RUMORS OF WAR--A SPOUTER--SLIPPING FOR A SOUTH-EASTER--A GALE
Sunday, November 1st. Sailed this day, (Sunday again,) for Santa
Barbara, where we arrived on the 5th. Coming round St. Buenaventura,
and nearing the anchorage, we saw two vessels in port, a large
full-rigged, and a small hermaphrodite brig. The former, the crew said
must be the Pilgrim; but I had been too long in the Pilgrim to be
mistaken in her, and I was right in differing from them; for, upon
nearer approach, her long, low shear, sharp bows, and raking masts,
told quite another story. "Man-of-war brig," said some of them;
"Baltimore clipper," said others; the Ayacucho, thought I; and soon the
broad folds of the beautiful banner of St. George,--white field with
blood-red border and cross,--were displayed from her peak. A few
minutes put it beyond a doubt, and we were lying by the side of the
Ayacucho, which had sailed from San Diego about nine months before,
while we were lying there in the Pilgrim. She had since been to
Valparaiso, Callao, and the Sandwich Islands, and had just come upon
the coast. Her boat came on board, bringing Captain Wilson; and in
half an hour the news was all over the ship that there was a war
between the United States and France. Exaggerated accounts reached the
forecastle. Battles had been fought, a large French fleet was in the
Pacific, etc., etc.; and one of the boat's crew of the Ayacucho said
that when they left Callao, a large French frigate and the American
frigate Brandywine, which were lying there, were going outside to have
a battle, and that the English frigate Blonde was to be umpire, and see
fair play. Here was important news for us. Alone, on an unprotected
coast, without an American man-of-war within some thousands of miles,
and the prospect of a voyage home through the whole length of the
Pacific and Atlantic oceans! A French prison seemed a much more
probable place of destination than the good port of Boston. However,
we were too salt to believe every yarn that comes into the forecastle,
and waited to hear the truth of the matter from higher authority. By
means of a supercargo's clerk, I got the account of the matter, which
was, that the governments had had difficulty about the payment of a
debt; that war had been threatened and prepared for, but not actually
declared, although it was pretty generally anticipated. This was not
quite so bad, yet was no small cause of anxiety. But we cared very
little about the matter ourselves. "Happy go lucky" with Jack! We did
not believe that a French prison would be much worse than
"hide-droghing" on the coast of California; and no one who has not been
on a long, dull voyage, shut up in one ship, can conceive of the effect
of monotony upon one's thoughts and wishes. The prospect of a change
is like a green spot in a desert, and the remotest probability of great
events and exciting scenes gives a feeling of delight, and sets life in
motion, so as to give a pleasure, which any one not in the same state
would be entirely unable to account for. In fact, a more jovial night
we had not passed in the forecastle for months. Every one seemed in
unaccountably high spirits. An undefined anticipation of radical
changes, of new scenes, and great doings, seemed to have possessed
every one, and the common drudgery of the vessel appeared contemptible.
Here was a new vein opened; a grand theme of conversation, and a topic
for all sorts of discussions. National feeling was wrought up. Jokes
were cracked upon the only Frenchman in the ship, and comparisons made
between "old horse" and "soup meagre," etc., etc.
We remained in uncertainty as to this war for more than two months,
when an arrival from the Sandwich Islands brought us the news of an
amicable arrangement of the difficulties.
The other vessel which we found in port was the hermaphrodite brig
Avon, from the Sandwich Islands. She was fitted up in handsome style;
fired a gun and ran her ensign up and down at sunrise and sunset; had a
band of four or five pieces of music on board, and appeared rather like
a pleasure yacht than a trader; yet, in connection with the Loriotte,
Clementine, Bolivar, Convoy, and other small vessels, belonging to
sundry Americans at Oahu, she carried on a great trade--legal and
illegal--in otter skins, silks, teas, specie, etc.
The second day after our arrival, a full-rigged brig came round the
point from the northward, sailed leisurely through the bay, and stood
off again for the south-east, in the direction of the large island of
Catalina. The next day the Avon got under weigh, and stood in the same
direction, bound for San Pedro. This might do for marines and
Californians, but we knew the ropes too well. The brig was never again
seen on the coast, and the Avon arrived at San Pedro in about a week,
with a full cargo of Canton and American goods.
