NARROW ESCAPES--THE EQUATOR--TROPICAL SQUALLS--A THUNDER STORM
The same day, I met with one of those narrow escapes, which are so
often happening in a sailor's life. I had been aloft nearly all the
afternoon, at work, standing for as much as an hour on the fore
top-gallant yard, which was hoisted up, and hung only by the tie; when,
having got through my work, I balled up my yarns, took my serving-board
in my hand, laid hold deliberately of the top-gallant rigging, took one
foot from the yard, and was just lifting the other, when the tie
parted, and down the yard fell. I was safe, by my hold upon the
rigging, but it made my heart beat quick. Had the tie parted one
instant sooner, or had I stood an instant longer on the yard, I should
inevitably have been thrown violently from the height of ninety or a
hundred feet, overboard; or, what is worse, upon the deck. However, "a
miss is as good as a mile;" a saying which sailors very often have
occasion to use. An escape is always a joke on board ship. A man
would be ridiculed who should make a serious matter of it. A sailor
knows too well that his life hangs upon a thread, to wish to be always
reminded of it; so, if a man has an escape, he keeps it to himself, or
makes a joke of it. I have often known a man's life to be saved by an
instant of time, or by the merest chance,--the swinging of a rope,--and
no notice taken of it. One of our boys, when off Cape Horn, reefing
topsails of a dark night, and when there were no boats to be lowered
away, and where, if a man fell overboard he must be left behind,--lost
his hold of the reef-point, slipped from the foot-rope, and would have
been in the water in a moment, when the man who was next to him on the
yard caught him by the collar of his jacket, and hauled him up upon the
yard, with--"Hold on, another time, you young monkey, and be d----d to
you!"--and that was all that was heard about it.
Sunday, August 7th. Lat. 25° 59' S., long. 27° 0' W. Spoke the
English bark Mary-Catherine, from Bahia, bound to Calcutta. This was
the first sail we had fallen in with, and the first time we had seen a
human form or heard the human voice, except of our own number, for
nearly a hundred days. The very yo-ho-ing of the sailors at the ropes
sounded sociably upon the ear. She was an old, damaged-looking craft,
with a high poop and top-gallant forecastle, and sawed off square, stem
and stern, like a true English "tea-wagon," and with a run like a
sugar-box. She had studding-sails out alow and aloft, with a light but
steady breeze, and her captain said he could not get more than four
knots out of her and thought he should have a long passage. We were
going six on an easy bowline.
The next day, about three P. M., passed a large corvette-built ship,
close upon the wind, with royals and skysails set fore and aft, under
English colors. She was standing south-by-east, probably bound round
Cape Horn. She had men in her tops, and black mast-heads; heavily
sparred, with sails cut to a t, and other marks of a man-of-war. She
sailed well, and presented a fine appearance; the proud,
aristocratic-looking banner of St. George, the cross in a blood-red
field, waving from the mizen. We probably were as fine a sight, with
our studding-sails spread far out beyond the ship on either side, and
rising in a pyramid to royal studding-sails and sky-sails, burying the
hull in canvas, and looking like what the whale-men on the Banks, under
their stump top-gallant masts, call "a Cape Horn-er under a cloud of
sail."
Friday, August 12th. At daylight made the island of Trinidad, situated
in lat. 20° 28' S., long. 29° 08' W. At twelve M., it bore N. W. 1/2
N., distant twenty-seven miles. It was a beautiful day, the sea hardly
ruffled by the light trades, and the island looking like a small blue
mound rising from a field of glass.
Such a fair and peaceful-looking spot is said to have been, for a long
time, the resort of a band of pirates, who ravaged the tropical seas.
Thursday, August 18th. At three P. M., made the island of Fernando
Naronha, lying in lat. 3° 55' S., long. 32° 35' W.; and between twelve
o'clock Friday night and one o'clock Saturday morning, crossed the
equator, for the fourth time since leaving Boston, in long. 35° W.;
having been twenty-seven days from Staten Land--a distance, by the
courses we had made, of more than four thousand miles.
We were now to the northward of the line, and every day added to our
latitude. The Magellan Clouds, the last sign of South latitude, were
sunk in the horizon, and the north star, the Great Bear, and the
familiar signs of northern latitudes, were rising in the heavens.
