Getting to sea at last--Half-manned in a gale--Passing the gunboats
in the darkness--Hard work, but happy--George and his sea proverbs
and superstitions--Dodging cruisers in calm weather--A hot chase and
a narrow escape--No desire for company--Arrival at Tampico.
It was now getting near the new moon; the nights were dark, but the
weather continued calm, there was scarcely a breath of wind, and we
were anxiously waiting for a norther. The other two vessels had come
down the river and lay near us. The gunboats off the mouth of the
river continued firing at intervals, and their shot often went up the
country far beyond us, but it seemed to be wide of any mark, and fell
with a heavy thud in the prairie. We did not know what they were
firing at, and the Forts took no notice, and did not reply.
At last the expected norther came. It came suddenly and with great
fury about five in the afternoon. The pilot, however, would not take
us out that night; he said this was too violent, and might only be a
squall. The following day the wind fell very much and almost died
away, but towards evening it freshened up again. The pilot said this
was not a steady norther, and could not be depended upon. He said,
however, that it would very likely blow hard all night, and give us a
good offing before daylight if we could only carry the muslin.
I determined to go; so did the other two schooners. One of these the
_Mary Elizabeth_, Captain Shaeffer, was smaller than the _Rob Roy_;
the other, the _Hind_ I think was her name, was larger. It was
proposed that we should start as soon as the gunboats were hidden by
the darkness, and have eleven hours of darkness before us; and if we
could make ten knots an hour we would be 110 miles from the coast by
daylight. The pilot said we must go out under low canvas, so that
against the darkness of the land we would not be so readily seen from
the cruisers or any of their boats until we got out past them; after
that we must use our own judgment and scud on as fast as we could.
Everything was got ready; double reefs were put in the main and fore
sails, and everything secure for a heavy strain, and the
binnacle-light muffled. The pilot came on board of the _Rob Roy_,
directing the other two vessels to follow close in her wake.
As soon as the cruisers were fairly hid by the darkness, sail was
made, and the vessels stood down the river--the _Rob Roy_ first,
followed by the _Mary Elizabeth_, and the _Hind_ third. The wind
being off the shore, the water was smooth on the bar. The pilot,
with his small boat, did not wish to go far out to sea, knowing the
labour of a long pull back against such a strong wind; and as soon as
the water deepened he jumped into his boat, saying, "You are all
clear now; go ahead, and remember that the British Lion's good wishes
are with you!"
The _Mary Elizabeth_ was close up with the _Rob Roy_, almost passing
her, but the _Hind_ was some distance astern. I never saw more of
the _Hind_, and I believe she was captured.
As soon as we were well clear of the bar, I stood along the coast to
the westward, keeping in about two fathoms of water for about three
miles, and then stood out to sea and set about getting the reefs out.
The course steered was S.S.E., the object being to go square off from
the coast. As we got more off the land the wind increased, and the
vessel went through the water at a great rate. The men were quite
exhilarated; they declared she was making twelve knots. I considered
that impossible for a vessel of her size, but I had no log to try.
The men got more excited, and wished to set the main-topmast
staysail. As we were now far outside of the cruisers and there was
no danger of being seen from them, I told them to send it up. When
it was set she bounded on still faster, and there seemed every chance
of being well out to sea before daylight.
We now set the watches. I appointed George to act as mate, and he
would take Polly, the Chilian boy, with him on the one watch, and I
would take Hagan with me on the other watch, taking turn at the wheel
myself. George was a Scotchman, whose age it would be hard to
determine; he might be between forty and fifty. He was partly a
wreck, as he was like too many others of his profession who
considered it their duty when they got paid off after a voyage to
spend all their money in drink. He was, however, when at sea, an
excellent man, and understood his business well. He was full of old
sea proverbs and sailors' superstitions, and actually believed in
many of them. On this trip he discovered when the vessel put to sea
she had a slight list to port, which he declared indicated a short
and lucky passage, and he firmly believed it would be so. He
insisted on the usual ceremony of drawing lots for the choice of
watches, and when the lot fell to the starboard watch, which was his,
he said this was another lucky omen, and he must follow the rules and
choose the first watch. I would rather it had been the other way, as
I was too anxious to think of going to sleep just then; but he
declared that all our misfortunes and troubles in Texas had arisen
from some breach of Neptune's rules on the inward trip, and he
insisted that I would go and turn in.