This was one of the means of escaping the heavy duties the Mexicans lay
upon all imports. A vessel comes on the coast, enters a moderate cargo
at Monterey, which is the only custom-house, and commences trading. In
a month or more, having sold a large part of her cargo, she stretches
over to Catalina, or other of the large uninhabited islands which lie
off the coast, in a trip from port to port, and supplies herself with
choice goods from a vessel from Oahu, which has been lying off and on
the islands, waiting for her. Two days after the sailing of the Avon,
the Loriotte came in from the leeward, and without doubt had also a
snatch at the brig's cargo.
Tuesday, Nov. 10th. Going ashore, as usual, in the gig, just before
sundown, to bring off the captain, we found, upon taking in the captain
and pulling off again, that our ship, which lay the farthest out, had
run up her ensign. This meant "Sail ho!" of course, but as we were
within the point we could see nothing. "Give way, boys! Give way! Lay
out on your oars, and long stroke!" said the captain; and stretching to
the whole length of our arms, bending back again, so that our backs
touched the thwarts, we sent her through the water like a rocket. A
few minutes of such pulling opened the islands, one after another, in
range of the point, and gave us a view of the Canal, where was a ship,
under top-gallant sails, standing in, with a light breeze, for the
anchorage. Putting the boat's head in the direction of the ship, the
captain told us to lay out again; and we needed no spurring, for the
prospect of boarding a new ship, perhaps from home, hearing the news
and having something to tell of when we got back, was excitement enough
for us, and we gave way with a will. Captain Nye, of the Loriotte, who
had been an old whaleman, was in the stern-sheets, and fell mightily
into the spirit of it. "Bend your backs and break your oars!" said he.
"Lay me on, Captain Bunker!" "There she flukes!" and other
exclamations, peculiar to whalemen. In the meantime, it fell flat
calm, and being within a couple of miles of the ship, we expected to
board her in a few moments, when a sudden breeze sprung up, dead ahead
for the ship, and she braced up and stood off toward the islands, sharp
on the larboard tack, making good way through the water. This, of
course, brought us up, and we had only to "ease larboard oars; pull
round starboard!" and go aboard the Alert, with something very like a
flea in the ear. There was a light land-breeze all night, and the ship
did not come to anchor until the next morning. As soon as her anchor
was down, we went aboard, and found her to be the whaleship, Wilmington
and Liverpool Packet, of New Bedford, last from the "off-shore ground,"
with nineteen hundred barrels of oil. A "spouter" we knew her to be as
soon as we saw her, by her cranes and boats, and by her stump
top-gallant masts, and a certain slovenly look to the sails, rigging,
spars and hull; and when we got on board, we found everything to
correspond,--spouter fashion. She had a false deck, which was rough
and oily, and cut up in every direction by the chimes of oil casks; her
rigging was slack and turning white; no paint on the spars or blocks;
clumsy seizings and straps without covers, and homeward-bound splices
in every direction. Her crew, too, were not in much better order. Her
captain was a slab-sided, shamble-legged Quaker, in a suit of brown,
with a broad-brimmed hat, and sneaking about decks, like a sheep, with
his head down; and the men looked more like fishermen and farmers than
they did like sailors.
Though it was by no means cold weather, (we having on only our red
shirts and duck trowsers,) they all had on woollen trowsers--not blue
and shipshape--but of all colors--brown, drab, grey, aye, and green,
with suspenders over their shoulders, and pockets to put their hands
in. This, added to guernsey frocks, striped comforters about the neck,
thick cowhide boots, woollen caps, and a strong, oily smell, and a
decidedly green look, will complete the description. Eight or ten were
on the fore-topsail yard, and as many more in the main, furling the
topsails, while eight or ten were hanging about the forecastle, doing
nothing. This was a strange sight for a vessel coming to anchor; so we
went up to them, to see what was the matter. One of them, a stout,
hearty-looking fellow, held out his leg and said he had the scurvy;
another had cut his hand; and others had got nearly well, but said that
there were plenty aloft to furl the sails, so they were sogering on the
forecastle. There was only one "splicer" on board, a fine-looking old
tar, who was in the bunt of the fore-topsail. He was probably the only
sailor in the ship, before the mast. The mates, of course, and the
boat-steerers, and also two or three of the crew, had been to sea
before, but only whaling voyages; and the greater part of the crew were
raw hands, just from the bush, as green as cabbages, and had not yet
got the hay-seed out of their heads. The mizen topsail hung in the
bunt-lines until everything was furled forward. Thus a crew of thirty
men were half an hour in doing what would have been done in the Alert
with eighteen hands to go aloft, in fifteen or twenty minutes.
