Ready for sea--Detained--Sail from England--Well provided--Bay of
Biscay--Compasses--Local attraction--Eight Stones--Madeira
--Deception--Squall--Teneriffe--Santa Cruz--Quarantine--Squalls
--Cape Verde Islands--Port Praya--Produce--Archilla--Bad season
--St. Paul Rocks--Cross Equator--Fernando de Noronha--Bahia
--Slavery--Abrolhos--Cape Frio.
In November, the Beagle was ready for sea, but a succession of hard
gales from the westward prevented her leaving England until the
end of December. Twice she sailed, and went a few leagues; yet was
obliged to return in order to avoid the risk of being damaged, or
losing a boat, at the very beginning of her voyage. At last the
westerly gales seemed exhausted, a dead calm succeeded, and, warned
by the appearances so peculiar to easterly winds, we unmoored at
daylight on the 27th, and, as soon as the tide would allow, for there
was still no breeze, we warped from our sheltered and picturesque
retreat in Barn-pool, under that beautiful place Mount Edgecumbe.
Vessels in the offing, and distant land ‘looming’ much; a few
mottled, hard-edged clouds appearing in the east; streaks (mare’s
tails) across the sky, spreading from the same quarter; a high
barometer (30.3); and the smoke from chimneys rising high into the
air, and then going westward; were the signs which assured us of a
favourable wind. A light ‘cat’s paw’ rippled the water, we made all
sail, the breeze increased, and at noon our little vessel was outside
the Breakwater, with a fresh easterly wind.
Of the bitter feelings experienced by most of us when every sail was
trimmed, and the land sinking fast from our view, I will say nothing:
yet there were enlivening hopes, and all were glad to be freed from
the tiresome uncertainty of the past month, all were anxious to enter
upon a voyage which, though likely to be very long, promised much
that would interest, and excite, and perhaps reward.
To the executive officers of a ship it is always a most satisfactory
feeling, independent of other thoughts, to be fairly at sea, and away
from the scenes of irregularity which so often take place in ports.
Those scenes, however, are now much less offensive, and the sailor
is far less heedless than he was formerly, if we may take Fielding’s
description as authority. That humorous sensible author says, in one
of the most entertaining accounts of a voyage ever written, “To say
the truth, from what I observed in the behaviour of the sailors in
this voyage, and comparing it with what I have formerly seen of them,
at sea, and on shore, I am convinced that on land there is nothing
more idle and dissolute; but, in their own element, there are no
persons, near the level of their degree, who live in the constant
practice of half so many good qualities.”
Never, I believe, did a vessel leave England better provided, or
fitted for the service she was destined to perform, and for the
health and comfort of her crew, than the Beagle. If we did want any
thing which could have been carried, it was our own fault; for all
that was asked for, from the Dock-yard, Victualling Department, Navy
Board, or Admiralty, was granted.
To mention the names of those to whom my shipmates and myself felt
most grateful for attention to requests, and for a kind foresight of
our future wants, may be unnecessary, some may think improper; yet,
at the risk of offending, I must try to express the gratitude that I,
and those who sailed with me in the Beagle, owe to Sir James Graham,
Sir Thomas Hardy, Captain Beaufort, Commissioner (now Admiral) Ross,
Sir Robert Seppings, Sir James Gordon, the late Sir Manley Dixon, and
Sir William Burnett: less I cannot say, more might be displeasing.
The wind increased, and drove us onwards into the Atlantic as fast
as a heavily laden small vessel, with her ‘scuppers’ in the water,
could be forced. We steered as southerly a course as was safe, in
hopes of keeping the east wind longer, and the result proved that we
were right; for although the Beagle had a fair wind all the way to
the Canary Islands, vessels which sailed from England only one day
after her, and steered more westerly, lost the east wind very soon,
and were retarded by another succession of strong and contrary gales,
similar to those which had detained us a whole month.
Individual misconduct, arising out of harbour irregularities, obliged
me to have recourse to harsh measures before we had been two days
at sea; but every naval officer knows the absolute necessity of a
certain degree of what inexperienced persons might think unnecessary
coercion, when a ship is recently commissioned. Hating, abhorring
corporal punishment, I am nevertheless fully aware that there are too
many coarse natures which cannot be restrained without it, (to the
degree required on board a ship,) not to have a thorough conviction
that it could only be dispensed with, by sacrificing a great deal
of discipline and consequent efficiency. “Certainty of punishment,
without severity,” was a maxim of the humane and wise Beccaria;
which, with our own adage about a timely ‘stitch,’ is extremely
applicable to the conduct of affairs on board a ship, where so much
often depends upon immediate decision, upon instant and implicit
obedience.
We crossed the Bay of Biscay without a gale; though the heavy rolling
of a vessel so deep in the water, running before a strong wind, was
almost as disagreeable as the effects of one would have been. After
witnessing high seas and storms in various parts of the world, I
can call to mind only two or three that exceeded what I have myself
experienced, or what I have heard described, as having been sometimes
encountered in this famed bay.
Why should the sea be higher, or more dangerous, in the bay of
Biscay, than it is in the middle of the Atlantic, or elsewhere?--Is
it really so?--are questions often asked.
I believe that there is a shorter, higher, and consequently worse
sea, in and near the Bay of Biscay, than is often found in other
places, and attribute it to the effect of immense Atlantic waves,
rolling into a deep bight, or bay, where they close upon each other
and receive vibratory undulations from each shore; augmented perhaps
by the peculiar formation of the bottom of that bay, the variation in
depth, and the effects of currents, which, when running over uneven
ground, or against the wind, alone cause a heavy swell; a striking
exemplification of which may be seen on the bank of Lagullas, near
the Cape of Good Hope.
