stay-sail business, when, without warning, there came a very great
lurch, and then the booming of mighty waters smote our ears as a
whooping sea fell thundering directly on the poop. For a moment we were
speechless as the water rushed in our windows, in spite of this being
the lee side, drenching every object in the room; but we were called to
our senses mighty suddenly by the volume of water that came cascading
down the companion-way and gushing inches deep into our room. But,
alas! what could we do? Such a thing happens in a second, and by the
time that we had slammed the door and shutters there was no more water
to come in and the damage was wrought. Personally we did not suffer
extensively, but the after-cabin was a rare sight. The skipper’s room
was on the weather-side, and as the ship heeled far over to the sea,
everything movable shot out into the cabin, and when we first saw it
books, magazines, balls of twine, slippers, shoes, ocean directories,
charts, dividers, rulers, cigars, and an incredible number of old San
Franciscan newspapers, every letter of which we have read, including
the advertisements, were washing about in half a foot of brine. An
idea of the volume of water may be gained when it is said that the
steward and Sammie were an hour and a half in baling it out with
buckets. Fortunately, the weather windows were protected by the solid
wooden shutters which had just been closed; but the companion door had
been left open, and this did nearly all the damage. Not even when the
forward skylight was stove off the river Plate was there so much water
below, and it was really an alarming thing to see so much ocean flowing
down the companion-stairs.
But all these little inconveniences were as nothing when compared with
the fact that the gale delayed us seriously and that the sea kept
knocking us off, though the wind was steady at north-northwest; so
that, in spite of it, we did not make good a better course than east
by north and went through the water very slowly, as we had to hold her
well up to make even one point of northing.
By ten this +A.M.+, however, the wind had so moderated that
the top-gallant-sails were set, but we began then to break off to the
southward of east, and at one o’clock we wore ship and are now on the
starboard tack, heading up northwest by north. The point to be avoided
at all hazards is not to fall off to the southward any more; never mind
going back into the Pacific a little if you can make some northing. Our
destination is distant only a hundred and fifty miles, and the captain
has until Saturday to save his record of one hundred and thirty days.
Latitude, 36° 28′ north; longitude, 125° 30′ west.
+September 17+
Instead of being now within sight of the coast, lo! we are becalmed
within twenty miles of where we were at noon yesterday. It is difficult
to imagine anything more exasperating than to lie idly upon the surface
of a glassy ocean, only a little more than a hundred miles from the
port for which you have been striving for four months. I wouldn’t care
if the voyage were to be several weeks longer, but it is trying for all
hands to thus lie becalmed so near the haven. Off the Hooghly, we were
similarly tortured with light winds for several days.
When we went on deck this morning the weather was such that we
might well have conceived ourselves down between the Trades, for we
apparently floated in oil, and the big squares of canvas depended in
writhing folds from the lofty yards. Not even the smallest clouds
spattered the blue heavens, but a thin haze covered the sea and rose
above the horizon some fifteen degrees or so, a semi-transparent
curtain of a deep orange, beautiful to behold, but of ill omen, as it
was highly improbable that anything worthy the name of breeze would
come from anywhere with such conditions.
Astern, among the dark, spiral water-funnels floated half a dozen
gunies, and we thought that perhaps we could capture one; therefore
the skipper rigged a small hook baited with bacon-rind to a thin line
and dropped it overboard. In a few minutes one took the bait; and,
giving the line a jerk, he hooked the creature in the upper part of the
bill and hauled him through the water and up over the stern. This bird
made but little resistance, and formed a strong contrast to the fierce
struggles of an albatross under similar conditions. When finally
deposited upon the deck, he seemed to be about the size of a swan as to
body, but his wings were very long, the alar extent being eight feet,
or only three or four feet less than an average albatross. Like the
latter, a guny can inflict a very severe wound with his bill, and it is
necessary to have a care for your calves as you pass by. We endeavored
to take some photographs of the big bird, but he would insist upon
continual motion, and finally the wretched beast cast up the contents
of his stomach on the deck, after the manner of all sea-fowl. Then the
captain brought up the Maltese cat, who entertains a very lofty opinion
of itself and who is in the habit of valiantly putting the chickens to
flight; he was apparently stunned, though, when confronted with the
great bird, and when the latter opened a beak in which the whole of
Tommie’s head might have rested, his tail thickened and he sped him
away. As it was useless then to keep the guny any longer on board, the
skipper grasped him dexterously by the tip of one wing and threw him
over the side; whereupon catching himself before he touched the water,
he flew off with a joyous scream to rejoin his comrades, and no doubt
relate to them his wonderful adventures. Latitude, 36° 35′ north;
longitude, 125° 50′ west.