We found they had been at sea six or eight months, and had no news to
tell us; so we left them, and promised to get liberty to come on board
in the evening, for some curiosities, etc. Accordingly, as soon as we
were knocked off in the evening and had got supper, we obtained leave,
took a boat, and went aboard and spent an hour or two. They gave us
pieces of whalebone, and the teeth and other parts of curious sea
animals, and we exchanged books with them--a practice very common among
ships in foreign ports, by which you get rid of the books you have read
and re-read, and a supply of new ones in their stead, and Jack is not
very nice as to their comparative value.
Thursday, Nov. 12th. This day was quite cool in the early part, and
there were black clouds about; but as it was often so in the morning,
nothing was apprehended, and all the captains went ashore together, to
spend the day. Towards noon, the clouds hung heavily over the
mountains, coming half way down the hills that encircle the town of
Santa Barbara, and a heavy swell rolled in from the south-east. The
mate immediately ordered the gig's crew away, and at the same time, we
saw boats pulling ashore from the other vessels. Here was a grand
chance for a rowing match, and every one did his best. We passed the
boats of the Ayacucho and Loriotte, but could gain nothing upon, and
indeed, hardly hold our own with, the long, six-oared boat of the
whale-ship. They reached the breakers before us; but here we had the
advantage of them, for, not being used to the surf, they were obliged
to wait to see us beach our boat, just as, in the same place, nearly a
year before, we, in the Pilgrim, were glad to be taught by a boat's
crew of Kanakas.
We had hardly got the boats beached, and their heads out, before our
old friend, Bill Jackson, the handsome English sailor, who steered the
Loriotte's boat, called out that the brig was adrift; and, sure enough,
she was dragging her anchors, and drifting down into the bight of the
bay. Without waiting for the captain, (for there was no one on board
but the mate and steward,) he sprung into the boat, called the Kanakas
together, and tried to put off. But the Kanakas, though capital
water-dogs, were frightened by their vessel's being adrift, and by the
emergency of the case, and seemed to lose their faculties. Twice,
their boat filled, and came broadside upon the beach. Jackson swore at
them for a parcel of savages, and promised to flog every one of them.
This made the matter no better; when we came forward, told the Kanakas
to take their seats in the boat, and, going two on each side, walked
out with her till it was up to our shoulders, and gave them a shove,
when, giving way with their oars, they got her safely into the long,
regular swell. In the mean time, boats had put off from our ships and
the whaler, and coming all on board the brig together, they let go the
other anchor, paid out chain, braced the yards to the wind, and brought
the vessel up.
In a few minutes, the captains came hurrying down, on the run; and
there was no time to be lost, for the gale promised to be a severe one,
and the surf was breaking upon the beach, three deep, higher and higher
every instant. The Ayacucho's boat, pulled by four Kanakas, put off
first, and as they had no rudder or steering oar, would probably never
have got off, had we not waded out with them, as far as the surf would
permit. The next that made the attempt was the whale-boat, for we,
being the most experienced "beach-combers," needed no help, and staid
till the last. Whalemen make the best boats' crews in the world for a
long pull, but this landing was new to them, and notwithstanding the
examples they had had, they slued round and were hove up--boat, oars,
and men--altogether, high and dry upon the sand. The second time, they
filled, and had to turn their boat over, and set her off again. We
could be of no help to them, for they were so many as to be in one
another's way, without the addition of our numbers. The third time,
they got off, though not without shipping a sea which drenched them
all, and half filled their boat, keeping them baling, until they
reached their ship. We now got ready to go off, putting the boat's
head out; English Ben and I, who were the largest, standing on each
side of the bows, to keep her "head on" to the sea, two more shipping
and manning the two after oars, and the captain taking the steering
oar. Two or three Spaniards, who stood upon the beach looking at us,
wrapped their cloaks about them, shook their heads, and muttered
"Caramba!" They had no taste for such doings; in fact, the hydrophobia
is a national malady, and shows itself in their persons as well as
their actions.
