"Safely in harbour
Is the king's ship; in the deep nook, where once
Thou calledst me up at midnight to fetch dew
From the still vex'd Bermoothes, there she's hid."
_Tempest._
The letter of Roswell Gardiner last received, bore the date of December
10th, 1819, or just a fortnight after he had sailed from Rio de Janeiro.
We shall next present the schooner of Deacon Pratt to the reader on the
18th of that month, or three weeks and one day after she had sailed from
the capital of Brazil. Early in the morning of the day last mentioned, the
Sea Lion of Oyster Pond was visible, standing to the northward, with the
wind light but freshening from the westward, and in smooth water. Land was
not only in sight, but was quite near, less than a league distant. Towards
this land the head of the schooner had been laid, and she was approaching
it at the rate of some four or five knots. The land was broken, high, of a
most sterile aspect where it was actually to be seen, and nearly all
covered with a light but melting snow, though the season was advanced to
the middle of the first month in summer. The weather was not very cold,
however, and there was a feeling about it that promised it would become
still milder. The aspect of the neighbouring land, so barren, rugged and
inhospitable, chilled the feelings, and gave to the scene a sombre hue
which the weather itself might not have imparted. Directly ahead of the
schooner rose a sort of pyramid of broken rocks, which, occupying a small
island, stood isolated in a measure, and some distance in advance of other
and equally ragged ranges of mountains, which belonged also to islands
detached from the main land thousands of years before, under some violent
convulsions of nature.
It was quite apparent that all on board the schooner regarded that ragged
pyramid with lively interest. Most of the crew was collected on the
forecastle, including the officers, and all eyes were fastened on the
ragged pyramid which they were diagonally approaching. The principal
spokesman was Stimson, the oldest mariner on board, and one who had
oftener visited those seas than any other of the crew.
"You know the spot, do you, Stephen?" demanded Roswell Gardiner, with
interest.
"Yes, sir, there's no mistake. That's the Horn. Eleven times have I
doubled it, and this is the third time that I've been so close in as to
get a fair sight of it. Once I went inside, as I've told you, sir."
"I have doubled it six times myself," said Gardiner, "but never saw it
before. Most navigators give it a wide berth. 'Tis said to be the
stormiest spot on the known earth!"
"That's a mistake, you may depend on 't, sir. The sow-westers blow great
guns here-abouts, it is true enough; and when they do, sich a sea comes
tumbling in on that rock as man never seed anywhere else, perhaps; but, on
the whull, I'd rather be close in here, than two hundred miles further to
the southward. With the wind at sow-west, and heavy, a better slant might
be made from the southern position; but here I know where I am, and I'd go
in and anchor, and wait for the gale to blow itself out."
"Talking of seas, Captain Gar'ner," observed Hazard, "don't you think,
sir, we begin to feel the swell of the Pacific. Smooth as the surface of
the water is, here is a ground-swell rolling in that must be twelve or
fifteen feet in height."
"There's no doubt of that. We have felt the swell of the Pacific these two
hours; no man can mistake _that_. The Atlantic has no such waves. This is
an ocean in reality, and this is its stormiest part. The wind freshens and
hauls, and I'm afraid we are about to be caught close in here, with a
regular sow-west gale."
"Let it come, sir, let it come," put in Stimson, again; "if it does, we've
only to run in and anchor. I can stand pilot, and I promise to carry the
schooner where twenty sow-westers will do her no harm. What I've seen done
once, I know can be done again. The time will come when the Horn will be a
reg'lar harbour."
Roswell left the forecastle, and walked aft, pondering on what had just
been said. His situation was delicate, and demanded decision, as well as
prudence. The manner in which Daggett had stuck by him, ever since the two
vessels took their departure from Block Island, is known to the reader.
The Sea Lions had sailed from Rio in company, and they had actually made
Staten Land together, the day preceding that on which we now bring the
Oyster Pond craft once more upon the scene, and had closed so near as to
admit of a conversation between the two masters. It would seem that
Daggett was exceedingly averse to passing through the Straits of le Maire.