+September 18+
Becalmed, sixty-five miles from the Farallones! It is a dismal fact
that although we had a light, fair wind all last night, it let go at
nine this morning, and since then we have been weltering in a light
swell from the northward, with the sea at times like blue ice. Such
a dead calm was it that my wife and I played cards the greater part
of the morning on deck. At 7 +A.M.+ the haze that shrouded the
sea commenced to melt under the hot sun, and two ships were disclosed
to our vision, one to port, the other to starboard. The former was a
three-master of about two thousand tons, while the other was a very
large, full-rigged, four-masted ship--that is, square-rigged on all the
masts--of fully twenty-eight hundred tons. Both were metal vessels, and
made a fine picture as they gracefully topped the easy swell. They were
bound to the southward, and therefore have all their troubles before
them.
The poor old man has broken his record, and we feel very sorry for
him; and, indeed, it is a very fine thing for a captain to be able to
say that never, upon any voyage, in any part of the world, has he been
more than one hundred and thirty days at sea. He takes this voyage very
philosophically, which is a remarkable fact, and says that no matter
how fine a man’s record may be, it’s only necessary to keep on and
it will at last be broken. I divided up some articles of old clothes
among the men this afternoon, and their pleasure as they drew lots
for the various pieces, which they made no attempt to conceal, was
delightful to see. We, ourselves, are all packed up ready to go ashore
whenever the wind will allow us; it is very satisfactory to get this
done, for we always travel with an altogether unnecessary quantity of
impedimenta, and it is a matter of considerable skill to compress all
the things into two or three trunks.
While we were looking at the smaller of those two ships this morning
the captain said that she looked like the British ship “Eurydice,”
the present holder of the record passage across the North Pacific,
she having made the voyage from Yokohama to Port Townsend in the
wonderfully fast time of nineteen days. With this voyage compare those
of two other British square-riggers, the “Clan Macfarlane” and the
“Matterhorn”; neither is a slow ship, yet the former was one hundred
and one days sailing from Hong-Kong to San Francisco, and the latter
one hundred and fourteen between the same ports.
The captain is beginning to wonder how difficult it is going to be for
him to get a crew in ’Frisco when he is ready for sea again; he is
worrying a good deal over it, for when we sailed from New York sailors
were so scarce in San Francisco that the big ships “Forfarshire” and
“Kensington” went to sea with crews half of which were ranch hands, who
had been rounded up by the crimps. Latitude, 37° 11′ north; longitude,
124° 12′ west.
+September 19+
At half-past six this morning there was a great rapping and thumping
on our door, and Captain Scruggs cried, “If you want to see the
Faralleeones you’d better come on deck.” Ten minutes later we emerged
from the companion-way, but at first could see nothing at all for
a chilly fog that lay upon the water, which had, during the night,
changed to the muddy green of soundings. By dint of perseverance,
though, we saw a large, dark mass loom gradually up until we could
plainly discern the brown, sterile cones of the Farallones, which lie
about twenty-five miles west of San Francisco Heads. Many persons have
been puzzled to know why it is that the majority of the Pacific coast
population pronounce the word as though it was spelled Fa-ra-lee-owns.
The explanation of it seems to me to be a corruption of the Spanish
pronunciation Fa-ralyo-nes, as, of course, the double l in that
language has the sound of y. The same can be said of Mollendo, an
important Peruvian port in 17° south; for Californians who are not
especially erudite call the place Mol-ly-en-do, from the Spanish
Mol-yen-do. It will be perceived how readily careless persons could
fall into the way of putting an extra syllable in names which contain
the double l, from hearing Mexicans and South Americans pronounce the
words, which, of course, they do correctly.
As we had packed all of our valises, etc., the night before, there was
nothing for us to do but to anticipate with pleasurable excitement
the entrance into the Golden Gate, for the captain assured us that by
eleven o’clock there wouldn’t be a vestige of fog left; this being a
peculiarity of the coast climate. Sure enough, at ten the mists began
to disperse and a bright glare overhead indicated an impending flood of
sunshine.
