Barbadoes, Feb.
Previous to our coming into harbour, from our late voyage, the ship’s
company was busily occupied for several days, in cleaning, painting, and
adorning the vessel; according to a prevailing custom of dressing the
West India ships in a new jacket, during the steady sailing of _running
down the trades_, in order that they may appear clean, and in the best
condition, while remaining in the harbours of the islands. In this the
sailors have a degree of pride, which excites a general spirit of
emulation; every captain wishing to render his vessel the object of
admiration and attraction. In consequence of this custom the West India
harbours become like drawing-rooms of fine-dressed merchantmen. Here,
each ship exhibits her best apparel, and vying with the others, holds
out her lures to catch the eye of every beholder. The decoration is
universal. From head to stern, not a plank, a mast, a yard, nor scarcely
a rope escapes; each receives a full dress coat of paint, or is made new
with a black varnish of tar. The more prominent parts of our ship being
completed, the progress of cleaning and ornamenting was extended to such
minutiæ as to become ridiculous. A decorating mania seemed to have
seized the whole crew, and every one was up to his elbows in grease,
tar, and oil. Not an iron ring, a bolt, or a nail was neglected—not even
the cannon-balls escaped—and, that nothing should be omitted, the inner
surface of the water-buckets, regardless of health, were dressed with
their poisonous coating. Never was idle excess rendered more
conspicuous. Not an inch, nor an atom, but appeared in Lord Sheffield’s
livery; black and yellow prevailed from the highest point of the masts,
down to the very water’s edge. Nothing can convey to you a stronger idea
of the fine steady sailing, in a trade-wind, than to know that the outer
part of the ship is painted at sea, by men hanging in ropes, at her
sides, whilst she is proceeding with full canvass, on her passage.
The ship’s company have another, and yet stronger pride, which respects
the swiftness of their vessel: like every man’s horse, every sailor’s
ship is _the best in the world_; every captain commands the quickest
vessel of the fleet! _He_ would cease to merit the honor of a jacket,
who could be brought to acknowledge, however true it might be, that his
ship was a sluggish sailer: for, however manifest this shall appear, an
excuse is never wanting. She is in bad trim—she is too much by the
stern—too much by the head—is too deep—too light—the breeze is not from
her quarter—she sails best upon a wind—before the wind—she makes best
way in a gale—in a light breeze: so that be the weather, and the
attendant circumstances whatever they may, here is a _side-wind_ for
each of them; and a son of the ocean is always expert enough to
appropriate them in favor of his vessel, so as to guard her, at every
point, against the imputation of being a dull sailer. Our ship was found
not to advance in proportion to the breeze; it was, therefore, deemed
expedient to give her a new main-top-gallant mast; and this was put up,
in the night-time, with as much secrecy as if the failure of the
expedition had hung upon its disclosure. We, afterwards, discovered that
it was done, in the dark, not to conceal it from the passengers, only,
but from the ship’s company of a vessel, which happened, then, to be
sailing near us; and with which the Lord Sheffield was, secretly, vying
in her progress.
A day or two after we had entered into the latitude of the trade-wind,
we had to cross the tropic; which was an occasion of great mirth and
festivity. The usual ceremonies were performed—the usual honors paid to
old Neptune, and all was holiday. The great deity of the ocean,
accompanied by his queen, ascended from the deep, in order to welcome us
to his tropical abode, and to witness _the baptism_ of all his children
who had not, before, done homage at his font. This is a ceremony which
is, commonly, thought to be ludicrous: but, in the way it is conducted
by the rough tars, it becomes a very dirty and severe process. It is
extended to every person on board, who has not been already within the
tropics, varying only in its mode of application, and in its severities.
The old sailors are careful to discover, in the course of the passage,
which of their messmates have not undergone the discipline of this
tropical baptism; and on this day, all who are marked for the ceremony,
are led upon deck, one by one, blindfolded. In this state the young
sailor is made to seat himself upon a small narrow plank, laid across a
large tub of salt water, or upon the edge of the tub itself, and, in
this perilous situation, they administer to him a long and ridiculous
oath: then offer him a glass of gin, by way of cordial, which he is
compelled to drink, and finds it to be only a glass of salt water. They,
then, smear his face with a nasty compound of grease, tar, and stinking
oil, taking care in the operation, to force some of it into his mouth.
The next step is to shave this off, and the razor employed, for the
purpose, is commonly a piece of an old iron hoop, beat full of notches.