Next to seeing land, there is no sight which makes one realize more
that he is drawing near home, than to see the same heavens, under which
he was born, shining at night over his head. The weather was extremely
hot, with the usual tropical alternations of a scorching sun and
squalls of rain; yet not a word was said in complaint of the heat, for
we all remembered that only three or four weeks before we would have
given nearly our all to have been where we now were. We had plenty of
water, too, which we caught by spreading an awning, with shot thrown in
to make hollows. These rain squalls came up in the manner usual
between the tropics.--A clear sky; burning, vertical sun; work going
lazily on, and men about decks with nothing but duck trowsers, checked
shirts, and straw hats; the ship moving as lazily through the water;
the man at the helm resting against the wheel, with his hat drawn over
his eyes; the captain below, taking an afternoon nap; the passenger
leaning over the taffrail, watching a dolphin following slowly in our
wake; the sailmaker mending an old topsail on the lee side of the
quarter-deck; the carpenter working at his bench, in the waist; the
boys making sinnet; the spun-yarn winch whizzing round and round, and
the men walking slowly fore and aft with their yarns.--A cloud rises to
windward, looking a little black; the sky-sails are brailed down; the
captain puts his head out of the companion-way, looks at the cloud,
comes up, and begins to walk the deck.--The cloud spreads and comes
on;--the tub of yarns, the sail, and other matters, are thrown below,
and the sky-light and booby-hatch put on, and the slide drawn over the
forecastle.--"Stand by the royal halyards;"--the man at the wheel keeps
a good weather helm, so as not to be taken aback. The squall strikes
her. If it is light, the royal yards are clewed down, and the ship
keeps on her way; but if the squall takes strong hold, the royals are
clewed up, fore and aft; light hands lay aloft and furl them;
top-gallant yards clewed down, flying-jib hauled down, and the ship
kept off before it,--the man at the helm laying out his strength to
heave the wheel up to windward. At the same time a drenching rain,
which soaks one through in an instant. Yet no one puts on a jacket or
cap; for if it is only warm, a sailor does not mind a ducking; and the
sun will soon be out again. As soon as the force of the squall has
passed, though to a common eye the ship would seem to be in the midst
of it,--"Keep her up to her course, again!"--"Keep her up, sir,"
(answer);--"Hoist away the top-gallant yards!"--"Run up the flying
jib!"--"Lay aloft, you boys, and loose the royals!"--and all sail is on
her again before she is fairly out of the squall; and she is going on
in her course. The sun comes out once more, hotter than ever, dries up
the decks and the sailors' clothes; the hatches are taken off; the sail
got up and spread on the quarter-deck; spun-yarn winch set a whirling
again; rigging coiled up; captain goes below; and every sign of an
interruption is removed.
These scenes, with occasional dead calms, lasting for hours, and
sometimes for days, are fair specimens of the Atlantic tropics. The
nights were fine; and as we had all hands all day, the watch were
allowed to sleep on deck at night, except the man at the wheel, and one
look-out on the forecastle. This was not so much expressly allowed, as
winked at. We could do it if we did not ask leave. If the look-out
was caught napping, the whole watch was kept awake.
We made the most of this permission, and stowed ourselves away upon the
rigging, under the weather rail, on the spars, under the windlass, and
in all the snug corners; and frequently slept out the watch, unless we
had a wheel or a look-out. And we were glad enough to get this rest;
for under the "all hands" system, out of every other thirty-six hours,
we had only four below; and even an hour's sleep was a gain not to be
neglected. One would have thought so, to have seen our watch, some
nights, sleeping through a heavy rain. And often have we come on deck,
and finding a dead calm and a light, steady rain, and determined not to
lose our sleep, have laid a coil of rigging down so as to keep us out
of the water which was washing about decks, and stowed ourselves away
upon it, covering a jacket over us, and slept as soundly as a Dutchman
between two feather beds.
For a week or ten days after crossing the line, we had the usual
variety of calms, squalls, head winds, and fair winds;--at one time
braced sharp upon the wind, with a taut bowline, and in an hour
after, slipping quietly along, with a light breeze over the taffrail,
and studding-sails out on both sides;--until we fell in with the
north-east trade-winds; which we did on the afternoon of
Sunday, August 28th, in lat. 12° N. The trade-wind clouds had been in
sight for a day or two previously, and we expected to take them every
hour. The light southerly breeze, which had been blowing languidly
during the first part of the day, died away toward noon, and in its
place came puffs from the north-east, which caused us to take our
studding-sails in and brace up; and in a couple of hours more, we were
bowling gloriously along, dashing the spray far ahead and to leeward,
with the cool, steady north-east trades, freshening up the sea, and
giving us as much as we could carry our royals to. These winds blew
strong and steady, keeping us generally upon a bowline, as our course
was about north-north-west; and sometimes, as they veered a little to
the eastward, giving us a chance at a main top-gallant studding-sail;
and sending us well to the northward, until--
Sunday, Sept. 4th, when they left us, in lat. 22° N., long. 51° W.,
directly under the tropic of Cancer.