Though so deep in the water, our little vessel’s movements were
uncommonly easy, and all our best timekeepers being hung in
particularly good jimbals, I had no fear of their rates being
altered, except by the effect of a change of temperature. This was a
point about which I was especially anxious, as so much would depend
upon the going of our chronometers, and I did not then think that
the motions of a ship affected those instruments so little: as I
have since proved to be the case by trying them frequently in boats,
or small craft of only a few tons burthen. In her previous voyage
the Beagle was as easy a sea-boat as could be desired; but, having
raised her upper deck, altered her stowage and trim, loaded her more
heavily, and sheathed her with two-inch plank, preparatory to this
second expedition, I had abundant cause to feel anxious until the
practical effects of such material changes were ascertained.
A little alteration was required near the compasses, for owing to
some ill-placed iron-work they did not quite agree; but, after
this change was made, we were gratified by finding four first-rate
compasses, three fixed for steering, and one for bearings, agree
precisely. Another source of satisfaction, connected with the
compasses, was the knowledge that they were not affected, unless
in a very trifling degree, by local attraction: for while lying in
Barn-pool we swung the vessel in order to ascertain its quantity,
but were agreeably surprised to find that none could be detected
amounting even to one degree. This was attributed to her having only
brass guns; and to some very large iron davits for the quarter boats,
which were placed rather closely abaft and above the compasses, and
perhaps counteracted the effect of iron in the hold, which was so
much more distant.
On the 3d of January we were occupied in looking for the “Eight
Stones;” but nothing was seen to indicate either rocks, or shoals,
or even shallow water. The sun was shining brightly on a deep blue
sea, of one uniform colour: no soundings could be obtained; and had
there been a shoal or rock within seven miles of us at any hour of
that day, it could not have been passed unnoticed. So many vessels
have searched, in vain, for this alleged group of rocks, that their
existence can now hardly be thought possible.
At day-light, on the 4th, the rocky high islet of Porto Santo was
seen looming through haze and clouds which hung around it. We steered
between Porto Santo and the Desertas, intending to anchor in Funchal
Roads; but the wind drew round to south-west, with such strong
squalls, that I abandoned my intention, and at once steered for
Teneriffe. The roadstead I have just mentioned is well known to be
unsafe in south-west gales; and there can be no doubt that the most
prudent plan is to keep at sea while they last: but I have been told
by old traders to Madeira, that ships sometimes remain at anchor,
about half a mile from the Loo rock, and ride out south-west gales
without difficulty: the ‘under-tow’ being so considerable that their
cables are little strained.
In fine weather, and it is fine at Madeira nine months in the year,
the view of this steep and lofty island,[1] covered with bright
verdure, and enlivened by numerous scattered houses, as white as
snow, is very striking to a stranger who arrives from the low, and
tame-looking shores of the south coast of England.
Seamen are often deceived, when about to anchor in Funchal Roads, in
consequence of the sudden transition which they have probably made
from a low shelving coast to an abrupt and high mountain-side: for
the bottom of the anchorage slopes away as suddenly as the heights
overlooking it, and the anchor must indeed be let go upon the side
of a mountain. Hence ships seldom go close enough, unless guided by
a person who knows the place; and many a chain cable ran out to the
clinch, when chains were first used, owing to an incorrect estimate
of the vessel’s distance from the shore, and not taking time to
sound accurately.
Closing the land quickly after passing some time at sea--approaching
high cliffs, or hilly shores, after being, for a time, accustomed
to low coasts--or nearing a flat shore, after the eye has been used
to precipices and mountains--almost always is a cause of error in
estimating distance, however experienced a seaman may be.
[Illustration: _Ilheo Fort or Loo Rock_
_Angustias_
_I.G.S._ _S. Bull._
_R.N. Hamond._
PANORAMIC VIEW OF MADEIRA.
Published by Henry Colburn, Great Marlborough Street, 1838.]
While passing at a few leagues from the land, a violent squall came
from the west, which was near doing damage: after one puff there was
a short calm, with heavy rain, and then a sudden blast struck the
ship so violently that we were obliged to take in all sail and run
before it during the few minutes it lasted. This squall was one of
very many which have reminded me of the old doggrel lines--
When rain comes before the wind,
Halyards, sheets, and braces mind:
But if wind comes before rain,
Set and trim your sails again.
At daylight the next morning we saw the Salvages, and at sunset
thought we could distinguish the Peak of Teneriffe.
Early on the 6th we saw part of the island, and soon afterwards
the upper clouds dispersed, and we enjoyed a magnificent view of
the monarch of the Atlantic: the snow-covered peak glittering in
the rays of the morning sun. Yet as our ideas are very dependent
upon comparison, I suppose that persons who have seen the Himalaya
Mountains, or the Andes, in all their grandeur, would not dwell
much upon the view of Teneriffe, had it not become classical by its
historical associations, and by the descriptions of Humboldt and many
distinguished travellers.
Although some geographers adopted the Peak of Teneriffe as a zero
point from which to reckon longitude, I am free to say, that a less
satisfactory one could hardly have been selected; because there are
no means of connecting the position of the peak with that of the
observer, whether on the shore of the island, or on board a ship
in the offing, except by a trigonometrical process, always open
to errors. Indeed the summit of the peak is not visible from the
east, on account of intervening land, until the observer is at some
distance from the shore. Hence all meridian distances measured from
Teneriffe must depend upon the degree of accuracy with which the
position of the actual starting-point, with respect to the Peak, was
determined.