An uncle of his had been wrecked there, and had reported the passage as
the most dangerous one he had ever encountered. It has its difficulties,
no doubt, in certain states of the wind and tide, but Roswell had received
good accounts of the place from Stimson, who had been through several
times. The wind was rather scant to go through, and the weather threatened
to be thick. As Daggett urged his reasons for keeping off and passing
outside of Staten Land, a circuit of considerable extent, besides bringing
a vessel far to leeward with the prevalent winds of that region, which
usually blow from northwest round to southwest, Roswell was reflecting on
the opportunity the circumstances afforded of giving his consort the slip.
After discussing the matter for some time, he desired Daggett to lead on,
and he would follow. This was done, though neither schooner was kept off
until Roswell got a good view of Cape St. Diego, on Tierra del Fuego,
thereby enabling him to judge of the positions of the principal
land-marks. Without committing himself by any promise, therefore, he told
Daggett to lead on, and for some time he followed, the course being one
that did not take him much out of the way. The weather was misty, and at
times the wind blew in squalls. The last increased as the schooners drew
nearer to Staten Land. Daggett, being about half a mile ahead, felt the
full power of one particular squall that came out of the ravines with
greater force than common, and he kept away to increase his distance from
the land. At the same time, the mist shut in the vessels from each other.
It was also past sunset, and a dark and dreary night was approaching. This
latter fact had been one of Daggett's arguments for going outside.
Profiting by all these circumstances, Roswell tacked, and stood over
towards Tierra del Fuego. He knew from the smoothness of the water that an
ebb-tide was running; and trusted to its force to carry him through the
Straits. He saw no more of the Sea Lion of the Vineyard. She continued
shut in by the mist until night closed around both vessels. When he got
about mid-channel, Roswell tacked again. By this time the current had
sucked him fairly into the passage, and no sooner did he go about than his
movement to the southward was very rapid. The squalls gave some trouble,
but, on the whole, he did very well. Next morning he was off Cape Horn, as
described. By this expression, it is generally understood that a vessel is
somewhere near the longitude of that world-renowned cape, but not
necessarily in sight of it. Few navigators actually see the extremity of
the American continent, though they double the cape, it being usually
deemed the safest to pass well to the southward. Such was Daggett's
position; who, in consequence of having gone outside of Staten Land, was
now necessarily a long distance to leeward, and who could not hope to beat
up abreast of the Hermits, even did the wind and sea favour him, in less
than twenty-four hours. A great advantage was obtained by coming through
the Straits of Le Maire, and Roswell felt very certain that he should not
see his late consort again that day, even did he heave-to for him. But
our hero had no idea of doing any thing of the sort. Having shaken off his
leech, he had no wish to suffer it to fasten to him again. It was solely
with the intention of making sure of this object that he thought of making
a harbour.
In order that the reader may better understand those incidents of our
narrative which we are about to relate, it may be well to say a word of
the geographical features of the region to which he has been transported,
in fiction, if not in fact. At the southern extremity of the American
continent is a cluster of islands, which are dark, sterile, rocky, and
most of the year covered with snow. Evergreens relieve the aspect of
sterility, in places that are a little sheltered, and there is a meagre
vegetation in spots that serve to sustain animal life. The first strait
which separates this cluster of islands from the main, is that of
Magellan, through which vessels occasionally pass, in preference to going
farther south. Then comes Tierra del Fuego, which is much the largest of
all the islands. To the southward of Tierra del Fuego lies a cluster of
many small islands, which bear different names; though the group farthest
south of all, and which it is usual to consider as the southern
termination of our noble continent, but which is not on a continent at
all, is known by the appropriate appellation of the Hermits. If solitude,
and desolation, and want, and a contemplation of some of the sublimest
features of this earth, can render a spot fit for a hermitage, these
islands are very judiciously named. The one that is farthest south
contains the cape itself, which is marked by the ragged pyramid of rock
already mentioned; placed there by nature, a never-tiring sentinel of the
war of the elements. Behind this cluster of the Hermits it was that
Stimson advised his officer to take refuge against the approaching gale,
of which the signs were now becoming obvious and certain. Roswell's
motive, however, for listening to such advice, was less to find a shelter
for his schooner than to get rid of Daggett. For the gale he cared but
little, since he was a long way from the ice, and could stretch off the
land to the southward into a waste of waters that seems interminable.