At this moment we heard several sharp whistles ahead, and a tow-boat
passed close to us in another minute, and then rounding to, ranged up
alongside. How odd a sensation it is to see a new face again after
an absence of four months from the retreats of men! Day after day,
week after week, we have watched Mr. Goggins relieve Mr. Rarx, and
Broadhead relieve Paddy, so steadily that we almost forgot that there
was any one else in existence; and when we perceived the captain of
the tug-boat standing in the pilot-house in a glistening “biled” shirt
and store clothes and a polish on his brown shoes that quite dazzled
us, we gazed upon him fascinated, for he was the biggest dude we had
seen in nineteen weeks. And how uncouth the ship’s company looked
when contrasted with even the tow-boat’s crew! However, we were soon
brought to from our reveries by a large bundle of newspapers that the
tug’s skipper hove on board; and who can depict the joy of that hour,
during which we pored over the journals, marvelling at the commonplace
allusions to momentous events which had been almost forgotten by the
daily reader?
Presently we passed two ships bound up to Puget Sound,--the “Dashing
Wave” and the “Yosemite” (old Neilsen, a Swede, said he used to
sail in the “Jo-se-might”),--and then, the fog lifting suddenly and
completely, we found ourselves only two miles from the Heads. “Get
out an old ensign,” said the skipper to the mate, “and put it in the
riggin’, union down.” “Hall right, sir,” answered that individual with
much satisfaction, and in a few minutes an old torn flag, reversed,
fluttered in the starboard mizzen-shrouds. It was of ominous meaning,
for to a sailor it signified “police assistance wanted on board.” And
then we remembered the Frenchman below, and wondered what his thoughts
and anticipations must be, for of course he knew that a tow-boat had
our line.
It was a quarter to noon when we entered the Golden Gate under a
cloudless sky and caught our first glimpse of the world-famed harbor. A
single word describes it,--magnificent. The entrance itself, where the
ship moves on between wild, rugged hills that tower sheer out of the
sea, is marked with an individual grandeur, and serves to prepare one
for the splendid haven within; and when the ship finally glides beyond
a certain headland and creeps slowly along in a perfect maze of great
wooden and steel sailing ships, with the immense expanse of shining
water ahead, the wonderful, perpendicular streets on the starboard
hand, and the endless chain of lofty hills on the other, a sensation of
pride tingles through you when you think that it is your “ain countrie”
that boasts this great, matchless harbor.
Long before the anchorage was reached a handsome white steamer was seen
approaching us, with a vertically striped flag in the stern. It was the
revenue cutter; and, steaming alongside, four men at once stepped on
board. The first was the customs inspector, and the others, a deputy
United States marshal and two policemen. It was a dramatic scene. All
of our men were huddled around the galley, with anxious looks toward
the officers of the law, who immediately went into the cabin and held
a long conversation in low tones with the captain. Then the deputy
marshal stepped into the second mate’s room and talked with him five
minutes in whispers, a blue-coat posting himself at each cabin door.
A rattling of keys was heard in another moment, and then old Goggins,
somewhat awed, but as pompous and ridiculous as a turkey, stumped
down into the lazarette, and with much unnecessary clanking of chains
Louis issued forth into daylight. He was as pale as ashes, for a sort
of prison pallor was upon his usually dark cheeks, and he seemed on
the point of breaking down when he saw the police. Then he looked
all around imploringly, first at his shipmates near the galley, then
at Captain Scruggs, and finally he caught sight of us, when he cast
upon us a look so sad and beseeching that I will remember forever the
sorrowful look in his eyes. Only for an instant did he stop, though;
the officers stepped forward at a nod from the deputy, grasped the
Frenchman, still manacled, by the collar, marched him quickly over to
the port side, hustled him aboard the revenue boat, and in another
instant Louis Jacquin, able seaman, of Dunquerque, disappeared from
view and was on his way to show cause for an assault on the high seas
upon Thomas Rarx, second mate of the clipper “Hosea Higgins.”
When the anchor had touched the bottom we stood by for the crimps.
Even before we were aware of it the evil creatures began to swarm on
board like a flock of sinister vultures, and without ceremony they
fell upon their prey. They plied the men from bottles whose black
nozzles protruded from their coat-pockets; and in a few minutes each
had persuaded his man to go with him when they should get ashore.