How many errors have been caused in ascertaining the longitudes
of distant places, by a mistake in the longitude of the position
from which a ship, or an observer, actually departed! How many
discrepancies between the measurements of different nations would
vanish, if the precise points from which each observer set out were
known; and if the positions of those points, with respect to one
another, were accurately verified!
About noon we approached the sun-burned, uninviting town of Santa
Cruz. Lying upon a level, arid space, at the foot of hills, that rise
slowly to a considerable height, so as to shut out the more elevated
part of the island; hardly a tree to be seen, and no appearance of
cultivation; guarded by a rocky shore, on which there is always a
disagreeable--often a dangerous surf; it offers indeed little to
tempt delay. But notwithstanding this unpromising exterior, and a
port so exposed that Spanish ships of war were ordered by their
Government to moor there with four anchors, there is much to be found
in the higher and interior parts of Teneriffe which amply repays the
labour of ascending to and exploring those regions. In one of the
churches in Santa Cruz is still hanging the remains of a flag, taken
from the English, or left behind, when Nelson lost his arm.
Our anchor had just touched the ground, when a boat from the Health
Office approached nearly alongside, conveying the British vice-consul
and some quarantine officers, who told us, after hearing whence
we came, that it would be impossible to grant permission for any
person to land; and that until we should have performed a strict
quarantine of twelve days’ duration, no personal communication could
be expected. This regulation was adopted on account of the reports
which had reached them respecting the cholera in England.
Observations on shore being indispensable for our purpose, and
finding, after some discussion, that there was no chance of attaining
our object in a manner that would at all compensate for the delay
caused by anchoring and performing quarantine, we weighed without
further loss of time, and made sail for the Cape Verd Islands.
This was a great disappointment to Mr. Darwin, who had cherished
a hope of visiting the Peak. To see it--to anchor and be on the
point of landing, yet be obliged to turn away without the slightest
prospect of beholding Teneriffe again--was indeed to him a real
calamity.
During the whole of the 7th, the Peak was visible; but on the
following day no land was in sight, and we made rapid progress.
A very long swell from the north-west, which we felt until the
10th, was probably caused by a gale in the northern Atlantic; and,
judging from its size and velocity, I should think that it could not
have subsided before traversing many, perhaps ten more, degrees of
latitude; which would be to about 10° north. It is interesting to
notice how far the undulatory movement of water reaches: in this case
it extended through at least ten degrees of latitude where the wind
was from different quarters, and probably much farther.
An unusual appearance was observed on the 12th. A cloud like a dense
fog-bank approached; and as it drew near, the lower and darker part
became arched, and rose rapidly, while under it was a white glare,
which looked very suspicious. Sail was immediately reduced--we
expected a violent squall; but the cloud dispersed suddenly, and only
a common fresh breeze came from the foreboding quarter. Neither the
sympiesometer nor the barometer had altered at all; but the cloud
was so threatening that I put no trust in their indications, not
being then so firm a believer in their prophetic movements as I am
at present. Nevertheless, I would by no means advocate the neglect
of any precaution suggested by appearances of the weather, although
no change should be foretold by the glasses. A mistake may be made
by the observer, or a variation in the height of the column may have
passed unheeded; while it is seldom that a practised eye can be
deceived by the visible signs of an approaching squall or gale of
wind.
Undoubtedly the worst wind, next to a hurricane, which a vessel
can encounter, is a violent ‘white squall,’ so called because it
is accompanied by no cloud or peculiar appearance in the sky, and
because of its tearing up the surface of the sea, and sweeping
it along so as to make a wide sheet of foam. By squalls of this
description, frequent in the West-Indies, and occasionally felt in
other parts of the world, no notice will be given much above the
horizon; but by consulting a good barometer or sympiesometer, and
frequently watching the surface of the sea itself, even a white
squall may be guarded against in sufficient time.
Squalls accompanied by clouds are so common, and at sea every one is
so much accustomed to look out for them, that I may cause a smile by
these notices; yet as there is often much doubt in a young officer’s
mind, whether an approaching cloud will be accompanied by wind or
rain, or by both, and many persons are unable to distinguish, by the
mere appearance of a cloud, what is likely to come with or from it,
I will venture to mention that when they look hard, or hard-edged
(like Indian ink rubbed upon an oily plate), they indicate wind, and
perhaps rain; but before the rain falls, those clouds will assume a
softer appearance. When they are undefined, and look soft, rain will
follow, but probably not much wind.
Dark clouds, hard mixed with soft, and inky fragments in rapid motion
beneath them, accompanied perhaps by lightning and distant thunder,
are the fore-runners of a heavy squall. Soft, shapeless clouds, in
which it is impossible to point out a definite edge, usually bring
rain, but not wind: and, generally speaking, the more distinctly
defined the edges of clouds are, the more wind they foretell. A
little attention to these simple observations, so familiar to
persons who have been some time at sea, may save young officers
unnecessary anxiety in one case, and prompt them to shorten sail at a
proper time in the other.[2]
In again trying for soundings with three hundred fathoms of line,
near the Island of St. Jago, we became fully convinced of the utility
of a reel, which Captain Beaufort had advised me to procure, and of
which Captain Vidal had spoken to him in very favourable terms. Two
men were able to take in the deep sea line, by this machine, without
interfering with any part of the deck, except the place near the
stern, where the reel was firmly secured. Throughout our voyage this
simple contrivance answered its object extremely well, and saved the
crew a great deal of harassing work.
