CAPE HORN--A VISIT
Wednesday, Nov. 5th. The weather was fine during the previous night,
and we had a clear view of the Magellan Clouds, and of the Southern
Cross. The Magellan Clouds consist of three small nebulae in the
southern part of the heavens,--two bright, like the milky-way, and one
dark. These are first seen, just above the horizon, soon after crossing
the southern tropic. When off Cape Horn, they are nearly overhead. The
cross is composed of four stars in that form, and is said to be the
brightest constellation in the heavens.
During the first part of this day (Wednesday) the wind was light, but
after noon it came on fresh, and we furled the royals. We still kept
the studding-sails out, and the captain said he should go round with
them, if he could. Just before eight o'clock, (then about sun-down, in
that latitude,) the cry of "All hands ahoy!" was sounded down the fore
scuttle and the after hatchway, and hurrying upon deck, we found a
large black cloud rolling on toward us from the south-west, and
blackening the whole heavens. "Here comes the Cape Horn!" said the
chief mate; and we had hardly time to haul down and clew up, before it
was upon us. In a few moments, a heavier sea was raised than I had
ever seen before, and as it was directly ahead, the little brig, which
was no better than a bathing machine, plunged into it, and all the
forward part of her was under water; the sea pouring in through the
bow-ports and hawse-hole and over the knight-heads, threatening to wash
everything overboard. In the lee scuppers it was up to a man's waist.
We sprang aloft and double reefed the topsails, and furled all the
other sails, and made all snug. But this would not do; the brig was
laboring and straining against the head sea, and the gale was growing
worse and worse. At the same time the sleet and hail were driving with
all fury against us. We clewed down, and hauled out the reef-tackles
again, and close-reefed the fore-topsail, and furled the main, and hove
her to on the starboard tack. Here was an end to our fine prospects.
We made up our minds to head winds and cold weather; sent down the
royal yards, and unrove the gear, but all the rest of the top hamper
remained aloft, even to the sky-sail masts and studding-sail booms.
Throughout the night it stormed violently--rain, hail, snow, and sleet
beating down upon the vessel--the wind continuing to break ahead, and
the sea running high. At daybreak (about three, A.M.) the deck was
covered with snow. The captain sent up the steward with a glass of
grog to each of the watch; and all the time that we were off the Cape,
grog was given to the morning watch, and to all hands whenever we
reefed topsails. The clouds cleared away at sun-rise, and the wind
becoming more fair, we again made sail and stood nearly up to our
course.
Thursday, Nov. 6th. It continued more pleasant through the first part
of the day, but at night we had the same scene over again. This time,
we did not heave to, as on the night before, but endeavored to beat to
windward under close-reefed top-sails, balance-reefed trysail, and fore
top-mast stay-sail. This night it was my turn to steer, or, as the
sailors say, my trick at the helm, for two hours. Inexperienced as I
was, I made out to steer to the satisfaction of the officer, and
neither S---- nor myself gave up our tricks, all the time that we were
off the Cape. This was something to boast of, for it requires a good
deal of skill and watchfulness to steer a vessel close hauled, in a
gale of wind, against a heavy head sea. "Ease her when she pitches,"
is the word; and a little carelessness in letting her ship a heavy sea,
might sweep the decks, or knock masts out of her.
Friday, Nov. 7th. Towards morning the wind went down, and during the
whole forenoon we lay tossing about in a dead calm, and in the midst of
a thick fog. The calms here are unlike those in most parts of the
world, for there is always such a high sea running, and the periods of
calm are so short, that it has no time to go down; and vessels, being
under no command of sails or rudder, lie like logs upon the water. We
were obliged to steady the booms and yards by guys and braces, and to
lash everything well below. We now found our top hamper of some use,
for though it is liable to be carried away or sprung by the sudden
"bringing up" of a vessel when pitching in a chopping sea, yet it is a
great help in steadying a vessel when rolling in a long swell; giving
it more slowness, ease, and regularity to the motion.