There are islands to the southward of Cape Horn, and a good many of them
too, though none very near. It is now known, also, by means of the toils
and courage of various seamen, including those of the persevering and
laborious Wilkes, the most industrious and the least rewarded of all the
navigators who have ever worked for the human race in this dangerous and
exhausting occupation, that a continent is there also; but, at the period
of which we are writing, the existence of the Shetlands and Palmer's Land
was the extent of the later discoveries in that part of the ocean. After
pacing the quarter-deck a few minutes, when he quitted the forecastle as
mentioned, Roswell Gardiner again went forward among the men.
"You are quite sure that this high peak is the Horn, Stimson?" he
observed, inquiringly.
"Sartain of it, sir. There's no mistaking sich a place, which, once seen,
is never forgotten."
"It agrees with the charts and our reckoning, and I may say it agrees with
our eyes also. Here is the Pacific Ocean, plain enough, Mr. Hazard."
"So I think, sir, We are at the end of Ameriky, if it _has_ an end
anywhere. This heavy long swell is an old acquaintance, though I never was
in close enough to see the land, hereabouts, before."
"It is fortunate we have one trusty hand on board who can stand pilot.
Stimson, I intend to go in and anchor, and I shall trust to you to carry
me into a snug berth."
"I'll do it, Captain Gar'ner, if the weather will permit it," returned the
seaman, with an unpretending sort of confidence that spoke well for his
ability.
Preparations were now commenced in earnest, to come to. It was time that
some steady course should be adopted, as the wind was getting up, and the
schooner was rapidly approaching the land. In half an hour the Sea Lion
was bending to a little gale, with her canvass reduced to close-reefed
mainsail and foresail, and the bonnet off her jib. The sea was fast
getting up, though it came in long, and mountain-like. Roswell dreaded the
mist. Could he pass through the narrow channels that Stimson had described
to him, with a clear sky, one half of his causes of anxiety would be
removed. But the wind was not a clear one, and he felt that no time was to
be lost.
It required great nerve to approach a coast like that of Cape Horn in
such weather. As the schooner got nearer to the real cape, the sight of
the seas tumbling in and breaking on its ragged rock, and the hollow
roaring sound they made, actually became terrific. To add to the awe
inspired in the breast of even the most callous-minded man on board, came
a doubt whether the schooner could weather a certain point of rock, the
western extremity of the island, after she had got so far into a bight as
to render waring questionable, if not impossible. Every one now looked
grave and anxious. Should the schooner go ashore in such a place, a single
minute would suffice to break her to pieces, and riot a soul could expect
to be saved. Roswell was exceedingly anxious, though he remained cool.
"The tides and eddies about these rocks, and in so high a latitude, sweep
a vessel like chips," he said to his chief mate. "We have been set in here
by an eddy, and a terrible place it is."
"All depends on our gears holding on, sir," was the answer, "with a little
on Providence. Just watch the point ahead, Captain Gar'ner; though we are
not actually to leeward of it, see with what a drift we have drawn upon
it! The manner in which these seas roll in from the sow-west is terrific!
No craft can go to windward against them."
This remark of Hazard's was very just. The seas that came down upon the
cape resembled a rolling prairie in their outline. A single wave would
extend a quarter of a mile from trough to trough, and as it passed beneath
the schooner, lifting her high in the air, it really seemed as if the
glancing water would sweep her away in its force. But human art had found
the means to counteract even this imposing display of the power of nature.
The little schooner rode over the billows like a duck, and when she sank
between two of them, it was merely to rise again on a new summit, and
breast the gale gallantly. It was the current that menaced the greatest
danger; for that, unseen except in its fruits, was clearly setting the
little craft to leeward, and bodily towards the rocks. By this time our
adventurers were so near the land that they almost gave up hope itself.
Cape Hatteras and its much-talked-of dangers, seemed a place of refuge
compared to that in which our navigators now found themselves. Could the
deepest bellowings of ten thousand bulls be united in a common roar, the
noise would not have equalled that of the hollow sound which issued from a
sea as it went into some cavern of the rocks. Then, the spray filled the
air like driving rain, and there were minutes when the cape, though so
frightfully near, was hid from view by the vapour.
