Severe Cold--Furious Storm--Diego Ramirez Islands--Land
Ahead--Cape Horn Weather--Two Vessels--Length of Days and
Nights--Disagreeable Brawl--Heading North--Patagonia--The
Andes--Another Storm--Anxiety of Captain J.--A Lunar
Rainbow--Another Gale--Bill of Fare--Filthy Cooks and Impure Water.
_June 23._ The wind, which continued to blow with great fury during
the night, began to subside a little towards morning, and as it was
now veering to a more favorable point, we unfurled the sails, and were
in good spirits at the prospect of speedily weathering the Cape. But
the wind soon changed again, and continued to blow in violent gusts
during the day, bringing down flights of snow and sleet, which covered
the decks, and froze the sails and rigging. The cold was severe, and
our cabin very uncomfortable. By invitation from one of the ladies, I
visited their cabin for the first time since we left Rio. I was glad
of an opportunity to warm my feet and hands at their stove. We are
in the habit of betaking ourselves to our berths for warmth, though
I occasionally get into the cooks' galley when it is not occupied by
other passengers or sailors.
During a temporary abatement of the gale at night, several of the
ladies went out and amused themselves with snow-balling. The sport was
lively but of short continuance.
_June 24._ A fresh wind was blowing in the morning when I arose, and
a thick fall of snow nearly blinded me as I went out on deck. The
cold had become intense, and it was a time of suffering for the poor
sailors. But the wind was fair, and Captain J. determined to improve
it by spreading more sail. But the men had scarcely got the fore
and maintop sails set, when the storm came on again with a fury far
exceeding any thing we had yet encountered, and they were again sent
aloft to furl the sails. We now lay to under two stay sails, the ship
rolling with great violence, and the seas breaking over the decks.
There is a beauty, a sublimity in this war of the winds and waters,
that fill the mind of the beholder with emotions of mingled delight and
awe, and not unfrequently, be it confessed, with fear. It presents a
scene which is difficult to describe, and can be imagined only by him
who has witnessed it. To the captain it was at this time a season of
anxiety, and to the sailors one of severe hardship. It was also a time
of much uneasiness with many of the passengers; and one of them, who
went up to assist in furling a sail, came down with his hands badly
frozen. The winds whistled, howled and shrieked through the rigging,
the torn sails flapped, the strained masts creaked and groaned, the
waves rolled up into immense billows covered with foam, and dashed
against the sides of the ship and over the bulwarks, deluging every
person and setting afloat every loose thing upon the decks. Borne
about by the raging waters, the ship often staggered for a moment upon
the crest of a great wave, as if fearful of the plunge she was about
to take, but quickly sinking down into the moving chasm, as if she
were attempting to dive to the bottom of the sea, until overtaken by
another billow, she rose to its crest, though only to be sunk into
another and another gulf. Sometimes pressed down upon her side by a
more violent gust of wind until her yardarms dipped into the water, the
interposition of a merciful Providence only could save us. But that
Providence, which had watched over, and guarded and guided us through
so many perils, did not desert us in this. The blast swept by, the ship
slowly arose, and her freight of eighty-eight human beings escaped the
threatened destruction.
Restless as the sea birds that still hovered around her, ever in
motion, pitching, plunging, lurching and rolling, she was apparently
driven about at the mercy of the winds and waves, that almost bade
defiance to the men at the wheel, whose utmost skill and exertions
could scarce enable them to direct her course.
Captain J. came into the after house during the storm to take a cup of
coffee, with his clothes whitened with the snow and his face coated
with ice. But he had scarcely been in a minute, when he was hastily
sent for by the mate, for the gale had suddenly increased to such a
degree of violence, that we were in great danger of being capsized. He
went out again, and gave orders to reduce even the small patches of
canvass that were still flying. His orders were answered promptly, and
the ship lay to again. The storm raged with great fury till near noon,
when it began to abate, and we were enabled to carry a little more
sail. The wind continued favorable during the remainder of the day, but
the snow squalls came on in terrible blasts until late at night.
A week had now elapsed since we passed through the Strait of Le Maire,
and so beclouded had the sky been during that time, that Captain J. had
had no opportunity to take an observation of the sun, and of course he
was in painful uncertainty as to our situation. There was some danger
to be apprehended from a cluster of small islands or rocks, called the
Diego Ramirez Islands, lying fifty-five miles to the south-west of Cape
Horn, and near which we expected to pass. And it behooved us to keep a
good lookout for these rocks during the obscurity of the day, and the
deep darkness of the night.
