail was soon split from top
to bottom, and the main-topsail shook so strongly in the wind, that it
carried away the top lanthorn, and endangered the head of the mast;
however, at length, some of the most daring of our men ventured upon the
yard, and cut the sail away close to the reefs, though with the utmost
hazard of their lives, whilst at the same time the fore-topsail beat
about the yard with so much fury that it was soon blown to shreds: nor
was our attention to our topsails our sole employment; for the mainsail
blew loose, which obliged us to lower the yard to secure the sail, and
the fore-yard being likewise lowered, we lay to under a mizen. The 25th,
we found much of our running rigging broken, which we repaired. The
27th, we bent other topsails in the places of those split. Nothing more
remarkable the rest of this month and the first week in the next, but
stormy uncertain weather, and great sickness and mortality among our
people.
Friday, May 8, at seven in the morning, saw the main land of Patagonia
appearing in high mountains covered mostly with snow. We likewise saw
several islands, one of which we took to be the Island del Soccoro, so
called by Sir John Narborough, in his account of his voyage into those
parts; and from the fine description this gentleman had given of this
island, (having been there in the very height of summer), this place was
appointed for our first general rendezvous in the South Seas. An unhappy
appointment it was in its consequences; for when the people, already
reduced to the last extremity, found this to be the place of rendezvous,
where they had hoped to meet the rest of their companions with joy, and
what a miserable part of the world it appeared to be, their grief gave
way to despair; they saw no end of their sufferings, nor any door open
to their safety. Those who had hitherto been well and in heart, now full
of despondency, fell down, sickened, and died; and, to sum up this
melancholy part, I verily believe, that our touching on this coast, the
long stay we made here, and our hinderance by cross winds, which we
should have avoided in a direct course to Juan Fernandez, lost us at
least 60 or 70 of as stout and able men as any in the navy. This
unspeakable distress was still aggravated by the difficulties we found
in working the ship, as the scurvy had by this time destroyed no less
than 200 of our men, and had in some degree affected almost the whole
crew. It were, indeed, endless to recite minutely the various disasters,
fatigues, and terrors, which we encountered on this coast; all these
went on increasing till the 22d of May, at which time the fury of all
the storms which we had hitherto experienced, seemed to be combined, and
to have conspired our destruction. In this hurricane almost all our
sails were split, and great part of our standing rigging broken; and,
about eight in the evening, a mountainous overgrown sea took us on our
starboard quarter, and gave us so prodigious a shock, that several of
our shrouds broke with the jerk, by which our masts were in danger of
coming by the board; our ballast and stores too were so strangely
shifted, that the ship heeled afterwards two streaks a-port. Indeed, it
was a most tremendous blow, and we were thrown into the utmost
consternation, from the apprehension of instantly foundering. Our
deplorable situation allowing no longer any room for deliberation, we
stood for the island of Juan Fernandez; and, to save time, which was now
very precious, our men dying four, five, and six in a day, we
endeavoured to hit the island upon a meridian course. On the 28th of
May, being nearly in the parallel in which it is laid down, we expected
to have seen it, and indeed the Commodore was persuaded that he did see
it; but all the other officers being of opinion that it was only a
cloud, to which the haziness of the weather gave too much colour, we
made sail to the eastward, and by so doing lost near 14 days in
recovering our westing again. This was a most fatal disappointment; for
in this run we lost about 80 of our men, which, probably, had the
Commodore’s advice been attended to, would most of them have been saved.
The 8th of June, at six in the evening, we at length saw the island of
Juan Fernandez, bearing N. by E. half E. about 15 or 16 leagues off. The
10th, at two in the morning, we anchored in 56 fathom, close under the
N. E. end of the island. At 10 in the morning of the 11th, we with much
labour and difficulty weighed our anchor, and at noon happily moored our
ship in the Great Bay, about a mile from the shore, in 52 fathom water,
to our inexpressible joy, having been from St. Katharine’s in the
Brazils to this place 148 days, on such a dreadful and fatal passage as
I believe very few other persons ever experienced.
The 11th, at two in the afternoon, the Trial sloop appeared in the
offing. We immediately sent some of our hands on board her, by whose
assistance she was brought to an anchor between us and the land. We soon
found that the sloop had not been exempted from the like calamities
which we had so severely felt; for her Commander, Captain Saunders,
waiting on the Commodore, informed him, that, out of his small
complement, he had buried 34 of his men; and those who recovered were so
universally afflicted with the scurvy, that only himself, his
Lieutenant, and three of his men, were able to stand by the sails.
The same day we got out our long-boat, and sent her on shore with
materials for building tents for the sick, and with orders to bring on
board some water.
The 15th, we sent our pinnace to assist the Trial, she being driven from
her anchors to sea, by the violent flaws of wind which blow off the high
lands. This and the next day we put ashore 75 sick men, in so weak a
condition, that we were obliged to carry them out of the ship in their
hammocks, and to convey them afterwards in the same manner from the
water-side over a stoney beach to the tents prepared for their
reception. In this work of humanity, not only the officers, but the
Commodore himself, chearfully lent their assistance.
The 17th, the Trial came again to an anchor, and moored. This day and
the next we sent on shore the remainder of our sick people, the whole
number now on shore being 135, many of whom, being too far gone in the
scurvy, died one after another to the number of not less than sixty.
