_Course from Cape Noir to the Island of Juan Fernandez._
After the mortifying disappointment of falling in with the coast of
Terra del Fuego, at Cape Noir, when we reckoned ourselves ten degrees
to the westward of it, as formerly mentioned to have happened on the
14th of April, we stood away to the S.W. till the 22d of that month,
when we were in upwards of 60° S. and, by our reckoning, 6° westwards
of Cape Noir. In this run, we had a series of as favourable weather
as could well be expected in that part of the world, even in a
better season of the year; so that this interval, setting aside our
disquietudes on various accounts, was by far the most eligible of any
we had enjoyed since passing the Straits of Le Maire. This moderate
weather continued, with little variation, till the evening of the
24th, when the wind began to blow fresh, and soon increased to a
prodigious storm. About midnight, the weather being very thick, we
lost sight of the other ships of the squadron, which had hitherto
kept us company, notwithstanding the violence of the preceding
storms. Neither was this our sole misfortune, for next morning, while
endeavouring to hand the top-sails, the clew-lines and bunt-lines
broke, and the sheets being half flown, every seam in the top-sails
was soon split from top to bottom. The main top-sail shook so
violently in the wind, that it carried away the top lanthorn, and
even endangered the head of the mast. At length, however, some of the
boldest of our men ventured upon the yard, and cut the sail away close
to the reefs, with the utmost hazard of their lives. At the same time,
the fore top-sail beat about the yard with so much fury, that it was
soon blown to pieces. The main-sail also blew loose, which obliged
us to lower down the yard to secure the sail; and the fore-yard also
being lowered, we lay-to under a mizen. In this storm, besides the
loss of our top-sails, we had much of our rigging broken, and lost a
main studding-sail boom out of the chains.
The weather became more moderate on the 25th at noon, which enabled us
to sway up our yards, and to repair our shattered rigging in the
best manner we could; but still we had no sight of the rest of our
squadron, neither did any of them rejoin us till after our arrival
at Juan Fernandez; nor, as we afterwards learnt, did any two of them
continue in company together. This total, and almost instantaneous
separation was the more wonderful, as we had hitherto kept together
for seven weeks, through all the reiterated tempests of this turbulent
climate. It must be owned, indeed, that we had hence room to expect
we might make our passage in a shorter time than if we had continued
together, because we could now make the best of our way, without being
retarded by the misfortunes of the other ships; but then we had the
melancholy reflection, that we were thereby deprived of the assistance
of others, and our safety depended solely on our single ship; so that,
if a plank started, or any other important accident occurred, we must
all irrecoverably perish. Or, should we happen to be driven on shore,
we had the uncomfortable prospect of ending our days on some desolate
coast, without any reasonable hope of ever getting off again; whereas,
with another ship in company, all these calamities are much less
formidable, as in every kind of danger there would always be some
probability that one ship at least might escape, and be capable of
preserving or relieving the crew of the other.
During the remainder of April, we had generally hard gales, though
every day, since the 22d, edging to the northward. On the last day
of the month, however, we flattered ourselves with the expectation of
soon terminating our sufferings, as we then found ourselves in lat.
52° 13' S. which, being to the northward of the Straits of Magellan,
we were now assured that we had completed our passage, and were
arrived on the confines of the South Sea: And, as this ocean is
denominated the _Pacific_, from the equability of the seasons said to
prevail there, and the facility and security with which navigation is
there carried on, we doubted not that we should be speedily cheered
with the moderate gales, the smooth water, and the temperate air, for
which that portion of the globe is so renowned. Under the influence of
these pleasing circumstances, we hoped to experience some compensation
for the complicated sufferings, which had so constantly beset us for
the last eight weeks. Yet here we were again miserably disappointed;
for, in the succeeding month of May, our sufferings rose even to a
much higher pitch than they had ever yet done, whether we consider the
violence of the storms, the shattering of our sails and rigging, or
the diminution and weakening of our crew by deaths and sickness, and
the even threatening prospect of our utter destruction. All this will
be sufficiently evident, from the following circumstantial recital of
our diversified misfortunes.