At this precise moment, the Sea Lion was less than a quarter of a mile to
windward of the point she was struggling to weather, and towards which she
was driving under a treble impetus; that of the wind, acting on her sails,
and pressing her ahead at the rate of fully five knots, for the craft was
kept a rap full; that of the eddy, or current, and that of the rolling
waters. No man spoke, for each person felt that the crisis was one in
which silence was a sort of homage to the Deity. Some prayed privately,
and all gazed on the low rocky point that it was indispensable to pass, to
avoid destruction. There was one favourable circumstance; the water was
known to be deep, quite close to the iron-bound coast, and it was seldom
that any danger existed, that it was not visible to the eye. This, Roswell
knew from Stimson's accounts, as well as from those of other mariners, and
he saw that the fact was of the last importance to him. Should he be able
to weather the point ahead, that which terminated at the mouth of the
passage that led within the Hermits, it was now certain it could be done
only by going fearfully near the rocks.
Roswell Gardiner took his station between the knight-heads, beckoning to
Stimson to come near him. At the same time, Hazard himself went to the
helm.
"Do you remember this place?" asked the young master of the old seaman.
"This is the spot, sir; and if we can round the rocky point ahead, I will
take you to a safe anchorage. Our drift is awful, or we are in an eddy
tide here, sir!"
"It is the eddy," answered Roswell, calmly, "though our drift is not
trifling. This is getting frightfully near to that point!"
"Hold on, sir--it's our only chance;--hold on, and we may rub and go."
"If we _rub_, we are lost; that is certain enough. Should we get by
_this_ first point, there is another, a short distance beyond it, which
must certainly fetch us up, I fear. See--it opens more, as we draw ahead."
Stimson saw the new danger, and fully appreciated it. He did not speak,
however; for, to own the truth, he now abandoned all hope, and, being a
piously inclined person, he was privately addressing himself to God. Every
man on board was fully aware of the character of this new danger, and all
seemed to forget that of the nearest point of rock, towards which they
were now wading with portentous speed. That point _might_ be passed; there
was a little hope there; but as to the point a quarter of a mile beyond,
with the leeward set of the schooner, the most ignorant hand on board saw
how unlikely it was that they should get by it.
An imposing silence prevailed in the schooner, as she came abreast of the
first rock. It was about fifty fathoms under the lee bow, and, as to
_that_ spot, all depended on the distance outward that the dangers thrust
themselves. This it was impossible to see amid the chaos of waters
produced by the collision between the waves and the land. Roswell fastened
his eyes on objects ahead, to note the rate of his leeward set, and, with
a seaman's quickness, he noted the first change.
"She feels the under-tow, Stephen," he said, in a voice so compressed as
to seem to come out of the depths of his chest, "and is breasted up to
windward!"
"What means that sudden luff, sir? Mr. Hazard must keep a good full, or we
shall have no chance."
Gardiner looked aft, and saw that the mate was bearing the helm well up,
as if he met with much resistance. The truth then flashed upon him, and he
shouted out--"All's well, boys! God be praised, we have caught the
ebb-tide, under our lee-bow!"
These few words explained the reason of the change. Instead of setting to
leeward, the schooner was now meeting a powerful tide of some four or five
knots, which hawsed her up to windward with irresistible force. As if
conscious of the danger she was in, the tight little craft receded from
the rocks as she shot ahead, and rounded that second point, which, a
minute before, had appeared to be placed there purposely to destroy her.
It was handsomely doubled, at the safe distance of a hundred fathoms,
Roswell believed he might now beat his schooner off the land far enough to
double the cape altogether, could he but keep her in that current. It
doubtless expended itself, however, a short distance in the offing, as its
waters diffused themselves on the breast of the ocean; and it was this
diffusion of the element that produced the eddy which had proved so nearly
fatal.