_June 25._ The cry of "land ahead" aroused us at an early hour this
morning. It proved to be the islands I have just mentioned. The night
was so dark that we were close upon the breakers before we were aware
of our approach to the islands. Fortunately we had room enough in which
to wear ship and escape the danger. We stood away till daylight enabled
us to resume our course, when we passed between these islands and
Tierra del Fuego.
We have now weathered Cape Horn. During eight days since we passed
through the Strait of Le Maire, we have been struggling against head
winds, and have at length accomplished a task, which might have been
performed with a fair wind in ten or twelve hours. Our impatience has
been great, and we feel much relieved on finding ourselves beyond the
stormy barrier, and with a fair prospect of soon being safely delivered
from this region of storms and darkness. There is another little
circumstance that adds to our cheerfulness. From the second day since
we left Rio we have not seen a single sail. This afternoon two vessels
are in sight, and our company, for want of other subjects, are busily
engaged in discussing the questions, "Who are they?" and "Can we come
up with them?" and "How soon?"
The sun rose to-day at fifteen minutes past nine, and set at fifteen
minutes before three, giving us a day of five and a half hours, and a
night eighteen and a half hours long.
_June 27._ Sunday. Our ship has been the scene of a disgraceful brawl,
I may almost say, riot. For many weeks past, a feud has existed between
our worthy chaplain, Mr. Johnson, and Miss Julia S. Miss Julia, who is
not overburdened with a superabundance of refinement or delicacy, has
used some rather coarse language towards Mr. J., which he, perhaps, has
not received with that meekness and forbearance, which would become
a minister of the Gospel. This morning when he arose, he saw a dress
of Miss Julia's hanging against the stove, where she had placed it to
dry, and not being in that amiable frame of mind that would seem to
be desirable, he threw the dress upon the floor, where it remained
till Miss Julia found it. Her wrath was very bitter, and many hard
words passed between her and the reverend chaplain; the temper of both
parties increasing in warmth until Mr. J. remarked in the language of
Scripture that he would leave Miss Julia to her "wallowing like a sow
in the mire," whereupon Miss Julia seized a billet of wood and threw
it at the head of the parson, and the parson, in the excitement of the
moment, forgetting the injunction to turn the other cheek, returned
the compliment by hitting Miss Julia a slap in the face, and pushing
her towards the companion-way. By this time the inmates of our room,
overhearing the uproar, had assembled at the head of the companion-way,
and were on the point of rushing down; but taking a moment to consider,
they turned back, and in an instant were engaged among themselves in
an altercation upon the demerits of the quarrel, almost as violent as
that which was raging below. Captain J. soon joined us, and as his mode
of reasoning seldom tends to allay wrath or to settle a dispute, the
discussion continued with increased violence, and it was several hours
before order was restored. As in former quarrels, a large majority
of the passengers were found to advocate the cause of the woman. But
whoever was most to blame, Mr. Johnson was the most deeply injured by
the quarrel, and his influence and usefulness, which had long been
waning, were from this time ended. There are several religious people
in the main cabin, who held a prayer-meeting after the quarrel had
subsided, but Mr. J. did not attend, nor did he attempt to hold any
other religious exercises during the day.
_June 28._ We are now driving along before a fine breeze in the Pacific
Ocean, which seems disposed to prove to us on our introduction, that
she is entitled to the soubriquet by which she is known. Cape Horn is
far behind us, we have given Tierra del Fuego a wide berth, and headed
our ship for the north. Our next port, Talcahuana, is only a thousand
miles distant,--next to nothing,--and we will be there in a week if
this breeze continues. Sherman has captured another porpoise, and we
shall have some steaks for breakfast, and some oil for our lamps.
The air for two days past has been comparatively mild, I am enabled
to spend considerable time on deck, my health is improving, and I am
enjoying many pleasing anticipations.
_June 29._ Our course is parallel to the coast of Patagonia; and though
more than seventy-five miles distant from it, we have a distinct view
of some majestic ranges of mountains on the large islands, which lie
along the coast. Standing as they do in this bleak and dreary land,
their sides and summits shrouded in snow, and presenting to the view
and the imagination, a picture at once of vast sublimity and of eternal
solitude and utter desolation, I can scarcely restrain the feeling of
awe that comes over me as I behold them. But what land is that coming
suddenly in sight under our lee bow, and nearly in the direction of
the ship? All hands are gazing at it, and Captain J., as he sees our
proximity to the land, begins to doubt the accuracy of his reckoning.