The filth being in part scraped from his chin, with this rough
instrument, the baptismal process is completed by the plank, upon which
he is seated, being suddenly withdrawn, and the young initiated plunged
head and ears into the tub of water; where he is made to lie kicking and
sprawling for a considerable time; after which he is permitted to rise
from his briny birth; when his eyes are unveiled, he washes his
countenance, and issues forth a privileged son of old Neptune—_free_ to
range in the tropical seas. If he contend, or offer any resistance, he
is treated with three or four dippings, instead of one; he finds it
best, therefore, not to be refractory, and smothers his wrath in the
secret pleasure of witnessing a similar process imposed upon the rest of
his messmates. Every one, whether sailor or landsman, is called upon to
undergo this christening ceremony!
As passengers we were honored with a visit from father Neptune and his
spouse, to welcome us to their tropical dwelling, and to announce the
propriety and necessity of the baptismal vow: but we compromised the
discipline of dipping and shaving, by offering the tribute of a few
gallons of rum! Nevertheless, we were taught that it would be prudent to
remain, quietly, in the cabin, during this briny christening of the
sailors.
The servants were led by curiosity to visit the deck, hoping to witness
the ceremony without becoming, themselves, the objects of it: but they
were speedily presented with a complete washing of sea-water, and
obliged to beat a hasty retreat, in order to escape the shaving: one of
them, who was a great coxcomb in his dress, grew sadly enraged, and felt
highly indignant that the sailors should dare to wet and spoil his
clothes: in his anger he ran down below to arm himself with a sword,
then returning upon deck, declared that he would run any man through the
body, who should throw water upon him, again: but scarcely had he said
the words, and brandished his sabre, before several bucketsful of water
were dashed upon his head and shoulders, by some sailors who had placed
themselves in the main-top. The poor man stormed violently, swore,
stamped, and raved. The sailors, laughing at his impotent rage,
continued to pour down bucketful after bucketful. He was unable to climb
up the shrouds; and they diverted themselves at his wrath, until, at
length, seeing that they defied all his threats, he again returned to
the cabin, loudly denouncing vengeance, unmindful that his best remedy
was to change his clothes, wipe himself dry, and let his choler subside.
Custom is absolute, and, in the hands of such hardy ministers, it were
folly to oppose its despotic government.
After reaching the latitude of the trade-wind we passed very little of
our time in the cabin; nor, throughout the whole passage, did we neglect
to take our exercise upon deck, whenever the weather would permit;
occasionally also, in order to divert the sad indolence of our inactive
life, we gave assistance at the capstan, or in working the pump, or
pulling the ropes.
During our fine tropical sailing we were frequently amused in observing
the immense shoals of porpoises, dolphins, and flying fish, which, from
time to time, assembled about the ship. The frightful shark and spouting
grampus also made us frequent visits.
Harpoons and other instruments, called gigs, or grains, were prepared
for the purpose of taking these inhabitants of the ocean. They are
formidable weapons of iron, made with barbed points. At the time of
using them, a wooden handle, loaded with lead, is affixed to them,
together with a long cord; and they are struck into the animal while he
is swimming at the side of the ship. If they penetrate beyond the barb
he is unable to free himself from the instrument, but is turned upon his
back, by the weight of the lead in the handle, and consequently has no
power to escape. Often the iron points are bent double without entering;
or sometimes they are thrown out by his struggles, and he swims off with
his wound. This we saw happen to a large porpoise while he was amidst a
shoal of his species so numerous as to darken the sea; when, instantly,
every individual of them abandoned the ship, not to protect or console
their wounded brother, but, according to the unfriendly habit of these
hideous and rapacious creatures, to pursue him as their prey.
The flying fish, the shark, and the dolphin, are all used by the
sailors, as food. The shark is a most stupid animal—unlike other fishes,
he disregards being seen. He shuns not people who appear before him, nor
is intimidated at things falling near him, or even upon him in the
water. Does this arise from a deficiency of nervous sensibility, or from
a consciousness that he is armed against the objects he commonly meets?
By throwing out to him occasionally a piece of fat pork, he may be
induced to continue, at the side of the ship, whilst a rope, let down
into the water, is passed over his head, and drawn tight round his body,
in order to take him alive, and if it happen to slip off, he is torpid
enough to remain until it be fixed a second time. We caught a very large
one in this manner; and also, with the hook, took a smaller one, which
the sailors consumed as delicate food.
The shoals of dolphins are often so crowded as to convert the sea into a
kind of rich and dazzling mine, exhibiting many brilliant interchanges
of colour.
