weather side of the forecastle-house, dodging the seas as each gave
warning of its approach by a peculiar motion just before it broke
aboard, which one soon learns to know. We were beginning to think
that if he didn’t look sharp he would catch it, when a great mass of
water arose alongside, faltered a moment high up above the rail, and
then, with overwhelming fury, the whole sea thundered aboard. First
it flattened Chips out against the deck-house as though he had been
crucified against it; then it lifted him, mighty man though he is, and
drove him with terrible force against the pumps; while the huge volume
of water, encountering the various obstacles in its mad career about
the deck, shot into the air as high as the mainyard, totally blotting
out the waist of the ship. What saved that carpenter from mortal
hurt is beyond human ken. The mate says that it was his sheathing of
blubber which encases his carcass like that of a seal. At any rate, he
painfully gathered up his clumsy, massive frame and stumbled forward
with both hands on his left leg, which proved to be very badly bruised,
and he complains now of a hard pain in his chest. This was by far more
water than we have had on board at any one time, and it is difficult to
conceive of the grandeur of such a sea breaking aboard, though it is an
awful sight withal; its power seems resistless, and as it sweeps over
the side with a peculiar, crushing sound, one involuntarily grips the
rail or a belaying-pin with the grasp of a vice.
When this last squall had passed, lo! a ship to windward, and I was
again the first to sing out “Sail ho.” There is much secret pleasure
for me in this; for, whenever it occurs, the captain always walks over
to Mr. Goggins, who is generally wool-gathering at the break of the
poop, and asks him if there is anything in sight. “Naw, sir, there
hain’t nothin’. Oh, yes, there’s a sail to wind’ard, sir, through the
fog.” “Oh, thanks,” usually answers the skipper ironically, by which
the mate knows that he’s been caught again.
Visions of the “Dowes” appeared to us as we studied the stranger as
closely as the flying spray and rain would permit, the ship being under
her topsails with the main-sail hauled up. Presently, though, we saw
that she had no sky-sail-yards, proving that she was not our friend;
while her short, thick, pole bowsprit showed that she was doubtless a
metal ship, which belief was later confirmed by painted ports.
At noon the sun burst through the dense pall of cloud, and an afternoon
of dazzling beauty followed, with the good old “Higgins” surging ahead
over the long, blue, foaming seas, a sky of sapphire overhead, dappled
with a few thin, cirrus clouds and a grand breeze over the beam, giving
us about eight knots on a southwest-half-west course. Just at noon the
other ship, too, presented a splendid appearance. To begin with, she
was a very handsome vessel, and had so altered her position as to be
close astern, a little on our weather quarter, distant about one-third
of a mile. Her topsails and courses (she had set her main-sail and
cross-jack) were swelled out like great cylinders, while her painted
ports lent her the dignity of an old-time frigate; and she presented
to us a perfect ideal of the poetry of motion as she rolled deeply but
easily, now sinking into a valley to her lower yards, now cleaving the
lofty crest of a breaking sea which veiled her in a storm of spray.
At half-past one we decided to signal her, and ran up our number,
to which she instantly replied that she was the “La Pallice”; then
we informed her that we were from New York bound to San Francisco,
fifty-one days out, while she proved to be from Hamburg for the same
destination, and was fifty-nine days at sea; after which we dipped our
ensign, which she answered with the tricolor of France.
We are reading Nansen’s “First Crossing of Greenland” together with
the greatest interest, being one of the most charmingly written of all
stories of Arctic work. What a delightful time we will have with his
“Farthest North”! We have it on board, but I am waiting till we pass
50° south, so that we can read it in a part of the world almost as
rough and desolate as he passed over in his great journey. Latitude,
42° 24′ south; longitude, 52° 36′ west.
+July 2+
We had a good breeze from the south all last night and this morning,
which put us off to about west by south; but, as our aim for the past
four or five days has been to make westing rather than southing, this
breeze was most acceptable. The strong wind of yesterday eased up in
the second dog-watch last night, and we carried the top-gallant-sails
without trouble afterward.