The calm of the morning reminds me of a scene which I forgot to
describe at the time of its occurrence, but which I remember from its
being the first time that I had heard the near breathing of whales. It
was on the night that we passed between the Falkland Islands and Staten
Land. We had the watch from twelve to four, and coming upon deck,
found the little brig lying perfectly still, surrounded by a thick fog,
and the sea as smooth as though oil had been poured upon it; yet now
and then a long, low swell rolling over its surface, slightly lifting
the vessel, but without breaking the glassy smoothness of the water. We
were surrounded far and near by shoals of sluggish whales and
grampuses; which the fog prevented our seeing, rising slowly to the
surface, or perhaps lying out at length, heaving out those peculiar
lazy, deep, and long-drawn breathings which give such an impression of
supineness and strength. Some of the watch were asleep, and the others
were perfectly still, so that there was nothing to break the illusion,
and I stood leaning over the bulwarks, listening to the slow breathing
of the mighty creatures--now one breaking the water just alongside,
whose black body I almost fancied that I could see through the fog; and
again another, which I could just hear in the distance--until the low
and regular swell seemed like the heaving of the ocean's mighty bosom
to the sound of its heavy and long-drawn respirations.
Towards the evening of this day, (Friday 7th,) the fog cleared off, and
we had every appearance of a cold blow; and soon after sun-down it came
on. Again it was clew up and haul down, reef and furl, until we had
got her down to close-reefed topsails, double-reefed trysail, and
reefed forespenser. Snow, hail, and sleet were driving upon us most of
the night, and the sea was breaking over the bows and covering the
forward part of the little vessel; but as she would lay her course the
captain refused to heave her to.
Saturday, Nov. 8th. This day commenced with calm and thick fog, and
ended with hail, snow, a violent wind, and close-reefed topsails.
Sunday, Nov. 9th. To-day the sun rose clear and continued so until
twelve o'clock, when the captain got an observation. This was very
well for Cape Horn, and we thought it a little remarkable that, as we
had not had one unpleasant Sunday during the whole voyage, the only
tolerable day here should be a Sunday. We got time to clear up the
steerage and forecastle, and set things to rights, and to overhaul our
wet clothes a little. But this did not last very long. Between five
and six--the sun was then nearly three hours high--the cry of "All
starbowlines ahoy!" summoned our watch on deck; and immediately all
hands were called. A true specimen of Cape Horn was coming upon us. A
great cloud of a dark slate-color was driving on us from the
south-west; and we did our best to take in sail, (for the light sails
had been set during the first part of the day,) before we were in the
midst of it. We had got the light sails furled, the courses hauled up,
and the topsail reef-tackles hauled out, and were just mounting the
fore-rigging, when the storm struck us. In an instant the sea, which
had been comparatively quiet, was running higher and higher; and it
became almost as dark as night. The hail and sleet were harder than I
had yet felt them; seeming to almost pin us down to the rigging. We
were longer taking in sail than ever before; for the sails were stiff
and wet, the ropes and rigging covered with snow and sleet, and we
ourselves cold and nearly blinded with the violence of the storm. By
the time we had got down upon deck again, the little brig was plunging
madly into a tremendous head sea, which at every drive rushed in
through the bow-ports and over the bows, and buried all the forward
part of the vessel. At this instant the chief mate, who was standing
on the top of the windlass, at the foot of the spenser mast, called
out, "Lay out there and furl the jib!" This was no agreeable or safe
duty, yet it must be done. An old Swede, (the best sailor on board,)
who belonged on the forecastle, sprang out upon the bowsprit. Another
one must go: I was near the mate, and sprang forward, threw the
down-haul over the windlass, and jumped between the knight-heads out
upon the bowsprit. The crew stood abaft the windlass and hauled the
jib down, while we got out upon the weather side of the jib-boom, our
feet on the foot ropes, holding on by the spar, the great jib flying
off to leeward and slatting so as almost to throw us off of the boom.