In ten minutes after striking the tide, the schooner opened the passage
fairly, and was kept away to enter it. Notwithstanding it blew so heavily,
the rate of sailing, by the land, did not exceed five knots. This was
owing to the great strength of the tide, which sometimes rises and falls
thirty feet, in high latitudes and narrow waters. Stimson now showed he
was a man to be relied on. Conning the craft intelligently, he took her in
behind the island on which the cape stands, luffed her up into a tiny
cove, and made a cast of the lead. There were fifty fathoms of water, with
a bottom of mud. With the certainty that there was enough of the element
to keep him clear of the ground at low water, and that his anchors would
hold, Roswell made a flying moor, and veered out enough cable to render
his vessel secure.
Here, then, was the Sea Lion of Oyster Pond, that craft which the reader
had seen lying at Deacon Pratt's wharf, only three short months before,
safely anchored in a nook of the rocks behind Cape Horn. No navigator but
a sealer would have dreamed of carrying his vessel into such a place, but
it is a part of their calling to poke about in channels and passages where
no one else has ever been. It was in this way that Stimson had learned to
know where to find his present anchorage. The berth of the schooner was
perfectly snug, and entirely land-locked. The tremendous swell that was
rolling in on the outside, caused the waters to rise and fall a little
within the passage, but there was no strain upon the cables in
consequence. Neither did the rapid tides affect the craft, which lay in an
eddy that merely kept her steady. The gale came howling over the Hermits,
but was so much broken by the rocks as to do little more than whistle
through the cordage and spars aloft.
Three days, and as many nights, did the gale from the south-west continue.
The fourth day there was a change, the wind coming from the eastward.
Roswell would now have gone out, had it not been for the apprehension of
falling in with Daggett again. Having at length gotten rid of that
pertinacious companion, it would have been an act of great weakness to
throw himself blindly in his way once more. It was possible that Daggett
might not suppose he had been left intentionally, in which case, he would
be very apt to look for his lost consort in the vicinity of the cape. As
for the gale, it might, or it might not, have blown him to leeward. A good
deal would depend on the currents, and his distance to the southward. Near
the land, Gardiner believed the currents favoured a vessel doubling it,
going west; and if Daggett was also aware of this fact, it might induce
him to keep as near the spot as possible.
Time was very precious to our sealers, the season being so short in the
high latitudes. Still, they were a little in advance of their
calculations, having got off the Horn fully ten days sooner than they had
hoped to be there. Nearly the whole summer was before them, and there was
the possibility of their even being too soon for the loosening of the ice
further south. The wind was the strongest inducement to go out, for the
point to which our adventurers were bound lay a considerable distance to
the westward, and fair breezes were not to be neglected. Under all the
circumstances, however, it was decided to remain within the passage one
day longer, and this so much the more, because Hazard had discovered some
signs of sea-elephants frequenting an island at no great distance. The
boats were lowered accordingly, and the mate went in one direction, while
the master pulled up to the rocks, and landed on the Hermit, or the island
which should bear that name, _par excellence,_ being that in which the
group terminates.
Taking Stimson with him, to carry a glass, and armed with an old lance as
a pike-pole, to aid his efforts, Roswell Gardiner now commenced the ascent
of the pyramid already mentioned. It was ragged, and offered a thousand
obstacles, but none that vigour and resolution could not overcome After a
few minutes of violent exertion, and by helping each other in difficult
places, both Roswell and Stimson succeeded in placing themselves on the
summit of the elevation, which was an irregular peak. The height was
considerable, and gave an extended view of the adjacent islands, as well
as of the gloomy and menacing ocean to the southward. The earth, probably,
does not contain a more remarkable sentinel than this pyramid on which our
hero had now taken his station. There it stood, actually the Ultima Thule
of this vast continent, or, what was much the same, so closely united to
it as to seem a part of our own moiety of the globe, looking out on the
broad expanse of waters. The eye saw, to the right, the Pacific; in front
was the Southern, or Antarctic Ocean; and to the left was the great
Atlantic. For several minutes, both Roswell and Stephen sat mute, gazing
on this grand spectacle. By turning their faces north, they beheld the
high lands of Terra del Fuego, of which many of the highest peaks were
covered with snow. The pyramid on which they were, however, was no longer
white with the congealed rain, but stood, stern and imposing, in its
native brown. The outlines of all the rocks, and the shores of the
different islands, had an appearance of volcanic origin, though the rocks
themselves told a somewhat different story. The last was principally of
trap formation. Cape pigeons, gulls, petrels, and albatross were wheeling
about in the air, while the rollers that still came in on this noble
sea-wall were really terrific. Distant thunder wants the hollow, bellowing
sound that these waves made when brought in contact with the shores.