A great change has taken place in the temperature, for at eight
this morning the thermometer stood at 38° in the air and 47° in the
water,--a fall in thirty-six hours of 15° in the atmosphere and 16° in
the sea. People who have never been exposed for consecutive hours to
a temperature at sea of between 30° and 40° can have no just idea of
how penetratingly cold the wind is when the mercury drops below 40°,
or of how many clothes it is necessary to wear if one wants to stay on
deck a long while without constant motion. For example, I have on now
two suits of heavy underwear, pilot-cloth trousers, a heavy jersey, a
whip-cord waistcoat, a padded leather jacket, and a mackintosh; the
costume is completed with mention of knitted woollen gloves and socks
and leather boots and ditto hat. Now, there are numerous brawny, burly
individuals who will ridicule this mass of apparel, and insist that
one ought to keep moving, which would make it unnecessary. But to
begin with, our promenade is here limited to seventy-five feet instead
of several hundred, as in the case of a transatlantic steamer; and,
besides, I have not that maniac passion for pedestrianism which lays
so fierce a hold on some people the instant that they set foot upon a
vessel’s deck. When I want exercise, half an hour at the pumps, even in
cold weather, is sufficient; and I’ll warrant that it would be enough
for the brawny, burly individuals before noticed. Neither of us came to
sea to stay below, so we pile on sufficient clothes to repel even the
strongest blasts, and can sit comfortably and unruffled for hours on
deck without a break.
Points in connection with such a voyage as this can be learned only by
experience; our first one gave us all that was necessary, so that we
knew exactly what to bring with us this time. A leather jacket very
thickly lined is almost inconceivably useful, as are a pair of heavy
leather knee-boots, at least one size too large, to allow for woollen
socks. Such boots well greased will be sufficiently water-tight for
all ordinary purposes, and if they should become water-logged, they
can always be dried at the galley-fire; rubber boots, though, should
never be omitted from the sea wardrobe. The best head-gear is a woollen
cap with ear-flaps, and a sou’wester, of course, for bad weather. As
to oilskins, there is now manufactured a water-proof stuff, which has
proved in this case to be everything that is claimed for it. It is
brown in color, and in texture much like a mackintosh, but harder to
the touch, and is in two pieces,--short jacket and trousers. These
suits have been used in the life-saving service on the Atlantic coast,
and the only objection which the men made to the suits was that the
sand cut the stuff in a high wind, so that in a short time it became
quite porous. At sea, however, I have never found the equal of one
of these suits; and, as a test, I stood for two hours yesterday in
drenching rain and spray in one position, so as to allow the elements
full continuous sweep at one point, and when we went below the inside
of the jacket was not even damp. A long oil-skin coat is extremely
unwieldy at sea, for if it is blowing at all hard the skirts cling to
the legs most aggravatingly, and I have had some hard falls by being
thus tripped. All mates wear long yellow coats, however, and I wondered
why until yesterday, when I asked Mr. Goggins if a short jacket and
pants wouldn’t be more comfortable; but he replied, indignantly, “Wot
do yer think I am, a foremast ’and?” It seemed to me that a mate who
has to wear a long coat to distinguish him from an ordinary sailor must
be like the man who tells another that he himself is a gentleman,--he
must be somewhat in doubt about it.
It is to be hoped that this treatise on deep-sea garments has not
proved a bore; but after our previous voyage so many persons asked us
what we wore in bad weather in the Southern Ocean, that the above
explanations may not be out of place. My wife dresses much as she would
for golf,--a short skirt and leather gaiters for clear, cold weather,
with yellow oil-skins when it rains and the spray flies.
We observed some further fine cloud effects to-day a little after
sunrise, the horizon being smothered at frequent intervals with dense
squalls; and at nine o’clock a ponderous mass of cumulus cloud appeared
in the south, rearing its immense domes nearly to the zenith, like
heaps of yellow wool, for the sun’s reflection changed the color of the
great bank to that of rich cream, while far below, at the base, the
cloud shaded off into a dim, sable mass. “There’s snow in that fellow,”
quoth the skipper, which was certainly true, for ten minutes later we
were swallowed up in a thick snow-squall, which lasted for fifteen
or twenty minutes. Snow seemed to be a singular phenomenon on the
second of July, not to mention the biting cold. Latitude 43° 8′ south;
longitude, 56° 45′ west.
+July 3+
This morning broke with a clear sky and little or no wind, and when the
sun came up fine and rosy, he looked over the rim of the horizon across
an azure sea just crinkled by a faint westerly breeze. Light as it was,
though, there was a biting sting in it which, before breakfast, set
the teeth chattering and raised one’s knuckles into big gristly knobs.