We are all anxious about it, for with the wind in its present
direction, we must tack ship or run ashore. Night comes on, the ship is
put about, and our dream of a speedy run to Talcahuana is at an end.
And these mountains we have been beholding must lie beyond the islands,
and it adds not a little to the interest of the scene to reflect that
they can be no other than a portion of the great range of the Andes,
and this my first, and will probably be my last view of them.
_June 30._ It has been our fortune to encounter another storm. The
wind blew with great fury, and rolled the waves up to a magnificent
height. We had been scudding before it nearly all day, and were fast
drifting on a lee shore, with little chance of escape but with a change
of wind. Captain J. passed much of his time on deck, and was watchful
and anxious. He came into our room at night to warn us of approaching
danger. "I tell you what," said he, "I don't want to say nothing to
skear you, but if this wind holds till morning, we shall see hard
times." Such an announcement from our experienced captain, who had not,
during the voyage, uttered a warning so fraught with terror to us,
and which betrayed his sense of the imminence of our danger, caused
a shade of deep anxiety to pass over the countenances of many of our
companions, who could have exclaimed in the language of honest old
Gonzalo: "Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of
barren ground; long heath, brown furze, any thing. The wills above be
done! but I would fain die a dry death." But it was not our destiny to
be engulfed in the raging sea, nor to suffer a more horrible death on
the bleak and desolate coast of Patagonia. After a few hours of anxious
suspense, we perceived a lull in the storm, and this lull was succeeded
by a change in the wind, which enabled us to stand on our course again,
which we did under all the canvass our ship could carry.
_July 2._ I have had the pleasure of beholding a novel phenomenon,
a lunar rainbow. It occurred at seven o'clock in the evening. The
atmosphere was hazy, and the moon shone with a dim luster. Though much
fainter than a solar rainbow, and having none of its brilliant hues,
it was still very distinct, and spanned nearly half the arch of the
heavens.
_July 4. Sunday._ No religious services to-day, nor any celebration of
the anniversary of Independence. Instead thereof, we have been battling
with another heavy gale, and driving before it under the foresail,
foretop sail, and maintop sail, all close reefed. The seas run very
high, and the ship pitched violently. Standing on the quarter-deck, we
could often see the waves over the fore yard as the vessel pitched into
the trough of a sea.
_July 5._ Another attempt has been made to induce Captain J. to
substitute a more decent bill of fare in place of the disgusting dishes
upon which he has starved us during the voyage. As we are approaching
Talcahuana, where a supply of such necessaries as we may need can
be obtained, it was thought proper to hold a formal meeting for the
purpose in the main cabin. A chairman, secretary and a committee
to report a bill of fare for the consideration of Captain J., were
chosen. Mr. Grant, the chief steward, was called in, who stated that
in supplying the table in the after cabin with better food than those
in the other parts of the ship, he had acted in compliance with the
orders of Captain J., and that the captain had also directed him to
reduce the allowance of soft-tack to the passengers. The committee on
the bill of fare reported to recommend for dinners, on Monday, beef
and rice; on Tuesday, beans and pork; on Wednesday, fish and potatoes,
or rice; on Thursday, beef and potatoes and duff; on Friday, beans and
pork; on Saturday, fish and potatoes, and on Sunday, beef and duff,
with soft-tack and apple-sauce once a day. This report was accepted.
The committee immediately waited upon the captain, whom they found in
a more amiable mood than they had anticipated, and obtained from him
some general promises of improvement, which gave us a slight degree of
encouragement.
It is not a little provoking under all our privations to know that
we have on board the bark a sufficient quantity of wholesome food to
make us comfortable. In addition to good beef, pork, codfish, beans,
potatoes and hard-bread, we have a quantity of flour, sufficient to
give us a reasonable supply of soft-tack, besides rice, dried apples,
raisins and sugar. We have no reason to complain of the owners of
the vessel, but charge our discomforts to the surly brutality of the
captain, and the execrable filthiness of the cooks. A portion of our
supply of water is impure, having been put into bad casks. But when one
of these casks is tapped, however disgusting it may be, we are allowed
no other until it is used up.
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