I went below, but not to sleep. The howling of the gale, the rushing
of the vessel through the water, and the heaving of the vessel as she
got further from the land and into rougher water assured me that we
were fast increasing our distance from the blockaded ports and from
the scenes of all my troubles, and was a pleasant sensation to me.
The idea of a small vessel, drawing about four and a half feet of
water, carrying a deckload over five feet high, which weighed more
than all the cargo in her hold, going to sea in a violent gale
short-handed and handled by men possessing few of the qualifications
required by marine regulations, and driven along in the most reckless
manner, might seem little short of madness. Yet I can safely say
that hundreds of vessels, many of them smaller, less seaworthy, and
more overloaded than was the _Rob Roy_ at this time, left the Texas
ports in the midst of heavy gales during this war, and, strange as it
may appear, with the exception of one case, which I will hereafter
mention, I never knew of one of them being lost at sea.
In this kind of blockade running, that is, by sailing vessels, by far
the most pleasant and exciting time was the night of coming out from
the blockaded port.
In running in it was both difficult and dangerous, especially in a
sailing vessel. You approached the coast; you did not know where the
cruisers might be stationed; you could not choose your weather, and
you could not make your landfall exactly at the time you wished. If
you lay in the offing till night you were in great danger of being
captured; and even if you knew your exact position, you had
afterwards to make in the night a distance of fifteen or twenty
miles, and shape your course so as to strike exactly some narrow
intricate channel, surrounded and guarded by the blockading fleet.
You were subject to baffling winds, calms, currents, or tides; the
danger increased as the entrance was approached, and the slightest
error might prove fatal.
On the outward trip it was much easier. You could before leaving,
mark well the position of the blockading fleet, choose your time,
wait for a dark night and a favourable wind, set your course to pass
the blockading fleet, and when past crowd sail, and you were getting
further and further away from danger.
When I went below I found my two supercargoes trying to be happy.
They said they were not going to sleep, they were going to help us to
get well away from the Yankee cruisers before daylight. They said
they were sure from the rate we were going that we must be near a
hundred miles from the coast by this time; did I not think so? The
vessel was heaving a little, but they were not sea-sick. Oh no, they
never felt better in their life, so they said.
I had not been long down when I heard something crack, and I quickly
went on deck. It was the strop round the top-mast which held the
topmast staysail which had parted, and the sail was fluttering in the
wind.
I took the wheel, and told George to get it taken in. This was soon
done. I said never to mind to set it again, we had plenty of sail
upon her. I only said this because I did not wish to bid any of them
go up to the topmast-head in such a wind. They entreated me to let
it be set again, and Polly said he would soon go up. He took a new
strop and went up, and soon had the strop fastened, the block hooked
on and moused, and the sail was set again.
It was now midnight. We tried the pumps, and found the vessel was
making some water, but not a great deal. I then took the middle
watch. The gale still continued, and the sea was getting much higher
as we increased our distance from land.
After the first two hours I went to relieve Hagan at the wheel. He
looked a little uncertain at me and hesitated, then said he had heard
that I was good at figures, and a good smart navigator, but it was a
very ticklish thing to steer a fore and aft vessel with such a heavy
mainsail before the wind in such a wind and sea. I said to let me
try it; I would take care she would not broach to. He reluctantly
gave me the wheel, warning me that she was taking a good deal of
weather helm. He kept standing by my side for some time: at last he
seemed satisfied, and said, "Who says you are a shore-going man." I
then ordered him to try the pumps, which he did, and reported the
vessel still making a little water. At the end of the middle watch I
told George to pay particular attention to the pumps. I had always a
dread that way since the sinking of the vessel. I then turned in,
telling George to call me as soon as daylight was setting in.
At daylight I went on deck. The wind had gone down considerably. I
said to Polly that as he appeared to be fond of going aloft to go to
the mast-head and see if there was anything in sight. He reported a
sail on the horizon to the north-east, which looked like a schooner.
Fearing it might be the _Kittytinnie_ I ordered the topmast staysail
to be hauled down to make us less easy to be observed, and taking my
binocular I went to the mast-head, where I soon satisfied myself that
it was not the _Kittytinnie_, but a much smaller vessel, apparently
the _Mary Elizabeth_, which had sailed with us from Brazos River.
The staysail was set again, the wind was dying away but there was
still a heavy sea, and the vessel was slipping along very well.