15th. In consequence of a thick haze, very prevalent about the Cape
Verd Islands, land was not distinctly seen until we were within three
miles of it, and we then found ourselves rather too far westward,
owing to a current setting towards the west, at the rate of two knots
an hour; this was close to the north point of St. Jago. Next day we
anchored in Port Praya.
The wind being always from the north or east during this season
of the year (from December to June), a ship can moor as close to
the weather shore as may be convenient; but during July, August,
September and October, no vessel should deem the bay secure, or
anchor near the shore, because southerly gales sometimes blow with
much strength, and the rollers, or heavy swell sent in by them, are
dangerous to ships which have bad ground tackle, or are lying near
the land. As I have myself experienced the force of these gales
in the vicinity of the Cape Verd Islands, and witnessed the sea
raised by them, I can confidently warn those who are inclined to be
incredulous about a gale of wind being found in fifteen degrees of
north latitude, beyond the limits of the hurricane regions.
Strong gusts come over the land into the bay during the fine season,
when the breeze is fresh; therefore a ship entering, with intent to
anchor, ought to have a reef in her topsails, and be ready to clew up
the top-gallant sails at a moment’s warning.
The vicinity of Port Praya offers little that is agreeable to the eye
of an ordinary visitor, though interesting enough to a geologist. A
desolate and hilly country, sun-burned and stony, with but few trees
even in the vallies, and those only the withering, spectre-like
trunks of old palms, surrounds the harbour. The distant and higher
parts of the island, however, present a striking outline; and in the
interior there is more to be seen, as the following extract from a
few notes made by Mr. Rowlett will show.
“We procured some indifferent horses and rode to Ribeira Grande, the
remains of an old town, about nine miles west of Port Praya, which
was formerly the residence of the Portuguese governor of the Cape
Verd Islands; but in consequence of the anchorage becoming blocked
up,[3] the seat of government was shifted to the small straggling
town, or rather village, which stands upon a height overlooking the
port of Praya. We passed through the fertile and beautiful vallies of
Achao and San Martin, and enjoyed drinking some of the finest water
we had ever tasted. On a commanding height stood the ruins of a very
large fortress, and within the limits of the old town were remains
of a cathedral, a bishop’s palace, and a college; besides a modern
church, in tolerable repair, an inhabited convent, and a hospital
supported by charity. In the convent we saw some good paintings from
scriptural subjects; and there were some curious old tombs, on one of
which, said to be that of a bishop, was the date 1571, and on another
we thought the almost obliterated figures were 1497.
“No person who has only visited the port of Praya can form the
slightest idea of the beauty of the interior country; it exceeded any
thing I had seen, either in Brazil or in the West Indies.
“Fruit was abundant; there were oranges, grapes, plantains, bananas,
sour-sops, mammee apples, pomegranates, guavas, quinces, sapodillas,
papaw apples, pines, citrons, medlars, figs, and occasionally apples.”
Notwithstanding its unfavourable exterior, its small and dirty town,
and its black or brown population, I am inclined to think Port Praya
of more consequence to shipping than is usually supposed. Water may
be procured by rafting the casks, placing a pump in the well, and
hiring a few of the natives to do the more laborious work of filling
and rolling. The local authorities are attentive and obliging: it is
indeed their interest to be so, because much of their trade, and even
many of the necessaries of life, depend upon the visits of shipping.
Fowls, turkeys, and pigs, are very plentiful, but it is better to
procure them by barter than with money. Clothes, new or old, are
eagerly sought for, and their full value may be obtained in the
produce of the island.
The population is said to be about thirty thousand, a few of whom are
Portuguese by birth, and many are descended from Portuguese parents,
but the greater number are negroes.
I could hear no decided account of any earthquake having happened;
but being so near Fogo, now an active volcano, one may suppose that
St. Jago is not exempted from an occasional shock.
The exports of the Cape Verd Islands are small quantities of sugar,
cotton, and coffee. Hides of small bullocks, sheep and goat-skins,
are likewise exported; and horses, mules, and asses, of an inferior
description, are sometimes sent to the West-Indies. The Archilla
weed, so much used in dyeing, is however the staple commodity, and,
under proper management, might be made highly profitable. At the
time of our visit, the yearly revenue arising out of the government
monopoly of this article amounted to fifty thousand dollars; and in
some years it has been as much as three hundred thousand dollars.
This weed grows like a kind of moss upon the cliff’s, and is
collected by men who climb up or are let down by ropes, like the
samphire gatherers.
The natural dye is blue, approaching to purple; but by using metallic
and other solutions, it may be turned to purple, crimson, or scarlet.
Money having been slowly remitted of late years from the
mother-country, a great part of the archilla has been applied to
the payment of the authorities, the clergy, and the troops (such
as they are). A story is told of the last governor having caused a
sham mutiny, in order that he might have a good reason for selling
the archilla gathered that year, and with the produce paying the
troops--and himself. He was brought out with a rope round his neck
into the street, and there obliged to promise that he would sell the
archilla, then in the government store-house, to the best bidder.
A kind of castor-oil plant is found, from which a small quantity of
oil is obtained, and a sort of soap. Yams are very scarce, being
grown only at one part of the island. Mandioca is common, but it
degenerates rapidly, and will not produce even a second crop.
