Homeward Bound! A loud report from the frigate's bow gun, and before the
smoke had vanished, the cornet was fluttering at the mast-head--a signal
for sailing. The brave boatswain and his lusty mates blew ear-splitting
notes from deck to deck--the roar of hoarse voices resounded deep within
the bowels of the ship, "All hands, up anchor for home!" The capstans
spun around like tops--the fifers played their merriest jigs--the crew
danced with glee--"pall the capstan!" The well-worn sails again fell
from the yards, and as the puffs of wind came stealthily over the Point
of Angels, the noble frigate turned slowly on her keel, in gladness
sprang away, and bade adieu to Valparaiso.
In a few days the batteries of heavy guns were drawn in, their frowning
muzzles lashed to the staunch bulwarks, and the windows of the ship
closed to the buffettings of the sea. We passed in sight of Juan
Fernandez, and, soon after, the wind befriended us, and with broad wings
we flew towards Cape Horn. One dark night, another of the unfortunate
maintop men was lost overboard: he had been born and bred upon the
ocean, and thus singularly met his watery grave.
Rain, snows, and storms came over us, but on the seventeenth day we
doubled the tempestuous Cape Horn, where we saw a dozen ships, with
gold! gold! painted in perspective, on every seam of their broad
topsails. Leaving the Falkland Islands, we steered boldly into the
Atlantic, and went on our swift course joyfully.
The strong favoring gales seemed never to tire in efforts to urge us
onward. The very sea-birds gave over chasing us, all save a venerable
couple of grey-backed albatross, who with indefatigable energy followed
us for three thousand miles. Again we crossed the tropics--the southern
cross paled below the horizon--the pole-star, gleaming dimly at first,
rose and rose until sparkling high in the heavens. Again we splashed
through the haunts of flying-fish and nautilus, until, on the
sixty-third day, there came the loud cry of "Land, ho!"
Shortly after, our noble ship--that had borne us in safety fifty-five
thousand miles--let fall her anchors, for the last time, within the
waters of the Chesapeake.