Roswell fancied that it was like a groan of the mighty Pacific, at finding
its progress suddenly checked. The spray continued to fly, and, much of
the time, the air below his elevated seat was filled with vapour.
As soon as our young master had taken in the grander features of this
magnificent view, his eyes sought the Sea Lion of Martha's Vineyard. There
she was, sure enough, at a distance of only a couple of leagues, and
apparently standing directly for the Cape. Could it be possible that
Daggett suspected his manoeuvre, and was coming in search of him, at the
precise spot in which he had taken shelter? As respects the vessel, there
was no question as to her character. From the elevation at which he was
placed, Roswell, aided by the glass, had no difficulty in making her out,
and in recognising her rig, form, and character. Stimson also examined
her, and knew her to be the schooner. On that vast and desolate sea, she
resembled a speck, but the art of man had enabled those she held to guide
her safely through the tempest, and bring her up to her goal, in a time
that really seemed miraculous for the circumstances.
"If we had thought of it, Captain Gar'ner," said Stephen, "we might have
brought up an ensign, and set it on these rocks, by way of letting the
Vineyarders know where we are to be found. But we can always go out and
meet them, should this wind stand."
"Which is just what I have no intention of doing, Stephen. I came in here,
on purpose to get rid of that schooner."
"You surprise me, sir! A consort is no bad thing, when a craft is
a-sealin' in a high latitude. The ice makes such ticklish times, that, for
me, I'm always glad to know there is such a chance for taking a fellow
off, should there happen to be a wreck."
"All that is very true, but there are reasons which may tell against it. I
have heard of some islands where seals abound, and a consort is not quite
so necessary to take them, as when one is wrecked."
"That alters the case, Captain Gar'ner. Nobody is obliged to tell of his
sealing station. I was aboard one of the very first craft that found out
that the South Shetlands was a famous place for seals, and no one among us
thought it necessary to tell it to all the world. Some men are weak enough
to put sich discoveries in the newspapers; but, for my part, I think it
quite enough to put them in the log."
"That schooner must have the current with her, she comes down so fast. She
'II be abreast of the Horn in half an hour longer, Stephen. We will wait,
and see what she would be at."
Gardiner's prediction was true. In half an hour, the Sea Lion of Holmes'
Hole glided past the rocky pyramid of the Horn, distant from it less than
a mile. Had it been the object of her commander to pass into the Pacific,
he might have done so with great apparent ease. Even with a south-west
wind, that which blows fully half the time in those seas, it would have
been in his power to lay past the islands, and soon get before it. A
north-east course, with a little offing, will clear the islands, and when
a vessel gets as far north as the main land, it would take her off the
coast.
But Daggett had no intention of doing anything of the sort. He was looking
for his consort, which he had hoped to find somewhere near the cape.
Disappointed in this expectation, after standing far enough west to make
certain nothing was in sight in that quarter, he hauled up on an easy
bowline, and stood to the southward. Roswell was right glad to see this,
inasmuch as it denoted ignorance of the position of the islands he sought.
They lay much farther to the westward; and no sooner was he sure of the
course steered by the other schooner, than he hastened down to the boat,
in order to get his own vessel under way, to profit by the breeze.
Two hours later, the Sea Lion of Oyster Pond glanced through the passage
which led into the ocean, on an ebb-tide. By that time, the other vessel
had disappeared in the southern board; and Gardiner came out upon the open
waters again, boldly, and certain of his course. All sail was set, and the
little craft slipped away from the land with the ease of an aquatic bird,
that is plying its web-feet. Studding-sails were set, and the pyramid of
the Horn soon began to lower in the distance, as the schooner receded.
When night closed over the rolling waters, it was no longer visible, the
vessel having fairly entered the Antarctic Ocean, if anything north of the
circle can properly so be termed.