Vegetables of various kinds are abundant in their seasons.
From August to October is the rainy and sickly season. In September,
a south-west gale is usually experienced; but from five to ten
hours before its commencement, a dark bank of clouds is seen in the
southern horizon, which is a sure forerunner of the gale. Should a
vessel be at anchor in the port at such a time, she ought to weigh
and put to sea, until the storm has ceased and the swell subsided. In
the month of September preceding our visit, an American merchant-brig
and a Portuguese slaver were at anchor in Port Praya. A bank of
clouds was seen during the day in the S.W., and the American went to
sea; but the slaver remained at anchor. A storm arose at night, drove
the slave-vessel ashore, and dashed her to pieces in less than half
an hour, yet did the American no damage whatever, and the next day
she anchored again in the port.
In a valley near the town is a very remarkable tree, of the Baobab
kind, supposed to be more than a thousand years old; but I am not
aware of the grounds upon which this assertion is made. Wild
guinea-fowls are found in flocks, and there are wild-cats in the
unfrequented parts of the island; but if induced to take a gun
in pursuit of the guinea-fowls, I would advise a stranger not to
overheat himself, or sleep on shore at night; for fatal fevers have
been contracted by Europeans, who were unguarded as to their health,
while passing a few days in this hot climate, after being for some
time accustomed to the cold weather of a high northern latitude.
Except during the rainy season, the wind is always north-easterly,
and then the sky is clear and the sun very powerful; but a dry haze
hangs over the island in a peculiar manner, and a quantity of fine
dust, quite an impalpable powder, frequently settles on every exposed
surface, even on the sails and rigging of a vessel, when passing near
the islands.
On the 8th of February our instruments were re-embarked, and, after
swinging the ship to ascertain the amount of local attraction, we
weighed anchor and sailed. By the compass fixed upon a stanchion in
front of the poop, not twenty minutes difference of bearing could be
detected, in any position of the vessel: the object observed being
the highest point of a sharp peak, distant eleven miles.
On the 10th we spoke the Lyra packet, going from England to Rio de
Janeiro, and received a box from her, containing six of Massey’s
sounding-leads, those excellent contrivances which we frequently
found so useful. These machines, as formerly made, did not answer for
a much greater depth than one hundred fathoms; because their hollow
cylinder yielded to the pressure of the water: but Mr. Massey has
since remedied that defect in their construction.
On the 13th a very confused swell seemed to presage a change of
weather. Hitherto the wind had been steady from the north-east, and
the sky clear; but on this day large soft clouds, light variable
breezes, rain, and sometimes a short calm, showed us that we had
passed the limits of the north-east trade wind. 14th. Similar
weather, with a good deal of rain, but still breeze enough to keep us
moving on our course.
On the 15th, the wind was steady from east south-east, and the
sky free from heavy threatening clouds. We had then entered the
south-east trade wind, without having had two hours calm.
St. Paul Rocks, or Peñedo de San Pedro, were seen on the horizon
at sunset of the 15th. They appeared extremely small, being about
eight miles distant; and had we not been looking out for them, I
doubt whether they would have attracted attention. Excepting “Las
Hormigas,” on the coast of Peru, I never saw such mere rocks at so
great a distance from any land.
At daylight next morning, two boats were sent to land upon, and
examine them; while the Beagle sailed round this “sunk mountain top,”
sounding, and taking angles. Good observations were made during the
day, as the sky was clear, and the water smooth.
When our party had effected a landing through the surf, and had a
moment’s leisure to look about them, they were astonished at the
multitudes of birds which covered the rocks, and absolutely darkened
the sky. Mr. Darwin afterwards said, that till then he had never
believed the stories of men knocking down birds with sticks; but
there they might be kicked, before they would move out of the way.
The first impulse of our invaders of this bird-covered rock, was to
lay about them like schoolboys; even the geological hammer at last
became a missile. “Lend me the hammer?” asked one. “No, no,” replied
the owner, “you’ll break the handle;” but hardly had he said so,
when, overcome by the novelty of the scene, and the example of those
around him, away went the hammer, with all the force of his own
right-arm.
While our party were scrambling over the rock, a determined struggle
was going on in the water, between the boats’ crews and sharks.
Numbers of fine fish, like the groupars (or garoupas) of the Bermuda
Islands, bit eagerly at baited hooks put overboard by the men; but
as soon as a fish was caught, a rush of voracious sharks was made at
him, and notwithstanding blows of oars and boat hooks, the ravenous
monsters could not be deterred from seizing and taking away more than
half the fish that were hooked.
[Illustration:
A. Earle. T. Landseer.
CROSSING THE LINE.
Published by Henry Colburn, Great Marlborough Street, 1838.]
At short intervals the men beat the water with their oars all round
the boats, in order to drive away the sharks; and for a few minutes
afterwards the groupars swarmed about the baited hooks, and were
caught as fast as the lines could be hauled up--then another rush
of sharks drove them away--those just caught were snatched off the
hooks; and again the men were obliged to beat the water. When the
boats returned they were deeply laden with birds and fish, both
welcome to those who had been living on salt provisions.
From the highest point of the rock,[4] no discoloured water, nor any
breaking of the sea, could be discerned, apart from the place itself;
and from the soundings taken in the boats, as well as on board the
ship, I conclude that it is unconnected with any shoal, being merely
the summit of a steep-sided mountain rising from the bottom of the
ocean.
There was a slight current setting to the westward, not amounting to
a mile an hour.