On looking over the stern I could now and then see small flakes of
the white lead and tallow which had been put on the vessel's bottom.
It was now washing off, and taking with it any grass or shells which
might have adhered to it. I knew this would leave her clean and in
good sailing trim.
On getting the latitude at noon, and working up the time, I found
that we had made a run of about 130 miles, but we were not in a very
good position.
I knew that the Federals having landed forces at Point Isabel, their
war vessels would be often passing back and forward between that
place and New Orleans, and they would be on the look-out for blockade
runners, and we were just about their track, and the wind seemed to
be dying away. The norther, as the pilot had surmised, was not a
lasting or steady one, and had spent itself.
About one p.m. it was dead calm, and we lay helpless. We lowered
every sail and lay under bare poles, so that we would not be so
easily seen from a distance. This I afterwards found to be an
excellent plan, as we would be less apt to be observed at a distance
of seven miles than at a distance of twelve miles with sails up, and
it was not long before this was made plain.
About two p.m. a steamer was observed from the mast-head to the
westward, steering to the eastward. She was evidently a cruiser or
transport, in fact there were none others in those waters at that
time, and whether cruiser or transport she would make a prize of us
if she observed us. She was yet about twelve miles distant, but if
she continued on her course she would pass within four or five miles
of us.
There was not a breath of wind, and the sea had calmed down. If we
were only two miles further to the south we believed she would pass
without noticing us; could we do anything?
The two old sweeps which we had picked up on the Brazos River had
been placed one on each side to reach from the main to the fore
rigging, and lashed to the shrouds to form safety rails for the men
walking on the deck load. No time was to be lost. They were cut
clear and swung at the fore shrouds, and all hands, including the
cook, bent on to them; while the two supercargoes, having got a
little over their seasickness, were told that exercise would do them
good, and they got each one of the oars of the boat and pulled abaft
the deck load from the quarter rail. All helped, and all worked with
a will, each in turn getting a little change to breathe by taking the
wheel.
The effect was greater than I expected, and the speed we made was
astonishing; and I believe we pulled the schooner between two and
three miles before the steamer was abreast of us, and she passed at a
distance of fully seven miles without observing us.
Seeing we were in a dangerous place--right in the track of the
cruisers--we longed for a breeze.
George kept whistling and calling upon the other men to whistle. He
said it was certain to bring a breeze. I laughed and said, "Yes, if
you whistle long enough you will get wind no doubt." But he
maintained that whistling would bring wind, for he had seen it happen
many a time, and he continued to whistle with all his might.
Towards evening the sky had a sort of marbled appearance, and a few
light streaks of reddish clouds were to be seen.
"See," cried George, "did I not tell you that whistling would bring
wind?"
"Where is the wind?" said I.
"See yon sky," said he.
"A mackerel sky, and long mare's tails,
Makes lofty ships carry low sails."
About sunset a light breeze sprang up from the south-east, and we
made sail and stood to the south-west, shaping the course for Tampico.
The breeze continued all night, but very light, and just before
daylight it died away again, and every sail was lowered.
The vessel being fitted up throughout with patent blocks and powerful
peak purchases, the hoisting and handling of the sails was
comparatively easy.
All that day the wind was light and baffling, and we made but little
progress. We kept a constant look-out from the mast-head, but
nothing appeared in sight.
During the night it fell dead calm, and before daylight broke all
sail was taken down, and we lay under bare poles. This was
fortunate, for when daylight broke a square rigged vessel was
observed lying becalmed to the northward. She bore about north by
west, and seemed to be about eight or nine miles distant.
I thought it might be some vessel homeward bound from Matamoras, as
we were now near to their track, but George was sure she was a
man-of-war, and one of the sailing vessels which cruised in the Gulf
further out from the land.
In any case it was best to give her a wide berth, and the sweeps were
got out and all hands laboured at them.
The morning was hot, and it was laborious work, and there were many
applications to the water cask. We were, however, increasing our
distance from her considerably.
About eight a.m. a light breeze sprang up from the south-east. This
was unfortunate as it was against us pulling, and if we made sail we
would be observed.
As the men were getting fatigued, to encourage them I told them that
if we could just hold our own against the wind for a short time
without making sail, the breeze would soon reach the square-rigged
vessel, and then if she had not seen us, and did not stand close
hauled on the port tack to the southward, any other course she might
take would soon take her out of sight. George, however, had served
on board of a man-of-war, and he was of opinion that if she was a
man-of-war that would be the very course she would stand upon, and
she would be down close upon us before we had time to make sail,
whereas if we made sail now we would have a good start to windward
before the breeze would reach her.