Soon after we had passed the Straits of Le Maire, the scurvy began
to make its appearance among us, and our long continuance at sea, the
fatigue we underwent, and the various disappointments we met with, had
occasioned its spreading to such a degree, that there were but few on
board, by the latter end of April, that were not afflicted with it in
some degree; and in that month no less than forty-three died of it in
the Centurion. Although we thought the distemper had then risen to
an extraordinary height, and were willing to hope that its malignity
might abate as we advanced to the northward, we yet found, on the
contrary, that we lost near double that number in the month of May;
and, as we did not get to land till the middle of June, the mortality
went on increasing, and so prodigiously did the disease extend, that,
after the loss of above 200 men, we could not muster at the last above
six foremast-men in a watch that were capable of duty.
This disease, so frequent in long voyages, and so particularly
destructive to us, is surely the most singular and unaccountable of
any that affects the human body. Its symptoms are innumerable and
inconstant, and its progress and effects singularly irregular, for
scarcely have any two persons complaints exactly resembling each
other; and where there have been, some conformity in the symptoms,
the order of their appearance has been totally different. Though
it frequently puts on the form of many other diseases, and is not
therefore to be described by any exclusive and infallible criterions,
yet there are some symptoms which are more general than the rest, and
of more frequent and constant occurrence, and which therefore deserve
a more particular enumeration. These common appearances are large
discoloured spots dispersed over the whole surface of the body,
swelled legs, putrid gums, and, above all, an extraordinary
lassitude of the whole body, especially after any exercise, however
inconsiderable and this lassitude at last degenerates into a proneness
to swoon, and even to die, on the least exertion of strength, or even
on the least motion. This disease is usually attended, also, by a
strange dejection of spirits, with shiverings, tremblings, and
a disposition to be seized with the most dreadful terrors on the
slightest accident. Indeed it was most remarkable, in all our
reiterated experience of this malady, that whatever discouraged our
people, or at any time damped their hopes, never failed to add new
vigour to the distemper, for such usually killed those who were in the
last stages of the disease, and confined those to their hammocks who
were before capable of some kind of duty, so that it seemed as if
alacrity of mind and sanguine hopes were no small preservatives from
its fatal malignity.
But it is not easy to complete the long roll of the various
concomitants of this disease; for it often produced putrid fevers,
pleurisies, jaundice, and violent rheumatic pains, and sometimes
occasioned obstinate costiveness, which was generally attended with a
difficulty of breathing, and this was esteemed the most deadly of
all the scorbutic symptoms. At other times the whole body, but
more especially the legs, were subject to ulcers of the worst kind,
attended by rotten bones, and such a luxuriance of fungous flesh as
yielded to no remedy. The most extraordinary circumstance, and which
would scarcely be credible upon any single evidence, was, that the
scars of wounds that had been healed for many years, were forced open
again by this virulent distemper. There was a remarkable instance
of this in the case of one of the invalid soldiers on board the
Centurion, who had been wounded above fifty years before, at the
battle of the Boyne; and though he was cured soon after, and had
continued well for a great many years, yet, on being attacked by the
scurvy, his wounds broke out afresh in the progress of the disease,
and appeared as if they had never been healed. What is even still more
extraordinary, the callus of a broken bone, which had been completely
formed for a long time, was dissolved in the course of this disease,
and the fracture seemed as if it had never been consolidated. The
effects, indeed, of this disease, were in almost every instance
wonderful, for many of our people, though confined to their hammocks,
appeared to have no inconsiderable share of health, as they eat and
drank heartily, were even cheerful, talking with much seeming vigour
with a loud strong voice; and yet, on being in the least moved, though
only from one part of the ship to another, and that too in their
hammocks, they would instantly expire. Others, who have confided
in their seeming strength, and have resolved to get out of their
hammocks, have died before they could well reach the decks; neither
was it uncommon for such as were able to walk the deck, and even to
perform some kind of duty, to drop down dead in an instant, on any
attempt to act with their utmost effort; many of our people having
perished in this manner in the course of our voyage.