At sunset that day we were out of sight of St. Paul (or St.
Peter), and soon after dark were hailed by the gruff voice of a
pseudo-Neptune. A few credulous novices ran upon the forecastle to
see Neptune and his car, and were received with the watery honours
which it is customary to bestow, on such occasions.
Next morning we crossed the Equator, and the usual ceremonies were
performed.
Deep was the bath, to wash away all ill;
Notched was the razor--of bitter taste the pill.
Most ruffianly the barber looked--his comb was trebly nailed--
And water, dashed from every side, the neophyte assailed.
The disagreeable practice alluded to has been permitted in most
ships, because sanctioned by time; and though many condemn it as an
absurd and dangerous piece of folly, it has also many advocates.
Perhaps it is one of those amusements, of which the omission might
be regretted. Its effects on the minds of those engaged in preparing
for its mummeries, who enjoy it at the time, and talk of it long
afterwards, cannot easily be judged of without being an eye-witness.
During the early ages of navigation, before the invention of the
compass, somewhat similar, though really ceremonious rites were
observed in Spanish, Portuguese, and Italian vessels, when they
passed the more remarkable promontories then known. A modern voyager,
Kotzebue, notices this subject in a manner which appears to me so
sensible, that I shall quote his words without affecting to add
another remark.
“On the 11th of October we crossed the Equator, at twenty-five
degrees west longitude, reckoning from Greenwich. Having saluted
the southern hemisphere by the firing of guns, our crew proceeded
to enact the usual ceremonies. A sailor, who took pride in having
frequently passed the line, directed the performance with much
solemnity and decorum. He appeared as Neptune, attired in a manner
that was meant to be terribly imposing, accompanied by his consort,
seated on a gun-carriage instead of a shell, drawn by negroes, as
substitutes for tritons. In the evening the sailors represented,
amidst general applause, a comedy of their own composition.
“These sports, while they serve to keep up the spirits of the men,
and make them forget the difficulties they have to go through,
produce also the most beneficial influence upon their health; a
cheerful man being much more capable of resisting a fit of sickness
than a melancholy one. It is the duty of commanders to use every
innocent means of maintaining this temper in their crews; for, in
long voyages, when they are several months together wandering on an
element not destined by nature for the residence of man, without
enjoying even occasionally the recreations of the land, the mind
naturally tends to melancholy, which of itself lays the foundation
of many diseases, and sometimes even of insanity. Diversion is often
the best medicine, and used as a preservative, seldom fails of its
effect.”--(Kotzebue’s Voyage, 1823-26.)
Before sunset on the 19th we saw the island of Fernando Noronha, with
its singular peak towering aloft, and at midnight anchored in the
roadstead.
Next morning I landed with difficulty for observations, the surf
being so high that any common boat would have been swamped. By
taking great care, our broad and well-built whale-boats landed the
instruments and a small party, and re-embarked them afterwards,
without accident.
We landed in a small bay under the (so-called) citadel, but there is
a safer and in every way preferable landing-place about a mile to
the northward. My object being chiefly to take sights of the sun,
for time, and compare the chronometers used on shore as soon as
possible with those on board, I preferred landing as near as I could
to the place where the lamented Captain Foster observed:--but it was
difficult to ascertain the house in which his pendulum observations
were made. Not even the governor could tell me, for he had arrived
since Captain Foster’s departure; and most of the inhabitants of the
island had changed their dwellings frequently, being all exiles from
Brazil.
The governor was a major in the Brazilian service, born at
Pernambuco, and under his command were two hundred black troops, and
about eight hundred human beings, only thirty of whom were women, and
a very few children.
We obtained some fire-wood from one of the islets northward of the
principal island; but it was full of centipedes and other noxious
insects, from which it was not easy to free it even by charring and
washing. Water we did not try to get, because of the heavy surf, but
there is no scarcity of it on the island. Neither live-stock nor
vegetables could be procured from the apathetic inhabitants.
This place is rather picturesque; and the lofty barren peak, already
mentioned, is conspicuous from every point of view. Near the summit
is a station from which a look-out is kept, not only over all the
island, but over many leagues of the surrounding sea; so that neither
ship nor boat can approach or depart, during daylight, without being
noticed.
No boats are allowed to be kept on the island, and no intercourse is
held with shipping without permission and the strictest inspection.
We sailed from Fernando Noronha the same evening, passed round the
north-east extremity of the island, and steered for Bahia de Todos
Santos. Having remained only one day at anchor, in consequence of
information that no better landing could be expected for many days;
and wishing to ascertain the rates of the chronometers, as well as to
procure a supply of water, I decided to go to Bahia, as the nearest
port convenient for both purposes. From the 23d to the 27th we found
a current setting us southward, between twenty and thirty miles each
day. This was quite unexpected by me, for I thought that we should
have been set westward. At daylight on the 28th we made the land
about Bahia, and before noon were at anchor in the port.
As we sailed in rapidly from the monotonous sea, and passed close
along the steep but luxuriantly wooded north shore, we were much
struck by the pleasing view. After the light-house was passed,
those by whom the scene was unexpected were agreeably surprised by
a mass of wood, clinging to a steep bank, which rose abruptly from
the dark-blue sea, showing every tint of green, enlivened by bright
sunshine, and contrasted by deep shadow: and the general charm was
heightened by turretted churches and convents, whose white walls
appeared above the waving palm trees; by numerous shipping at anchor
or under sail; by the delicate airy sails of innumerable canoes; and
by the city itself, rising like an amphitheatre from the water-side
to the crest of the heights.