For some time we could do nothing but hold on, and the vessel diving
into two huge seas, one after the other, plunged us twice into the
water up to our chins. We hardly knew whether we were on or off; when
coming up, dripping from the water, we were raised high into the air.
John (that was the sailor's name) thought the boom would go, every
moment, and called out to the mate to keep the vessel off, and haul
down the staysail; but the fury of the wind and the breaking of the
seas against the bows defied every attempt to make ourselves heard, and
we were obliged to do the best we could in our situation. Fortunately,
no other seas so heavy struck her, and we succeeded in furling the jib
"after a fashion"; and, coming in over the staysail nettings, were not
a little pleased to find that all was snug, and the watch gone below;
for we were soaked through, and it was very cold. The weather
continued nearly the same through the night.
Monday, Nov. 10th. During a part of this day we were hove to, but the
rest of the time were driving on, under close-reefed sails, with a
heavy sea, a strong gale, and frequent squalls of hail and snow.
Tuesday, Nov. 11th. The same.
Wednesday, Nov. 12th. The same.
Thursday, Nov. 13th. The same.
We had now got hardened to Cape weather, the vessel was under reduced
sail, and everything secured on deck and below, so that we had little
to do but steer and to stand our watch. Our clothes were all wet
through, and the only change was from wet to more wet. It was in vain
to think of reading or working below, for we were too tired, the
hatchways were closed down, and everything was wet and uncomfortable,
black and dirty, heaving and pitching. We had only to come below when
the watch was out, wring out our wet clothes, hang them up, and turn in
and sleep as soundly as we could, until the watch was called again. A
sailor can sleep anywhere--no sound of wind, water, wood or iron can
keep him awake--and we were always fast asleep when three blows on the
hatchway, and the unwelcome cry of "All starbowlines ahoy! eight bells
there below! do you hear the news?" (the usual formula of calling the
watch), roused us up from our berths upon the cold, wet decks. The
only time when we could be said to take any pleasure was at night and
morning, when we were allowed a tin pot full of hot tea, (or, as the
sailors significantly call it, "water bewitched,") sweetened with
molasses. This, bad as it was, was still warm and comforting, and,
together with our sea biscuit and cold salt beef, made quite a meal.
Yet even this meal was attended with some uncertainty. We had to go
ourselves to the galley and take our kid of beef and tin pots of tea,
and run the risk of losing them before we could get below. Many a kid
of beef have I seen rolling in the scuppers, and the bearer lying at
his length on the decks. I remember an English lad who was always the
life of the crew, but whom we afterwards lost overboard, standing for
nearly ten minutes at the galley, with this pot of tea in his hand,
waiting for a chance to get down into the forecastle; and seeing what
he thought was a "smooth spell," started to go forward. He had just
got to the end of the windlass, when a great sea broke over the bows,
and for a moment I saw nothing of him but his head and shoulders; and
at the next instant, being taken off of his legs, he was carried aft
with the sea, until her stern lifting up and sending the water forward,
he was left high and dry at the side of the long-boat, still holding on
to his tin pot, which had now nothing in it but salt water. But
nothing could ever daunt him, or overcome, for a moment, his habitual
good humor. Regaining his legs, and shaking his fist at the man at the
wheel, he rolled below, saying, as he passed, "A man's no sailor, if he
can't take a joke." The ducking was not the worst of such an affair,
for, as there was an allowance of tea, you could get no more from the
galley; and though sailors would never suffer a man to go without, but
would always turn in a little from their own pots to fill up his, yet
this was at best but dividing the loss among all hands.
Something of the same kind befell me a few days after. The cook had
just made for us a mess of hot "scouse"--that is, biscuit pounded fine,
salt beef cut into small pieces, and a few potatoes, boiled up together
and seasoned with pepper. This was a rare treat, and I, being the last
at the galley, had it put in my charge to carry down for the mess. I
got along very well as far as the hatchway, and was just getting down
the steps, when a heavy sea, lifting the stern out of water, and
passing forward, dropping it down again, threw the steps from their
place, and I came down into the steerage a little faster than I meant
to, with the kid on top of me, and the whole precious mess scattered
over the floor. Whatever your feelings may be, you must make a joke of
everything at sea; and if you were to fall from aloft and be caught in
the belly of a sail, and thus saved from instant death, it would not do
to look at all disturbed, or to make a serious matter of it.