"But then," said I, "what chance have we against a fast vessel of
that size with ten hours of daylight before us?"
"You don't know what chance we would have," said he, "with a light
breeze and smooth water, and a good start to windward. She is no
doubt a fast vessel or she would not be there, and by her size she
must, no doubt, oversail us. But her bottom must be foul, and we are
clean, and we can lay a point closer to the wind than she can, and if
we look sharp we can get a good start before the wind reaches her."
"Then lose not a moment," said I. "All hands, cook, and supercargoes
to make sail quick."
We soon had all sail set, and the breeze freshing up a little we were
speeding along nicely before the breeze had reached the square-rigged
vessel. It, however, soon reached her, and the alacrity with which
she was speeding after us showed only too plainly what she was.
We stood first on the port tack to the southward; she followed us on
the same tack. Seeing this I changed tack and stood on the starboard
tack to the northward. She still kept on her port tack, and passed
dead to leeward of us at a distance of about six miles.
I saw she was barque-rigged, and from the accounts I had of sailing
cruisers in the Gulf, I knew that there was one, a large barque,
which had been a merchant vessel, named _John Anderson_, which had
been selected by the United States Government on account of her
fast-sailing qualities, and fitted up as a ship of war, and sent to
this station to look out for the blockade-running schooners in the
Gulf, and from her appearance I had no doubt but this was the vessel.
The vessels were now partly stern to stern, and the distance between
them widening. I hoped it might remain so, but it was not long
before she changed tack again, and stood after us on the starboard
tack.
Seeing this I again changed tack and stood to the southward.
"That is the way you will do her," cried George. "Keep going about,
and if she follows us she must do the same. We can go about without
losing an inch of ground, whilst she cannot go round without making
stern board, and before she gathers headway again we will gain a good
piece on her."
I saw the force of this, and began to work in the wind's eye by short
tacks. She continued to follow us for a short time, but seeing we
gained by it, she perceived our drift and made longer tacks, though
by doing this she ran the chance of losing if the wind veered against
her.
We strained every nerve and watched every chance to gain any
advantage; everything was made taut, and water dashed upon the sails.
One of the supercargoes suggested the throwing over of part of the
deck load, but this was ridiculed, as it would have done more harm
than good. This might appear strange to some, but to any one
acquainted with the working of flat shallow vessels at sea, it is
well known that a deck load, particularly of light material, such as
cotton, is of great advantage. It causes them to roll easier, and
saves jerking and chaffing aloft, and in light winds they sail
steadily, and are less apt to shake the wind out of their sails, and
when cotton-loaded the increased draught gave them a better hold on
the water, and they made better weather.
The barque was evidently gaining upon us, but still I thought that if
we could only keep out of the range of her guns until night, we might
escape her in the darkness.
About one p.m. she passed us dead to leeward, about four miles
distant, standing on a tack to the northward, as we stood on the
opposite tack to the southward. The wind was now going down a
little, and very soon after she put about and followed us on our tack
to the southward.
It was evident that they expected the wind would soon die away, and
they wished to keep near to us, so that they might have recourse to
their boats if it fell calm.
To baffle them in this we again changed tack and stood to the
northward, to widen the distance between us, or compel her to tack
again, by which they would lose considerable ground.
Our conjecture seemed to have been correct, for they again changed
tack and followed us.
George, who had been watching the barque closely when she was going
about, now cried out, "Did not I tell you that her bottom would be
foul?"
"How do you know?" said I.
"Because she is lazy in stays, and we will soon beat her at this game
if the wind holds;" and he began to whistle with great earnestness.
As soon as we saw her fairly round we again changed tack and stood to
the southward.
It was plain that she was losing ground by going about so often,
while we did not lose an inch, and the advantage we gained was
perceptible, and the wind still holding she did not put about again,
but continued on her tack to the northward to make a longer board.
Fortunately for us she did this, as soon after it fell dead calm, and
both vessels lay helpless. It was only fortunate at having placed us
farther apart, but still the wind dying away was most unfortunate for
us. She lay about seven miles due north from us, and we knew she
would send her boats.
We got out the sweeps and pulled with great vigour, to make the
distance greater for the boats to come, in hopes that the breeze
might spring up again before they reached us. There was, however, a
slight sea against us, and we did not make great headway.