Poor fellows, once more in the clutches of the vampires, who, while
not actually fostered by the government, yet are allowed to ply their
abominable and iniquitous trade full in the face of the law. And I
repeat, _the allotment or advance system of wages that now prevails,
and which is the basis upon which the whole scheme of crimping
is founded, must be abolished_. It is the duty of the Federal
government to see to it that this is done.
At fifteen minutes past twelve there was a loud order from the captain,
“Let go.” Then came the heavy, crushing splash, the fierce rush of
the cable, the big four-thousand-pound anchor gripped the mud of San
Francisco Bay, and our long voyage was a thing of the past. How many
exciting moments we had had in those one hundred and thirty-one days!
What varied phases of the ocean we had witnessed in the seventeen
thousand four hundred miles we had sailed, from the snowy squalls and
hissing seas of Cape Horn to the quiet breezes and calm surface of the
equatorial seas!
Little time was given us for reflection, though, for the tug-boat
skipper had agreed to put us ashore at the foot of Market Street, if
we would “look alive.” So we threw our valises and shawl-straps to
a deck-hand on the tug, shook Captain Scruggs’ hardy fist, and then
turned to do the same with Mr. Goggins; but as this individual was
invisible at the time, no doubt below in the fore-peak, we were obliged
to forego that pleasure. And now there ensued a remarkable scene: as
we went over the side we noticed that all the sailors were on the
mainyard, unbending the sail, and as we stepped aboard the tow-boat I
shouted, “Good-by, boys! Good luck to you all!” There was a moment’s
silence, and then Broadhead, who was at the starboard yard-arm just
over our heads, sung out, “Now, fellows, three times three for them”;
and at once there broke out the most vociferous and lusty cheering
that ever came from eighteen throats. The men seemed to get worked up
as they shouted, and at last MacFoy and a dozen others fairly yelled
and threw their caps on deck and waved their arms like madmen, so
that their voices went ringing peal on peal over the broad harbor,
bringing to the rail the officers and crews of the big Scotch ships
“Aberfoyle,” “County of Linlithgow” and “Blairgowrie,” which lay hard
by, to know what all this cheering meant on a Yankee just in from sea.
It was a moment to bring a tear to your eye; and neither my wife nor
I can ever forget these honest, big-hearted sailors as they appeared
on that yard, shouting themselves hoarse. Why? Simply because we had
bade them good-morning and good-night during the voyage and had shown
that we understood and appreciated their hard and thankless labors.
If ship-masters would realize that a single kind word or even look
often exerts more influence over a crew than oaths and blows, what
a difference there would be in the handling and navigating of our
long-voyage sailing ships!
APPENDIX
A few days after our arrival at San Francisco, Louis Jacquin was
brought for trial at that port before the United States Commissioner.
He made an excellent defence; so good, indeed, that after due
consideration of both sides of the case, the commissioner was compelled
to discharge him, and Louis walked forth a free man. This was a just
and most satisfactory termination of the matter, though I would have
liked to see Rarx properly punished for his treatment of Karl _et
al._ In truth, Karl, Brün and Pettersen did prefer charges against
both mates, who were held for trial; but when the case came up no
witnesses appeared against them, for the very good reason that the
three men were shanghaied aboard a New York bound ship by the boarding
masters, thus pursuing the usual course in such matters. Rarx recovered
in a short time, and no doubt is at this moment stamping on some poor
fellow whom he has beaten down with the ever-present belaying-pin.
While this book was in press, there arrived at San Francisco one of our
most widely known Cape-Horners. The men related stories of unusually
shocking cruelties on the part of the captain as well as the officers,
and the second mate was held in five hundred dollars bonds. Two of
the sailors testified, on separate occasions, to this incident: While
wearing off the Horn one day, the second mate struck a sailor down with
a capstan-bar and was kicking him heavily in the head, when the mate
yelled from the poop, “That’s right, kick the life out of him”; to
which the second mate replied, “I would kill him if we were only bound
to Hong-Kong.”
Is this the way our consuls protect the lives of men under the flag?
What is the matter with our Eastern consular service that men may be
killed on our ships (as they have been), and the murderers go free upon
landing at Chinese and Japanese ports? A delightful travesty, indeed,
upon our exalted civilization.
THE END.
Transcriber’s Notes
Perceived typographical errors have been silently corrected.
Colloquial spelling in dialog has been retained as in the original.
Variations in use of hyphenation, compound words and quotation marks
have been preserved.
Illustrations have been moved nearer to the text to which they refer.