Friday, Nov. 14th. We were now well to the westward of the Cape and
were changing our course to the northward as much as we dared, since
the strong south-west winds, which prevailed then, carried us in toward
Patagonia. At two, P.M., we saw a sail on our larboard beam, and at
four we made it out to be a large ship, steering our course, under
single-reefed topsails. We at that time had shaken the reefs out of
our topsails, as the wind was lighter, and set the main top-gallant
sail. As soon as our captain saw what sail she was under, he set the
fore top-gallant sail and flying jib; and the old whaler--for such, his
boats and short sail showed him to be--felt a little ashamed, and shook
the reefs out of his topsails, but could do no more, for he had sent
down his top-gallant masts off the Cape. He ran down for us, and
answered our hail as the whale-ship, New England, of Poughkeepsie, one
hundred and twenty days from New York. Our captain gave our name, and
added, ninety-two days from Boston. They then had a little conversation
about longitude, in which they found that they could not agree. The
ship fell astern, and continued in sight during the night. Toward
morning, the wind having become light, we crossed our royal and skysail
yards, and at daylight we were seen under a cloud of sail, having royal
and skysails fore and aft. The "spouter," as the sailors call a
whaleman, had sent up his main top-gallant mast and set the sail, and
made signal for us to heave to. About half-past seven their whale-boat
came alongside, and Captain Job Terry sprang on board, a man known in
every port and by every vessel in the Pacific ocean. "Don't you know
Job Terry? I thought everybody knew Job Terry," said a green-hand, who
came in the boat, to me, when I asked him about his captain. He was
indeed a singular man. He was six feet high, wore thick, cowhide
boots, and brown coat and trowsers, and, except a sun-burnt complexion,
had not the slightest appearance of a sailor; yet he had been forty
years in the whale trade, and, as he said himself, had owned ships,
built ships, and sailed ships. His boat's crew were a pretty raw set,
just out of the bush, and as the sailor's phrase is, "hadn't got the
hayseed out of their hair." Captain Terry convinced our captain that
our reckoning was a little out, and, having spent the day on board, put
off in his boat at sunset for his ship, which was now six or eight
miles astern. He began a "yarn" when he came on board, which lasted,
with but little intermission, for four hours. It was all about himself,
and the Peruvian government, and the Dublin frigate, and Lord James
Townshend, and President Jackson, and the ship Ann M'Kim of Baltimore.
It would probably never have come to an end, had not a good breeze
sprung up, which sent him off to his own vessel. One of the lads who
came in his boat, a thoroughly countrified-looking fellow, seemed to
care very little about the vessel, rigging, or anything else, but went
round looking at the live stock, and leaned over the pig-sty, and said
he wished he was back again tending his father's pigs.
At eight o'clock we altered our course to the northward, bound for Juan
Fernandez.
This day we saw the last of the albatrosses, which had been our
companions a great part of the time off the Cape. I had been
interested in the bird from descriptions which I had read of it, and
was not at all disappointed. We caught one or two with a baited hook
which we floated astern upon a shingle. Their long, flapping wings,
long legs, and large, staring eyes, give them a very peculiar
appearance. They look well on the wing; but one of the finest sights
that I have ever seen, was an albatross asleep upon the water, during a
calm, off Cape Horn, when a heavy sea was running. There being no
breeze, the surface of the water was unbroken, but a long, heavy swell
was rolling, and we saw the fellow, all white, directly ahead of us,
asleep upon the waves, with his head under his wing; now rising on the
top of a huge billow, and then falling slowly until he was lost in the
hollow between. He was undisturbed for some time, until the noise of
our bows, gradually approaching, roused him, when, lifting his head, he
stared upon us for a moment, and then spread his wide wings and took
his flight.