We found ourselves in the middle of the rainy season, and although
favoured by a fine day at arriving, cloudy weather and frequent rain
succeeded it, and during the short stay we made, much embarrassed our
observations.
Bahia has declined ever since its separation from Portugal:
unsettled, weak governments, occupied too constantly by party strife
to be able to attend to the real improvement of their country, have
successively misruled it. Revolutions, and risings of the negro
population, interrupting trade, have repeatedly harassed that rich
and beautiful country, and are still impending.
Were property secure, and industry encouraged, the trade from Bahia
might be very extensive, particularly in sugar and cotton: but who
will embark much capital upon so insecure a foundation as is there
offered?
The immense extent and increase of the slave population is an evil
long foreseen and now severely felt. Humanely as the Brazilians in
general treat their slaves, no one can suppose that any benevolence
will eradicate feelings excited by the situation of those human
beings. Hitherto the obstacles to combinations and general revolt
among the negroes, have been ignorance, mutual distrust, and the
fact of their being natives of various countries, speaking different
languages, and in many cases hostile to each other, to a degree that
hardly their hatred of white men can cause them to conquer, even for
their immediate advantage.
The slave trade has already entailed some of its lamentable
consequences upon the Brazilians, in demoralizing them by extreme
indolence, and its sure accompaniment, gross sensuality; but there
are in store afflictions hitherto unfelt, occasioned by the growing
hordes of enemies who are yearly causing more perplexity and dread in
the territories of Brazil.
Could the Brazilians see clearly their own position, unanimously
condemn and prevent the selfish conduct of individuals, emancipate
the slaves now in their country, and decidedly prevent the
introduction of more, Brazil would commence a career of prosperity,
and her population would increase in an unlimited degree. In that
immense and most fertile country, distress cannot be caused by
numerous inhabitants; food is abundant, and the slight clothing
required in so warm a climate is easily procured.
The chief, if not the only cause of the slave trade in Brazil, is
want of population--want of an industrious population, able as well
as willing to clear away primeval forests, and render the soil
fit for culture--able to work in the open fields under a hot sun,
to cultivate the sugar cane, cotton plants, mandioca, and other
productions of tropical climates.
While this extensive and most powerful cause exists, selfish,
unprincipled owners of immense territories in Brazil, and elsewhere,
will not refrain from importing hundreds, even thousands of unhappy
wretches, who, once landed, become the helpless instruments of
immense gain to their owners: neither can any reasonable number of
shipping efficiently blockade the coasts of two great continents.
If I am right in these assertions, it appears that there is no
method by which the slave trade can be totally suppressed, except
by destroying the cause of so abominable a traffic: and that, to
this end, a native population should be encouraged in hot climates,
who, being gradually inured to work on their native soil, for
remuneration from their employers, and a prospect of future comfort
for themselves and their offspring, would totally supersede the
demand for constrained labour. Of course, the only way by which such
a result could be obtained--I should say, perhaps, the first step
towards so satisfactory a result, would be, that the government of
a slave-importing country should declare that trade piratical: and
proclaim every human being free; bound to no man, free to do any
thing not contrary to religion, or law, from the moment he or she
embarked on board a vessel belonging to that country, or placed a
foot upon its soil; which might then indeed be termed, in common with
our happy land, a sacred soil. By such a plan as this, individuals
would suffer for a time, but the mass of society would be gainers
incalculably.
Well-known authors have already said so much of Bahia, its spacious
harbour, and delightful environs, that it would be impertinent in the
writer of a mere narrative to add his hasty remarks to the calmly
considered information which their works contain. But I will venture
to notice that however pleased a stranger to Bahia may be at the
sensations conveyed through his eyes, previous to landing, he will be
miserably disappointed when he finds himself in the dirty, narrow,
crowded, and hot ‘lower town;’ and that the sooner he gets into a
sedan[5] chair, and desires the almost naked bearers to make the best
of their way to the ‘upper town,’ where he will enjoy fresh air, a
pleasing view, and freedom from annoyances, the less his organs will
be offended, and his temper tried.
[Illustration:
A. Earle. T. A. Prior.
SAN SALVADOR, BAHIA.
Published by Henry Colburn, Great Marlborough Street, 1838.]
We sailed from Bahia on the 18th. The bank which projects from the
light-house point had been minutely examined by us, during the
Beagle’s stay in port; on one day, indeed, she went out and anchored
at the outer end of the shoal, in order to determine its extent, and
assist the boats in sounding; therefore I did not hesitate to stand
across it; but there is not water enough over the shallower parts for
any ship drawing more than fourteen feet, especially if there is a
swell. The shoalest spot is near the outer end; ships of any size may
pass between the inner extremity and the point of land adjacent to it.
There are rocks and dangerous shallows southward of the port, which
it is extremely necessary to guard against in approaching it from
sea, because the current generally sets towards the south, and ships
have got ashore on those shoals in consequence. The land northward
of Bahia should be made, and some white sandy patches, looking like
linen hung out to dry, should be seen before a ship steers more
southerly.