We now began to send on shore materials for tents for the coopers,
sail-makers, and some of the officers; a copper oven which we had with
us for baking soft bread for the ship’s company, and the smith’s forge
for making or repairing such iron-work as was necessary: and, after a
short interval of relaxation, all hands were busily employed, some in
cutting large quantities of wood for the ship’s use, some in making
charcoal for the smith, and for a farther store; the bakers in baking
bread, the coopers in making up and cleaning the casks for water, the
sail-makers in mending the sails and making others; some in fishing for
the sick, and the rest were otherways employed: and here being very
great plenty of fine fish, all taken by the hook, two or three people
could never fail to take us as much in about two hours as all the ship’s
company could eat: besides this we took great quantities for salting and
curing; and some private persons who had hooks and lines fished for
themselves, and never failed of enough for their own use, and to give to
those who had none. The people on board were employed in cleaning the
ship, which was in a very filthy condition, and in stripping the masts,
and overhauling the rigging. One of the boatswain’s mates, with some
assistants, having run up a rope-walk on shore, was employed in making
what small cordage we might want; others in watering, and, in short, in
every thing that might contribute to put us in as good a condition, and
in as short a time as possible; and as fast as the sick recovered, they
were put on the like employments.
At first sight of this island, it appeared with a most unpromising
aspect, being extremely mountainous, rugged, and irregular; but, upon
our nearer approach, it improved upon us; and when we were landed, we
found all the vegetables which are usually esteemed to be peculiarly
adapted to the cure of those scorbutic disorders which are contracted by
salt diet, and long continuance at sea; for here we found water-cresses
and purslain, wild-sorrel, and Sicilian-radishes, in profusion. These
vegetables, not to mention the turneps which now abound in every plain,
with the fish and flesh we got here, were not only grateful to us in the
extreme, but were likewise very refreshing to the sick, and contributed
not a little to the recovery of those who were not already too far
advanced in the disorder to admit of relief; and to the restoring of
others to their wonted vigour, who, though not apparently under the
malignancy of the distemper, and its baneful concomitants, were yet
greatly debilitated by continual watching and anxiety of mind, from
which not a soul on board was exempt.
During the time of our residence here, we found the inland parts of the
island no ways to fall short of the sanguine prepossessions we had first
entertained in its favour; for the woods, which covered most of the
steepest hills, were free from all bushes and underwood, and afforded an
easy passage through every part of them; and the irregularities of the
hills and precipices, in the northern part of the island, necessarily
traced out, by their various combinations, a great number of romantic
vallies, most of which had a stream of the clearest water running
through them, that tumbled in cascades from rock to rock, as the bottom
of the valley by the course of the neighbouring hills was at any time
broken into a sudden sharp descent. Some particular spots occurred in
these vallies, where the shades and fragrance of the contiguous woods,
the loftiness of the over-hanging rocks, and the transparency and
frequent falls of the neighbouring streams, presented scenes of such
elegance and dignity, as would with difficulty be rivalled in any other
part of the globe. It is in this place, perhaps, that the simple
productions of unassisted nature may be said to excel all the fictitious
descriptions of the most animated imagination. The spot where the
Commodore pitched his tent, and where he chose, during his stay, to fix
his residence, exceeded in beauty any thing that words can be supposed
to represent. It was a delightful little lawn, that lay on an easy
ascent at the distance of about half a mile from the sea, and was
probably the very spot on which Shelvock twenty years before had pitched
his tent. In front there was a large avenue cut through the woods to the
sea-side, which slopping to the water with a gentle descent, opened a
prospect to the bay and the ships at anchor. This lawn was screened
behind by a tall wood of myrtle sweeping round it in the form of a
theatre, the slope on which the wood stood rising with a much sharper
ascent than the lawn itself, though not so much but that the hills and
precipices within land towered up considerably above the tops of the
trees, and added to the grandeur of the view. There were, besides; two
streams of chrystal water, which ran on the right and left of the tent,
within an hundred yards distance, and were shaded by the trees that
skirted the lawn on either side, and completed the symmetry of the
whole. Add to these, the gentle murmuring of the distant brooks, the
music of the birds among the myrtles, the sweet aromatic odour of the
spice-trees that every where perfumed the air with their fragrance, and
you may form in imagination a faint idea of this second paradise, which
could only be exceeded by the perfection of the first.
[Illustration: _A View of the Lawn where Commodore Anson pitch’d his
Tent at Juan Fernandes._]
It is astonishing, that, among all the voyagers who have visited this
fortunate island before us, and who have obliged the world with
descriptions of it, none of them have mentioned a charming little bird
that, with its wild, various, and irregular notes, enchants the ear, and
makes the woods resound with its melody. This untutored choirister is
somewhat less in size than the goldfinch, its plumage beautifully
intermixed with red and other vivid colours, and the golden crown upon
its head so bright and glowing, when seen in the full light of the sun,
that it surpasses all description. These little birds are far from being
uncommon or unfamiliar; for they perched upon the branches of the
myrtle-trees so near us, and sung so chearfully, as if they had been
conscious we were strangers, and came to give us welcome.
There is, besides the above, another little bird, unnoticed by any
former writer, and which seems likewise peculiar to the island, and
consequently without a name; it is still less than the former in size,
but not inferior in beauty, though not so musical; the back, wings, and
head, are of a lively green, intermixed with fine shining golden spots,
and the belly a snow white ground, with ebony coloured spots, so
elegantly varied as no art can imitate. To the catalogue of birds
mentioned by former writers as inhabitants of this island, should also
be added blackbirds and thrushes very like those in England; and owls,
but of a diminutive size.