I proposed to lower the sails, so that the boats might lose sight of
us. This George protested against, saying there was no fear of the
boats going off the track. Boats never left a man-of-war for a
distance like that without a boat compass, and they would take our
bearing before they left the ship. Besides, he was certain that this
lull of the wind was too sudden to last long, and he began to whistle
vehemently.
In about half an hour I could plainly make out with the glass two
boats pulling towards us, but I said nothing about this to the men,
who still plied the sweeps vigorously, and the sea was going down a
little, and they were making a little headway.
The boats, however, were soon close up with us, the first being
within a mile. The men had seen the boats, and they said it was all
up with us, and it was no use straining more at the oars. I had
General Magruder's despatches all ready to consign to the deep. The
first boat was within half a mile, when a slight curl was seen coming
over the water. Every heart leaped. It was from S.S.E. The vessel
was kept away to let the light wind act on her sails, and the men
redoubled their vigour at the sweeps.
I could now see one of the boats within a quarter of a mile, and the
men pulling with all their might to reach the schooner before the
breeze caught her.
[Illustration: VERY NEARLY CAPTURED IN A CALM.]
It was an exciting moment. The boats were getting very near, but the
breeze was beginning to act on the schooner. The sweeps were plied
with desperation, George whistling as if he would burst his cheeks.
The breeze gradually increased, and seemed to be setting on steady,
and the schooner was again speeding along at a good pace.
The boats were almost within hail, and the men in them were pulling
as if for dear life, but the schooner was now fast dropping them, and
the breeze had every appearance of continuing.
The sweeps were taken in and lashed in their place. Every one was
jubilant, the two supercargoes got on to the cabin roof and began to
taunt the men in the boats by waving their handkerchiefs and
beckoning to them to come along.
I was telling them not to be too happy, we were still very far from
being out of danger, and they did not know whose hands they might yet
fall into, when they jumped down very quickly, not from what I had
said, but at the report of a rifle from the head-most boat, as a
demand for us to heave to. Of course we paid no attention, and it
was soon followed by a general fire from both boats. We heard the
bullets whistle, but none came alarmingly near.
As in duty bound, I told the men to keep down, and I would take the
wheel myself, but George, who was at the wheel, refused to leave it,
but said to bring a bale of cotton and stick up behind him. Before,
however, we could get a bale moved the schooner was far out of reach
of shot from the boats, and the firing ceased. This, however,
suggested to me the necessity for some protection for the man at the
helm in the event of being chased by boats.
Fortune had certainly favoured us.
The barque happening to be about seven miles to the northward when
the lull in the wind took place, and the fresh breeze coming out from
S.S.E., threw her more dead to leeward, and then we knew she would
lose a little time in picking up her boats.
The wind continued to freshen up, and we began to fear we were going
to have too much of it for our advantage, and George stopped
whistling.
A heavy sea was getting up, which, on a wind, was greatly to our
disadvantage and in favour of our pursuer, and had the chase
continued for a few hours longer she would certainly have overhauled
us. Night, however, was coming on, and if we could keep out of range
of her shot till darkness set in, we should be pretty sure to escape
her.
The wind still increasing, we had to take in our upper small sails.
The vessel, which had been making considerable water since we left
port, leaked much worse on a wind in a heavy sea, and to keep her
perfectly clear, she was pumped every half hour.
We considered her leaking at the staunchions where the joints had
been started by the forcing up, and afterwards beating down of the
deck when the sinking disaster occurred, and with our deckload on we
could not get at them to caulk them.
Since the wind had increased and the heavy sea had got up, the barque
had gained considerable upon us, and just as it was getting dark she
passed dead to leeward of us, closer than she had done yet, and we
saw a flash and heard the report of a heavy gun. This was followed
by two others, which was a demand for us to heave to; but as the shot
fell short of us, and we knew she could come no closer on this tack,
we paid no heed, and she kept on her tack to the northward.
We were now pretty safe for this day, and I began to consider what
course it would be best for us to take when hid by darkness.
When I considered what the barque would be likely to do, I thought
that would depend upon what she guessed we would be likely to do.
The boats had no doubt reported that the schooner was loaded with
cotton, and that she was a valuable prize, and they would have her if
possible.