The broad sweep of the South Atlantic was well-nigh motionless, for it
was only at considerable intervals that a slight swell came sighing up
from the Antarctic, and the sea was as calm as off Newport in August.
Clothes suspended against the walls hung without motion, and we might
well have fancied ourselves in Long Island Sound; as for the day, it
was cloudless save for an occasional snow flurry, which lasted only a
few minutes. This clear, cold, merry weather at sea is indescribably
charming, though, no doubt, the men would tell a different tale, for
Olsen and Jacquin, who were mending an old fine-weather royal on the
cabin-house this morning, had to knock off work now and then to beat
some feeling into their stiffened fingers before they could drive the
needles through the canvas.
[Illustration: Mending sails in fine weather]
As we draw nearer and nearer to Cape Horn the men are daily growing
very anxious to know the ship’s position, and as I am, of course, the
only individual on board who will gratify their curiosity, they often
ask me several times a day. Frequently, on the main-deck, a man will
ask what the position is in a very low tone, after a careful scrutiny
round about to see that none of the after-guard is hard by. Sometimes,
as I pass by the wheel-house, I am assailed in a raven’s whisper with,
“Say, mister, what’s the latitood?” and their pleasure at being told
is quite child-like. A passenger on a sailing ship, by the way, is
seldom, if ever, called by his name; he is simply “mister.” Of course,
in a general way, sailors often get an idea of the approach of land
from the discoloration of the water, the increase in the number of
vessels sighted, and the presence of land-birds; but the average sailor
probably couldn’t tell within much less than a thousand miles of where
he is on a voyage like this. Even a second mate is generally very much
in the dark on this subject, for he is never a navigator on American
ships, as he ought to be, and keeps no reckoning. We have often seen
Mr. Rarx go up to the mate and hint in various ways that he would like
to know the ship’s position at noon. The mate sometimes tells him; but
Mr. Rarx is too good a seaman to stand well with such a man as the
mate, who does not know very much more of that art than some of the
sailors. Besides, it _might_ get to the men through one of the
bosuns, which would be truly horrible and unspeakable; therefore,
unless there is a passenger aboard, sailors live in almost blank
ignorance of their whereabouts throughout a four or five months’ voyage.
The bosun of the port-watch, big MacFoy, has been limping badly for
several days, his left foot being so severely mashed and swollen that
he cannot bear even a loose rubber boot on it. This is the result of a
sea which fell upon him one night at the weather forebraces. It slung
him across the deck and jammed his foot against a fife-rail stanchion,
but luckily broke no bones. I have promised to give him a glass of grog
to-morrow, the Fourth of July, but exceeding caution will have to be
exercised lest I be apprehended by the powers.
Yesterday the main-spencer was rigged, and as this is a heavy-weather
sail, a description of it may prove of interest. It is otherwise known
as a storm-try-sail, and, being a fore-and aft-sail, is set on the
main lower mast. A number of stout screw-eyes were driven into the
mast, extending from a point about eight feet above the deck to an
iron band three feet below the top; through these eyes an iron rod
was inserted, and to this rod the sail was laced. A standing-gaff was
then rigged, furnished with hoops, to which the head of the sail was
bent, the method of setting being by hauling it out on the gaff, like
the fore- and aft-sails on steamers. It is forty-four feet long on the
luff and twenty-two on the gaff, and is, of course, of No. 0 duck, with
a bolt-rope nearly as big as the fore-tack. The spencer is what is
known as a steadying sail in bad weather, and is usually set after the
courses have all been hauled up and the ship is head-reaching under the
lower topsails, or when the ship is regularly hove to.
There was a very turbulent scene enacted while the sail was being bent.