We struggled under this terrible disease during the greatest part of
the time of our beating round Cape Horn; and though it did not then
rage with its utmost violence, yet we buried no less than forty-three
men in the month of April, as formerly observed. We were still,
however, in hopes of seeing a period to this cruel malady, and to all
the other evils which had so constantly pursued us, when we should
have secured our passage round the Cape: but we found, to our
heavy misfortune, that the (so-called) Pacific Ocean was to us less
hospitable even than the turbulent neighbourhood of Terra del Fuego
and Cape Horn. On the 8th of May, being arrived of the island of
Socoro, on the western coast of Patagonia, [in lat. 44° 50' S. long.
73° 45' W.] the first rendezvous appointed for the squadron, and where
we hoped to have met with some of our consorts, we cruized for them in
that station several days. We were here not only disappointed in
our expectations of meeting our friends, which induced the gloomy
apprehensions of their having all perished, but were also perpetually
alarmed with the fear of being driven on this coast, which appeared
too craggy and irregular to give us the least prospect, in such a
case, that any of us could possibly escape immediate destruction. The
land, indeed, had a most tremendous aspect. The most distant part, far
within the country, being the mountains of the Andes, or Cordelieras,
was extremely high, and covered with snow; while the coast seemed
quite rocky and barren, and the edge of the water skirted with
precipices. In some places, indeed, we observed several deep bays
running; into the land; but their entrances were generally blocked
up by numbers of small islands; and though it was not improbable but
there might be convenient shelter in some of the bays, and proper
channels leading to them, yet, as we were utterly ignorant of the
coast, had we been driven ashore by the westerly winds, which blew
almost incessantly we could not well have avoided the loss both of the
ship and of our lives.
This continued peril which lasted above a fortnight, was greatly
aggraved by the difficulties we found in working the ship; as the
scurvy, by this time, had destroyed so great a number of our hands,
and had in some degree infected almost the whole crew. Neither did
we, as we hoped, find the winds less violent as we advanced to the
northward; for we had often prodigious squalls of wind, which split
our sails, greatly damaged our rigging, and endangered our masts.
Indeed, during much the greatest part of the time we were upon this
coast, the wind blew so hard that, in any other situation where we
had sufficient sea-room, we should certainly have lain-to; but, in the
present exigency, we were necessitated to carry both our courses and
top-sails, in order to keep clear of this lee-shore. In one of these
squalls, which was attended by several violent claps of thunder, a
sudden flash of fire darted along our decks, which dividing, exploded
with a report like that of several pistols, and wounded many of our
men and officers, marking them in different parts of their bodies.
This flame was attended by a strong, sulphurous stench, and was
doubtless of the same nature with the larger and more violent flashes
of lightning which then filled the air.
It were endless to recite minutely the various disasters, fatigues,
and terrors, which we encountered on this coast, all of which went
on increasing till the 22d of May; at which time the fury of all the
storms we had hitherto encountered seemed to have combined for our
destruction. In this hurricane almost all our sails were split, and a
great part of our standing rigging broken. About eight in the evening,
an overgrown mountainous wave took us upon our star-board quarter, and
gave us so prodigious a shock that several of our shrouds broke with
the jerk, to the great danger of our masts giving way, and our ballast
and stores were so strangely shifted, that the ship heeled afterwards
two streaks to port. This was a most tremendous blow, and we were
thrown into the utmost consternation, having the dismal apprehension
of instantly foundering. Though the wind abated in a few hours, yet,
having no sails left in a condition to bend to the yards, the ship
laboured exceedingly in a hollow sea, rolling gunwale too, for want
of sail to keep her steady, so that we every moment expected that our
masts, now very slenderly supported, would have come by the board. We
exerted ourselves, however, the best we could, to stirrup our shrouds,
to reeve new lanyards, and to mend our sails: But, while these
necessary operations were going on, we ran great risk of being driven
ashore on the island of Chiloe, which was not far from us. In the
midst of our peril, the wind happily shifted to the southward, and we
steered off the land with the main-sail only; at which time the master
and I undertook the management of the helm, while every one else,
capable of acting, were busied in securing the masts, and bending the
sails as fast as they could be repaired. This was the last effort of
that stormy climate; for, in a day or two after, we got clear of the
land, and found the weather more moderate than we had yet experienced
since passing the Straits of Le Maire.