The novelty of immense multitudes of fish darting from the sea and
taking wing in the air, you will believe attracted our attention. To
speak of fishes flying might seem to be a traveller’s tale; we were,
therefore, led to a minute investigation of the fact. We watched them
with a sceptical eye, and, at many different times, before we admitted
even the evidence of our senses. It appeared possible that their short
flight might be the effect of a single muscular effort, supported by the
expansion of long membranous fins; and this opinion became strengthened
from observing them, occasionally, touch the water, as if to gain new
force from its resistance, and then rise again, and fly as far as
before. But, upon regarding them with accuracy, we observed their wings
employed, like those of birds, in fluttering motion as they flew. We saw
them change their course, from a direct line; we perceived them rise and
fall in their flight, to surmount the waves they met, and remarked that
they often continued their progress to the distance of two or three
hundred yards, without touching the water: at length some of them flew
on board the ship, and, striking against the masts, fell dead upon the
deck; thus affording us an opportunity of satisfying our doubts. After
minutely examining their external form, we further assured ourselves, by
carefully dissecting them; and we have now no hesitation in saying that
fishes——_do fly_! The wings are very long: arising from behind the
gills, they lie folded at the sides nearly the whole length of the fish,
being formed of several fine cartilages, and a thin transparent membrane
not unlike the wing of a bat. At the insertion, near the gills, they are
narrow, but become considerably wider towards their extremities. When
used in flying they are raised from the side, and expanded, by the
cartilages separating from each other, and stretching out the membrane
which covers them. They are not connected with the body by extensive
muscular insertions; but are united by a ligamentous membrane. Two small
muscles pass into each wing, terminating in strong ligaments. These
serve to give them the command of the wing, but are not calculated to
support long and powerful action. The fish is about the size of a
herring. They are caught, in great numbers, near Barbadoes, where they
are pickled, and salted, and used as a very common food.
The day before we made the land we met with shoals of flying fish of
much smaller size than those we had commonly seen; not larger, indeed,
than sprats. On rising out of the water, in large bodies at a time, they
caused a sound like the splashing of rain, which being heard by the
captain, he instantly exclaimed “_Ha! bravo! land, land! here are the
little splashers, we cant be far from the land!_” This small race of
flying fish, it seems, is never observed at any great distance from the
shore, nor in the deeper parts of the Atlantic: wherefore their
appearance is assumed as a sure indication of a speedy approach to the
land.
We observed upon the passage, that after the great heat of the day, the
water of the Atlantic was somewhat warmer than the circumambient air. In
latitude 14°, at 10 o’clock at night, the thermometer stood at 72¼, and
upon being put into a bucket of fresh-drawn sea-water it rose to 73.
Like all young sailors we felt our attention strongly attracted by the
phenomenon of the lights produced in the sea, at night, from the ship
beating her way through the water. We often witnessed them in a very
striking degree, and were, frequently, led to the forecastle to view
them in their greatest splendour; for, there, the vessel appeared to be
sailing through liquid flames. On every side the lights were vivid and
beautiful, but at the head we saw the pitchings and plunges of the ship
strike out wide flashes, resembling sheets of fire. At the stern these
lights appear as if they poured from the vessel in bright streams of
fire, extending to a considerable distance in her wake.
We drew up water in buckets, occasionally, to the deck, and found that
by agitating it, either with the hand or a piece of wood, we could
excite the same luminous appearance: but, after disturbing it for a
short time, this effect ceased; and no degree of agitation was
sufficient to renew it in the same water. You know the various theories
and speculations which have been offered in explanation of this
phenomenon; I need not, therefore, swell my letter by repeating them.
The beautiful appearance of the iris resting in small circles upon the
surface of the ocean, was also a frequent subject of our notice. These
were only seen near the ship, and it will occur to you that they
proceeded from the minute particles of water, beaten off by the vessel,
dividing the rays of light, and causing them to fall upon the sea in the
form of rich and distinct rainbows. They are often extremely brilliant,
and are observed, lying as it were, in numbers upon the water.
The very beautiful rising and setting of the sun and the moon were many
times the admired objects of our contemplation. Viewed from a West India
sea, the surface of these orbs does not appear as in Europe, like a mere
plane fixed in the sky, but their convexity, and globular form are seen
very distinctly. When rising they appear as detached globes protruding
from the deep: at setting they resemble distinct spheres sinking, or
rather dropping, divested of their rays, into the ocean.
The moon is brighter than in England, and reflects a clearer light. When
only a few days old the whole orb is visible—not decked in uniform
brightness, as when it is at the full, but with the great body in shade,
while the horned edge, alone, is dressed in silver.
The appearance of the western sky was likewise an object of novelty to
us. By day the whole canopy is one fine azure expanse, bright and
unclouded; but, at evening, dark mountainous clouds accumulate into deep
masses, and impend, in awful majesty of form, over the horizon.