The mate was aloft, swinging over the rim of the top in a bowline,
trying to fit the end of the gaff into a gooseneck, both man and spar
flying wildly about as the ship rolled. Two vangs led down from the
gaff-end to the deck, one on either side, while a man on each, trying
to hold it steady, was jerked about like the tail of a kite. The mate
was already in a passion, for no sooner would he have the end nearly
in the socket than away it would fly, while he himself brought to with
a thump against the futtock-shrouds. At this juncture Captain Scruggs
appeared with his sextant. It was the signal for chaos. Everything
almost immediately was plunged into inextricable confusion. Something
had manifestly gone wrong with the old man below, for he was bristling
when he laid down his instrument on the deck-house and walked with
foreboding leisure to the break of the poop. You could see that he
was seething within himself; but for some time he appeared totally
unconscious of the mate, the spencer, and everything else; but when
the gaff drew off and smote the taut weather-shrouds with the force
of a steam-hammer, he thought it was time to take a hand. Did the
mate give an order he would instantly countermand it, sandwiching
in sarcastic remarks, such as, “Ah, that’s beautiful! You’d make a
master-rigger, you would. Think you’ll git that in by dark? I could
put the whole main-mast in while you’re scratchin’ away up there.” At
these pleasantries old Goggins fairly snarled and bared his teeth in
devilish grins, but kept silent. At last, seeing a chance, he bawled
to the man below who was surging up on the rope, “Lower away smart,
now.” “Hoist away, there,” immediately cried the skipper. Behold the
fatal straw on the dromedary. “’Ow in the name o’ G---- am Hi to do
this, Cap’n Scruggs, if you don’t let me alone?” And then they went
at it like Kilkenny cats, so that the air quivered with blasphemous
discharges. It was quite astonishing to hear the mate answer back with
such intrepid vehemence, and they kept it up so long that the captain
lost his sight; for when he removed his sextant the sun was falling,
which didn’t add very much to the geniality of his temper. Scenes of
this sort are heralded with the most intense joy by the men, who turn
their heads away to hide faces which actually glisten with delight.
Latitude, 43° 13′ south; longitude, 58° 24′ west.
+July 4+
We celebrated Independence Day not with pyrotechnical demonstrations,
but with a remarkable barometric performance: it fell seven-tenths of
an inch in ten hours, from 30.40 to 29.70, and this with an ugly look
to windward. The breeze began to freshen late yesterday afternoon,
and at five o’clock in came the fore- and mizzen-royals. At table,
the various utensils suddenly began to jump about, which was very
astonishing, inasmuch as the sea was almost perfectly quiet half an
hour earlier. The breeze kept on making, and when we came up from
supper, at six o’clock, the captain ordered the main-royal- and
mizzen-top-gallant-sail clewed up. At this time the ship was diving
heavily, and it was time to take the fore- and maintop-gallants off
her, too; the skipper had just concluded to furl them, when, with
a great weltering plunge, the ship pushed her lofty flaring bows
completely under a coaming sea, and then instantly rearing back, the
enormous mass of water was projected with terrific force against the
forward end of the forecastle-house. It smashed the lee door like
cardboard, though it was three inches thick, and then washed aft like a
Hooghly bore, absolutely filling the lee decks to the rail with solid
water,--that is, it was six feet deep in the scuppers, and it seemed
incredible that any bulwarks could withstand the strain; yet the water
ran off in a few minutes, leaving no further trace of its power than a
snarled mass of running gear which had been lifted off the pins. Good
luck that the lookout had just been ordered to the top of the house
instead of the forecastle-head, or there wouldn’t have been much of him
left after that sea had struck him.
The forecastle, though, was a spectacle indeed. Its doors open forward,
which no sailor likes; and when the big sea came from dead ahead and
stove the lee door, the water poured into the house in thousands of
gallons. It stood a foot deep on the floor, and shot up violently to
the carlines at every roll, washing the men’s bedding out of even the
topmost bunks (they are always built in three tiers, one above the
other), while their chests went banging about in the deep water, the
majority of them burst open, and others broken all to pieces. The sills
of the doors on all ships opening on the main-deck are usually about
eighteen inches high, to prevent the entrance of water, if possible;
but if, as in this case, a great quantity find its way into the
forecastle, these very sills prevent its egress. To be sure, there are
leaders which are supposed to draw the water off, but they are so small
that more than an hour passed before all the brine had disappeared. How
sorrowful and helpless the poor fellows looked as they surveyed their
drenched clothes and broken chests! and, worse than all, the dank,
soaked forecastle. It means more suffering and privation than landsmen
have any idea of, for the men will have to sleep in soggy, clammy,
mildewed bunks for at least a month. No forecastle ever dries off Cape
Horn, on account of the intense humidity of that region; and even if
the forecastle has a stove in it, it doesn’t dry things out, but calls
forth instead a rank steam from the reeking walls, which pervades the
room like a foul mist.