Having now cruized in vain, for the other ships of the squadron,
during more than a fortnight, it was resolved to take advantage of
the present favourable weather, and the offing we had made from this
terrible coast, and to make the best of our way for the island of
Juan Fernandez. It is true that our next rendezvous was appointed off
Baldivia; yet, as we had seen none of our companions at this first
rendezvous, it was not to be supposed that any of them would be found
at the second, and indeed we had the greatest reason to suspect that
all but ourselves had perished. Besides, we were now reduced to so low
a condition, that, instead of pretending to attack the settlements
of the enemy, our utmost hopes could only suggest the possibility
of saving the ship, and some part of the remaining crew, by a speedy
arrival at Juan Fernandez; as that was the only place, in this part of
the world, where there was any probability of recovering our sick or
refitting our ship, and consequently our getting thither was the only
chance we had left to avoid perishing at sea.
Our deplorable situation allowing no room for deliberation, we stood
for the island of Juan Fernandez; and, to save time, which was now
extremely precious, as our men were dying by four, five, and six of
a day, and likewise to avoid being again engaged on a lee shore, we
resolved to endeavour to hit that island upon a meridian. On the 28th
of May, being nearly in the parallel on which it is laid down, we had
great expectations of seeing that island; but, not finding it in the
position laid down in our charts, we began to fear that we had got too
far to the westward; and therefore, though the commodore was strongly
persuaded that he saw it in the morning of the 28th, yet his officers
believing it to have been only a cloud, to which opinion the
haziness of the weather gave some countenance, it was resolved, on
consultation, to stand to the eastward in the parallel of the island;
as, by this course, we should certainly fall in with the island, if we
were already to the westward of it, or should at least make the main
land of Chili, whence we could take a new departure, so as not to miss
it a second time in running to the westward.
Accordingly, on the 30th May, we had sight of the continent of Chili,
distant about twelve or thirteen leagues, the land appearing very low
and uneven, and quite white; what we saw being doubtless a part of the
Cordilleras, which are always covered with snow. Though by this
view of the land we ascertained our position, yet it gave us great
uneasiness to find that we had so needlessly altered our course, when
we had been, in all probability, just upon the point of making
the island: For the mortality among us was now increased to a most
frightful degree, and those who remained were utterly dispirited by
this new disappointment, and the prospect of their longer continuance
at sea. Our water, too, began to grow scarce, and a general dejection
prevailed among us, which added much to the virulence of the disease,
and destroyed numbers of our best men. To all these calamities, there
was added this vexatious circumstance, after getting sight of the main
land, that we were so much delayed by calms and contrary winds, while
tacking westwards in quest of the island, that it took us nine days
to regain the westing, which we ran down in two when standing to the
eastward.
In this desponding condition, and under these disheartening
circumstances, we stood to the westward, with a crazy ship, a great
scarcity of fresh water, and a crew so universally diseased, that
there were not above ten foremast men in a watch capable of doing
duty, and even some of these lame and unable to go aloft. At last, at
day-break on the 9th of June, we discovered the long-wished-for island
of Juan Fernandez. Owing to our suspecting ourselves to be to the
westward of this island on the 28th of May, and in consequence of the
delay occasioned by our standing in for the main and returning, we
lost between seventy and eighty of our men, whom we had doubtless
saved, if we had made the island on that day, which we could not
have failed to do, if we had kept on our course only for a few hours
longer.