After losing sight of the land, our course was shaped to the
south-east, towards the eastern limit of the great bank of soundings
which extends so far to seaward of the Abrolhos islets. Having
reached the parallel of the islands, and being to the eastward of
the easternmost soundings laid down in any chart, without finding
any ground with three hundred fathoms of line, I began to steer
westward--sounding continually, and keeping a sharp look-out at the
mast-head. At two in the afternoon of the 26th, we had no bottom,
with three hundred fathoms of line; and at the next cast, about an
hour afterwards, found only thirty fathoms, without there being the
slightest change in the colour of the water, or in its temperature,
or any other indication of so sudden a change in the depth. We hauled
to the wind directly, worked to the eastward in order to ascertain
the precise limit of the bank, and lost soundings as suddenly as we
had previously struck them. A grapnel was then put overboard, with
two hundred fathoms of line, and we again steered westward, till
a heavy pull upon the line, and a sudden jerk, showed that we had
hooked the bank.
The ship was hove-to, and the necessary observations made on the
spot. The grapnel, when hauled up, was found to be straightened, a
proof, in addition to that afforded by the lead, that the bottom
was rocky. Our soundings at this time were thirty-eight fathoms,
and thence to the Abrolhos islets we carried a line of soundings,
no where exceeding that depth, but extremely irregular, between
thirty-six and four fathoms.
As far as we had time to examine, the chart of these islands, by
the Baron Roussin, appeared to be satisfactory; but the soundings
are so very irregular in the vicinity of the Abrolhos, that little
dependence could be placed on the lead. More than once we had four or
five fathoms under one side of the vessel, and from fifteen to twenty
under the other. These sudden and startling changes, called by the
French, ‘Sauts de sonde,’ are very unpleasant and perplexing.
The tide, or rather current, which we found when lying at anchor near
the islets, set continually to the southward, varying in strength
from half a mile to a mile and a half an hour; but we had only three
days’ experience.
I had imagined, from what I had heard, that the rock of which these
islets were chiefly composed was coral; but was surprized to find
only coralline growing upon gneiss or sandstone.
While sounding near the Abrolhos we made a great number of
experiments with Massey’s lead, in order to verify its qualities; and
found it agree remarkably well with the common lead, while in less
than forty fathoms, but differ from it frequently when the depth of
water exceeded seventy fathoms; and wholly fail when used in upwards
of one hundred and twenty fathoms. The failure, in great depths, was
in consequence of the small hollow cylinder, to which the vanes were
attached, bursting, or rather, being compressed by the weight of
water. Some more remarks upon this instrument will be found in the
Appendix.
We anchored near the islets, at dusk, on the 28th, after being in
frequent anxiety, owing to sudden changes in the depth of water;
and next morning, moved to a better berth at the west side, very
near them. They are rather low, but covered with grass, and there
is a little scattered brushwood. The highest point rises to about a
hundred feet above the sea. Their geological formation, Mr. Darwin
told me, is of gneiss and sandstone, in horizontal strata. When our
boats landed, immense flights of birds rose simultaneously, and
darkened the air. It was the breeding and moulting season; nests full
of eggs, or young unfledged birds, absolutely covered the ground, and
in a very short time our boats were laden with their contents.
A large black bird, with a pouch like that of a pelican, but of a
bright red colour, was very remarkable, as it hovered, or darted
among the bright verdure, and at a distance looked handsome; but when
seen close, it at once descended to the level of a carrion-eating
cormorant or buzzard.
Turtle are to be found at times: we observed the shell and skeleton
of an extremely large one lying on a sandy spot at the north side
of the northern islet. Some very fine fish, of the cod kind, were
caught; one was so large, that, until hauled on board, it was
supposed to be a shark. The anchorage is good, and easy of access:
all swell is stopped by the shallow places, and by the islets
themselves. There is no fresh water.
If a general reader should honour these pages by his perusal, and
find such details about wood, water, fish, birds, &c., at places
about which few know, and still fewer care--extremely tiresome, he
will of course pass them over; but, in my own exculpation, I must
beg to be permitted to remind him that the Beagle was employed by
Government, to obtain practical information likely to be useful to
shipping; and that I might neglect my duty by omitting to mention
such matters, when speaking of places which are seldom visited, and
hitherto but slightly known.
By those employed in the coasting trade, the Abrolhos are said to be
particularly subject to squalls. If this be true, what is the reason?
Have the extensive shallows in their vicinity any connection with
the fact? Thinking myself that they have, I would beg the reader to
bear this idea in mind, when, at another part of this narrative, the
squalls so frequent in the dangerous archipelago of the low islands
are mentioned.[6]
March 30th. We sailed and sounded in various directions, but such
irregular depths I never found elsewhere. Sudden jumps, from thirty
to ten, sometimes even to four fathoms, in successive casts of the
hand-lead, gave us frequent alarm; but by keeping a boat a-head, and
two leads going briskly, we avoided danger, and giving up exploring,
regained before dark the safe channel which runs north and south
between the Abrolhos and the main land, and steered to pass near
Cape San Tomè, or St. Thomas. Next day we were off that cape, but
saw none of the breakers which have been so frequently reported to
lie at a dangerous distance from the neighbouring shore; although we
looked out for them, and steered so as to pass the places where I was
informed they would be seen.
On the 3d of April, we passed Cape Frio. I wished to visit the
cove in which the Lightning and Algerine lay, while recovering the
treasure sunk in the unfortunate Thetis, but circumstances were
unfavourable.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] About five thousand feet high.
[2] In the Appendix are a few remarks on clouds.
[3] Perhaps by an earthquake?
[4] Sixty-four feet above the sea.
[5] An arm-chair, with a high back, a foot-board, and curtains to
draw round, hung to a pole which rests on the shoulders of two men.
[6] The Bermuda Islands (“still vexed Bermoothes”) may also be
thought of, as being similarly circumstanced.