Watching for a "smooth chance," we determined to show the other boats
the way it should be done; and, as soon as ours floated, ran out with
her, keeping her head on, with all our strength, and the help of the
captain's oar, and the two after oarsmen giving way regularly and
strongly, until our feet were off the ground, we tumbled into the bows,
keeping perfectly still, from fear of hindering the others. For some
time it was doubtful how it would go. The boat stood nearly up and
down in the water, and the sea, rolling from under her, let her fall
upon the water with a force which seemed almost to stave her bottom in.
By quietly sliding two oars forward, along the thwarts, without
impeding the rowers, we shipped two bow oars, and thus, by the help of
four oars and the captain's strong arm, we got safely off, though we
shipped several seas, which left us half full of water. We pulled
alongside of the Loriotte, put her skipper on board, and found her
making preparations for slipping, and then pulled aboard our own ship.
Here Mr. Brown, always "on hand," had got everything ready, so that we
had only to hook on the gig and hoist it up, when the order was given
to loose the sails. While we were on the yards, we saw the Loriotte
under weigh, and before our yards were mast-headed, the Ayacucho had
spread her wings, and, with yards braced sharp up, was standing athwart
our hawse. There is no prettier sight in the world than a full-rigged,
clipper-built brig, sailing sharp on the wind. In a moment, our
slip-rope was gone, the head-yards filled away, and we were off. Next
came the whaler; and in a half an hour from the time when four vessels
were lying quietly at anchor, without a rag out, or a sign of motion,
the bay was deserted, and four white clouds were standing off to sea.
Being sure of clearing the point, we stood off with our yards a little
braced in, while the Ayacucho went off with a taut bowline, which
brought her to windward of us. During all this day, and the greater
part of the night, we had the usual south-easter entertainment, a gale
of wind, variegated and finally topped off with a drenching rain of
three or four hours. At daybreak, the clouds thinned off and rolled
away, and the sun came up clear. The wind, instead of coming out from
the northward, as is usual, blew steadily and freshly from the
anchoring-ground. This was bad for us, for, being "flying light," with
little more than ballast trim, we were in no condition for showing off
on a taut bowline, and had depended upon a fair wind, with which, by
the help of our light sails and studding-sails, we meant to have been
the first at the anchoring-ground; but the Ayacucho was a good league
to windward of us, and was standing in, in fine style. The whaler,
however, was as far to leeward of us, and the Loriotte was nearly out
of sight, among the islands, up the Canal. By hauling every brace and
bowline, and clapping watch-tackles upon all the sheets and halyards,
we managed to hold our own, and drop the leeward vessels a little in
every tack. When we reached the anchoring-ground, the Ayacucho had got
her anchor, furled her sails, squared her yards, and was lying as
quietly as if nothing had happened for the last twenty-four hours.
We had our usual good luck in getting our anchor without letting go
another, and were all snug, with our boats at the boom-ends, in half an
hour. In about two hours more, the whaler came in, and made a clumsy
piece of work in getting her anchor, being obliged to let go her best
bower, and finally, to get out a kedge and a hawser. They were
heave-ho-ing, stopping and unstopping, pawling, catting, and fishing,
for three hours; and the sails hung from the yards all the afternoon,
and were not furled until sundown. The Loriotte came in just after
dark, and let go her anchor, making no attempt to pick up the other
until the next day.