For several days we lay "humbugging about" in the Horse latitudes, with
all sorts of winds and weather, and occasionally, as we were in the
latitude of the West Indies--a thunder storm. It was hurricane month,
too, and we were just in the track of the tremendous hurricane of 1830,
which swept the North Atlantic, destroying almost everything before it.
The first night after the tradewinds left us, while we were in the
latitude of the island of Cuba, we had a specimen of a true tropical
thunder storm. A light breeze had been blowing directly from aft
during the first part of the night which gradually died away, and
before midnight it was dead calm, and a heavy black cloud had shrouded
the whole sky. When our watch came on deck at twelve o'clock, it was
as black as Erebus; the studding-sails were all taken in, and the
royals furled; not a breath was stirring; the sails hung heavy and
motionless from the yards; and the perfect stillness, and the darkness,
which was almost palpable, were truly appalling. Not a word was
spoken, but every one stood as though waiting for something to happen.
In a few minutes the mate came forward; and in a low tone, which was
almost a whisper, told us to haul down the jib. The fore and mizen
top-gallant sails were taken in, in the same silent manner; and we lay
motionless upon the water, with an uneasy expectation, which, from the
long suspense, became actually painful. We could hear the captain
walking the deck, but it was too dark to see anything more than one's
hand before the face. Soon the mate came forward again, and gave an
order, in a low tone, to clew up the main top-gallant sail; and so
infectious was the awe and silence, that the clewlines and buntlines
were hauled up without any of the customary singing out at the ropes.
An English lad and myself went up to furl it; and we had just got the
bunt up, when the mate called out to us, something, we did not hear
what,--but supposing it to be an order to bear-a-hand, we hurried, and
made all fast, and came down, feeling our way among the rigging. When
we got down we found all hands looking aloft, and there, directly over
where we had been standing, upon the main top-gallant-mast-head, was a
ball of light, which the sailors name a corposant (corpus sancti), and
which the mate had called out to us to look at. They were all watching
it carefully, for sailors have a notion that if the corposant rises in
the rigging, it is a sign of fair weather, but if it comes lower down,
there will be a storm. Unfortunately, as an omen, it came down, and
showed itself on the top-gallant yard-arm. We were off the yard in
good season, for it is held a fatal sign to have the pale light of the
corposant thrown upon one's face. As it was, the English lad did not
feel comfortably at having had it so near him, and directly over his
head. In a few minutes it disappeared, and showed itself again on the
fore top-gallant yard; and after playing about for some time,
disappeared again; when the man on the forecastle pointed to it upon
the flying-jib-boom-end. But our attention was drawn from watching
this, by the falling of some drops of rain and by a perceptible
increase of the darkness, which seemed suddenly to add a new shade of
blackness to the night. In a few minutes, low, grumbling thunder was
heard, and some random flashes of lightning came from the south-west.
Every sail was taken in but the topsails, still, no squall appeared to
be coming. A few puffs lifted the topsails, but they fell again to the
mast, and all was as still as ever. A moment more, and a terrific
flash and peal broke simultaneously upon us, and a cloud appeared to
open directly over our heads and let down the water in one body, like a
falling ocean. We stood motionless, and almost stupefied; yet nothing
had been struck. Peal after peal rattled over our heads, with a sound
which seemed actually to stop the breath in the body, and the "speedy
gleams" kept the whole ocean in a glare of light. The violent fall of
rain lasted but a few minutes, and was succeeded by occasional drops
and showers; but the lightning continued incessant for several hours,
breaking the midnight darkness with irregular and blinding flashes.
During all which time there was not a breath stirring, and we lay
motionless, like a mark to be shot at, probably the only object on the
surface of the ocean for miles and miles. We stood hour after hour,
until our watch was out, and we were relieved, at four o'clock. During
all this time, hardly a word was spoken; no bells were struck, and the
wheel was silently relieved. The rain fell at intervals in heavy
showers, and we stood drenched through and blinded by the flashes,
which broke the Egyptian darkness with a brightness which seemed almost
malignant; while the thunder rolled in peals, the concussion of which
appeared to shake the very ocean. A ship is not often injured by
lightning, for the electricity is separated by the great number of
points she presents, and the quantity of iron which she has scattered
in various parts. The electric fluid ran over our anchors, top-sail
sheets and ties; yet no harm was done to us. We went below at four
o'clock, leaving things in the same state. It is not easy to sleep,
when the very next flash may tear the ship in two, or set her on fire;
or where the deathlike calm may be broken by the blast of a hurricane,
taking the masts out of the ship. But a man is no sailor if he cannot
sleep when he turns-in, and turn out when he's called. And when, at
seven bells, the customary "All the larboard watch, ahoy?" brought us
on deck, it was a fine, clear, sunny morning, the ship going leisurely
along, with a good breeze and all sail set.