After a good deal of pondering I could come to no conclusion of what
they might be likely to suppose or do, and I determined to put the
schooner on her best leg and make as big a run as possible before
daylight. The wind blew fresh from S.S.E., and it looked black and
squally towards the south. The barque was to the north-east of us,
four or five miles distant.
As soon as darkness fairly closed around, and the vessels were
totally obscured from each other, we eased off sheets and headed away
W. by S., giving her a free sheet, and she rushed through the water
at a good speed. George, still at the helm, looked in the direction
of the barque and began singing, "Good-bye to you, John Anderson my
Joe."
The men now sat down to their supper, well worn out, after a most
fatiguing and exciting day, but they were exceedingly jubilant, and
rejoiced to think that we had beaten the Yankee cruiser.
I had a very little rum on board, which I got from Captain Downs, and
I gave them all a drachm and thanked them, telling them that if we
got safe to the end of the trip this day's work would do for them to
crow about for years to come.
George was quite sure we should escape and make a successful trip
into port, because the vessel when she put to sea had a list to port.
He asked me if I did not believe now that he could bring wind by
whistling; I did not dispute the matter with him.
The wind continued the whole night, and we made a good run, and at
daylight nothing was to be seen from the mast-head in any direction.
This was now the fourth day out, and, as I had taken no observation
on the previous day, I was wishful of ascertaining our position, and
got a good morning sight. The longitude of Brazos River being well
determined, I had, while lying there, carefully tested the
chronometer, and could depend upon it. When I got the latitude at
noon, I found that we were just about 220 miles south by east of the
mouth of Brazos River, the beating to windward of the previous day
having taken us a good deal out of our course.
The wind now fell considerably, and blew about due south. This was
unfavourable, as we could not lay our course to Tampico, so I
determined to lay her as close to the wind as she would lay with a
good full, and make what southing we could until we neared the coast
of Mexico, and then work south to Tampico. By taking this route we
were more likely to be out of the way of cruisers.
We kept on this course for two or three days with light southerly
winds, until we were within about thirty miles of the Mexican coast.
There is no difficulty in those seas for an ordinary navigator to be
always sure of his position. The currents are no doubt strong and
deceiving, but the sun is seldom obscured by day, and the planets
generally bright and clear by night, and, the pole star being near
the horizon, a pretty correct latitude can be got by it at any time
of night.
We now began to beat southward, but, the wind being light and the
current of the Gulf Stream against us, we made rather slow progress.
For several days we had seen nothing, and the excitement was dying
away, and we began to be more concerned about our provisions and
water giving out, as we had but a small stock at first, and we went
on short allowance.
We kept standing off and on, tacking against a light southerly wind,
until we were within forty miles of Tampico, but we had never yet
sighted the land, when suddenly, one afternoon, we were startled by
the cry of a steamer on the starboard bow close aboard.
Sure enough we had not been on the look out, and there was a steamer
coming up at a rapid rate, and within three miles of us; every one
was startled, but we could do nothing. Suddenly Polly cried out,
"Oh, no fear of that steamer. I know her very well; she won't
trouble us. She is an English steamer of the Pacific Company."
He was right. The steamer ran right across our bows, but took no
notice of us.
I merely mention this incident to show the constant terror and alarm
at the sight of every object. This, however, reminded us that for
some cause the look-out had been for a short time that day neglected,
and the necessity of that being strictly maintained.
On the following morning we sighted a schooner, which bore down upon
us. We did not want her company. We wished to shun all
acquaintance. She might be a captured blockade runner with a prize
crew on board, who might, with friendly pretensions, creep up
alongside, and then, with muskets and cutlasses, jump on board and
make a prize of us. As instances of that kind had occurred, I was
upon my guard. We were still tacking against a light southerly wind.
I stood a little to the westward to keep out of her way, but, not
wishing to lose any ground, we kept our luff. She bore down, showing
the British flag, as if desirous to speak.
Being to the south and to windward of us, she came down with the wind
free, and crossed our bow, close on; this threw her to the leeward of
us, and I immediately tacked. She did the same, and, coming round on
our quarter, the master hailed.
"Schooner ahoy! What is your longitude?"
"About 97," I answered.
He stood a little, and then cried, "I would like to speak with you
about that."
"Tell me," said I, "who you are, and where you are from?"
"The schooner _Sylvia_," he replied, "from St. John, and bound to
Tampico with a cargo of lumber; but," continued he, "I have got wrong
somehow in my calculation."