This affair led to a great dispute as to the sailing of our ship and
the Ayacucho. Bets were made between the captains, and the crews took
it up in their own way; but as she was bound to leeward and we to
windward, and merchant captains cannot deviate, a trial never took
place; and perhaps it was well for us that it did not, for the Ayacucho
had been eight years in the Pacific, in every part of it--Valparaiso,
Sandwich Islands, Canton, California, and all, and was called the
fastest merchantman that traded in the Pacific, unless it was the brig
John Gilpin, and perhaps the ship Ann McKim of Baltimore.
Saturday, Nov. 14th. This day we got under weigh, with the agent and
several Spaniards of note, as passengers, bound up to Monterey. We went
ashore in the gig to bring them off with their baggage, and found them
waiting on the beach, and a little afraid about going off, as the surf
was running very high. This was nuts to us; for we liked to have a
Spaniard wet with salt water; and then the agent was very much disliked
by the crew, one and all; and we hoped, as there was no officer in the
boat, to have a chance to duck them; for we knew that they were such
"marines" that they would not know whether it was our fault or not.
Accordingly, we kept the boat so far from shore as to oblige them to
wet their feet in getting into her; and then waited for a good high
comber, and letting the head slue a little round, sent the whole force
of the sea into the stern-sheets, drenching them from head to feet. The
Spaniards sprang out of the boat, swore, and shook themselves and
protested against trying it again; and it was with the greatest
difficulty that the agent could prevail upon them to make another
attempt. The next time we took care, and went off easily enough, and
pulled aboard. The crew came to the side to hoist in their baggage,
and we gave them the wink, and they heartily enjoyed the half-drowned
looks of the company.
Everything being now ready, and the passengers aboard, we ran up the
ensign and broad pennant, (for there was no man-of-war, and we were the
largest vessel on the coast,) and the other vessels ran up their
ensigns. Having hove short, cast off the gaskets, and made the bunt of
each sail fast by the jigger, with a man on each yard; at the word, the
whole canvas of the ship was loosed, and with the greatest rapidity
possible, everything was sheeted home and hoisted up, the anchor
tripped and catheaded, and the ship under headway. We were determined
to show the "spouter" how things could be done in a smart ship, with a
good crew, though not more than half their number. The royal yards
were all crossed at once, and royals and skysails set, and, as we had
the wind free, the booms were run out, and every one was aloft, active
as cats, laying out on the yards and booms, reeving the studding-sail
gear; and sail after sail the captain piled upon her, until she was
covered with canvas, her sails looking like a great white cloud resting
upon a black speck. Before we doubled the point, we were going at a
dashing rate, and leaving the shipping far astern. We had a fine
breeze to take us through the Canal, as they call this bay of forty
miles long by ten wide. The breeze died away at night, and we were
becalmed all day on Sunday, about half way between Santa Barbara and
Point Conception. Sunday night we had a light, fair wind, which set us
up again; and having a fine sea-breeze on the first part of Monday, we
had the prospect of passing, without any trouble, Point
Conception,--the Cape Horn of California, where it begins to blow the
first of January, and blows all the year round. Toward the latter part
of the afternoon, however, the regular northwest wind, as usual, set
in, which brought in our studding-sails, and gave us the chance of
beating round the Point, which we were now just abreast of, and which
stretched off into the Pacific, high, rocky and barren, forming the
central point of the coast for hundreds of miles north and south. A
cap-full of wind will be a bag-full here, and before night our royals
were furled, and the ship was laboring hard under her top-gallant
sails. At eight bells our watch went below, leaving her with as much
sail as she could stagger under, the water flying over the forecastle
at every plunge. It was evidently blowing harder, but then there was
not a cloud in the sky, and the sun had gone down bright.