All this time the glass had been falling, and we looked for bad
weather; the captain had the main-sail hauled up, and in every way
stood by for a heavy blow. But we worked out a false reckoning, for
the wind shortly afterward let go more than half, while the aneroid
rose to 29.85, where it is now. Since six o’clock this morning we have
been about six points off our course, with the wind at south-southwest;
therefore the captain once more wrapped himself in his mantle of wrath,
and throughout dinner kept mumbling continuously to himself concerning
the probability of there being a Jonah on board. This was not the first
time that he has hinted at such things, and, though we knew well that
he meant us, I didn’t say anything, but let him growl on. It is almost
impossible to conceive how unpleasant it is to be considered a Jonah
aboard ship; it is easy to say, “What’s the use of paying any attention
to it?” But you can’t help heeding it, though it is only superstition,
and the eyes of every one on board aft seem to say, “Look at the
Jonah.” Foremast hands do not care how long they are at sea if they get
decent food and even passably good treatment; indeed, the saying among
them is, “More days, more dollars.” Still, in spite of everything we
are reminded of that dismal verse in the “Ancient Mariner,”--
“One by one, by the star-dogged moon,
Too quick for groan or sigh,
Each turned his face with a ghastly pang
And cursed me with his eye.”
There is another cause, however, for the skipper’s bad temper;
yesterday we slaughtered our first pig, and at all three meals to-day
we had fresh pork. Captain Scruggs caused prodigious quantities of it
to disappear and has been in anguish ever since. Indeed, it is hard
to imagine anything edible which will so upset one’s digestion as
fresh pork at sea; it is bad enough ashore, where plenty of exercise
is to be had, but aboard ship one hearty meal of pork freshly killed
will cause an incredible amount of distress. The skipper instanced
an illustration of how difficult it is to digest at sea: on the last
outward voyage he killed a pig just before he reached San Francisco,
and, the weather being too warm to keep the meat sweet, most of it was
given to the sailors. Now, these men can digest sour, soggy bread and
salt beef like ironwood, yet this fresh pork vanquished them, and five
men were actually laid up in their bunks at the end of the second day.
Had many severe hail-squalls during the last twenty-four hours, but
fine weather otherwise, sharp and clear. Latitude, 44° 41′ south;
longitude, 59° 58′ west.
+July 5+
Very light southerly airs and a calm sea have added vastly to our
surprise at such weather off Patagonia. How remarkable it is to find
these gentle, variable winds here, when the popular notion of this
region is a continuous westerly gale! Findlay’s “South Atlantic
Directory,” however, indicates generally fine weather from 40° to
50° south _near the land_, and this has been our skipper’s
almost invariable experience, except that the wind ought to be to the
northward instead of to the southward of west; at the present moment,
though, the breeze shows signs of hauling to the northward with the
sun, instead of against, so perhaps it will stop there for a while. The
wind has been so light and contrary for the twenty-four hours, that in
that period we made only eight miles of latitude and seven of longitude!
My wife and I have finished reading Nansen’s “First Crossing of
Greenland,” and during its perusal we learned some remarkable facts.
For instance, it is strange how the body craves fat or grease of any
sort when deprived of it for a long while; and it is also very odd to
read that a lump of butter eaten alone slakes the thirst of men in
the Arctic regions! I wonder why Nansen doesn’t undertake the ascent
of Mount Everest? It seems to me that he, with all his strength and
vitality, would be peculiarly well fitted for such an expedition, not
to mention his being a man of science. How much interest the writings
of Sir Joseph Hooker would lack if that great mountaineer had not been
a scientist! The amount of risk to Nansen, too, in comparison with an
Arctic voyage, would be very small; while the glory of being the first
to stand upon the topmost pinnacle of the earth’s surface could be
dwarfed only by the attainment of the Pole itself. I have loaned the
second mate the Greenland book, as Mr. Rarx is deeply interested in
such work, and is desirous of joining an expedition to the North Pole.
He fears not being able to pass the physical tests necessary before
becoming a member of the crew, but as he has considerable knowledge of
the Peary Greenland expedition, it is my notion that he tried to join
it, but was rejected; and as he laid stress on the fact that no one
would be taken who had any old scars on his person, it is not unlikely
that he was barred for this reason. Considering his lean, powerful
frame, he ought to be well able to endure hardships.