I now saw lumber on his deck, and knew he was all right. The wind
being light, the vessels came close together.
"You say your longitude is 97?" said he.
"About that," said I. "It was 96 40 yesterday, but I have not worked
up to-day's sight."
"Then we must be near the Mexican coast," said he.
"I expect to sight Mount Tamana this afternoon," said I.
"According to my calculation," said he, "I would be in Mexico some
hundreds of miles up the country--I make it over 100."
"Your chronometer must be wrong," said I.
"The optician said she was all right, and I have been keeping her
rates."
"Give me your Greenwich time, and I will compare it with mine."
He called out his Greenwich time, and I compared it with mine, and
there was not ten seconds of difference.
"Your chronometer is quite right," said I. "The error must be in
your work."
"There is no mistake in the work," said he. "I have gone over it a
dozen times; but there must be some confounded thing wrong, and I
would like to find it out, as I am in a mighty bad fix."
"Can't you come on board," said I, "and bring your work with you, and
we will compare it with mine?"
"I will do that," said he, and he lowered his boat and came alongside.
We compared the working up of the time, until it came to the applying
of the equation of time, which he had been subtracting instead of
adding to the apparent time. In this he would not at first admit
that he was wrong and the way of applying it at the time was a little
confounding, but he at length was convinced and satisfied.
He then looked around and said, "You have got a mighty valuable
cargo, if you get it safe into port."
I said it had cost me great trouble and expense to get it this
length, and we had come from a starvation-stricken country, and I was
exceedingly wishful to get into Tampico, not only for safety, but
because we were just about out of provisions.
"Oh," said he, "I guess I can spare you a little," and, going back on
board, he returned with a quantity of biscuit, half a box of salt
cod-fish, and some potatoes, all of which was most welcome and a
great treat to us.
Fred, the cook, said to me, "You see, it does not always do to be too
shy of making acquaintance. You were trying to cut away from that
one, and now we are glad we met him."
I thought there might be a moral in this, if we could always tell
when it is best to make or shun acquaintance.
Soon after this we sighted Mount Tamana, which is a high mountain
about twenty-five miles north of Tampico. Although far inland, it is
from its height the first of the land that is seen.
The wind having become very light, we made but little progress that
night, and in the morning we drew close into the land, intending to
creep along the shore and avoid any cruisers which might be at sea
off Tampico with the object of catching any blockade runner making
for that port.
The wind continuing light and from the south, and a current setting
to the northward, we made little progress all that day, and on the
following morning it fell dead calm, and we dropped anchor to prevent
us drifting back northward with the current.
In the afternoon a sharp breeze sprung up from the eastward, and we
got under weigh, and stood southward along the coast at good speed.
The town of Tampico is situated on a river of that name, about six
miles up from its mouth.
The only approach to the town from the sea is by the river, across
the mouth of which there is, like the other rivers on this coast, a
dangerous bar or shoal, through which there is a narrow intricate
channel, which is constantly changing, and will never at any time
admit of vessels of more than seven feet draught. Larger vessels
must lay at anchor in the open roads and discharge and load by means
of lighters.
There was no definite landmark by which the mouth of the river could
be made out from sea, but we suspected that there would be some large
vessels lying outside of the bar.
This proved to be the case, and we soon came in sight of several
vessels riding at anchor, and we made direct for them, and soon came
to anchor under the lee of a large French transport.
The French were at that time at war with Mexico, and they had landed
troops at Tampico. This, however, did not affect us, as trade was
not interfered with.
A pilot's boat was cruising among the ships, seeming to take things
easily. I asked them to take us in over the bar the same night, but,
with their usual procrastination, they answered, "Bueno, Mañana"
("All right, to-morrow"), the general reply from a Mexican when he
agrees to do anything. We were quite safe from capture, but if a
norther came on, Tampico roads is a very dangerous place.
Shortly after we anchored, our friend the _Sylvia_ from St. John,
which we had spoken two days previous, also came to anchor.
We lay here all night, but the weather remained calm, and on the
following day a light breeze sprung up from the eastward.
The pilot came on board and took us across the bar, and with the
breeze we sailed slowly up the river and anchored opposite the town.
We were safe in port at last, and the voyage was over, and a strange
and eventful one it had been, lasting nearly five months, and
attended by much worry, delay, and misfortune, but counterbalanced in
the end by some strokes of good fortune which seemed morally to
compensate for all, and I felt truly grateful.