We had been below but a short time, before we had the usual
premonitions of a coming gale: seas washing over the whole forward part
of the vessel, and her bows beating against them with a force and sound
like the driving of piles. The watch, too, seemed very busy trampling
about decks, and singing out at the ropes. A sailor can always tell,
by the sound, what sail is coming in, and, in a short time, we heard
the top-gallant sails come in, one after another, and then the flying
jib. This seemed to ease her a good deal, and we were fast going off
to the land of Nod, when--bang, bang, bang--on the scuttle, and "All
hands, reef topsails, ahoy!" started us out of our berths; and, it not
being very cold weather, we had nothing extra to put on, and were soon
on deck. I shall never forget the fineness of the sight. It was a
clear, and rather a chilly night; the stars were twinkling with an
intense brightness, and as far as the eye could reach, there was not a
cloud to be seen. The horizon met the sea in a defined line. A
painter could not have painted so clear a sky. There was not a speck
upon it. Yet it was blowing great guns from the north-west. When you
can see a cloud to windward, you feel that there is a place for the
wind to come from; but here it seemed to come from nowhere. No person
could have told, from the heavens, by their eyesight alone, that it was
not a still summer's night. One reef after another, we took in the
topsails, and before we could get them hoisted up, we heard a sound
like a short, quick rattling of thunder, and the jib was blown to atoms
out of the bolt-rope. We got the topsails set, and the fragments of
the jib stowed away, and the fore-topmast staysail set in its place,
when the great mainsail gaped open, and the sail ripped from head to
foot. "Lay up on that main-yard and furl the sail, before it blows to
tatters!" shouted the captain; and in a moment, we were up, gathering
the remains of it upon the yard. We got it wrapped, round the yard,
and passed gaskets over it as snugly as possible, and were just on deck
again, when, with another loud rent, which was heard throughout the
ship, the fore-topsail, which had been double-reefed, split in two,
athwartships, just below the reefband, from earing to earing. Here
again it was down yard, haul out reef-tackles, and lay out upon the
yard for reefing. By hauling the reef-tackles chock-a-block, we took
the strain from the other earings, and passing the close-reef earing,
and knotting the points carefully, we succeeded in setting the sail,
close-reefed.
We had but just got the rigging coiled up, and were waiting to hear "go
below the watch!" when the main royal worked loose from the gaskets,
and blew directly out to leeward, flapping, and shaking the mast like a
wand. Here was a job for somebody. The royal must come in or be cut
adrift, or the mast would be snapped short off. All the light hands in
the starboard watch were sent up, one after another, but they could do
nothing with it. At length, John, the tall Frenchman, the head of the
starboard watch, (and a better sailor never stepped upon a deck,)
sprang aloft, and, by the help of his long arms and legs, succeeded,
after a hard struggle,--the sail blowing over the yard-arm to leeward,
and the skysail blowing directly over his head--in smothering it, and
frapping it with long pieces of sinnet. He came very near being blown
or shaken from the yard, several times, but he was a true sailor, every
finger a fish-hook. Having made the sail snug, he prepared to send the
yard down, which was a long and difficult job; for, frequently, he was
obliged to stop and hold on with all his might, for several minutes,
the ship pitching so as to make it impossible to do anything else at
that height. The yard at length came down safe, and after it, the fore
and mizen royal-yards were sent down. All hands were then sent aloft,
and for an hour or two we were hard at work, making the booms well
fast; unreeving the studding-sail and royal and skysail gear; getting
rolling-ropes on the yards; setting up the weather breast-backstays;
and making other preparations for a storm. It was a fine night for a
gale; just cool and bracing enough for quick work, without being cold,
and as bright as day. It was sport to have a gale in such weather as
this. Yet it blew like a hurricane. The wind seemed to come with a
spite, an edge to it, which threatened to scrape us off the yards. The
mere force of the wind was greater than I had ever seen it before; but
darkness, cold, and wet are the worst parts of a storm to a sailor.
Having got on deck again, we looked round to see what time of night it
was, and whose watch. In a few minutes the man at the wheel struck
four bells, and we found that the other watch was out, and our own half
out. Accordingly, the starboard watch went below, and left the ship to
us for a couple of hours, yet with orders to stand by for a call.
Hardly had they got below, before away went the fore-topmast staysail,
blown to ribbons. This was a small sail, which we could manage in the
watch, so that we were not obliged to call up the other watch. We laid
out upon the bowsprit, where we were under water half the time, and
took in the fragments of the sail, and as she must have some head sail
on her, prepared to bend another staysail. We got the new one out,
into the nettings; seized on the tack, sheets, and halyards, and the
hanks; manned the halyards, cut adrift the frapping lines, and hoisted
away; but before it was half way up the stay, it was blown all to
pieces. When we belayed the halyards, there was nothing left but the
bolt-rope. Now large eyes began to show themselves in the foresail,
and knowing that it must soon go, the mate ordered us upon the yard to
furl it. Being unwilling to call up the watch who had been on deck all
night, he roused out the carpenter, sailmaker, cook, steward, and other
idlers, and, with their help, we manned the foreyard, and after nearly
half an hour's struggle, mastered the sail, and got it well furled
round the yard. The force of the wind had never been greater than at
this moment. In going up the rigging, it seemed absolutely to pin us
down to the shrouds; and on the yard, there was no such thing as
turning a face to windward. Yet here was no driving sleet, and
darkness, and wet, and cold, as off Cape Horn; and instead of a stiff
oil-cloth suit, south-wester caps, and thick boots, we had on hats,
round jackets, duck trowsers, light shoes, and everything light and
easy. All these things make a great difference to a sailor. When we
got on deck, the man at the wheel struck eight bells, (four o'clock in
the morning,) and "All starbowlines, ahoy!" brought the other watch up.
But there was no going below for us. The gale was now at its height,
"blowing like scissors and thumb-screws;" the captain was on deck; the
ship, which was light, rolling and pitching as though she would shake
the long sticks out of her; and the sail gaping open and splitting, in
every direction. The mizen topsail, which was a comparatively new
sail, and close-reefed, split, from head to foot, in the bunt; the
fore-topsail went, in one rent, from clew to earing, and was blowing to
tatters; one of the chain bobstays parted; the spritsail-yard sprung in
the slings; the martingale had slued away off to leeward; and, owing to
the long dry weather, the lee rigging hung in large bights, at every
lurch. One of the main top-gallant shrouds had parted; and, to crown
all, the galley had got adrift, and gone over to leeward, and the
anchor on the lee bow had worked loose, and was thumping the side.
Here was work enough for all hands for half a day. Our gang laid out
on the mizen topsail yard, and after more than half an hour's hard
work, furled the sail, though it bellied out over our heads, and again,
by a slant of the wind, blew in under the yard, with a fearful jerk,
and almost threw us off from the foot-ropes.
Double gaskets were passed round the yards, rolling tackles and other
gear bowsed taut, and everything made as secure as could be. Coming
down, we found the rest of the crew just coming down the fore rigging,
having furled the tattered topsail, or, rather, swathed it round the
yard, which looked like a broken limb, bandaged. There was no sail now
on the ship but the spanker and the close-reefed main topsail, which
still held good. But this was too much after sail; and order was given
to furl the spanker. The brails were hauled up, and all the light
hands in the starboard watch sent out on the gaff to pass the gaskets;
but they could do nothing with it. The second mate swore at them for a
parcel of "sogers," and sent up a couple of the best men; but they
could do no better, and the gaff was lowered down. All hands were now
employed in setting up the lee rigging, fishing the spritsail-yard,
lashing the galley, and getting tackles upon the martingale, to bowse
it to windward. Being in the larboard watch, my duty was forward, to
assist in setting up the martingale. Three of us were out on the
martingale guys and back-ropes for more than half an hour, carrying
out, hooking and unhooking the tackles, several times buried in the
seas, until the mate ordered us in, from fear of our being washed off.
The anchors were then to be taken up on the rail, which kept all hands
on the forecastle for an hour, though every now and then the seas broke
over it, washing the rigging off to leeward, filling the lee scuppers
breast high, and washing chock aft to the taffrail.
Having got everything secure again, we were promising ourselves some
breakfast, for it was now nearly nine o'clock in the forenoon, when the
main topsail showed evident signs of giving way. Some sail must be
kept on the ship, and the captain ordered the fore and main spencer
gaffs to be lowered down, and the two spencers (which were storm sails,
bran new, small, and made of the strongest canvas) to be got up and
bent; leaving the main topsail to blow away, with a blessing on it, if
it would only last until we could set the spencers. These we bent on
very carefully, with strong robands and seizings, and making tackles
fast to the clews, bowsed them down to the water-ways. By this time
the main topsail was among the things that have been, and we went aloft
to stow away the remnant of the last sail of all those which were on
the ship twenty-four hours before. The spencers were now the only
whole sails on the ship, and, being strong and small, and near the
deck, presenting but little surface to the wind above the rail,
promised to hold out well. Hove-to under these, and eased by having no
sail above the tops, the ship rose and fell, and drifted off to leeward
like a line-of-battle ship.
It was now eleven o'clock, and the watch was sent below to get
breakfast, and at eight bells (noon), as everything was snug, although
the gale had not in the least abated, the watch was set, and the other
watch and idlers sent below. For three days and three nights, the gale
continued with unabated fury, and with singular regularity. There was
no lulls, and very little variation in its fierceness. Our ship, being
light, rolled so as almost to send the fore yard-arm under water, and
drifted off bodily, to leeward. All this time there was not a cloud to
be seen in the sky, day or night;--no, not so large as a man's hand.
Every morning the sun rose cloudless from the sea, and set again at
night, in the sea, in a flood of light. The stars, too, came out of
the blue, one after another, night after night, unobscured, and
twinkled as clear as on a still frosty night at home, until the day
came upon them. All this time, the sea was rolling in immense surges,
white with foam, as far as the eye could reach, on every side, for we
were now leagues and leagues from shore.
The between-decks being empty, several of us slept there in hammocks,
which are the best things in the world to sleep in during a storm; it
not being true of them, as it is of another kind of bed, "when the wind
blows, the cradle will rock;" for it is the ship that rocks, while they
always hang vertically from the beams. During these seventy-two hours
we had nothing to do, but to turn in and out, four hours on deck, and
four below, eat, sleep, and keep watch. The watches were only varied by
taking the helm in turn, and now and then, by one of the sails, which
were furled, blowing out of the gaskets, and getting adrift, which sent
us up on the yards; and by getting tackles on different parts of the
rigging, which were slack. Once, the wheel-rope parted, which might
have been fatal to us, had not the chief mate sprung instantly with a
relieving tackle to windward, and kept the tiller up, till a new one
could be rove. On the morning of the twentieth, at daybreak, the gale
had evidently done its worst, and had somewhat abated; so much so, that
all hands were called to bend new sails, although it was still blowing
as hard as two common gales. One at a time, and with great difficulty
and labor, the old sails were unbent and sent down by the bunt-lines,
and three new topsails, made for the homeward passage round Cape Horn,
and which had never been bent, were got up from the sailroom, and under
the care of the sailmaker, were fitted for bending, and sent up by the
halyards into the tops, and, with stops and frapping lines, were bent
to the yards, close-reefed, sheeted home, and hoisted. These were done
one at a time, and with the greatest care and difficulty. Two spare
courses were then got up and bent in the same manner and furled, and a
storm-jib, with the bonnet off, bent and furled to the boom. It was
twelve o'clock before we got through; and five hours of more exhausting
labor I never experienced; and no one of that ship's crew, I will
venture to say, will ever desire again to unbend and bend five large
sails, in the teeth of a tremendous north-wester. Towards night, a few
clouds appeared in the horizon, and as the gale moderated, the usual
appearance of driving clouds relieved the face of the sky. The fifth
day after the commencement of the storm, we shook a reef out of each
topsail, and set the reefed foresail, jib and spanker; but it was not
until after eight days of reefed topsails that we had a whole sail on
the ship; and then it was quite soon enough, for the captain was
anxious to make up for leeway, the gale having blown us half the
distance to the Sandwich Islands.
Inch by inch, as fast as the gale would permit, we made sail on the
ship, for the wind still continued a-head, and we had many days'
sailing to get back to the longitude we were in when the storm took us.
For eight days more we beat to windward under a stiff top-gallant
breeze, when the wind shifted and became variable. A light
south-easter, to which we could carry a reefed topmast studding-sail,
did wonders for our dead reckoning.
Friday, December 4th, after a passage of twenty days, we arrived at the
mouth of the bay of San Francisco.